A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews for the previous chapter, they meant a lot to me. I was glad the chapter made such a strong impression! :)
This chapter starts four months after Haymitch leaves 12.
Chapter Twelve
Katniss
'I have something to tell you.'
I take this in, swallowing. 'What is it?' I'm on the phone with Dr Aurelius for my fortnightly check-up. These last couple of months he's shown every sign of being confident in my recovery, so we reduced our sessions from once a week to once a fortnight. Still, since when did the phrase 'I have something to tell you' coming from your therapist ever mean anything good?
'Plutarch Heavensbee has shown a great deal of interest in your progress. He's been asking me how you are, and a couple of weeks ago I felt it was time to tell him you're ready to leave Twelve, if you want to.'
This wasn't what I was expecting to hear at all and it takes a moment to sink in. 'They'd let me?'
His reply is tentative. 'I was under the impression that Plutarch has various promotional activities in mind for you.'
'Figures.'
He laughs. 'You can always say no, I'm sure. But I really do feel it's time to end your forced confinement. You should be able to visit your mother, your friends in other districts.' He falls silent.
I feel certain the process of ending my exile won't be as simple as he's making it out to be. But I decide to question him another time, when I feel more prepared.
I can sense Aurelius hesitating on the other end of the line.
'Perhaps you could go visit Haymitch too,' he says gently.
I stiffen. 'He's too busy to see me,' I manage at last. I can't stop the new sourness to my tone. 'Plutarch keeps him on a tight lease.'
'I'm sure he'd make time to see you,' Aurelius says carefully. I haven't told him about my fight with Haymitch; I haven't spoken about Haymitch voluntarily since he left 12, but Aurelius senses something happened. For the most part he's kept silent, but every few sessions he gently raises the subject again, hoping I'll be ready to talk. Today is one of those days.
'Perhaps you could write him a letter,' suggests Aurelius.
'And say what?' I snap, before I can stop myself.
'Well,' he says carefully, 'is there anything you'd like to ask him?'
'There's nothing to say.' I start pacing, my steps confined by the length of the telephone cord. 'He made that perfectly clear the last time I saw him.'
Aurelius pauses; this is news to him. 'What do you mean by that?'
I let out an uneven breath. 'He came to Twelve under court orders.' The words taste like dust in my mouth. 'Now he's free of me. I won't bother him again.'
There's a long pause. 'Where did you hear that? – that he was ordered to accompany you?'
'He said so himself.'
Aurelius absorbs this. 'He wasn't being truthful. I was there at the trial. Haymitch volunteered to go to Twelve with you.'
I can't speak at once. 'What?'
'The court was undecided about whether to keep you confined to the Capitol or not. It was Haymitch who suggested he accompany you to Twelve, so you could be in familiar surroundings, where you'd be more likely to heal.' He waits. 'Katniss?'
My throat feels tight. 'I'm sorry, but I have to go. I promised Peeta I'd help with a delivery.'
Pretending to believe me, he wishes me a pleasant day and says goodbye.
I put the phone down and slump into the rocking chair. My eye is drawn to the empty space on the mantelpiece. I put Haymitch's carving away a couple of days after he left, because having it in sight made me want to break something. But that doesn't stop my gaze from going to the spot with frustrating frequency.
Is it true what Dr Aurelius said? That Haymitch volunteered to come to 12? When I think of him saying he was ordered to accompany me I feel shaken and nauseous, even four months later. Why would he have lied about something so painful?
I haven't heard anything from him since he went away: not a single word. For the first few weeks after he left I still couldn't accept what he'd said. Not when it would mean that everything he did for me since we came to 12 was primarily out of duty – that the friendship that meant so much to me was little more than obligation. But if we were truly friends, how could he say the things he did – when he must have known how much it would hurt me, whether he was speaking the truth or not? As the weeks passed with no word from him I decided to stop tormenting myself, doing my best not to think about him at all. Peeta's long since given up asking me what happened, wary of the way my mood sours into sullen silence whenever Haymitch is mentioned. Without ever explicitly bringing it up, I've managed to enforce a taboo around Haymitch's name, so I never have to speak about him or hear about him.
Mostly this has worked quite well. But there are some mentions of him that I can't control. Every so often, passing through the communication hub to give Thom a message, I'll glance at the television screens and see Haymitch.
As one of the few surviving Victors, no longer hidden away in 12 but in the public eye in his new government job, he's become a favourite with reporters whenever they want a comment on national developments. Again and again, they question him about his part in getting the hydroelectric dams running again – in the nick of time.
