A/N: Far out, I owe everyone a HUGE apology. 2013 thus far has been an abomination. Without boring you with too many details, it started with getting the chicken pox for the first time at 22, and ended with National Youth Week (a huge pain in the ass for those of us who are Youth Workers) - with a huge dose of moving house and arguing with your internet provider for a month. I am SO sorry it's taken this long. And for those of you who haven't forgotten me and who are still reading - THANK YOU.
Katniss rested her head on the window, her reflection blurring with the passing greenery. The hum of the car engine was louder now – so much so that it almost drowned out Gale's voice. Almost.
"He's an absolute pig, Catnip. Seriously. I know I said it before, but even having the agreement in the first place was a mistake. He should be proud of you! Instead he's made you feel like crap on crap." He paused, his nostrils flaring, "I couldn't believe it when I saw that smug bastard Flickerman pointing at your photo. And Mellark! That lying sack of shit! And then I got your phone call…I tell you what, if I had been there I would've-"
She looked down, her phone vibrating loudly.
Silent mode my ass.
"Is that him again? What's that – phone call number 294? Don't let him get to you. He just wants to have his Catnip and eat it too." He stopped. "…I didn't mean it like that."
It vibrated again, Peeta's name flashing on the screen.
Ignore. Ignore. IGNORE.
"Anyway! My point is-" Gale continued "-he's just trying to get you back to prove that he can. He'll keep calling and he'll be all Katniss I'm sorry. I had no choice. You mean the world to me. Please come back so I can publicly deny my feelings for you again and again and again."
That's not how he sounds.
Katniss stared at the screen as it started to ring yet again.
"You need to be strong! Keep telling him to fuck off! Show him he's an asshat!"
Her thumb hovered over the 'reject' button. She could see Gale watching her, his attention only half on the road in front of him. Finally the vibrating stopped, her voicemail stealing the chance away.
"He's not worth it, Catnip. Not even the tiniest bit. And the fact that a dickhead like him has hurt you fucking kills me. But you just have to forget about him, and move the fuck on to better things, ya know? Keep busy with shit that isn't Mellark-related and—"
"Gale, I'm fine." Katniss turned in her seat to face him, "It was two days that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't mean jack shit. It's nothing. I'm okay."
The statement hung in the air, neither of them able to gauge how honest she was being. Nevertheless, the car remained silent for the remainder of their journey. The phone, too, remained idle.
Eventually, Gale's truck rolled to a stop and he killed the engine. The sudden silence felt almost eerie. Katniss quickly got out, grabbing the still-silent phone. There was no movement from inside the house as she trudged up the front path.
No Prim?
She stepped through the entrance, Gale close behind her. There was a hushed whisper coming from the kitchen.
"Prim?"
The whispering stopped suddenly, and Katniss heard a distinct click. Seconds later, Prim appeared in the hall, a tentative smile on her face.
"Katniss! You're home sooner than I thought."
"There wasn't much traffic." Gale shrugged.
"Who were you talking to?"
"What? I wasn't talking to anyone." Prim tugged at her dress, her gaze down.
"Just then – I heard whispering when I came in."
"Oh…that…" Prim forced a laugh, "That was Rory – he just wanted to see if I wanted to meet him at The Square – that's all."
Gale's looked at Prim, his brow furrowed. She shot him a pointed look before turning back to her sister.
"…How are you, though?"
Katniss shrugged. Despite the string of expletives Gale had attached to Peeta, Katniss wasn't mad at him – not really. He had tried; he'd put himself out there for her, and that wasn't something she had taken lightly. If she was honest, it wasn't even the broken promise that had been the last straw. The fact that there had needed to be such an arrangement in place – that had been the real problem for Katniss. She needed to be a priority – not a compromise.
Maybe. One day.
"I'm fine, Prim. Really."
"What he did was super dodgy."
Katniss nodded slightly. "Maybe. It's all about timing, I guess."
She yawned, the previous night and the long drive back home finally hitting her. "I reckon I could do with a bit of a lay down, though."
Prim nodded, "I just got Clove's new movie – the ninja one. We can watch it in my room."
Gale watched them walk down the hall. "So I'll just hang out by myself, then. No dramas. It's not like I just drove for hours or anything!"
It had been an experience for Peeta, travelling on the train all the way to District 12. He'd hoped he would be on the same carriage as Katniss, and they'd be able to sort things out en route. Instead, he'd spent the journey hiding in a dark corner-seat that smelt of damp cloth, trying to avoid anyone who might recognise him.
And now, he was here. Standing outside of the wooden house; her house. It was a small building – the peeling off-white paint and the rusted gutters suggesting a place long left to fend for itself. Usually it would be an unremarkable, inoffensive exterior; one he would pass without noticing. But now – today – he found it positively daunting.
