Hello internet friends!
So this chapter is my response to a request from Collen DeWitt, who asked me to do a scene where Peeta tells Katniss or Haymitch about the time he was captured by the capitol or about his family - I chose Katniss and Family, and hopefully you enjoy!
Please feel free to leave me a request and I will endeavor to have a go at it!
As to timeline of this one, I'm thinking it would have been pre-proposal but post 'real or not real' moment..
I dropped my game bag in the hall and bent down to untie my shoes.
"Peeta?" I called out.
The house remained silent. No response came to my call. That was odd. Peeta was supposed to be home all day today, baking. My heart sped up a bit at the thought that something might have happened while I was gone. Sure he was a co-victor of our hunger games, and could take care of himself, but I never could shake that protective urge that rose within me whenever I thought about him.
Leaving my boots and the game in the hall, I raced down the hall until I came upon the kitchen, where I saw him. I relaxed for a moment, thankful that nothing had happened to him until I noticed his expression.
His eyes were clenched shut, his hands gripping the back of a chair, and I could tell by the set of his jaw that he was clenching his teeth.
"Peeta!" I whispered, concern for him washing over me. He occasionally had these moments, moments when the flashbacks were overwhelming and he struggled to cling onto reality.
"Katniss, you need to leave," he ground out, hardly moving his lips while speaking.
"You know I wont do that," I tell him as I approach him. Nothing would make me leave him when he was in this condition. He stiffened as I reached out to touch his shoulder. I knew he was fighting off the capitol created instinct to kill me, but I also knew him, and I knew the boy with the bread was stronger than the boy that the capitol created. I knew he was always in there, fighting for me, for us. I knew that as much as I knew that I have five fingers on each hand. And so I gently laid a hand on his arm, murmuring comforting phrases, letting him know that I was there for him.
He turned violently towards me and reached for me, but stopped short of grabbing me, tortured confusion showing in his eyes.
"Please, Katniss, this is a bad one, I don't know if I can win this one." he said helplessly, clenching his hands into fists at his sides and backing up several steps before looking up at the ceiling.
Without hesitation, I followed him and wrapped my arms around him. He shuddered in response and I could feel the tension radiating out of every muscle in his body.
"Yes you can!" I respond, "you are the strongest person I know, I know you can get through this. You said you would stay with me."
The last sentence was a whisper as I rested my head on his chest and listened to his elevated heartbeat.
Moments passed in silence, neither of us moving except for the occasional twitch from Peeta. I could feel his labored breath on my head as he battled his inner demons, but finally, slowly, he began to relax. His head dropped to rest on my shoulder and his arms came around me, clinging to me. I squeezed him in tighter to me and breathe with relief. He was back. He has won – again.
"I knew you could do it!" I whispered in his ear.
He leaned back and I could see the tears in his eyes.
"You shouldn't do that," he said.
"Peeta, I wont leave you like that!" I argued.
Spent from the episode, Peeta shook his head tiredly, "Katniss, I could kill you!" he gently traces his fingers over my collarbone and neck, sending tingles down my spine.
I step closer to him and look up at him, "you wouldn't!" I reached up and traced the outline of his face. He leaned into my touch as I outlined his eyebrow, cheekbone, and jawbone. He closed his eyes for a moment before pulling away.
"You don't know what they did to me," he turned and walked up the stairs, leaving me staring after him.
"I know YOU!" I called out after him, "I know you are stronger than whatever they did to you!"
He didn't acknowledge me in anyway. I stare down at my hands. Peeta had never opened up and told me exactly what they did to him in the capitol. Oh I could guess, but the guessing drove me crazy and I really preferred not to. I didn't want to pry or open the door to old wounds, or memories that would set off one of his episodes. If he wanted to let me in he would, but I wouldn't push my way there.
The problem was that the episodes were happening more and more frequently. This was the second one in three days! Maybe it was time I did do a little pushing. Even if he didn't want to talk to me, there were other people, people qualified to help with this sort of thing. Making up my mind, I walked up the stairs after him and found him in our room, spread out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"Peeta?" I hesitated as he did not move, but then decided to blunder on anyway, "I think maybe you should start meeting with Dr. Aurelius again,"
Peeta sighed but still did not move or respond. I went over to the bed and knelt beside him.
"Peeta, its getting worse, maybe talking through things could help you like it did last time?"
Peeta shook his head and sat up, staring glumly at the wall. I noticed a trail of tears from the corners of his eyes to his temples making my heart ache.
"Peeta," I whisper.
I've never been good with words, never been able to make things better with the things I can say. How could I make this better for him? How can I help him? He turned to face me. I reached out and grabbed his hands with my own. I couldn't say anything to make it better, but I could be there for him.
"It would have been his birthday today," he eventually whispered, his voice rough with emotion. Immediately I know why his flashbacks have been more frequent.
"Oh Peeta," I reached out gathered him into my arms and he melted into me, letting his grief take him in a way that he doesn't often. We clung to each other for long moments and cried together. We cried for our families who were no more, we cried for the children sacrificed in the war, and we cried for ourselves, the lost parts of us that were forever changed.
Eventually Peeta sat up again, clearing his throat and wiping his face. He turned and wiped the tears off my own cheeks as well before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek.
"Will you tell me about him?" I asked softly, unsure if this would make things better or worse, but the question was out before I could think about it properly.
Peeta smiled a small smile and nodded, brushing some hair out of my face. He cleared his throat and began.
"My father wasn't a very large man," he said, looking out the window as he spoke, "I think he felt bad for the way he couldn't protect us when mother went on one of her violent attacks, so he would always make it up to us on special occasions…" Peeta trailed off. I squeezed his hand gently. He turned to me and continued.
"We had a tradition, every year my father would bake this fantastic cake. It wasn't overly fancy like the ones we saw in the capitol, and it wasn't even overly large, but it was fresh, and that was something we didn't get very often. He made it with three tiers, fresh cream and even strawberries." He took a breath and smiled a small smile.
"Because there were three of us, and only one cake per year, dad would make it for his birthday so we didn't get jealous of each other."
"Sounds like he was very smart," I offered gently. Peeta squeezed my hand.
"He was, he was smart and kind and generous, and eternally optimistic. Even though my mother could be a terror to us sometimes, he saw something in her worth loving and stuck with her through it all."
He sighed heavily.
"Sometimes I can't believe he's gone. That they all are." He whispered.
I stared at Peeta, understanding all he was struggling with, but unable to come up with the words to make him feel better. What could I say that wasn't cliché and pointless? At least we still have each other? Our families would want us to live our lives to the full? I didn't believe half of that stuff myself so I definitely couldn't spout it off to Peeta. It would be like sticking a Band-Aid on a punctured artery.
Deciding against saying anything at all I simply cuddled into his side, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Letting him know without words that I understood, that I cared, that I was sorry.
He wrapped his arms around me, securing me against his side, and I knew that together we could face our losses and be stronger. Together we could see some sort of hope in the future, despite the destruction in our past. Peeta had always been like the first dandelion of spring to me – a hope that things could get better. Maybe, just maybe, I could be the same for him.
KC
Please review!