Whenever I see him a hard knot forms in my throat – but somehow I can't bring myself to look away.
Mostly he stands in the background while Plutarch heaps praise on him. He keeps his head slightly bowed, hiding his eyes. It's hard to tell when I'm looking at him on-screen, but I think he looks tired. No doubt Plutarch's a hard taskmaster.
If his interviewers try to ask him about how he's finding life in 5, and how things have changed for him since the founding of the Republic, he only gives the briefest, most inconsequential of answers, his easy smile never faltering. He's always been good in front of the camera. Not like me.
I stand abruptly and pull on my jacket, suddenly yearning for the space of the woods. The cold air stings my face as I march away from Victors' Village.
It doesn't matter if Haymitch volunteered to come to 12 with me. Because I still became a burden to him either way. He wanted to leave – to get his own life back. Why else would he have acted the way he did?
Alone in the woods, it's easier to push aside these thoughts. I focus on the smell of the wet leaves carpeting the ground. The trees are vibrant with colour and leaves are tumbling everywhere I look, endless; fall has come early.
Dr Aurelius said I might soon be able to visit the other districts. I could see my mother. We call each other every week, but seeing her in person would mean so much more.
I've been keeping myself busy hunting and helping with the rebuilding, doing my best to throw myself into the work, to join in with the easy camaraderie between Peeta and Delly as we work together. But even in the midst of their laughter, I feel removed from it all, like I'm being left behind by something indefinable.
At night my dreams are broken and disrupted. Every few nights I wake up in a cold sweat, heart hammering. Dr Aurelius assures me this is normal, that I'm making good progress – but I can't help my frustration. I'd hoped to be so much better by now.
I come to a halt, my heart jolting against my ribs. I close my eyes, but when I open them, the view is still the same. I'm standing by Haymitch's lake. I haven't been back here since he went away; I've avoided this area of the woods altogether. Somehow my feet took me to this place without me realising it.
There's no wind, not even a breeze. I stare across the water, trying to make my mind as blank and undisturbed as the surface of the lake. For several minutes I don't move. A flock of geese flies overhead, heading south for warmer skies. I stay till they're out of sight.
…
A week goes by. I come home after dropping off my prey in town to find Peeta waiting for me outside my door. Subdued, he hands a letter to me. 'There's something you should know. But I thought it would be best if you read it in a letter. That way you'll have time to take it in. Come and find me when you're ready.'
With a small smile he turns and walks away, leaving me to head inside and read the letter.
Katniss,
I think you know that while I was growing up, I only really had one friend, and that was Delly. She was the one person I could talk to, really talk to, and she understood me better than anyone else. When I was in Thirteen she helped me sort out my memories. I guess you remember that.
Then, a few lines later:
Since she came back here Delly and I have been spending lots of time together, in the bakery, and helping in town – and, somehow, we fell in love. I can't explain how it happened. But it did. I can't imagine being without her.
He says they haven't spoken about this new development to anyone – and wanted me to be the first to know. They're not going to tell anyone else about it for a couple of months – but couldn't wait any longer to speak to me.
We – both of us – want to know you're ok with it. The last thing we want is to hurt you.
When I reach the end, I don't feel surprise so much as numbness. As the minutes creep by, I find myself remembering little signs I hadn't paid attention to, and slowly I realise I should have guessed Peeta's news without needing to be told in a letter. Over the last few weeks he's improved steadily, his flashbacks increasingly rare. Delly must be the main reason for this. When they're together it's easy to see their affection for each other. I just didn't realise it was more than friendship.
In the hours after reading the letter, I trudge familiar paths through the woods, slowly coming to terms with Peeta's news. Months ago we both agreed that we would go back to being purely platonic – and at the time I was relieved. But some secret part of me had thought Peeta might fall in love with me – and although I'm not sure I could ever feel that way about anyone, I would have wanted to make him happy.
Now this will never happen. From now on Delly will be first in Peeta's affections, and I'll be left a fraction more alone, my destiny of solitude reconfirmed.
I think of Delly, her warm and caring nature, the new maturity to her since the war. She's the reason for Peeta's new cheerfulness and contentment. He deserves a future with love and warmth, children even – and I know Delly is infinitely more able to give all this to him than I ever could be.
You could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve that boy.
My heart starts and I have to force myself not to look around, knowing the voice is only in my mind.
By the time I get home again, several hours later, the sun is setting. I walk across to Peeta's and knock on the door. When he answers he looks surprised to see me. And nervous, as though he doesn't know what to expect.
