Chapter 4 - Capitulazione (Surrender)

The last week in Bouches-du-Rhone bore the aspect of mourning. Katniss came each day and stayed later and later until one night, she stayed altogether. Peeta would not let her work - it seemed absurd that they should lose even one moment to dusting and tea-making. He took her around the lake and was happy to discover the graceful agility with which she managed the thick vegetation, making his heavy steps seem positively mammoth-like in comparison. They drove to Martigues to see the castle ruins that overlooked the canal leading to the sea. He understood, by the way she pointed her chin up into the air and closed her eyes, letting the wind whip the wisps of her braid carelessly about her that she loved this spot. Without warning, he pulled out his sketchbook and hastily sketched her delicate curves, proud back and look of rapture.

It was in that moment that the realization that this would all end crashed down on him like a heavy weight. Even if he stopped eating and sleeping to spend every conscious moment next to her, time would only march in one direction and each step forward would take him further and further from her. He perceived the insanity of their position - they could barely speak 10 words to each other with any kind of comprehension and yet he had never felt more understood, more himself. He thought of trying to explain this thing he felt to his family and friends and came up with no other explanation than the fact that it was irrefutable, though clearly the evidence was not in his favor.

And so he stopped thinking about it. When Katniss' silver eyes fell on him, he pulled her to him to show her his sketch. She smiled sweetly at it, admiring each line. She pointed at the paper and then at him. "Per te?" she asked.

"I'm keeping this close to me." he whispered, indicating with his hand that it was his. "Mio. Mine." he said.

She laughed and shook her head with some incredulity. "E che di me? Mi lasci senza un ricordo? What about me? Will you leave me without a memory?" She drew in the air, pointed at him, then pointed at her.

"You want a sketch of me?" He considered this for a moment. "Okay." He sat down on the ramparts and worked diligently. He occasionally scratched his head while Katniss tried to point out where he might not be drawing himself properly until she pulled out a compact and held the mirror to his face. "Guarda bene! Questo sei tu! Look here! This is you!" she said in mock exasperation. He stared at himself dramatically, making silly faces, which caused Katniss to swat at him. "E, dai! Un po di serieta'! Come on! Be serious."

Peeta concentrated on his drawing, working diligently without further digressions. When he looked up, he caught her staring at him with such intensity, she was physically startled.

"Scusa." she said, reaching out to sweep his eyelashes with her thumb. He captured her hand and kissed it before handing her the finished sketch. She looked at it for so long, Peeta began to worry. All at once, she held it to her chest and whispered "Mio?"

He was heartbroken by her question, so small and uncertain. But of course she would have her doubts. He was leaving, after all, wasn't he?

"It's yours, Katniss. All of it." He placed his hand at the nape of her neck and pulled her to give her a gentle but searing kiss. When he pulled back, he looked at her, already longing for her.

XXXXX

The last time Peeta drove her home, the car was suddenly too small for all the feeling it held. Stopping at the corner of the block where her high-rise was located, he opened the door for her and was suddenly cemented to the pavement, unable to move further. Katniss looked up at him, her braid lying heavily against the thick coat as if bracing itself from the bitter cold wind that blew across the lower middle-class neighborhood. She gripped the strap of her leather bag with such force, her knuckles went white. Peeta felt his heart sink somewhere around his knees, as if he were leaving a part of his body there in the middle of the street. He swallowed several times, trying to will the words to come to him but for once, he was speechless.

Katniss stared at him patiently, then spoke. "Mi mancherei. I tuio passi lenti e pesanti per las casa, le tue sopraciglie che brillano come l'oro, la maniera cui mi guardi come se fosse la unica ragazza al mondo." She swallowed hard, taking her eyes from him to look up and down the street. "Non ti dementicherai mai, mai, mai… I will miss you. Your slow, heavy steps throughout the house, your eyelashes that shine like gold, the way you look at me like I am in the only girl in the world…I won't forget you, never, never, never!" at this, she thrust a card in his hand and pulled him down for a kiss so passionate, he lost his senses. Then, abruptly, she broke off and walked quickly without looking back down the familiar road to her flat. He looked down at the paper, where there was an address in a town called Catania, Sicily. Peeta almost chased her down, wanting to reach in and pull her back away from that place in time where she would soon reside in the past. Instead, he folded the card close to his heart and drove away, half-blinded by his wretchedness.

XXXXX

When the taxi arrived in front of his brownstone apartment, night had already fallen on New York City. For a town so dense, Peeta felt a vast emptiness, as if the space around him had expanded to the proportions of the Atlantic he had just crossed. Everything ached - from his pounding head to his tattered heart. Once inside, he refused to turn on any lights. He hadn't replaced the cell phone he'd broken the day his life had gone into a tail spin. He looked over at his answering machine and saw the blinking light. He was miserable, in every sense of the word and had no curiosity for whoever might have been searching for him. Perhaps it was hours or minutes but the ringing of the phone jolted him from his numbness and, seeing Finnick's number on the ID, decided to pick up the receiver.

He'd barely said hello when Finnick began his rant. "Bloody fucking bum! Where the hell have you been? You don't show for the wedding reception and then I have to contact that blimy shit of an agent, Haymitch, to find out that you up and went to Europe? What kind of fucking friend does shit like that?"

A friend who had gone and had his heart ripped out of his chest...twice.

He could imagine Finn's face blushing red all the way to his wavy hairline. Despite his misery, Peeta could not help the smile that snuck up on his face.

"I'm fine. I just...had to go. Gallery business…" Peeta muttered.

