Stupid writer's block... Sorry for the wait! I'll get my butt moving on this story, I promise! More fluffies!
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Once the workers appear to take away the bodies, a small weight is taken off of my shoulders. Having them gone is a big relief for me; even seeing them from the corner of my eyes was starting to unnerve me more and more. Their blank stares and still bodies remind me too much of the horrors in my life, of all of the deaths I've provoked and seen.
"We can leave now, Katniss. The guards are going to continue the questioning with the woman, and take the others away to be packaged," Finnick tells me, joining me in against the wall of the room.
I grimace. "Packaged? That sounds discusting."
"Yeah, well..." He glares up at the ceiling, as if it holds all of the blame for our troubles. "They're discusting. It's not like they deserve anything better."
"True," I say, attempting to throw my discomfort up and away with my shrug.
Finnick and I leave the room and make our way through the hallways, not exactly sure where it is we're going. We make no conversation along the way, and I decide to just trust his sense of direction instead of worrying for once.
Eventually I can't stand the silence. "Finnick, do you know where you're going?" I ask.
"I'm taking you back to your room, like the lovely gentleman I am," he tells me, grinning flirtaciously and raising his eyebrows.
I ignore it. "What about the guards who have Peeta? I need to see him. I can't just sit around in my bedroom, all alone, with nothing to do, and nothing to occupy myself with," I ramble. I start to work myself up, my panic and unease at the thought of sitting in my room, having to feel the walls holding me in like some kind of prison. My claustrophobia increases just by thinking about it.
He looks away uncertainly. "We don't have much of a choice just yet. I'm not exactly sure where they are."
"So you don't even know if he's safe, after all?" I squeak. "What if they got out before you set off the alarm? What if they're on their way to President Snow now, torturing him and gagging him all the way there? What if-?"
Finnick cuts me off, suddenly stopping in his tracks and making me run into his back. He spins around. "You've got to calm down. I know that your head is still a bit... drugged up or whatever, but everything is fine. Peeta is fine."
He continues walking, not waiting to see if I'll listen to him. I don't, of course. How could I possibly calm down after everything? The only way I'll be able to breathe easily again is if Peeta returns to me, safe and unharmed. Anything else will only tie me down for a few seconds before rebounding off of me like a balloon.
When we arrive at my door, Finnick sends me in without another word. I sit on the bed and stare emotionlessly at the carpet, once again memorizing the boring old patterns that are all they can afford here in District 13. I listen to my own breathing, keeping track of it so that my thoughts can't concentrate on anything else.
Suddenly, there's a buzzing noise coming from a speaker in the top corner of the room. I hadn't noticed it before.
"Katniss Everdeen, please report to room 302 immediately," the voice says. It repeats itself monotonously, making sure the message is heard.
I jump from the bed in a second, not wasting any time. I run through the halls as fast as I can, probably increasing my insane-status if anybody sees me. I'm pretty sure I do run by people, but I can't really be sure.
The sides of the hallways are a blur to me as I run. I'm only conscious of the view straight infront of me, of the direction that leads me to my destination.
My thoughts are spinning faster than my sprint. My immediate guess had been that Peeta is in that room waiting for me. Naturally, as soon as this thought came into my head, it hasn't left a moment since. My hope is bubbling up inside of me- hope for Peeta's safety, for our reunion, for us to never be seperated from eachother again. All of my fear from the past, oh, I don't know, two years, is once again making its way into the pit of my stomach. But I stop myself right then. I am the Mockingjay. I am strong. And nothing, no matter how important, will bring me down right now.
After having the Capitol send in spies for them, my responsibilities have been shoved back into me, reminding me of what I need to do, to be. I can't keep letting myself break down, even if it's about the person I care the most about in the world. If I'm not strong enough for them, for everyone, then the Rebellion won't be successful, and I would have failed more than just myself and the people I care about - I would have failed all of the people of all our districts.
The faces of Rue's little siblings automatically flash into my head. I have more than just my family and friends to care for now; I have them as well, even if they don't realize how much they mean to me. I was never someone who liked to owe anything, but this time, the depth of Rue's sacrifice will not be forgotten, and so neither will the lives of her family.
I skid to a hault infront of a black door. 'Room 302' is written in bold silver letters just over the door frame, making me wonder if this room holds more importance than all of the others - its appearance is more fancy, after all.
I throw it open, and let my eyes explore the room quickly. They immediately fall on the figure against the far wall, his blond head resting on his knees exaustedly.
"Peeta?" I choke. His head snaps up, and I see his amazing blue eyes staring back at me, very much alive.