He'd practised what he was going to say, of course: how he was going to tell her he'd made a mistake; that he'd been put on the spot and hadn't thought properly. He was going to insist that they were better than two days and that they owed it to themselves to keep trying.
And then, I'm going to kiss her. And she's going to love it.
He nodded to himself and, taking a deep breath, knocked on the door. A beat passed before it swung open, Gale's imposing figure blocking the doorway. Peeta watched as his initial look of shock turned to hatred.
Might scrap the kissing portion, then.
"Mellark."
"Hawthorne."
Gale stepped onto the porch, the door clicking shut behind him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I'm here to see Katniss."
"Ha. Like fuck you are."
"I don't blame you for being angry. I'm sure Katniss is, too."
Gale snorted.
"But I just want to explain to her what happened."
"That's not going to happen, Mellark. She asked me to get her away from you and your 'band' and that's exactly what I intend on doing."
Peeta sighed, exasperated. "I won't let her just run away."
"Yes. You will."
"You don't understand. Katniss—"
"—is fucking amazing. And you screwed it up. And you want to tell her how you're sorry, and you'll never do it again, and how you want another chance to prove you're 'worth it'." Gale took a step towards Peeta, his face stern, "The problem is, Mellark – you're only sorry because she didn't put up with it, you will do it again, and you're definitely not worth it."
Peeta squared his shoulders, "You don't know shit."
"If you could turn back time and do things differently – would you? Would you admit to Caesar Flickerman - to all of Panem - that you're dating Katniss Everdeen?"
Peeta faltered.
"Exactly." Gale turned and stepped back inside of the house. "Fuck off, Mellark. Let her be someone's number one."
The door swung shut, leaving Peeta once again staring at the peeling off-white paint. He blinked a few times, his mind processing what had just happened.
Fucking Hawthorne.
Katniss leant against the tree trunk, the feeling in her right foot gone.
Not feeling the whole 'like riding a bike' thing here.
It had been a long time since she'd gone into the woods. Once upon a time it had been a terrifying necessity – the dark, foreboding forest containing fear and food in equal parts. But Katniss had been determined. And with the help of her father's bow, she had been able to provide enough for her family so that they not only survived – they thrived.
For a while, Gale had been her hunting buddy. His specialties were snares – Katniss was always amazed at how his bulky, oversized hands suddenly became deft whenever a trap was involved. They'd made a good team – but ever since they'd turned 18 and gotten 'real' jobs, Gale didn't go into the woods much. "No point", he'd said.
Not needing to hunt anymore didn't make the woods pointless for Katniss. This was her sanctuary. Here, she could forget about her life; about her responsibilities, her troubles, her doubts…
…About Peeta.
She pushed herself off of the branch, her feet landing silently on the forest floor. She sighed absentmindedly and pulled an arrow from her quiver. Loading the arrow and drawing back to bow in one swift move, she aimed at a solitary tree a few feet away. The arrow flew through the air, hitting its target. Moving over to retrieve her weapon, she couldn't help but wish everything in life was this easy.
She loaded her bow again and shifted her aim to a different tree, hitting it with ease. Deciding this was too simple, she looked further, aiming her arrow towards a thick round stump jutting out in the distance. The arrow connected with its target, and Katniss smiled to herself.
Still got it. Come at me, targets.
The routine was comforting, but didn't require much concentration. And - to her annoyance - it wasn't long before a certain blonde musician popped into her mind.
It's for the best. He cares, I care. But that's not enough. It was trial and error – emphasis on the error – but maybe later we can try again. When the timing is better. He's not ready to commit to anyone. And that's okay. At least I know that if he were, it would be me. And nobody really has to know. It's for the best.
The pep talk helped Katniss. What had happened didn't change things – not really. It had proven there was potential. Unfortunately, it also highlighted the problem: timing. Oddly, though, this was okay with Katniss. If the issue was time, then it meant it wasn't Peeta. Or her. She plucked her arrow from yet another tree, this time deciding that it was time to head home. And then, back to Mockingjay, so she could face everything head on.
After all, you never know what life has in store…
The door slammed behind Peeta, his feet dragging along the floor as he made his way through the hotel room.
Finnick met him in the doorframe, his smile hesitant. "You're back."
Peeta nodded. "When we're rich, remind me to donate substantially to Panem's Railways."
"Noted. …So – where is she? Getting stuff out of the car?"
Peeta shrugged. "She was there. And I knocked."
"And?" Cato pushed past Finnick.
"And Gale Hawthorne, Knight in Dirty Overalls, wouldn't let me in."
"Well, did you tell him to fuck off?"
"Yes."
Turns out her watchdog isn't so great with commands.