"Gallery business, my mother's arse. We're on our way over."

"Look, Finn, you don't have to do that. I just got off the plane." Peeta pleaded.

"I'm coming over and I'm bringing the Moor with me. I've got half a mind to put my foot up your shitter, Peeta fucking Mellark!" At that, he slammed down the phone.

Fuck. That's all he needed was a crazy Irishman calling him to accounts. Knowing that his only other recourse was to rent a room again in West Village, he jumped into the shower to freshen himself up for the verbal tongue-lashing he was about to receive.

XXXXX

When Peeta opened the door, he was greeted with a pizza- and beer-bearing duo and realized how much he had missed these two idiots.

"Hey, asshole." said Thresh, setting the pizza on the kitchen counter.

"Man, Thresh, I'm sorry about the reception. Trust me, I would not have skipped out on it if it wasn't for a serious reason." Peeta said.

"Skipped out on not only the reception, but on the whole bloody fucking country!" exclaimed Finnick. "And you didn't spare anyone even a phone call. You better spit it out."

Thresh, always the more reasonable one of the two, cut Finnick's rant off before he got too far underway. "Peet, we know you. You're not unreliable. Something big had to go down for you to book it like that."

Peeta blew the air out of his lungs before taking another breath. "You´re gonna want to sit down for this one, because it's a long story." They took their places on the sofa while Peeta took the chair opposite the coffee table in the living room. He wanted to make sure he could see both of their reaction. "Remember when I went home after the wedding to check on Delly?"

"She had the flu, right?" probed Finnick.

"Yeah, well, she didn't have the flu and she wasn't alone."

A tense silence fell on the three of them, the only sound was the low whirring of the refrigerator motor in the background.

"Fuuuuuuuck…." hissed Thresh quietly.

Finnick just stared open-mouthed at Peeta, looking momentarily like a gaping fish, albeit a rather good-looking one.

"Fuck, indeed, mate. I've got nothing. Thresh?" Finnick looked over at his friend, who was still processing the news.

"Was it someone you knew?" he asked, steepling his hands before his face, looking every bit the psychologist that he was.

Peeta nodded slowly. "Yeah, but I'd rather not say who. It's pretty embarrassing. They'd been at it for a year." he said, feeling remarkably detached considering he'd spent a week having a pity party about it over at the hotel.

Finnick just shook his head. "So she really had a stronger immune system than we thought, eh, buddy?" He clapped Peeta on the back. "Look, I never liked her anyway. A little too shallow, ya know? It'll be okay, old man."

Thresh got up to pop a cap off of a bottle of Corona and handed it to Peeta. "You need one of these." He shook his head at his friend. "He's right. She was a little too soft for you." Peeta gave a sarcastic tip of his bottle in acknowledgement before downing half of it. He suddenly straightened in his chair.

"You know, it doesn't even bother me. I didn't think about her the whole time I was in Bouches-du-Rhone except when I first got there. I was hurt but not so much by her as I was by the fact of who she was banging." He said. "I mean, I was a wreck. That's why I had to go. But deep down, I wasn't really surprised."

Finn bored into him with his sea-green eyes. "Man I hate to dig and all, but I just, I need to know who I have to kill."

Peeta chuckled. "Nah, man, you can't kill this guy. My mom would get pissed."

Thresh choked on a gulp of beer, sputtering as he spoke. "Dude, don't...tell me.." He stared at Peeta while he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as understanding dawned on him. "No fucking way!"

Finnick looked from Peeta to Thresh and back again. "The two of you want to let me in on your little secret?" The last part of his question was drowned out by a sudden roar from Thresh.

Peeta just leaned back. "Finn, she was with Rye."

Finnick's face went pale while Thresh gave Peeta another beer. "I totally forgive you, man. I would've ended up in China after some fucked up shit like that. Damn!" Thresh muttered.

Peeta nodded and took the second beer gratefully. "Thanks."

Finn was still speechless. He just leaned back into the sofa and downed the rest of his beer.

"I need something a little stiffer." Finnick said finally.

"Under the credenza." indicated Peeta.

"Grab three glasses too." called out Thresh. Turning towards Peeta. "Family reunions are going to be hell now. You gonna tell your mom?"

Peeta chuckled bitterly. "What, you mean tell her that her baby is a fucking slimeball? She'd just find a way to blame it on me. No, I'm just going to lay low for a while. Stay away from the whole family scene. It hasn't been the same without dad anyway." Peeta became thoughtful. He was still outraged with his brother if he dug down deep enough.

Finnick set the bottle of Jack Daniels on the center table and poured out a generous helping, passing a glass to everyone. "Now I feel like a heel. I'm sorry, old man." he downed the amber liquid in one gulp. "Right fecking sorry."

Peeta downed his shot, pouring himself another. "I'm not. I mean, I'm not sorry about Delly."

Both men looked at him in askance. "How's that?" asked Finnick.

Peeta knew he was being a little crazy but the mix of beer and liquor were working their magic, loosening his tongue. "I met somebody." he said quietly.

Thresh raised an eyebrow before responding. "What? You mean a girl?"

Finnick whipped his head at Thresh with exasperation. "No, an Arctic Seal! Of course he means a girl!" Thresh flicked him off but Finnick ignored him. "Details, man. You hooked up with a French hottie?"

Peeta felt a momentary irritation with his friend at the way he was referring to Katniss before pushing it down. He couldn't know how she had affected him, or that she had been more than just a "hook-up.'

"No, she's Italian and she is not a hook-up." He said with some force.