He doesn't have time to stand up before I've thrown myself at him, sobbing into his t-shirt. "I th-thought you were d-dead," I cry. My voice sounds broken and worn-out, not anything like my own.
Peeta shifts so that I'm seated right on his lap, my face in the crook of his neck. "I know," he tells me softly. "They told me everything."
He cups my face in his hands, gently as ever, and kisses each of my tears off of my face. The relief that floods through me at that moment is almost excruciatingly powerful. It could have knocked me straight over, or the breathe right out of me, if I wasn't here in Peeta's arms, where I feel the most whole. I can feel his muscles through his shirt, lean and well-earned, and I feel more protected than I have in weeks. I know that, just like myself to him, he won't let anything happen to me.
"Don't cry, love," he whispers. But tears are filling his own eyes.
I bite my lip and try to stop, but it's a lot harder than it looks. The beautiful way he's just addressed me has made me want to cry harder.
My heart feels as if it's about to explode. I lean in closer to him, wanting to disappear entirely under his skin. "I love you," I say. The first time I'd told him, I'd meant it. But this... this kind of love was unlike anything. I've never loved him more than I do now, and I know that I won't ever love him any less.
He smiles down at me, kissing my tears away once again. Suddenly, with his lips against my cheeks, I feel a hunger I haven't felt since the Quarter Quell - a hunger for the boy with the bread, to kiss him until he feels dizzy.
That's exactly what I do.
I wrap my fingers around Peeta's shirt collar and pull his face forward toward mine. We're both still crying, lost the uncontrollable emotions pulsing through us, but it doesn't stop me. My lips brush his, gently at first, and once again, I feel like I'm about to explode. Everywhere our skin meets, it feels as if sparks are literally flying off of us. In the midst of our kissing, I imagine fireworks going off right over our heads, a beautiful explosion of pinks, blues, and oranges. The perfect mixture of colours that turn out to look like those of a sunset, the one thing that doesn't remind me of anything but Peeta.
He breaks away first. I stare at him as we both catch our breath, taking in the features I've tried to memorize so many times, but it seems impossible to catch such perfection without photographing it. Even then, it wouldn't be able to compare to now.
He looks up at me, his blue eyes piercing mine so intensely that I feel light-headed. At first, I think they're filled with love, adoration, and maybe longing. But after a moment, I realize that they're filled with something else entirely. Guilt. Pain. Fear.
"Peeta?" I ask softly. "What's wrong?"
He pulls away from me, leaving my skin feeling icy and myself feeling confused. He lifts his face to the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in what I'd thought to be from what we'd just been doing. But no, it's rising and falling from fear. "Katniss... how can you be kissing me?"
I'm taken back, completely confused. "What do you mean?"
His face snaps back down to look at me, and his eyes are glistening again. "How can you kiss me still, after everything I've done to you? After all of the pain I've put you through? You should have left me alone, Katniss! You should have gone to Gale!" he yells. His voice catches at the end of the last sentence, and he falls to his knees, clutching his face in his hands.
Suddenly, I understand exactly what he's feeling. Peeta has always been the most selfless person I've ever known, and now he's feeling so guilty for attacking me those times from the venom that he's asking me to leave him. He's asking me to leave him for Gale, even, something that we both know will never be able to happen.
I crawl over to him on my hands and knees, and remove his hands from his face tenderly. They've left red finger marks, and his tears are leaving sad streaks down his face, too. I hate the Capitol. I hate them for doing this to us, to Peeta.
I take him in my arms and hold him as he sobs into me hair. The sound of his cries pierce me, and before I know it, I'm crying again too.
"We won't let them get away with this, Peeta," I tell him fiercely, tears streaming down my face. "I promise, they'll pay for doing that to you."
"Doing that to me? What about you, Katniss? What about the bruises on your neck, or all of the heartbreak you've had to feel because of me?" he cries. He looks up, his eyes filled with pain.
"It wasn't your fault, Peeta. It was their fault, like everything else." I take his face in my hands and look him straight in the eye. "I don't blame you, and I never will."
He closes his eyes and leans farther into me. I fall onto my back and he quickly follows, lying right ontop of me. "I'm sorry," he whispers, nuzzling my neck.
If he wasn't in so much pain, I might have rolled my eyes. "It's okay, Peeta. Really."
He opens his mouth to talk -probably to list some more reasons why I should hate him- but he never gets the chance. I kiss him more fiercely than I ever have, with all of the pain I've been feeling because I'd thought I'd lost him. The hunger fills us both again, and without even realizing it, I accomplish exactly what I'd told myself I would: making Peeta dizzy with kisses.
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Bonus points for anyone who can tell me which of my stories I got the cheesy "never loved him any more than I do now, and will never love him any less" line from!
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