Then he sees my smile and his face lights up with relief. We hug each other at the same time and I feel a jolt of happiness and gratitude. Peeta and I might never be a couple again – but he'll always be my friend, and that's all I need.
…
Haymitch
'Did you hear Plutarch's going to be holding a sporting contest next year?'
Haymitch wrenches his attention back to Effie with an effort. They're sitting together in the living room of his apartment. She's in 5 for a short stay to help arrange media coverage of the unveiling of a monument to the lives lost in the rebellion. Tomorrow morning she'll catch a train back to the Capitol.
These days she's not the only one with a packed schedule and he feels a pang of guilt for letting his attention wander when this is the only time they've been able to spend together while she's in 5. Even though he's been here for months, he still has trouble keeping his thoughts from taking him back to 12.
Effie prattles on, oblivious. 'There'll be all sorts of categories. Running, jumping, swimming, riding. The idea is to replace the Hunger Games with something that brings the districts together – without anyone being hurt.'
Haymitch hides a smirk at this gross understatement.
'I heard archery will be a category too. If only Katniss could compete. She'd win for sure.' She pauses. 'Haymitch?'
Haymitch shakes his head, trying to ignore the sudden weight on his lungs. 'No doubt about that,' he says slowly, forcing himself to smile. 'It might not be the best way for her to come back into the public eye, after Coin.'
'Maybe you're right.' Effie tilts her head wistfully.
To his relief she doesn't mention Katniss again. They talk for a while before she gets up to leave, elegantly shrugging into her coat and picking up her purse.
He follows her to the door. She's about to open it when she stops and turns to him. Her eyes hold his as she lifts her hand and places it on his forearm. Her hand feels cool through the fabric of his shirt.
He blinks; her hand still lingers on his arm, and her smile is suddenly shy.
'Want to go for a drink?' she asks.
He breathes out slowly. 'I'm sorry, but I don't think that's a good idea.'
'I think it might be fun.' Her smile is sweet – with a hint of mischief. 'You know, I've liked you for a while. If you say yes, maybe you might grow to like me too.'
The words come as a surprise. But perhaps he should have realised sooner. Perhaps he would have, if he hadn't been so preoccupied.
She looks back at him, her eyes big and blue. Without her wig, and with minimal make up, she's beautiful. Maybe he should take her up on her offer. There's nothing to stop him, and he likes Effie.
He sighs, his head on one side. 'I'm sorry. But I can't. You're a beautiful woman. Sharp – and kind. You'll find someone. Someone better.'
Her hand drops from his arm. She swallows, looking away. Then she shakes her head, summoning a smile. 'I hope this won't spoil our friendship.'
He manages a laugh. 'Of course not.' He means it; he doesn't want to lose her as a friend. 'Take care, Effie.'
The corners of her lips lift in a small smile and she walks away, her steps quick. He shuts the door and leans his head against it, closing his eyes.
He rubs his hands over his face as a wave of exhaustion crashes over him. Since coming to 5 his days have been filled with activity – travelling around the district to inspect infrastructure and speak to the people in charge of repairs, lobbying the Capitol for more funds – and attending seemingly endless social functions at Plutarch's insistence. Despite the relentless stream of tasks, he's dogged by insomnia, rarely sleeping for more than a few hours a night.
Far too often his thoughts go back to 12 – to Katniss. At night, or in the middle of the day, her face swims into his mind and he experiences all over again the agony of watching her slowly dawning comprehension – her despair, quickly succeeded by betrayal and loathing. He's never despised himself as much as he did at that moment.
In the hours after she marched out of his house, he'd been torn between the desire to run after her and tell her he didn't mean those things – and the unyielding knowledge that doing so would mean he'd have to explain why he'd said them in the first place. Inevitably, he'd chosen to stay silent.
He hasn't heard a word from her since that last evening in 12. As much as it pains him to know she despises him, he's still sure this is the way it has to be. He'd had to make his departure painful to her, so she wouldn't keep wondering why he left, but would put him out of her mind for good.
But he'd never expected their argument to go so far – never suspected just how far he'd have to push her to get her to want him to leave.
She depended on him too much, he sees that now. With him gone she'll be able to turn to Peeta properly, without him in the background. And if she was upset about him leaving, Peeta will be there to comfort her; all the better.
Now, four months after leaving, he's finally beginning to accept the way things are. He'll always regret the way he'd left things with Katniss, but it had been the only option left to him.