"Italian?" interjected Thresh, sensing Peeta's mood. "Aren't you the globe-trotting stud. Sounds nice."

"Yeah." whispered Peeta, suddenly feeling a wave of despondency wash over him. "She's nice. Really...nice…" he said, dropping his eyes to his glass before emptying it.

Finnick became more animated. "No, no, no. Rebounds are not good, man. Not good at all." Thresh gave him a murderous look but he ignored that also. "I'm serious, Peet." he said with emphasis. "Peeta?"

Peeta was pouring his fourth shot and his head was filled with Katniss. He didn't know whether it was the thought of her or the alcohol that made him feel more light-headed but he felt himself fairly floating above the current scene. That's how he'd been feeling since he left her in front of her building. Disoriented.

"When did you know that Annie was the one?" he asked Finnick suddenly.

Finnick froze, considering him for a moment. "I knew it the minute she walked into our Anthropology class the very first day. You know it's meant to be when you think the most wonderful creature you've ever seen smells like rotten cod-fish." They chuckled at this. "But I wasn't getting over a major double betrayal. It's not the same…"

Peeta nodded and turned to Thresh. "How about you? When did you know Rue was the one for you?

Thresh smiled. "First date. It was during the appetizer. We were eating these greasy mozzarella sticks. I just saw it like a flash. Marriage. Kids. Grandkids. It was like a kick in the gut."

The combination of the long trip, the beer and the Jack started to take its effect on Peeta and he slurred his words. "I met the girl of my life and she lives in another country," he swung his glass, spilling some of the liquid, "and I can't even speak her language. Fuck my life." his head lolled back, the glass landing, liquid and all on his lap but it didn't matter. Within seconds, he'd slipped into welcome oblivion.

XXXXX

Peeta woke late the next morning in his bed. He was dressed only in his boxers and t-shirt, his head feeling like it was caught in a vice. Groaning, he went to the bathroom to brush the taste of sour cotton out of his mouth and walked to the kitchen. As he passed the guest room, he saw a sock-covered foot sticking out from under the covers, Thresh's heavy, beer breath permeating the room. Peeta shut the door carefully and made his way to the kitchen, where he saw Finnick sprawled out on his sofa. He shook his head - they knew how to take care of him and he was grateful, because today, he missed Katniss more than ever, if that was even possible. Talking about her to his friends brought her out of the realm of dreams where he had resided with her and made her concrete in his own world. It made the challenges of their separation more real.

Which made solving his problem realistic also.

Downing the orange juice that he'd poured himself, he went to his study and fired up his laptop. Soon, he was Googling how to learn a foreign language and stumbled on a rather expensive but well-reviewed language program that he could download right away upon purchase. Peeta already spoke French - it should be possible for him to learn Italian as a result. As the program was downloading, Finnick appeared in the doorway of his study looking like death warmed over.

"Awe, blimey, my head´s about to blow. Damn, I'm getting too old for drinking beer chasers." He complained as he sat in the chair across from Peeta's desk. "What are you up to?" He asked.

"I'm downloading a foreign language program. I'm going to learn Italian."

Finnick stared at him for a moment, his eyes twinkling. "Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain lovely lady you met on your trip, would it?"

"Pretty much. I knew I had smart friends." chuckled Peeta. "We could hardly speak to each other but…" he paused, thinking of those quicksilver eyes that seemed to read his thoughts "…she just, she got me, you know? And I got her." He got up suddenly from his seat and pulled out the sketchpad. "This is her." He showed the sketch to his friend.

Finnick looked at the drawing. "The way you drew her, she looks like a queen in common clothes. A real beauty, that one." He handed the sketchbook to Peeta, who propped it against his book shelf so that Katniss' picture was looking out at him. "Look, I'm sorry about last night, with the whole rebound thing. It's not my place to tell you where you should put your heart."

Peeta reclined into his chair. "It's okay. You're just looking out for me. If you want to make it up to me, you can be my Italian partner."

"Oh, no! I can barely speak the English language. I'll feather your love nest and drive you back and forth to the airport but you keep that foreign language to yourself." He got up out of his chair. "Your cupboards are bare. I'll run down to the shop and whip us up some breakfast and leave you to your polyglotting, what ye say, old man?"

Peeta pressed the "launch" button on the pop-up window. "Sounds like a plan."

XXXXX

The month of December passed with the same daily routine. Peeta woke, usually after dreaming of Katniss. If he didn't dream of her, he daydreamed about her, most times both. He went to his studio and worked on fleshing out one sketch or another, sometimes just painting her when nothing better came to mind. Then he worked out, pounding his body particularly hard to stem his ever-present longing. Then, if he could spare it, he would spend his afternoon on his Italian program. He bought a collection of Italian music and subscribed to RAI television so that he could watch what was becoming more comprehensible programming, though he wondered if he'd ever understand the news.

One day, he couldn't bear her absence and pulled out a sheet of drawing paper, sketching the view of L'Etang de Berre from his cottage and a woman with a dark braid standing in profile. He thought to unleash a bit of his Italian on the paper but, thinking better of it, he simply signed it Con tanto amore, Peeta. Folding it carefully, he prepared the envelope and sent by three-day mail. It was as close as he could be to her right now.

"It's like fucking Little Italy in here!" exclaimed Finn one day when he walked in to find Peeta watching a soap opera that, despite its melodramatic score, he found rather entertaining.

"Benvenuto! Andiamo a fare le spese? Welcome! Shall we go shopping?" Peeta said

"Don't talk that shit to me. You probably have that obnoxious American intonation when you say it. Ruins even a romantic language."