"Cato, if you ever saw Gale – you'd understand Peeta's predicament."
"But…I don't understand." Cato threw his hands in the air. "I spoke to Prim on the phone and she said everything was a-go. How much more prepared can you get than conspiring with the little sister?"
Peeta shrugged. "It's alright. It just wasn't supposed to happen."
"You're giving up?"
"I wouldn't call it that."
"What would you call it, then?"
Paying for my inevitable fuck-up.
He shrugged again.
"Well. She said she'd be back in time for the tour, right? That's three days. And I doubt Gale would follow her."
Great. So I get a daily reminder of my fuckery.
Finnick and Cato exchanged glances, their expressions concerned. Suddenly, Finnick's eyes brightened.
"At least you have tonight to take your mind off things!"
Peeta looked up, only half interested.
"…The Miss Panem Pageant? That'll be fun."
Cato chimed in, relieved for the change in subject. "Oh – that's right! I forgot you were a judge!"
Yay. Can't wait.
"…I was a bit surprised she won, if I'm honest. I really thought Satin Varquez had it in the bag."
Peeta remained silent, taking another swig from the bottle in his hand.
The older man continued: "I suppose she must have done something right to win the other three judges over. I guess you and I must have missed that part." He chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. Peeta watched as something behind him caught the man's attention. "Anyway. I suppose I should head off. 'If you haven't got anything nice to say' and all that…good to meet you Mr Mellark."
Peeta dipped his head and raised his bottle slightly, bidding the man goodbye.
"Hm. Nothing nice to say? That's unfortunate." Johanna Mason moved past Peeta, brushing up against him.
"Does it matter? You won anyway." Peeta drained his bottle before placing it on the bar's countertop. "Congrats, by the way."
Johanna fingered the gold headpiece still mounted on her head. "I suppose. Still…" she winked, "I really did think I had you on-side."
"Who said you didn't?"
Johanna smirked. "So you did vote for me."
Least I could do, what with you eye-fucking the shit out of me and all.
"You earned it." He motioned to the bartender.
She leant against the bar, her "Miss Panem" sash falling to one side. "So what's on Peeta Mellark's agenda after this who shebang?"
Downing enough alcohol to forget said shebang.
"Not sure yet."
"Seriously? Peeta Mellark – frontman of Mockingjay – is without an after party? Where is that party boy I've heard so much about?"
The bartender placed a new bottle in front of him. "Fuck knows, I guess."
"I'm devastated."
"Is this where I should apologise or something?"
"No…" Johanna moved closer to Peeta, her cleavage pressed firmly against his chest, "But it could be where you make it up to me."
Peeta turned, his body now facing the crowd. "I'm sure you have lots of people to mingle with…wouldn't want to keep you."
Johanna remained undeterred. "They'll wait. I am Miss Panem after all." She stared at Peeta, waiting for a response. Several moments passed. "You know, for a womanising musician, you sure make this difficult."
Peeta turned to face her, one eyebrow arched. "Womanising?"
"Would you prefer something else? Philanderer? Lothario? Libertine, perhaps?"
What ever happened to "flirt"?
Peeta tried to rearrange his features, hoping to seem indifferent. It didn't work.
"Wow. Touched a nerve there, did I? Sorry – wasn't my intention. I'd just expected you to be…different."
That's all I need – more fucking expectations.
"I suppose I can tick off "disappointing Miss Panem" from the to-do list."
"Well someone has their boxers in a knot!"
A photographer approached them. "A shot of Miss Panem and one of the judges?"
Johanna threw an arm around Peeta's shoulders, a frozen smile appearing on both of their faces. The photographer's flash went off, and the man disappeared. Peeta took a deep swig from his bottle before glancing at his watch.
"Un-fucking-believable." Johanna folded her arms tightly, pushing her chest together.
What now?!
"In case its escaped your attention: I'm a fucking stunner. And you know that thing about how ugly people try harder? Total fucking myth." She leant forward, her hands moving to her hips. "I just won Miss Panem for fuck's sake! I deserve some fun!"
A bemused smile tugged at the edges of Peeta's mouth. "I have no doubt."
Johanna pressed her lips together, trying to hide the small smile that was appearing. She shoved him slightly. "I'm serious! And clearly you've got some sort of shit going on that warrants a night of fun."
…I can see that logic.
"So tell me Peeta Mellark: why the fuck shouldn't we?"
Peeta paused, his mind sifting through the facts. 1: He'd screwed things up with Katniss. 2: He didn't deserve Katniss. 3: Katniss didn't want him anymore. 4: Johanna was hot. 5: Johanna had good logic. 6: He didn't want to be miserable anymore.
Peeta downed the last of his beer before slamming the bottle onto the counter. "I knew I'd voted right."