Chapter 7: Family
My nightmares are worse than I can remember. I'm trapped in Snow's mansion, stumbling around drunkenly because I've been stung by tracker jackers. I can't find Peeta. They're going to hijack him, I have to save him, but I can't find him. Behind every door that I open I find Snow leering at me while he eats enormous strawberries, blood running down his chin. I cry out, but there's no one to help me, nothing but Snow and a house full of gaudily-dressed Capitol sycophants.
Suddenly, I'm engulfed in warmth. I must have found Peeta; he's whispering to me, telling me that we're safe now. I wrap my arms around his neck and beg him to stay with me, to make me feel safe again.
I can't make out what he murmurs in reply, but I know what he said. I fall back into a cloud and really sleep for the first time since the Quell.
I never want to get out of bed, it just feels so good. I wriggle a little to squirm my way deeper into all the warmth around me and feel Peeta reflexively tighten his arms around me.
Peeta.
My name is Katniss Everdeen, I'm 17 years old, District 12 is gone. I'm in District 13, in my own bed, with Peeta Mellark. He used to love me. He was hijacked. We have to pretend to be in love. We've slept together before. It's just like old times, except now he's been programmed to kill me.
Breathe.
He's not having an episode. I listen to his breathing and conclude that he's still asleep. That makes what I can feel pressed up against my backside slightly less awkward. I tilt my head to look over at the clock and see that Prim and my mother must have left for work half an hour ago.
After carefully extracting myself from Peeta's arms, I brush his hair back from his forehead; because it doesn't matter; he's asleep. I don't have to worry about what he'll think or what it means. I'm the only one who'll remember this so I'm free to touch him if I want.
Eventually his eyes open, staring back at me, pure and blue, full of happiness. My breath catches in my throat, but as he takes in his surroundings, his eyes narrow into a guarded look.
He scrambles off of the bed, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I… You were having a nightmare. Prim couldn't wake you. You just wouldn't wake up." He turns away, suddenly extremely interested in a nondescript part of the floor. "Prim unlocked the handcuffs and she… she ordered me to hold you. She said I had to because you… you were calling my name. In your sleep."
He finally looks up at me; his eyes look pained, almost guilty. "I was just trying to help you. I didn't mean to… I wasn't trying to…"
I can't stand him apologizing, not for the one thing that's made me feel good in months. I cut him off sharply by saying "You didn't have to, you don't owe me anything."
He purses his lips but says nothing. We stand there awkwardly until he glances up at the clock and then turns back to me. "I need to get going. I told the kitchen staff I'd start helping out in the mornings. So don't wait up for me at the surface exit, I'm not going hunting today."
I hadn't even remembered that it was Tuesday, but this will ruin it for the second week in a row. I clench my fists in frustration. "Well than you know I can't go either. Plutarch won't allow it."
Peeta shakes his head. "Go anyway. You two deserve some time alone and this is the only time you'll get together without the cameras."
"Stop it! That's not real, Peeta. I don't care what they told you in the Capitol. We're not like that. We hunt! That's all we do, we're friends."
Peeta looks up at the clock again and then responds with an angry edge creeping into his voice, "I'm crazy, Katniss, not stupid. It's them you have to pretend for, not me. I know I'm not the same, but I don't need your pity. And… and I know, alright? Coin's been recording the two of you; she showed me a tape right after we started playing "Star-Crossed Lovers" again." His voice catches when he concludes "But that's not important. What's important is that you don't let this… game ruin things with him too. He loves you."
As he's walking out into the common room, he looks back over his shoulder. "And don't worry about Plutarch, I'll be at the kitchen when you bring the game back, we'll make it up to him then."
O- - - - - - - - - - - - -O
I act indifferent until he's showered, dressed and gone and then I let myself go. I let myself collapse on the floor and cry. This is why Peeta and Gale get along so well now; I don't come between them because Peeta doesn't even want me anymore. No matter how much better he gets, he'll never be mine again. All I'll ever be to him now is his partner in this game we can't stop playing.
