Goner
By Tinsadisaster
Summary: After a year of silence, Peeta reaches out to Katniss and makes her realize that when it comes to him, she was and always will be a goner.
Author's Note:
Happy New Year! Unfortunately I haven't been very good at updating this story, but I'm trying to keep it up. Thanks to those who've been reviewing the chapters, especially to those who've stuck around since I first posted this story. I truly appreciate your support and encouragement.
Enjoy and please remember to review!
You wanna know my sentimental reasons,
Why I call you when my heart is sad and low,
Call your name just to hear a heart beating,
Wanna make sure mine's there for sure
.
Don't wanna hear no sad sad talking from ya,
So tired of the same old show,
Won't write that worn out fiction with you,
Won't play that part no more
Keegan DeWitt - "Reluctance"
VII. Katniss
He sits on the steps of my porch, staring up at the dark night sky. He looks at his watch just one more time, before standing up to finish his nightly rounds of checking up on me. He knocks respectfully, but I know he's already seen me through my window. I open the door for him, but I don't say a word. He has a key, but out of respect for my privacy, he chooses not to use it for nights like these.
I show him the tiny pill cradled like a butterfly in the palm of my hand. I bring the pill to my mouth and swallow it. He observes my every movement.
"Good night Katniss," he says before he turns to leave.
I retreat into my home and slowly close the door. Through my little window, I watch him stop and stand still on the porch, frozen with unknown intentions. He turns around and heads back to my door. He raises a hand to knock again, but it immediately turns into a fist that travels back into his coat pocket. He stares downwards and frowns before sighing. This is his signal that he has given up and that he is leaving.
I've seen those gestures before, but they were done by a different man; by a ghost who chose to disappear, a haunt I drove away.
Gale's eyes aren't the right color. He's too tall. He's too headstrong and fiery, just like me. He doesn't yield to my notions; he's not the one that I want and need…
But given the odd circumstances, I don't feel so alone anymore.
I have mixed feelings about Gale's reappearance into my daily life.
There are times when he looks at me and I'm reminded of the boy in the forest, the one who taught me how to hunt and trap more effectively; he was part of my survival. There's a youthful spark in his eyes that never completely went away, despite the years that aged us so quickly. In these moments, he reminds me of a time where life was still tough, but it was simple. I was no one of importance; I was just a girl fighting against my tiny cruel world, without a title or a reputation. In these moments, the hate I feel for him falters, and I yearn to be like we were before: best friends, connected, communicating.
But then my vision clears and nostalgia is replaced with reality. I smell the dark musk of maturity about him. Brawny muscles, cleanly cut hair, fresh military clothing, and the sharp, rhythmic beat of his step remind me who he has become. His eyes harden and he is a stranger, a man of the Capitol. His medals shine so brightly that it hurts to tolerate his honor to a political system that used me (and still continues to use me) as a sacrificial animal to be glorified and slaughtered again and again in hopes of brighter days (or rather blind adoration from the citizens of New Panem). In these moments, I remember why I cannot trust him like I used to.
However, he returns night after night, a promise actually kept, to make sure I am alive.
The drugs diffuse into my bloodstream and I walk to my bed night after night, where I am engulfed by unconsciousness, to a place where nothing makes sense but everything and everyone speaks truth.
In sleep, I say the words that I cannot reveal out loud. I run after Peeta, chasing a bullet train that disappears into the distance. I ask him to stay, beg him to come back, but over time, as the dream reoccurs night after night, I stop chasing him. I just watch him leave, breathless and jaded. Sometimes I even wave goodbye and wish him a good journey. I wake up with a smile on my face because I've seen him, even if it's all in my head. Sometimes I wake up crying for the very same reason.
Sometimes, Gale stands by my side and watches the train disappear with me. He smiles down at me, with his boyish charm. He tells me everything will be okay and I believe him. For some reason, I believe him.