With this thought, he pushes away from the door and wanders towards the fire, eyeing the envelope that's propped on the mantelpiece. It's from Peeta. When he'd first left 12, the sight of Peeta's neat handwriting never failed to evoke a mix of feelings. Part resentment, part resignation – and part curiosity. He'd resented that the only way he could hear about Katniss is through Peeta – Aurelius's oath of professional confidentiality keeps him from sharing anything beyond the sparsest details – but at the same time he'd felt a grudging gratitude to the boy for keeping him informed.
Now his mind is quiet as he rips open the envelope and pulls out the letter. In it Peeta tells him about a book he and Katniss have started working on to remember all the people they've lost.
We wish you were here; you should write something too. Maybe one day you'll be back in Twelve and I'll paint the pictures to go with your words.
There's a paragraph about Delly's ongoing training as a nurse, and then a couple of lines about Katniss and how Aurelius says soon she'll be ready to leave 12 if she wants to.
Reaching the end, Haymitch puts down the letter. He can't quite keep the edge from his smile as he reflects that if Katniss does start visiting other districts, 5 won't be one of them. But it'll be some time before she's able to leave 12. The courts still need to revoke the order confining her there. Since coming to 5 he's been in contact with several officials, patiently persuading them it's high time to pardon her, but it's taking longer than he'd like.
His eyes go back to the letter, as though his gaze will draw out the things Peeta didn't say.
…
Katniss
For the next two months Delly and Peeta keep their new relationship a complete secret. Even when it's just the three of us together they're undemonstrative, not even holding hands. But I can sense a new closeness between them, how content they are just in each other's company. Sometimes it hurts to watch because I'm reminded how I'll always be alone.
Whenever I think about how careful they're being, I feel guilty. If I was braver, a better person, I'd tell them to let the gossip come. But when I think about the inevitable talk show discussions about my future prospects, the reporters hanging around the station hoping for a glimpse of me, my courage wilts and I put off the conversation for another day.
November has just arrived when we get an invitation from Annie to visit her and her son, named Finn for his father. I can't go: I'm still forbidden to leave 12, and secretly I'm glad. I'm used to my life here; it's the one place I feel safe. The thought of going beyond the confines of 12 spreads slow panic through my veins. Here, for the most part, people accept me, but I can't expect that kind of tolerance outside the place I grew up in.
Peeta and Delly are set to politely decline the invitation, not wanting to go if I can't, but I tell them to go without me. I know they became friends with Annie in 13 – and it'll be good for them to leave District 12 for a while, just the two of them.
I've just got back home from seeing them off at the station when the phone rings: it's Dr Aurelius. As he greets me I can hear the excitement in his voice and it doesn't take long to find out the cause.
'They want to pardon you.'
My breath sticks in my throat. 'What?'
Aurelius is smiling; I can hear it in his voice. 'They're going to pardon you publicly, Katniss. You won't have to stay in Twelve any more, if you don't want to. You'll be absolved. Free.'
Free. The word doesn't mean much to me. 'What do they want me to do?'
He pauses, disappointed by my reaction. Then he answers smoothly. 'You need to go to the Capitol, where your trial will be held.'
'A trial?' I can't stop the panicked note in my voice.
'It's purely procedure. The verdict is guaranteed. Plutarch assured me of that. But they have to follow the process correctly. Especially in this case.'
He has a point. The government can't risk looking like it condones assassination.
'When will it happen?'
'In two weeks' time. You'll need to arrive a day or two early to meet with your lawyer and have them prepare you for the trial. It's likely there'll be a reception afterwards.'
My heart is beating too fast. A reception. That means cameras, spectators. Interviews. I thought I'd never have to do any of that again.
'Katniss. It'll be ok. You'll be back in Twelve before you know it.'
I swallow, forcing down my rising panic. 'Thanks, Aurelius. But I need to go now.'
He understands. 'All right. Call me if you want to talk. Goodbye, Katniss.'
I put down the phone, wishing Peeta was here so I could talk to him about it all. But he won't be back for another week, and I refuse to ruin his stay by summoning him back to my side. To keep my mind off the trial, I throw myself into helping Thom organise supplies for the new school, along with materials for the numerous other building projects still going on in town.
The evening before Peeta and Delly are due to return I stumble into the kitchen, exhausted – to hear the shrill ring of the phone. My stomach clenches; the last thing I feel like doing is talking about the trial.
But it's not Aurelius. It's Delly. There's a sob in her voice. 'Katniss. I'm so sorry.'