By the time I manage to get dressed, it's too late for breakfast. I can't feel hunger anyway. I can't feel much of anything, really. I just head directly for the surface exit where Gale and I usually meet.
When I arrive there, Gale's waiting for me as usual. But he looks more worried than happy to see me. "Where is he? Is he alright?"
Peeta is the last thing I want to talk about with Gale so my reply is mumbled as I grab my bow and quiver "He's fine. He talked the kitchen staff into letting him work there. Let's go."
Gale and I walk to our usual hunting grounds in silence. After we shoot a few incautious rabbits, Gale manages to force another question out. "They're okay with him not being here?"
"I don't know! He said to go anyway because it's the only time we'll get alone!" My pulse is pounding as I spit out "Coin was filming us in 2! She showed him the tape and now he thinks… he thinks I…"
Gale holds me to his chest while I sob. For the longest time, the only sounds are my crying and his barely perceptible breathing. Eventually he lets out a tired sigh and speaks. "I'm sorry, Catnip. I shouldn't have kissed you. I just had to be sure. I had to know if there was any chance… any chance you could feel something."
"I told you before Gale, I can't think like that. Not when things are like this."
Gale shakes his head as he puts an arm's length between us. "Did you ever tell him that?" When I don't respond, he continues. "Just stop making excuses! You were in the games with him! They told you only one of you could come out alive. Twice! But you still felt it! Everyone could see it but you. Even you realized it at the very end, when you really thought about life without him."
Gale's crying too now and I'm reminded of our trip to 12, of the only other time I've seen him with tears in his eyes. "It's not your fault, Catnip. You can't let him go. Even if he didn't want you, it wouldn't matter. You're so crazy! You think I haven't noticed all that time you spend hiding in the laundry rooms? All the drugs? You think I don't know what you're always touching in your right front pocket? Everyone knows why you want to go to the Capitol! It's a suicide mission! But you don't even care."
Gale impatiently wipes at his eyes. "But not everything is about you! He can't help himself, not after what they did to him; sometimes he's going to say stuff that hurts you. But you have to try to help him. It's not just about you two."
I nod. "I know."
"Then act like it! You aren't free to just throw your life away; not when there are people who need you. He tried to tell you that, on the beach. Whether he remembers or not, it still happened. Rory needs you. Prim needs you. Do you remember when they were all that mattered? Before he came along?"
I don't trust myself to speak; but it doesn't matter. Gale isn't looking for an answer. We just keep moving along. We're better at silence anyway.
We eventually bag three more rabbits and two squirrels before the sun's too high in the sky and the wildlife retreats into its burrows. As we make our way back, Gale stops me. He looks as if he wants to speak, but it takes an eternity for him to get the words out.
"You remember that first time they let him eat with us? I told you that I knew how he felt, the jealousy, the anger. It was the same for me, watching you and him. The only difference is that I could see that it wasn't fair to you. You couldn't help loving him."
I open my mouth to protest, to say something to make Gale feel better but no words come out. There isn't any lie I could tell that Gale couldn't see through. He knows me too well. But I can't see where he's going with this.
"After the hijacking, he couldn't see that he wasn't being fair, couldn't tell how much you were hurting, how much you still wanted him. It was the same a week ago when they sent him out here with us. Coin showed him that tape because she thinks he's still like that, still in the dark. She thinks jealousy will push him over the edge. But she's wrong about him."
I watch him while his eyes stare off into the distance. "The day that he and I took a walk on the training grounds… He told me he'd seen the tape of him… hurting you. He's still confused about a lot of things but not about you, not about what you mean to him." He finally brings his gaze back to me. "I don't care what he saw or what Coin or the Capitol told him about us, he still loves you. Even when he hates you, he loves you. He can't help it."
The way Gale says that, I could almost believe that he's talking about himself. But I'm overwhelmed when I think about how hard this must be for him. I try to let go of my frustration and appreciate his gesture. "Thanks."