"I'm proud of my accent! A girl down at Pascua's thought it was cute."

Finnick chuckled. "Probably trying to get into yer pants. Come on! Let's get this Christmas shopping done."

"Yeah, we don't want your fiancé to think you waited for the last minute to get her a gift." Peeta teased as he grabbed his coat and soon they were out the door.

XXXXX

"This is what I'm getting her. What do you think? It's the color of her eyes." said Peeta with reverence as he showed Finick the custom-ordered necklace with a single grey pearl hanging at the end of the chain.

Finn whistled. "Elegant and understated. If this doesn't make her want to bear your children, I don't know what will."

Peeta jabbed him in the ribs but became quiet. "Marriage. Kids. Grandkids. It's like a kick in the gut." He repeated almost to himself.

Finnick glanced over at him, becoming very serious. "You're really in love with this girl, aren't you?"

Peeta gave a rueful smile. "It would seem so. You think she'll be impressed when she gets her package?"

Finnick looked at him in shock. "You're not going to mail it to her, are you? Don't you know anything about the Italian post? Half of what gets sent ends up behind the postman's desk!" he chuckled. "Doesn't that gift have any meaning for you?"

"Of course!"

"And you love her, right?" he probed.

"We've been over that." Peeta said in exasperation.

"So why the hell are you still here?" Finnick exclaimed.

Peeta had no time to consider Finnick's question when a figure inched towards his side. He smelled her perfume in the frigid air before he saw her. His first instinct was to run but he knew if something wanted to destroy him, at some point you had to turn around and face it. Taking a deep breath, he acknowledged her.

"Delly." He said flatly.

"Peeta?" she whispered with a trembling lip, her dusty blue eyes peering shyly up at him. "How…how are you?"

Finn came up on Peeta's flank. "Well, Delly, how's it been? You look like you're in good health." He said sweetly.

Peeta wanted to elbow him again but kept himself composed. "Doing a little bit of Christmas shopping. You know. 'Tis the season."

Delly nodded slowly. "You changed your number? I've been trying to call you."

Peeta looked her over. Despite the winter coat, she still exuded the voluptuous magnetism that once made her irresistible to him. Now, he just felt indifferent. "It had a bit of a mishap so I just got a new one altogether."

"Right." There was an awkward pause as Delly looked everywhere but at him. It was clear she wanted to say more to Peeta but Finnick was obstinately standing next to both of them with a shit-eating grin that made it clear he wasn't going to budge. "Peeta, do you think, I mean, could we maybe talk?"

"Honestly, I don't see why we need to. I'm really not bitter – not with you anyway. These things happen." Peeta shrugged. "Have a Merry Christmas, Del."

She nodded quickly, grabbing his hand in a jerky, uncoordinated way before giving a curt goodbye to Finnick and walking briskly down the avenue. Peeta watched her leave, studying his own heart as he did so. There was nothing, or at least nothing of Delly's left.

Finnick clapped Peeta on the back before turning back to the delicate charm bracelet he'd been examining for Annie, leaving him to the solitude of his thoughts.

XXXXX

Christmas Eve was a big deal in his mother's house. Even though she was widowed and Peeta and his older brother, Bing, lived on their own, she still insisted on holding on to the enormous stone house buried under evergreens at the end of a long, stone driveway in upstate New York. She'd put an executive board in charge of the Mellark's Family Bakery Corporation and lived life, together with Rye, in relative leisure. With so much idle time, she was able to lavish her attention on having a well-ornamented home for the holidays.

Peeta carried bags of gifts for the 20 or so relatives, including his niece and two nephews, who would be gathered for Christmas dinner. He was back in his suit and new silver grey striped tie and feeling constrained by the long sleeves and scratchy collar. He did it for his mother who did not approve of his largely casual wardrobe, conveniently ignoring the fact that his profession made it impractical for him to dress like a Vogue male model, except during gallery openings. Of course, the limits of that reasoning were that she did not really consider his being an artist an actual profession, even though he was successful enough to keep a brownstone with an attached loft in Soho.

There was a restlessness growing in him of late, the idea that he was in the wrong place and that there was somewhere else he needed to be. This inconsolable feeling was only magnified when three days earlier he'd received a letter that almost made his heart burst out of his chest. It was wrinkled and travel worn but he'd opened it carefully as if he were opening a golden envelope. Inside was a hand-written note in feminine print:

Stella...

Stella, mia unica stella Oh Star, My only star

Nella povertà della notte,sola,In the poverty of night, alone

Per me, solo, rifulgi,Only for me, alone, do you shine

Nella mia solitudine rifulgi,Into my soliltude, you shine,

Ma, per me, Stella But, for me, star

Che mai non finirai d'illuminare That will never cease to illuminate

Un tempo ti è concesso troppo breve,A short time has been given to you, too short

Mi elargisci una luce You extend a light to me

Che la disperazione in me That does nothing to assuage

Non fa che desperation in me.

-Giuseppe Ungaretti

-Katniss

He took a few moments to look up some of the words. After several re-readings, he leaned back in the soft leather chair of his office and began to swivel around in it, a bubble of laughter rising in him until it echoed off of the walls. As if he had woken up from a drunken stupor, clarity descended on him and he remembered Finnick's question to him earlier that week.

What the hell was he still doing here?

Now, he was trudging through snow, laden down with packages in large, white gift bags. He had to ring the doorbell with his elbow. His mother opened the door, a glass of white wine already in hand.