When I wake up, I feel confused, but comforted. Someone is watching out for me, even if he's getting paid to be here. My heart immediately sinks when the understanding hits me that one day, he too will leave on a train, taking along my subconscious belief of security along with him.
I cry for the memory of a boy in the forest who promised me that he would always be there for me. I cry for the boy who saved my life with a loaf of bread, and promised the very same thing as the boy in the forest. I cry for the loss of innocence, of security. I cry for my father and my sister. I cry for the dandelion that no longer grows in the field of my mind.
Most of all, I cry for me, when I realize that I am weaker than I should be and that I am more sad than I say that I am, and that with every passing day, I lose more of the girl in the forest fighting for survival. Shame showers down on me when I accept that I am dishonoring my family by refusing to rise above the system that oppresses me, a system that I help feed and support with every passing day, a system that is taking the form of my identity.
Imaginary puppet strings fall from the sky and attach themselves to my limbs. I stop fighting the strings and I let them pull me this way and that.
I am a shadow of my former and stronger self. I am a goner.
One morning, while stepping outside to venture to the market place to replenish my cupboards with groceries, Gale appears by my side and asks me if he can come along.
"I finished off my last can of beans last night," he explains. I nod.
He offers to drive us, but I tell him that I prefer to walk. He complies with my request.
We walk side by side, our steps synchronized, but we are a body's width apart.
In silence, we walk together to the merchants' area, where we make our separate purchases. The town people watch us like hawks, whispering to their friends and acquaintances. They know about the sign that is still stapled to the missing baker's door. The weather has worn down the ink, but the message is still the same: Peeta Mellark is no longer a resident of District 12.
Why?
I can only imagine the treacherous acts I've committed in the imaginations of these people who know of me, but don't know me. I try to contain the anxiety building up inside me as I become more aware of the whispering and the wandering eyes. Gale notices my discomfort and casually says that he's done and that he's ready to go.
I haven't bought quite nearly enough, and neither has he, but I agree and we make our way back to Victor's Village.
Our steps synchronize naturally again, and I focus on them to block out the thoughts racing through my head. We're so far away from the merchant area, but I can still see the faces behinds hands, lips moving, creating fictional stories where I am the villain and the lunatic who drove her lover away.
Gale breaks the silence.
"You're not crazy, Katniss. Don't let them get to you."
I give a tiny smile in response, my "thank you" for the comforting words.
"They're the ones who are crazy, with their damn prices! You wouldn't believe how long I had to barter with the butcher to get a decent price on the meat they had in stock. I could tell that it wasn't as fresh as he claimed, but that didn't stop him from trying to practically rob me for the price. We would know fresh, right Catnip?! We were the king and queen of fresh meat back then!"
I nod.
The memory of the people we used to be lingers in the air we breathe until we finally pass the gates of Victor's Village.
He escorts me to my porch.
Before he leaves, he confesses to me, "I don't mean to be offensive, but I don't like this new silent version of you, Katniss. It's true that people change, and trust me, both of us have changed these past few years… but you make me uncomfortable when you don't really respond to me when I try to talk to you. I hate to say it, but I feel like I need to walk on eggshells when I'm with you and you know how terrible I am at that. It wouldn't hurt to have a conversation with me. I'm not going to report you or anything."
"Okay," I offer.
"Oh, she speaks! That's a good start! You know, I've been accustomed to being surrounded by so many people for so long, that this sudden change in lifestyle is a little tough. I feel so alone in that big house. I know a few people in town, but quite frankly, you're the closest thing to a friend I have in this entire district now… and you don't even want to talk to me. I hope I'm not being too forward by saying this stuff."
"You're not. It's okay."
"Good. Because I've been meaning to tell you this since I got here, but I never found the appropriate time to bring it up. I see you maybe a minute or two every day, and no matter what I try to say, I always get a door in my face before I can get the words out. It's tough on a guy, you know."
"I know." All too well.