He nods in return. "Just think about that before you do something desperate," he tells me as he picks the game bag back up.
O- - - - - - - - - - - - -O
After we deposit our bows at the armory, we make our way to the kitchen to drop the game off. It's busier than usual. I see Delly and her brother rolling dough and twisting it into some kind of braided pattern while Greasy Sae is scowling over a large pot. She turns and gives me a gap-toothed grin.
"What did you bring me, dears? This stew could some real meat."
Gale holds up the rabbits and Greasy Sae cackles with glee. "Now then, coney stew it is! It'll be a fine lunch for once."
I manage a small smile and glance around but I still don't see Peeta. When Greasy Sae notices, she snorts and gestures toward the ovens at the far end of the kitchen. "Your young man has some crazy idea about making bread folks actually want to eat instead of the sawdust cakes that we've been serving."
While Gale butchers the rabbits for Greasy Sae, I slowly walk towards the ovens and when I'm about halfway there, I'm rewarded with the sight of Peeta backing in through a side door carrying four trays of bread stacked on top of each other. I stand there gaping, mesmerized by the way his biceps flex until the sound of the trays being set on the counter snaps me out of it.
He's in his element here; he seems calmer, more focused. His eyes are brighter and his shoulders straighter. Baking seems to be more effective therapy for him than his time with Dr. Lloyd. As I stare at him, I see the boy who would sneak glances at me as I traded with his father and the young man who'd bring me cheese buns even after I'd broken his heart.
If he notices me staring, he doesn't mention it. "You're back. How was the hunt?"
I feel awkward under his gaze and I nervously fiddle with my game bag. "It's mostly rabbits this time, but Sae thinks they're enough for some stew."
He smiles "That's what we were hoping for; this bread should go well with it. Here, try a piece."
The symbolism unnerves me. When I think about the old Peeta, my Peeta, the one I miss so desperately, I still think of him as "the boy with the bread". My gaze moves back and forth between his face and the bread in his hand. If I take it, then my hope that Peeta will come back to me is real, I won't be able to pretend otherwise. If we reenact this, he'll be able to hurt me again, really hurt me. I'm not afraid of offering him my neck, half the time I think I deserve to be strangled. But if I let myself hope that he'll love me again… that hope could break me.
It's safer to just walk away, tell him I ate before, anything but this. I take the roll and savor the warmth and smell before I take a bite. It tastes grainy and as I chew I can taste what's been baked into it, sunflower seeds and little bits of apple. It's not the same recipe as the bread, the loaves he gave me six years ago, but it's close, hearty with fruit and seeds baked into it.
The whole world is collapsing in on me; I can't stop the tears that form in the corners of my eyes and I can't keep back the sob in my throat. I feel my head spinning, my free hand clutching the counter just to keep myself upright. I look up and stare into Peeta's eyes, trying to read them, desperate to see what this means to him, if he has any idea what this means to me.
I can't read anything from his expression and I'm still trying when he takes me in his arms. He wraps around me and brings his mouth down to my ear, murmuring gently. "I'm sorry. I'm so stupid sometimes. I didn't think. I didn't mean to remind you of… of bad times."
I sniffle as I whisper into his ear "After he died, that was the first day that wasn't bad, the first day I thought things could get better."
His face feels hot against mine and I can feel a tear slide down his cheek until it hits mine. "I promise you, things will be better, after the war, I'll make it better."
It seems to ridiculous on the face of it, how can any of us know what the future holds? But his simple promise moves me. I tighten my grip on him, trying to pull his warmth in to me. We stay that way, listening to the sounds of each other breathing in each other's necks, for minutes, hours, I can't tell; I lose all sense of time.
Eventually Peeta breaks the silence by whispering into my ear again. "If you're ready, we should do it."
I gaze at him in confusion. Do what? But I nod my head slightly. In the daze I'm in, I'd do anything he wants, give him whatever he needs.