"Peeta! Well, how good it is of you to finally come and visit your family. Put your packages down over there, darling." She exclaimed, her silver bob framing an aquiline face. Her eyes were a dull brown color, a color she had luckily not passed onto any of her sons. He could not say the same about her surly character, which was on full display in the person of his older brother Bing.

"Mom." He said as he kissed her cheek. He looked over her shoulder to see his family and their close friends circulating in the large living room. In that far corner, he caught sight of Rye, trying to melt behind the large, red velvet living room curtain while Bing attempted what looked like a boring conversation with his disinterested younger brother. Though Peeta was still profoundly disappointed in Rye, he nonetheless waved at them from the doorway. Outside of the pitiful character that Rye had exposed, Peeta could not help but feel somewhat thankful to him, for had he not brought him to his knees in desperation, he would have had recourse to escape to Bouches-du-Rhone and consequently, would have never met Katniss.

"Uncle Peeta! Uncle Peeta!" screamed his nephews and niece when they saw him. He was well-loved by his brother's children because he always brought the best gifts and played for hours with them. It was the only part of this evening he was sorry to miss.

After a round of cursory well-wishes, he found his mother at the hors d'oevre table. Pulling her gently aside, he steeled himself, for when she knew what he was planning, she would surely pitch a holy fit.

"Mom, I can't stay. I'm catching a flight tonight and I have to leave." He whispered.

His mother's faced became hard with consternation as she exclaimed in a shrill voice. "I cannot believe what I am hearing! You've already missed Thanksgiving! How many holidays do you think I have left that you can squander them in this way?"

Her whining, combined with the dramatic guilty felt like nails on a blackboard. "Mom, you are going to live at least another hundred years and I promise I'll make it up to you next year. But I've got a gallery opening" he closed his eyes at the lie. "I'm the only one who can oversee it."

His mother was positively livid. "If you had gone into the family business, like Bing, you would have been able to set more reasonable – and family friendly – holidays. This is unacceptable! I won't have it!" She became positively squeaky. Peeta shivered; no doubt, his brother's taciturn disposition was also a result of being mired in the family's business, his life and that of his family under the virtual control of his mother.

"Sorry, but a man's got to do what a man's got to do. Merry Christmas!" He planted a kiss on his mother's cheek. Peeta took advantage of her momentary shock to escape the house and drive like a demon to the airport.

XXXXX

Peeta underestimated how grueling a 13 hour journey from Newark to Catania through Rome would be, even in first class. By the time he stepped out of the airport and into the busy, chaotic streets of Catania, he was wiped out. Taxi drivers, both regulated and unregulated, swarmed on him, his foreignness screaming out at them like a pine tree in the desert. However, when he requested a taxi in a fairly respectable Italian and even managed to negotiate the price ahead of time to avoid surprises at the hotel, he was pleased to find that his hours and hours of study had yielded a practical result.

Even so, he found he could not rest, as he was so close to his destination. After a shower and a change into fresh clothing, he went down to the bar to down two espressos and request a taxi, staring all the while at the card with the address Katniss had given him. He was so caught up with his objective it never occurred to him that he might fail at his endeavor, that perhaps she wouldn't be as happy to see him as he was to see her or, even worse; that she would already be spoken for.

His nerves took a terrible turn so he forced himself to focus instead on the drive through the busy streets of the town, admiring the glimpses of the coastline on one side and the vague outline of Mount Etna towards the interior. The sun was setting and he was riveted by the glaze of golden light that bathed the whitewashed buildings interspersed throughout the typical tiled residences lining both cobblestoned streets and paved roads. Just as he managed to still his racing heart, his taxi arrived at their destination – a busy road with intricate alleyways lined with four and five story apartment buildings. The windows were adorned with hanging rectangular clay flower pots filled with all manner of delicate red, yellow and white flowers. The street was neat and clean, though this was clearly a residential working-class neighborhood unplagued by the raucous traffic of the city center.

Peeta stepped out onto the sidewalk, following the helpful indications of the driver that brought him to a set of heavy wooden doors adorned with brass knockers. On the frame were doorbells with handwritten apartment numbers printed next to each one. He took a deep breath, wiping his clammy palms on his beige slacks. Despite this, his hand shook as he pressed the button with Numero 4 printed in tidy letters. He heard the buzzer go off somewhere inside and an explosion of static as a woman's voice came through. "Chi e'?" she said calmly.

"Eh, sono Peeta Mellark. Cercho Katniss. Eh, I'm Peeta Mellark. I'm looking for Katniss."

There was an interminable pause before he heard a harsh buzz. Momentarily confused, he pushed against the door, which gave way to reveal a dark corridor with stairs at the end. Stepping inside, he was startled by the dim overhead lights that suddenly came on, revealing a row of metallic post boxes along one side of the wall. On the floor was a circular mosaic of a blue and black bird, wings outstretched as if ready to take flight. He walked carefully to the stairs, unsure of where to go when a door opened on the floor above him and a woman of about fifty bent over the balustrade, peering curiously down at him. Her hair was of a burnished gold, her face remarkably pretty. He took the stairs until he arrived at the landing and paused, unsure of what he should do.

"Io sono la mamma. Chi cerca a Katniss? I am Katniss' mother. Who looks for her?" she asked, her eyes carefully appraising his appearance.

"Sono un…amico di Katniss. Da Stati Uniti. I am a friend of Katniss. From United States." She did not move. "Ahem, eh, sono qui per… chiedendo… il permesso di…. sposare la sua figlia. Ahem, eh, I'm here to asking permission to marry your daughter." His imperfect grasp of the language together with his nerves made him feel incomprehensible.

