Chapter Nine
This chapter is dedicated to KoteDiM, Quints57, fyrebirdrises, MiaBelles, Jedi1, Fangirl412, jc52185, Ansku99, Roxiblilly, Embracer, and Sunnynurse. Thank you all so much for your support! It makes my day. (Please support their work! These guys are superstars.)
~ Katniss ~
On the hovercraft, Peeta sleeps. I'm grateful that he allowed Dr. Archer to give him a light sedative before we took off, but in case he panics when he wakes, Dr. Archer left me with yet another bottle of pills for him. It feels heavy in my pocket with its list of nasty side effects from sore muscles to nausea, and I promise myself that I'll calm Peeta myself before I have to give him any more medications on this trip. He lies on a thin sleeping pad on the floor beside me, a blanket pulled up to his waist. I'm thankful at least that he'll have no nightmares in this drugged sleep.
No. This drugged sleep, to Peeta, is a nightmare in itself.
Haymitch snores softly behind me where he's hunched over and slumbering in a plastic chair. I can smell alcohol wafting across the room. As soon as Peeta was asleep and settled in on the hovercraft, Haymitch excused himself, and returned red-faced with uneven footing, barely managing to stumble his way over to the chair. It's pathetic and sad but it makes me smile as I reach for Peeta's cold hand and hold it between my warm fingers. I run my thumb along the chilly edge of his simple gold wedding ring, and my thoughts wander back a year and a half, to the day I married him.
We had been planning it quietly for a couple of weeks, at first only a small gathering with Haymitch and our closest friends and neighbors. But when word got out that Panem's favorite couple was planning to tie the knot, we realized that avoiding a large celebration would be impossible. And when, per tradition, I woke alone in my bed on the morning of the big day, I looked out the window to find the street lined with silky hangings and white flowers.
"Peeta," I called breathlessly, cupping the phone close to my lips. "Have you looked outside yet?"
"Good morning, beautiful," he replied, chuckling softly on the other end of the line. "Just enjoy it. This is our day."
We walked to the Justice Building together, Peeta in a simple, dark navy suit and me in a lacy white dress that hugged my hips and flowed softly to my ankles. Cinna's dress. He'd left it with Haymitch for me, just knowing, as he always did. The citizens of District 12 lined up along the street and cheered us on, singing and applauding and tossing rose petals. Peeta took my hand as we walked, and I let myself melt against him, forgetting the happy chaos around us for his warmth and strength.
"It's different, isn't it," he said softly when we reached the steps of the Justice Building. "These crowds. These people really care about us. They saw through the Capitol business for all those years, and they really just want us to be happy now."
"Maybe," I said noncommittally, struggling to accept Peeta's optimistic take on the voices still singing from the street as we headed up into the building to sign our wedding certificate. I took pleasure in the thought that the real ceremony between me and Peeta would take place in the privacy of our home, before the fireplace, with a loaf of fresh bread to toast between us.
But in the Justice Building, I slipped that ring on his finger, the one Greasy Sae found to match the one Peeta had made for me with my pearl.
"You don't have to wear it… I know it'll probably just get in your way when you're baking…"
"No, Katniss," he insisted, beaming. "I love it. I love you." And he kissed me.
If Peeta were awake right now, I wonder whether he'd be able to think clearly enough to remember that day. And remembering the traumatic night that followed our toasting, I'm not really sure that he'd want to. But I hope that if he feels the cool metal around his finger when he wakes, it will bring him comfort. I hope it always will.
I lie beside him and snuggle up as close to him as I can. The hovercraft floor is hard beneath me but I don't care; I just want my flesh on Peeta's, my skin to coax some warmth back into his.
"I won't leave you," I promise him again, pressing my lips against his ear.
"I know," he whispers back with his eyes closed, a smile creeping onto his face.
"Peeta," I sigh, and he struggles to ease himself onto his side, moaning slightly when he jostles his stump. I try to keep him still, but he insists on turning to face me. He gazes at me with his wide blue eyes, but they're not condemning. Afraid, certainly. But not angry.
"I'm so sorry," I tell him softly. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"Katniss, I am the one who should be sorry," he insists, cutting me off. "You did the right thing. You were right. I've been a coward. But this surgery isn't just about me. It's about you. It's about Haymitch. It's about our family, for years to come." He bends painstakingly forward to kiss my forehead, and although I hear him grunt at the movement, I let him embrace me.
"It's okay," I assure him, offering my forgiveness without hesitation. A bit of the fear vanishes from his eyes, and I wonder how much of him worries for the surgery, and how much for me, for our marriage, for what I want. Far too much, I suspect.
Still, I let him take my forgiveness. He lies immobilized beside me as the hovercraft speeds toward the Capitol, and I let him believe that it's his fault.
I reach my hand up the back of his shirt to stroke his bare skin. "You're freezing," I state obviously, and he smiles.
"Loving you keeps me warm. Come here," he motions, pulling me closer toward him and letting me go only to wriggle out of his shirt. He tosses it toward Haymitch, who doesn't even flinch.
"Peeta," I groan good-naturedly and press myself against his flesh, trailing my fingers down his chest and pausing over his beating heart. He follows my fingers with his eyes, smiling.
"Just don't let the Capitol take that way from me, too, okay?" he asks. I laugh and press my chest right up against his.
~ Peeta ~
"Roland? I need help with the lower oven!" I called up the back stairs toward Roland's bedroom, where I knew that he must have gone to finish his reading for school. I had asked Asher for help, but he insisted that he was busy with the dough for the next morning's rolls. We both knew that the lower oven was temperamental, and that Roland was the only one who could really coax the temperature back up when the heat started to die too early in the evening.
I climbed the stairs two at a time, worrying that if I didn't find Roland soon enough, the flame might go out entirely, almost certain cause for Mom to hit one of us. Probably all of us, since the ovens were our joint responsibility on school nights.
"Roland?" I asked again, knocking on his door. I paused when I heard a loud scuffling behind the wood.
"Peeta, don't come in," Roland called from inside.
"But Asher won't- "
"Peeta- " he began to order again, but it sounded more like a gasp than a demand. I turned the knob and tossed the door open.
"If you don't come downstairs, Mom will- " I froze mid-sentence, finding myself face-to-face with my mother in her yellow nightgown with the flowers. She gave a small yelp and took a step backwards.
Roland was on the floor, backed up against the wall, naked. He made no effort to cover himself, but only stared steadily up at me, his blue eyes steady and sure.
"Go, Peeta," he whispered.
Thank you so much for reading! It's great to be back - happy summer to everyone! Is the story still working for you?