When he touches his lips to mine, I'm briefly giddy with happiness. But it doesn't take long for my heart to plummet. His hand on my shoulder holds me, his grip preventing me from deepening the kiss. I don't pull away but the disappointment stings me. There's no heat in his kiss, nothing like the beach or even that one kiss in the cave. It's just one of our standard kisses, our stock and trade. And it looks great; we've done this a thousand times for the cameras, for an audience. But this is nothing like the kisses I've been imagining ever since the beach. This isn't for me, for us. It's for them.
If all the acting on the Victory Tour taught me anything, it's that I'm not good at hiding my emotions. So I bury my face in his chest to hide how empty I feel now.
I turn my face just enough that out of the corner of my eye I can see everyone staring at us, Delly, Sae, Delly's little brother, Gale.
Peeta removes his face from my hair and laughs a little as he says "Delly, Cord, if you're done watching the show, we should get that last batch of rolls in the ovens for lunch."
O- - - - - - - - - - - - -O
Delly and Greasy Sae serve the rabbit stew and rolls for lunch while Peeta and I put on a show in the cafeteria, nibbling at our food while holding hands. I can see everyone smiling at us and I want to throw things at them. Pretending to love Peeta was nothing; it was like shooting an arrow, like singing. It required no effort. Pretending that Peeta loves me is impossibly difficult, like pretending to be full when inside I'm starving.
After lunch, we're at loose ends without training. Usually Gale and I go back out and check snares together in the afternoon but this time Gale offers to go alone and I make a big show of being grateful that I get to spend more time with Peeta. When Peeta heads off to therapy, I tag along, telling myself that it's good copy, that Plutarch will appreciate it.
At the medical wing, I not only hold Peeta's hand but stroke his bicep to give Adriana something to watch. I tell myself that that's for the cameras too. But when I look her and imagine her feeding Peeta while he's in restraints or comforting him after an episode, I want to get my bow from the armory, drag her into the woods by her hair and shoot her.
Dr. Lloyd wants Peeta to watch the family interviews from our first games. I don't understand why but I wait until Dr. Lloyd leaves before I ask Peeta as I nuzzle his ear.
He brings his mouth to me but makes no move to touch me as he breathes into my ear "It's just about the only tape related to the games that they haven't shown me four times already. Besides, they waited until you found me before they did the interviews since everything happened so fast after you destroyed the supplies."
I hadn't thought of that. The interviews for the families of the final eight tributes. There were only eight of us for such a brief time between Cato killing that boy from Three and Marvel killing Rue before I killed him. Suddenly I'm curious as to what everyone said about us.
Apparently this collection is everyone's responses to questions about Peeta's love for me and our odds of winning. To judge from the footage that they're interspersing, Peeta and I are in the cave, but this is before the medicine, before the story about me singing on the first day of school, before the kiss.
They start with my family and my mother stares into off into the distance as she answers their questions. I suppose to the audience she just seems composed, but I can see how vacant her eyes are, her sanity hanging on by a thread. I used to hate her for it, but I can't anymore, not really. I've seen that look in the mirror too many times now.
"Katniss did a good job cleaning his wound, I'm glad that she remembered some of what I taught her. And I knew Bran's son was a good boy, he's so much like his father, strong and open-hearted. And he has a share of his mother's cleverness too. I'm sure that he and Katniss can come home to us. I'm so glad that she isn't alone there, in the arena; I know how terrible it is to be alone."
It brings a tear to my eye when I think about how much we all lost when my father died. But the look on my mother's face when she talks about Peeta's father unnerves me a little. I'm thankful when the tape moves on to Prim's interview.
"Of course Katniss and Peeta are coming home! They're the perfect team; he's strong and she's fast, she's impulsive but he's patient. It's like peanut butter and honey, they just go with each other. I'm sure some sponsor will send them some Chlorosepsin for Peeta's leg. Now that they found each other, everyone will want to sponsor them; they're adorable together!"