Her eyes grew wide in shock but she recovered her composure. At that moment, a beautiful blond girl of perhaps twenty burst excitedly out of the apartment.

"Mamma! Queste e' il ragazzo di Katniss. Ciao, Peeta! Mamma! This is Katniss' boyfiend! Hello, Peeta!" She extended her hand out to him, shocking him with her familiarity. "I'm Rosa, Katniss' sister." He shook her hand with gratitude, his heart leaping in his chest at the idea that she might have spoken to her sister about him. Her mother gave her a stern look but Rosa ignored her. "She show me picture of you. She working in the trattoria right now. If you like, I take you!" She turned to her mother. "Lo porto io in trattoria. Ti prego, mamma! Katniss sara' cosi' contenta. I'll take him to the restaurant. Please, mamma! Katniss will be so happy."

Her mother turned to her younger daughter, debating for a moment before relenting. "Va bene, pero vado pur'io. Chiama il tuo cuggino, cosi c'i accompagna, per favore. Okay, but I'm going also. Call your cousin so that he may accompany us, please."

Rosa clapped her hands girlishly before running up the stairs. Peeta stood awkwardly at top step, listening to Rosa rap on a door and the subsequent muffled conversation before the sound of steps descending the stairs filled the corridor. Katniss' cousin turned out to be a tall, olive skinned man, about Katniss' age, with brilliant grey eyes and dark hair so like Katniss', he could have easily been her brother.

He looked at Peeta with diffidence before extending his hand, "Piacere. Sono Gale, il cugino di Rosa e Katniss. Pleased to meet you. I'm Gale, Rosa's and Katniss' cousin."

Peeta returned the firm handshake. "Sono Peeta Mellark, il amico di Katniss. I'm Peeta Mellark, Katniss' friend." he replied, still thrilled at being referred to as her boyfriend by Rosa. "Piacere."

"Lo so chi sei. I know who you are." Gale turned abruptly towards Katniss' mother. "Pronti? Ready??"

"Be', si. Andiamo. Well, yes. Let's go." She said with some wariness.

As Peeta followed Rosa down the narrow stairs, he heard another set of pounding feet on the stairs, followed by a loud bellow from Gale. However, the group that followed did not heed him and Peeta was shocked to see a boy and girl followed by an older woman, likely the mother twittering excitedly. Had it been any other context, Peeta would have found the whole scene to be comical. As it was, his nerves had shriveled to the size of a peanut in his stomach.

As soon as they were on the pavement, Rosa walked next to Peeta and began to chat pleasantly with him.

"You come all the way from New York?" she asked.

"Yes, I just arrived about two hours ago." Peeta smiled down at the lovely girl.

"O, che romantico! Katniss say you meet in Marsiglia, yes?" Her bright blue eyes twinkled in the lamplight of the cool evening.

"Yes. We met when she was working there."

"Che bello! Katniss go some months in France. Make many money and then come home to work in the trattoria. She work all the time. No boys for Katniss. You are the first boy she talk about with me."

Peeta beamed at this. One of his fears, that she might be spoken for and he was glad to put it to rest. "How do you know English so well?" he asked.

"I study English in liceo high school but Katniss pay for extra tutor. I must study English for the University. Katniss say I must go to University. I will be a doctor when I finish." Peeta's heart grew somewhat larger in his chest at the thought of Katniss working so menially so that her sister could have a chance to study medicine. It was obvious that Rosa loved her older sister very much and he made a vow to himself that he would take on Katniss' dreams and aspirations for her sweet little sister as seriously as if they were his own. He chanced a glance over his shoulder to see Gale scowling unpleasantly at both of them.

Soon they were at the restaurant. It was a typical establishment, with stone walls and rafters reminiscent of a mine shaft. Candles and soft lighting glowed, giving the place a warm feeling. And the smells. Peeta had never known a place to smell so enticing. His heart began to race as Gale pushed his way through to the front.

"Scusa, ma Katniss, dove sta'? Excuse me, where is Katniss." he asked a well-dressed gentleman at the bar.

"Perche'? Why?" he asked haughtily.

Gale indicated in Peeta's direction with his head. "Questo ragazzo la cercha. La vuole sposare. This young man is looking for her. He wants to marry her."

The gentleman, clearly the manager, shook his head. "Impossibile! E' la piu brava impiegata che abbiamo! That's impossible! She is the best worker we have!"

As they continued their conversation, Peeta eyes swept the restaurant but he saw no one that even remotely looked like her. Suddenly, a door in the back swung open, a bright stream of light flooding the smooth warm glow of the dining area, outlining Katniss' figure as she exited the kitchen balancing two plates of pasta in each hand. His heart stopped – she was exactly as he remembered her and he had to resist the urge to rush over and pull her to him. As he was drinking in the sight of her, she looked up, an expression of shock overtaking her features.

"Peeta!" she gasped, carefully setting down the plates with some help from the patrons at the table.

He cleared his throat. "Buona sera, Katniss. Good evening, Katniss."

She tugged nervously at her braid. "Buona sera, Peeta."

A hush fell over the restaurant as Peeta took a deep breath, taking out a small cue card and cradling it in his hand, though he tried very hard not to read from it.

"Bella Katniss. Io sono qui con il proposito di chiedere di sposarmi." he paused to take a shaky breath. "Lo so que sono un pazzo, che quasi non c'i conosciendo. Pero a volte, le cose sono cosi chiarezza da non avere bisogno di prove evidenziale." He paused sheepishly. "Io vivo qui o tu poi vivere con me negli Stati Uniti.

