Author's Note: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry for not posting anything this past weekend, but I was incredibly busy and had a few surprises sprung on me during the time I could have spent writing. I promise that I haven't forgotten about you guys, and I really hope you all enjoy this chapter despite the wait. Enjoy!
Before I exit the hovercraft I catch a glimpse of Peeta and myself in the shiny chrome of the side wall in the craft.
My eyes are red from crying, and somehow I seem to myself to have acquired some odd form of femininity. I look more delicate now, more fragile. My complexion has a pallor I've never seen before, but it only highlights my somewhat gaunt features. My eyes look like they've taken over my face. They are full of sadness.
But it's Peeta who really grabs my attention.
The large hands encompassing my shoulders are the only part of Peeta that looks strong. For the longest time Peeta had been my rock of invincible strength, the ray of sun no cloud could block. Now, seeing him so defeated was terrifying. His shoulders are haunched in and it makes him look so small and weak. I can feel him shaking against me.
But his face... The look will haunt me until the day I die.
His complexion is chalky like mine, but his face is crumpled. His eyes, once so full of mirth and laughter have turned into pools of despair and hopelessness. His mouth is turned into a tight line, but the sides are down and trembling as if he's about to cry. I can see where the lines will form on his face. He has aged a thousand years in less than two hours.
Suddenly, I feel as though the responsibility has been shifted, and it's my turn to be strong and bring comfort to him.
It occurs to me that this loss, although painful for me, must be devastating for Peeta.
Peeta, who had always wanted children. Peeta, who hadn't asked me for anything since we married. Where it had taken me months to begin loving our child, Peeta had loved it from the first time I told him I was expecting. His heart has been smashed to pieces. He was ready to love the child inside me with open arms.
It is at this moment that I feel more like a failure than I ever have in my entire life. Even with the games as an excuse, the intense amount of guilt I harbor cannot be surpassed. I tried so hard to protect my- our baby in the games, but it wasn't enough. I push the feeling away. I imagine an open box and put the feeling inside. I shut the lid and lock it in a closet to revisit it when I have the chance or have some privacy.
As we walk forward, my mother, Prim, and Gale are waiting for me. I hug each of them, but it's as if I'm watching them from outside of my body. The action is hollow. It's as if someone has taken the vivid strands of fabric that make up my life and has leached them grey. Every movement is forced, every smile a fake. It is only when I arrive in the bedroom I'll be sharing with Peeta and shut the door that we both lose our composure. Peeta loses his grip faster than I, and is silently sobbing into his hands. I sit next to him and wrap my arms around him, whispering words of comfort into his ear. I can tell that he's listening to me by his body language, but he's totally silent.
I have no words to comfort Peeta with. All I can do is hold him and kiss him gingerly. Slowly, his head comes up from his hands, and he looks at me like he's been a dog kicked across the room. I can see the question burning in his eyes. Why did this happen to us? I have no answer for him. I go and kneel in front of him and cup his face in my hands. I attempt to convey a silent message of hope to him with my eyes, but I don't think it's working.
"We have each other," I say quietly. "We still have one baby- that's a miracle in itself. We have so much to be thankful for. I hate seeing you this unhappy. What can I do to make you happy, sweetheart?"
The word "sweetheart" wakes him up a bit. Very seldom does any term of endearment pass from my lips. He smiles at me and squeezes my hands.
"Having you here is a Godsend."
I smile at him. It's wan and slightly forced, but it's the best I've got. He stands up, as do I, and we embrace. He squeezes me in this way that makes me feel so safe and loved.
We can get through this- I can feel it.
A knock comes at my door, and I open it to see Haymitch and Plutarch waiting for me.
"Welcome to the revolution, Katniss."