I risk a glance up at Peeta and he looks me in the eye, his lips twitching slightly before he starts laughing. I don't want to join in, but I can't keep a straight face; I'm actually giggling as we lean back into the couch. I try to adopt a serious expression when I scold Peeta, "Stop laughing at my baby sister!"
His smile finally does fade, but only because Gale has appeared on the television.
He looks nervous, I can tell by the way he's clenching his jaw and wringing his hands. It takes him a long time to look up at the camera and start to speak.
"She can't hunt if she's tied down with him! Catnip- Katniss is a great climber but she's stuck in that cave with him. I'm worried about her. With that leg, I don't think he's going to make it and… and when she called his name like that… I'm worried about her, about… my cousin."
The audience wouldn't understand but I can see what Gale was afraid of, that I'd turn into my mother if Peeta died. What was it that Caesar Flickerman said? That he knew I loved Peeta when I cried out his name involuntarily? I never wondered what everyone else thought until now. Finnick didn't know, not until Peeta hit that force-field and I lost it. President Snow asked me to convince him, but it was all a distraction. He knew that we couldn't stop the rebellion and I wonder now if he already knew; if what he really wanted was to keep me from realizing how much Peeta could help the rebellion. We're so much more dangerous together.
When Peeta's eldest brother, Bannock, comes on the screen, my interest deepens. I didn't know either of Peeta's brothers well and I'm curious about what they said about me before they met me, even if the Capitol didn't leave them free to say what they really thought. Bannock always seemed so serious, as if the responsibility of being the first born hung heavily on his shoulders.
"We're… um… we're grateful to the gamemakers for the rules change. It's the only way we'll see him again. We knew Peeta wouldn't let her die, no matter what it cost him. He used to just stare at her out the window… his sketchbook, he has all these drawings of her. When he loves, it's never halfway."
I hate being reminded of how much Peeta used to love me so I'm grateful when the next tape starts quickly and the middle brother, Rye, appears, looking smug.
"You've got to understand, silver tongue s run in our family, but Peeta's something else. He can talk anyone into anything. I used to tell him he was wasting his talent; he could have had the three prettiest girls in school at the same time. He once convinced Bannock to take all of his evening shifts just so he could get Ban's morning shifts to gaze longingly at Katniss. You should have seen the look on Ban's girl's face when she found out he couldn't take her on a date for three weeks! He's always going to be three moves ahead in a game like this, convincing sponsors that Katniss is the hottest girl in Panem, convincing that tribute from Two to let him be part of their alliance, convincing the gamemakers to change the rules… He'll move mountains if that's what it takes to end up with that girl."
Rye was never at a loss for words and I used to chaff at his lewd comments when he was alive. But now I find that I can't begrudge him his little jokes. My voice is teasing when I turn to Peeta. "So, the three prettiest girls in school?"
Peeta actually smiles and rolls his eyes when he responds "He really did say that. He was wrong though."
I bat my eyelashes and tilt my chin up. "Really?"
"I couldn't even work up the courage to talk to the prettiest girl in school," he tells me with a hint of nervousness creeping back into his voice.
"And who was-" I stop short when I realize he meant me. "Peeta, I wasn't the prettiest girl in school. You said so yourself. I'm not pretty. I'm duskier than the inside of a coal mine and as flat as a board. And I was a girl from the Seam with no dowry, a sister to support, a crazy mother and no father." I quietly add "I never understood what you saw when you looked at me."
His head hangs and his eyes are closed. He licks his lips before he speaks. "You don't know the effect you can have; I wasn't the only one that thought you were beautiful. But… I didn't know what to say; I was from Town. We didn't have anything in common, not like you and Gale. And I was ashamed, of the way people from Town treated people from the Seam, of the way my mother yelled at you that day... that I was too scared to go to you… to hand you the bread, to tell you that I cared. I just threw it and ran inside."