Beautiful Katniss. I'm here with the view to asking you to marry me." he paused to take a shaky breath. "I know I am crazy, that we hardly knowing each other. But sometimes, things are so transparency as to not require evidential proof." he paused sheepishly." I can live here or you can live with me in the United States."

Rosa chimed happily, "Negli Stati Uniti, cosi vengo pur' io! Live in the United States, so I can come too!" The restaurant erupted into subdued laughter and Peeta could not help but cast an indulgent smile in her direction.

"E ovvio che non penso che tu sia cosi' pazzo come me e immagino che tu mi dirai 'no'." Here Peeta took a deep breath. "Pero siccome e' Natale, volevo solo sapere."

It's obvious that I don't think you are as crazy as me and I imagine that you will tell me no." Here Peeta took a deep breath. "But because it is Christmas, I just wanted to know.

Katniss looked around the room with a quivering nervousness when Rosa erupted "Dirgli di si! Lo sai che lo ami! Oh, tell him yes! You know you love him!" Katniss launched grey arrows with her eyes at her little sister.

When her eyes fell upon Peeta, the look she gave him was one he would never forget in his entire life. "Thank you." She said quietly. "That will be nice. I say yes." Her face broke into an enormous smile. "Yes be my answer. I marry you."

Peeta felt his face split open. "Really?"

Katniss walked towards him. "Yes, really."

"Que hai risposto? What did you say?" asked Gale.

"Ho detto di si. Lo sposero' I said yes. I will marry him."

The entire restaurant erupted in applause as she closed the space between them. He touched her braid gently, rubbing its incredible softness between his thumb and forefinger.

"You learned English?" he asked incredulously.

"I study a little bit." She answered. "Just in case." Peeta could not contain his joy any longer and pulled her into his arms, kissing her with all the longing he had held in the last month they had been apart. When they separated, he felt Katniss' mother come up and give him a kiss on each cheek, followed by Rosa, who fairly squealed in delight, Gale's family and people who were friends of Katniss' family. Finally, with what he later learned was simply his default sour expression, was Gale, pulling him in for a double kiss that both surprised and gratified Peeta. "Tanti auguri Congratulatons." he said as he patted Peeta on the shoulder.

At the insistence of the crowd, Katniss was relieved of her shift and a spontaneous celebration erupted. Peeta let Katniss order whatever she thought he might like. He tried for the first time the hard Sicilian bread that was typical of the area, seafood soup from seafood caught that very day, a pasta with mussels that he could have made a meal alone out of and pan doro, a kind of vanilla cake drizzled with Nutella and drowned in amaretto. It was Christmas Day after all and Katniss' mother decided that the lasagna could keep just as well until tomorrow. The owner of the small restaurant turned out to be a cousin of Katniss' father and so he let the young couple and her family celebrate their happy time. The food, the heady love ballads that played on the old-fashioned juke box, the spumanti and Katniss next to him all conspired to make him feel the happiest he had ever truly felt in his life.

When the crowds had dwindled down to just Katniss' family and a handful of friends chatting amiably, Peeta took Katniss' hand to dance a sultry song that rang somewhat familiar to him.

Katniss rested her head on his shoulders as they swayed to the earthy tones of the singer's voice. Peeta was drifting – he was close to being awake for 24 hours and the music together with the food and drink made him feel mellow and drowsy.

She turned her head up to him and asked "You like this music?"

"Mmm…si…reminds me of you." He muttered into her hair.

"I sing this song for you. In Francia. Ti ricordi In France. Do you remember??"

Peeta perked up and listened carefully

Non c'e bellezza There's no beauty,

Frase ad effetto No clever words

Un'assoluta verita' An absolute truth

Ma c'`e un istante But there is an instant

Nell'universo In the Universe

Attimo eterno An eternal moment

In cui mi sento unica In which I feel unique

Perche' niente `e come te Because nothing is like you

E me insieme And me together

Niente vale quanto te e me insieme Nothing is as good as you and I together

Siamo due respire We are two breaths

Che vibrano vicini That vibrate near each other

Oltre il male e il bene Beyond good and evil

Niente `e come me e te Nothing is like you and me

insieme Together

"You are unique...unica..." He reached into his pocket and pulled the small silver box out, handing it nervously to her.

Katniss hands shook as she accepted the box. "Non dovevi, Peeta! You shouldn't have, Peeta!" she exclaimed as she opened the box to find the grey pearl necklace inside. He took it carefully out of the box and put it around her neck. She rolled the pearl between her thumb and forefinger before bringing it to her lips in a cool kiss. "Thank you," she said before pulling him down to kiss him. They were virtually alone, Katniss' mother having returned to her home with Rosa while Gale was sprawled out on a sofa, snoring lightly. The restaurant would soon close and the last few customers were saying their good-byes.

Indicating with his head, he said "He takes care of you, doesn't he?"

Katniss nodded. "He take care of us when papa' die. Our papa' die at same time. He is my soul-brother. Do you say this in English? Fratello d'anima?"

"Not exactly the same way but something similar. Only not for brothers and sisters but for lovers. Soul mates. Like you are my soul mate."

Katniss' became emotional at this and kissed him again, this time with an undercurrent of heat. "Take me away. I want go with you."

Peeta swallowed hard, his need for her straining against the awful boundary of his clothes.