Peeta's face pops into my mind. I can hear his words, pleading for a window of opportunity, for a chance.
"I won't go away, at least for now. I can't. So if you feel up to it, maybe we can sit together and just talk. We can talk about anything you want. We could even go hunting!"
I smile at this offer. My mind whispers maybe, but I keep my lips shut.
"If you need a little liquid courage to talk about the weather, I can provide that too. You were so talkative that night you got drunk and locked yourself out of your own house. If I have to bring out that Katniss, then so be it, I will!"
Before I can stop myself, it happens. I laugh like I used to, with him, before Peeta.
"Now that's a sound I've missed terribly. You should laugh more often, Katniss. You look prettier when you are happy."
He says goodbye and we part.
The soft echoes of my laughter still ring in my ears.
I sound just like the girl in the forest.
Dr. Aurelius calls a couple times a week to check in on my reactions to the medication. I tell him that I haven't skipped a night since I received the pills.
"How do they make you feel? Do you feel any dizziness, abdominal pain, or sluggishness during the day or night?" he asks.
"No, I haven't. I sleep better now. I actually sleep."
"That's good to hear! But just to let you know, natural sleep is best. We'll try to work your way into that routine, alright?"
"I understand. I have a question though."
"Which is?"
"How long will I have to be monitored before I can take the medication on my own?"
"Ah, I knew you might have a bit of an issue with that. Lucky for you, it looks like your reports have been coming back very positive. It might be a few more weeks, but I can guarantee you that whoever is watching over you will be relieved of his duty within a month!"
I freeze.
"Hello? Hello? Katniss, are you still there? Did I lose you?"
I respond, murmuring that I am still on the line.
"I thought I lost you there."
"But that's so soon! He just got here," I comment.
"Yes, I know, but he was never meant to be a permanent fixture. This is just new medication for you so we needed to make sure it worked."
We needed to make sure you wouldn't overdose on sleeping pills, you mean.
"It has."
"And that's wonderful to hear! Sounds like you're on your way to full independence again. You're probably overjoyed about that prospect."
"Thrilled," I respond impassively.
I hang up the phone, not bothering to say goodbye.
With the dread of Gale's impending departure from District 12 looming over my head like a cartoonish raincloud, anxiousness and worry become the theme of my thoughts and dreams.
I'm not sure if he knows that his duties are almost over. He doesn't give any signals that he knows. If he is aware of the news, he is doing a great job of pretending.
A few mornings after Dr. Aurelius's revelation, I hear someone knocking on my door. Gale appears, with two bows and two bags of arrows slung over his bulky shoulder.
"Morning Katniss!"
"Good morning. Are you going on a trip?"
"Yes! And you're coming with me. You need to get out of this black hole of a house; you need to breathe in fresh air, get those muscles moving again!"
"But I'm not ready…" I start to protest.
"Did I ask if you were ready? No! Now go change into some proper clothing while I grab some food from your cupboard to fuel our adventure. I've been itching to get back into the woods since I got here. I want to see what's out there. I'm tired of the rubber the butcher tries to sell off as fresh meat."
I follow his orders. Then we drive to the poorer parts of the district, an area that we called home for the better part of our childhoods. We follow the fence until we reach the opening to the forest.
Just like us, the forest has aged with time. Everything is greener and fuller than I remembered. I hear the forest come to life and creatures scamper away when they hear our footsteps. Mud and leaves cover the soles of my boots. The air is fresh and clean. I breathe it in, filling my lungs with its purity.
I know that Gale is watching me, but I try to ignore him. I walk two steps ahead of him to avoid his gaze.
"This is so weird. I didn't think we'd be back here again, at least not together," he confesses. I look over my shoulder and smile at him.
"I wanted to come back here, but I never had the motivation to," I reply.
"You've been going through rough times. I understand."