I want to say something but my throat is so tight. Peeta doesn't open his eyes when he continues "I used to obsess over it, to wonder if things would be different if I'd had more guts. I told myself that if ever got another chance, I wouldn't be such a coward."
He pauses for a long time, staring at the couch before he speaks again. "But when we got reaped, it all flashed in front of me. You need three things to win the games: food, a good weapon and medicine. With your bow, you had the first two. But everyone gets hurt sometime and then you have to sponsors. But you're too proud; you'd never ask. The only way was for me to convince them. And I couldn't even tell you before because you had to be surprised."
His eyes are wet when he opens his eyes to look at me. "It's bad enough that they took my leg, my sanity, my family, but what I can't forgive is that they made me use the one thing I held onto, the thing I kept deep inside, the one part of me that was pure."
He wipes at his eyes in frustration before he tells me "Sometimes I wish I could stop remembering things."
I don't know what to say. We're both staring at the floor when the next tape finally starts playing. It occurs to me that Dr. Lloyd must be watching us to know when to start them. I feel a hot surge of anger when I think about him observing Peeta when he's like this, but I clench my jaw and try to concentrate on the image of Peeta's father.
"I knew how he felt… about Katniss. I tried to make my peace with it when they were reaped. But I won't deny that it was hard… it was hard seeing him lying in that mudbank. It's good that they'll be together, if just for a little while. I don't… I don't want her to feel guilty. This is what he wanted from the beginning. He knows what the odds are. He… he wouldn't want her to take any foolish chances."
I think back to Peeta telling me the same thing, that I wouldn't be doing him "any favors" if I died for him. Does Peeta remember me saving him? Does it mean anything to him now or does he just write it off as another trick to get sponsors? His face is unreadable when his mother appears on the screen.
"Oh I knew all about his obsession with her. She's a heartbreaker, just like her mother. She'd come to our back door to trade and he'd stare at her through the window, entranced. He's got his father's eye for pretty things. Of course, it was nice of the gamemakers to remind her that he was bleeding to death in the mud, that he took a mortal wound for her. You'll notice that she didn't give a damn about him before that and once she's gotten everything the sponsors will give her, she'll leave him to die alone. She won't be stupid enough to keep him around past his usefulness; she's a survivor."
When I come to my senses, I realize that my mouth is hanging open. Of course I never thought that "the witch" liked me, but to insinuate that I didn't care about him while I was doing everything I could to save him, to cast doubts on our pretend-romance in a video sponsors would see, she could have condemned us both to death!
I turn to Peeta to vent my outrage but he's not with me. His eyes aren't just closed, they're clenched shut and his hands are curled into fists. I sit there, paralyzed, while he shakes and grits his teeth.
When he finally stops shaking, he looks over at me and his irises have disappeared, overwhelmed by his dilated pupils. He's panting and his voice is strained when he speaks. "You left me, real or not real?"
I swallow and shift away from him on the couch, my hands uselessly searching for something to do, some way to help. "Peeta, I…"
"Haymitch told you about 13. You shot that arrow to short-out the force-field, escaped on their hovercraft, left me behind to be tortured. Real or not real?"
Somehow my tongue is loosened for once and the words come tumbling out. "Not real. I didn't know about Haymitch's plan either. I shot the wire into the force-field because I thought I could kill Brutus and Enobaria. Beetee and me too. I didn't know exactly who was where. I thought everyone was close to me except you and one of the others. I figured the blast would kill everyone close to me; only you and one other tribute would survive." I swallow to hold back a sob before I force the last words out. "Those were the best odds I could give you."
He's silent, his eyes closed again and still breathing heavily for a long time and I keep glancing towards the door, but no guards interrupt us. Finally, he speaks. "The locket didn't work."
"That's right, Peeta. You knew the next morning. We talked about it. I guess if the most charming man in Panem couldn't convince me to try to stay alive, then I'm not… I'm not really much of a survivor."