My insides freeze. Before I can speak I hear Peeta: 'Here, let me talk to her,' and a moment later his voice is close to the receiver. 'Katniss, there's something you should know. This afternoon, I went to buy Delly a ring. When I came out of the store a reporter appeared and asked me if the ring was for you. I left as quickly as possible without answering. But since then we've had to switch hotels because reporters kept sneaking past the lobby and knocking at our doors.' He pauses. 'We were just about to tell you – about the engagement. I'm sorry. We were planning to tell you as soon as we got home. We weren't going to mention it to anyone else, at least for a couple of months. And now –'
'It's ok,' I manage. 'They were bound to find out, sooner or later.' Though I was hoping it would be later, much much later. I congratulate him and Delly on their engagement, and we talk for a few minutes before hanging up. That night I hardly sleep, imaginary headlines flashing through my mind. I'm certain the gossip is going to get out of control – and the very next morning I'm proved right.
Safe in 12, I've largely been kept ignorant of the public's opinions and beliefs about me – for which I'm grateful. And I've had too much on my mind to worry about what those outside 12 think of me. Largely in response to the documentary aired about me half a year ago, it turns out opinion is split on whether my marriage to Peeta was fake – along with my pregnancy. But since Peeta and I are never seen outside 12, the speculation has been muted and it seemed the country lost interest.
Now all that's changed. With impressive efficiency, talk show hosts have uncovered Delly's identity and her past friendship with Peeta. Opinion is divided on whether I'm a betrayed wife or merely a spurned lover. Regardless, it seems most presenters have a shared enjoyment for speculating about how I took the news of Peeta's newfound love: 'I'm guessing he locked up all the weapons in a ten mile radius before he told her,' one talk show host chuckles, to a burst of appreciative laughter.
With the Hunger Games long gone, and the new government largely disapproving of any news bulletin which isn't concerned with quotas and five-year-plans, opportunities to gossip on air have been limited. This new scandal seems to give the Capitol's plentiful television hosts a new lease on life, as they debate what my future will be like now that Peeta has abandoned me for someone else. Most come to the conclusion that I'll either die an old spinster or run off into the woods.
The day after Peeta gets back, he has a brief, private interview with a small team of reporters – handpicked by Plutarch – while I sit at his side. Peeta tells them that, to our regret, it didn't work out between him and me – and I confirm it. It's our hope that by getting things cleared up as quickly as possible, the gossip will run its course and we'll all be left in peace, both here in 12 and during my summons to the Capitol.
The interview airs later that evening. But rather than putting the gossip to rest, it seems to fan the flames even higher. Feeling personally betrayed by the collapse of the star-crossed lovers, a horde of Capitol citizens volubly state that our marriage never existed at all – and nor did my pregnancy. This claim quickly gains purchase, especially when neither Peeta nor I deny it. They're furious that we led them along, deceiving them so spectacularly – even if it was for the purpose of surviving their Games.
At painful moments I find myself wondering that Haymitch thinks of all this. When I think of him catching snippets of the talk shows, seeing the inevitable pictures of me, specially chosen to make me look alone and abandoned, my face starts flaming. I can't stand the thought of him knowing Peeta has chosen Delly, because I don't want to give him another reason to pity me.
As the media attention only continues to intensify, my dread of going to the Capitol deepens.
Peeta insists he'll come with me, to prove we're a united front, even if we'll never be a couple again – but I know that won't be possible. He's not well enough. The day after the new surge of press attention – just four days before my departure – he has an attack and has to take a day off to recover. Afterwards he's still shaky, and even he has to admit he can't come with me.
Which means I'll be alone. While Peeta's so ill, he'll need Delly with him. Thom's buried up to his neck in rebuilding. I could call my mother – but I know she's busy, too – and no more ready than Peeta is to go back to the Capitol. That leaves no one.
But that's not true. There is someone else.
After what happened, I promised myself I'd never ask Haymitch for help again, so I do nothing. I've made up my mind to face it all alone, when a new headline appears, just two days before I'm due to leave: KATNISS EVERDEEN TO BE PARDONED: A DANGEROUS PRECEDENT?
That night I lie awake for hours, paralysed by indecision. Until today I'd been sure my trial was secret from the public, hopeful that as long as I kept my head low I might be able to sneak in and out of the Capitol without too much attention. But now this is impossible.
I need someone to keep them out of my way, someone with experience of Capitol procedures and appeasing the press. And – much as I hate to admit it – there's no one I know who's better suited to that role than Haymitch.
At last, in the early hours of the morning, I make up my mind to contact him. My trip won't take more than two days. In three days' time, I'll be back in 12, he'll be in 5, and we'll never have to see each other again.