To avoid the subject of my dismal days, I ask him what the plan is for the rest of the day. He says that we'll set up traps and try to catch wildlife, just like we used to. He hands me my own bow and bag of arrows. My fingers tingle as the exchange occurs; his fingertips graze mine.
I apologize. He doesn't.
"Where did you find these? Did you buy them? You really didn't have to go through all this trouble to get me out of my house…" I ask.
"No, don't worry. I didn't buy them. In fact, I found them in the house. I was just looking through the closets because I was bored and I happened upon these. They were stuffed in a box with canvases and paintbrushes. I figured that Mellark forgot that he bought them or something. Don't know why he would; he's a terrible hunter. I remember how awful he was during the Games."
He bought them for me, as a gift he was waiting to leave on my doorstep, I realize.
I choke back the tears that suddenly threaten to fall from my eyes. I turn around to make sure Gale doesn't see me become emotional. I breathe in and out, counting down from 10 in my head.
"Let's catch something before it gets dark. We should split up and meet back here later," I exclaim, slightly stuttering.
"Sounds like a plan! Let's do this!" Gale exclaims. He runs off ahead of me, disappearing into the green distance.
The thrill of the day is ruined by harsh reality yet again. I fling the bow and arrows over my shoulder and head deeper into the forest, towards the cabin by the lake.
I have no intention of hunting. Instead, I plan to be completely alone for a few hours.
I'll consider it practice for Gale's departure next month.
It takes me longer than I expected to get to the cabin. I must have forgotten the lay of the land during my time away. I used to know this place like the back of my hand.
When I get to the sleepy lake, I kneel down by its edge to splash my face with water. The water is cool and refreshing on my skin, disguising any evidence of tears. I pat my face dry with my jacket sleeve.
I catch something move in my peripheral vision. I jump up and get my bow ready, preparing to take down the forest creature before it takes me down.
A blur of something disappears around the corner of the little cabin. My instincts tell me to flee, but I follow the shadow anyways. It leads me to the front door of the cabin, which peculiarly sways open.
There is a light in the cabin.
I know that I should leave, but curiosity gets the best of me. I use my foot to swing the door open and enter the cabin, bow still aimed to fire.
I'm taken back when I observe the flame in the fireplace, the pot of food on the stove, and the brewing cup of coffee on the small dining table. A heavy blanket is folded neatly on the couch, accompanied by a pillow. A thick men's sized jacket hangs on a hook on the wall. Two pairs of all-weather boots are lined neatly on the ground, by the chimney.
My mind reels when I become conscious of the fact that someone lives here.
But who could it be?
…
Could it be?
No, that's impossible. Don't be stupid, Katniss. He's gone.
I don't take long before I decide it's time to leave.
I backpedal my way out of the cabin and race to the place in the forest where I promised to meet Gale.
I don't know what I've stumbled upon, but I'm suddenly afraid of the possibility that what I wanted, was always around.
Could this really be happening? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Was Peeta back in District 12?
Did he ever really leave?
I find myself laughing as I make my way back to the meeting place. I laugh until my stomach hurts, until I cry out of joy.
When I get to Gale, he asks me what's so funny and why I'm empty handed.
"Did you scare off all the creatures with your maniac-esque laughter, Katniss? Good thing that I caught enough for the both of us. We'll have a feast tonight! Let's get going. We're losing daylight."
I follow him through the forest. We crawl through the same hole in the fence that we used earlier and start to drive back to Victor's Village.
Gale notices the smile on my face and misinterprets it.
"Feels good to be in the forest, huh, Katniss? Just like the old times."
"Yup," I reply, beaming.
"You should go back soon, if it makes you so happy. I haven't seen you smile like this in a long while."
I think of the signs of life in the cabin by the lake.
"You know what, Gale? I think I will."
I catch my reflection in the passenger side window. Gale's right. Not even the setting sun could rival the strange and beautiful smile gracing my face.
It is almost as beautiful as my memory of the dandelion.