When he opens his eyes again, they're blue. I stare into them until he breaks the silence. "People told me that she wasn't always like that. She loved my father, but she always knew she wasn't his first choice and it made her sick. Even when we were little, she knew how I felt; it hurt her. And later, when Prim was born… She always knew my father wanted a girl. After three boys, she just gave up; that's all she saw when she looked at me, another failure. And then your mother had a perfect little blonde-haired, blue-eyed daughter. Prim was everything my mother wanted, her and my father's heart. And your mother got both."
When I think about how he describes his father's unrequited love for my mother, I remember how guilty I used to feel when he'd say something that reminded me of how much he adored me, of everything I never said to him. The realization hits me like a thunderbolt. "You're afraid that you'll end up like her," I whisper to him.
Peeta turns up one corner of his mouth but pain pours out of his eyes. "Aren't you afraid of turning into your mother?"
Part of me wants to tell him about my time in 13 when I didn't know if he was dead or alive, the drugs they had me on, the closets, my "mentally disoriented" bracelet. But I can't talk to him about that, about how much I long for the old Peeta, not to a boy who can barely remember loving me and not in front the men on the other side of that one-way glass panel.
Instead, I try to reassure him. "You're nothing like her, Peeta. You're good; you saved me, saved us, with the bread."
He just shakes his head. "I feel so guilty after I lose my temper, say something I shouldn't. But I can't help it, just like her. I didn't just get her talent with a brush; I got that fire inside, the wit, the anger. I think she was the hardest on me because we were the most alike. When you hate yourself… you hate everyone you love too."
We don't speak again in that room or in the cafeteria for dinner or in our common room afterward. My mother and Prim say goodnight but we just nod. The silence persists while he chains himself to the radiator and I shut the door to my room and lie in my bed, a thousand miles from any kind of rest.
I lie in bed for an hour before I admit to myself that I can't get any sleep. I want to sleep. I want real sleep so badly and when I start to dwell on the fact that the one person who can give it to me is right outside my door, something inside me breaks.
I throw off the covers and grab my pillow before I pull the door open and step into the common room. Of course Peeta isn't sleeping either; he's lying on his back staring up at the ceiling before he turns his head toward me.
He starts to say something stupid like "Couldn't sleep?" but I'm not really listening. I place my pillow next to his and lie down on the bedroll next to him before I wrap my arms around his neck.
"Katniss, this isn't safe."
I cut him off by pressing my fingers over his lips. My Peeta knew how much I needed this and I don't have the patience to convince this version of him. When I do respond, I can't resist mocking him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sir Peeta Mellark, my knight in shining armor. You could protect me from myself if only you hadn't manacled yourself to this infernal device!"
I'm rewarded when he sounds genuinely upset. "You know, you're going to get yourself killed for nothing! There aren't any cameras here; Plutarch won't even get any usable footage out of it!" His face falls and runs his free hand through his hair. "I'm not the same, you said so yourself. I don't want you to pretend. And I don't want to hurt you. I couldn't live with myself if I did that again."
I tighten my arms around his neck and press myself even closer to him as I feel anger burning inside me. "I'm not just some poor little girl that needs a big, strong man to protect her! But…" My voice falters as I choke back a sob, "I need this. And so do you. We both need to sleep. So shut up and hold me. I'm cold."
We don't talk about it again, but it's the last night he spends on the floor. After that, we sleep in my bed and the handcuffs gather dust in my drawer.
Notes:
Peeta's mother is a real conundrum for me. We only really get two glimpses of her in the books, the bread scene and Peeta relating his last conversation with her before the games. Based on those, she seems like, well, "the witch". But Peeta's father, the nicest guy in the country, married her and they had three kids so she must have or have had some redeeming features. It's also dissatisfying to have her be a cardboard prop Disney villain. So I've sort of divided Peeta's personality traits between his parents, Making his father become a stolid, boring, but strong and kindhearted gentle giant of a baker (aptly named Bran) and his mother become a tempestuous artist with a scathing wit, an iron will and a broken heart.