In moments, he'd ordered a taxi and stuffed a tired Gale into the front seat of the taxi, where he promptly fell asleep again, the spumanti having had its magical effect on him as well. It was a bear to get him up the stairs, as his large frame was thickly muscled and weighed much more than it appeared but they managed to get him into his house and on his bed before Katniss gave him a tender kiss on his forehead. This endeared both of them to Peeta even more, when he considered the way in which his own brother had demonstrated his devotion to him.

They slipped quietly into Katniss' home next, where she packed a hasty bag, leaving a note for her mother that she would see her the next evening (she hoped her mother infer that she had left their home in the early morning and not that she was actually spending the night with Peeta). Then they ran outside like two children into the waiting taxi that would take them to the hotel.

The prospect of finally having Katniss to himself made his desire for her multiply and he soon couldn't keep his hands off of her. He tried to be discreet, for the taxi driver's sake but his hands had a mind of their own, running along her legs, exposed by the sensible black skirt while his mouth spilled kisses onto her neck, dipping into the valley of her breasts revealed by the open buttons of her white work shirt. His attempts at restraint failed as his fingers ran along the inside of her thigh until he was met with the flimsy material of her underwear. She was wet for him already and he shifted the material to dip into her moist center, she moaned against his lips, the lips she was ravishing with a hunger so primal, they might as well have been alone.

Peeta sheepishly paid the driver his fare, a knowing smile dancing on the lips of the older Italian man, before pulling Katniss into the hotel, stopping only to pick up the old-fashioned key from the front desk. Luckily, there were few guests because of the hour of the morning and as soon as the elevator doors closed, they were upon each other again. Peeta's hands were under her skirt, kneading the firm contours of her round bottom, grinding into her until the front of his pants was wet with her desire while Katniss hands had undone the buttons of his shirt, her hands fanning across the expanse of his broad chest. Her lips travelled his collarbone and soon, she was worrying his nipples as he had done, making his knees buckle from the sensation. When the elevator stopped, he pulled her along, laughing as he fumbled with the key, cursing the door for not opening quickly enough for him.

Once inside, he threw the key to the ground, along with the rest of his clothes. The desire to rip the buttons of her shirt was so strong, she hurried to save it from his ravages by unbuttoning it herself. Soon his hands were upon her again, pushing the skirt and underwear off of her hips, watching them pool at her feet. He kissed her furiously, unfastening her bra and casting it away and pushed her up against the wall, devouring her lips until they were raw.

Peeta ran his tongue over the skin of her neck, causing her to moan. She mumbled incomprehensibly as he took her small but perfectly rounded breasts in his hands and ran his thumb over the turgid peaks. Soon his mouth was on them and she called out his name, pushing herself into him. As he lavished his attention on them, his hand ran the expanse of her body until his fingers had found her center. He played gently with her folds until he found that bundle of nerves, making her hips buck into his hand.

He brought his mouth up to her ears and whispered the phrase he had practiced so many times as he rubbed her, causing her back to arch off of the wall. "Sei cosi' exquisita. Voglio farti l'amore finche' rimani senza fiato. You are so exquisite. I want to make love to you until you are breathless."

Her grey eyes flew open, so dark with desire they seemed almost black. "Peeta…you speak…so perfect…" she moaned as he felt her desire building, felt her grind against his hand, mewling when he slipped two fingers inside of her and pumped in time with the pressure he placed on her now swollen clit. He took a nipple in his mouth and bit down gently, making her explode over his hands, her legs almost giving out under the force of her orgasm.

As she came down from her high, he tore through the pockets of his slacks and pulling out the foil buried in his wallet. Ripping it open, he sheathed himself before wrapping his arms around her small waist and lifting her off the ground. He reached down to feel her moist heat and, position himself at her entrance, a gasp exploding from her lips as he pushed past her folds, burying himself with all the desperation and longing he'd felt these last few weeks and driving into her furiously. She was soft and warm in his arms from her orgasm and wet, so wet it made him want to lap her up but the feel of his cock inside of her was the closest thing to perfection.

Peeta thrilled at watching her small breasts bounce in time with grey pearl. He walked her slowly to the bed and laid her down carefully, ravaging her lips before resuming his rhythm. He brought her beautiful, shapely legs up over his shoulders and pushed them back until he was holding down her firm thighs, driving into her and reveling in seeing her so open to him, like the rare flower that she was. He closed her legs until her knees were on her chest, her delicate ankles resting on his shoulder, the angle of penetration changing again as he enjoyed the view of her perfectly rounded bottom. He kissed her calf, her knees, the skin like silk against his lips.

When he was close, he gently allowed her legs to fall open and he settled himself between her legs, kissing her again, her firm body writhing against his. Very soon, Katniss would always be his and in that moment, he felt an incredible tenderness towards her, his love for her blossoming out of all the secret places of his heart. He held her head and kissed her gently, running his knuckles along the sides of her face. She opened her eyes and looked into his searchingly yet unflinchingly. As he moved inside of her, she pulled him down to kiss him, plundering his mouth. When she released him, she whispered "Ti amo, Peeta. I love you and I'm so happy you come back for me." Here, a small tear escaped her stormy eyes which he captured with his lips.

"Ti amo anch'io." He said against her ear, his rhythm increasing as he felt the coil in his belly unravel, and his own explosion took over him, the world falling away until he was spent. Rolling carefully off of her, he sank onto his side, in incredible weariness taking over him. He pulled her close to him and felt himself begin to drift off to sleep. Before he lost consciousness altogether, he chuckled into her hair. "Merry Christmas, Katniss." Her tired laughter was the last sound her heard as he sank into the folds of slumber.