XIV

…

She hasn't been the same since I had told her Mr. Mellark would come by, but she was, that is the same.

She was like she was when she had first come back… and then again she was completely different. She kept to herself. Huddled in her room day in and day out from what I knew.

She slept during the day, her knees pulled to her chest and her hands wrapped around the knobs of her knees, her fingers gripped where both legs touched. Her head was always bounded down into her chest and her hair ran down her back carefree. She wore what I think were the same black, skintight pants and blank tank top day in and day out unless she had numerous sets of the same clothes. She laid curled in the center of her bed, no pillow under her head, but a blanket rested right beside her feet, ready to cover her if needed.

During the night, she was wide awake. She sat against the headboard of the bed. Her knees to her chest and arms wrapped around her knees making sure they didn't slip away. Her chin rested on top of her knees and her hair fell off her right should. She sat staring out the window, watching the stars in the sky drift by till the sun would peak up, through the woods and then she'd slip back down to the center of the bed where she'd shut her eyes, drifting into a restless sleep.

That was her routine for the most part.

Most times she would slip away into the bathroom at the peak of dawn and shower or brush her teeth. Sometimes she would slip by my room in the night down stares where later on the next day I'd fine she ate a carrot or drank a glass of water.

Haymitch had come by since I had broken the news a few days ago and spoken to her.

I sat in the living room, not paying the slightest bit of attention to whatever Capitol show was being projected while he talked to her. All I could do was sit there and hope for the best, that'd Mitch would be able to snap her out of whatever she was in.

And he was up there for a while, over an hour. I have no clue what he said, but whatever he had said worked.

After her three day "slump" you could call it, she went back to before.

She slept at night, sometimes waking me up across the hall with her screams, sometimes not. She showered and brushed her teeth and braided her hair. She changed her clothes daily and left her room. She ate food and drank water and took the pills Aurelius had left her. I found her once in the last two days since Mitch had come over, sitting on the step out front and another time I found her having a stare off with the cat.

She continued to avoid the loaf of bread and any other "bakery" related products I kept in the kitchen, not daring to even look at the substances. She didn't bring up the Mr. Mellark's supposed coming and either did I.

…

On day seven, one week since the boy, Rye, had come with the loaf of bread and warning that his father would be coming to see Katniss, he had not shown.

Haymitch had come over to have lunch with us… He brought a fresh loaf of bread and small, glass bottle of white liquor.

We sat at the table silently. We ate our bowls of stew without a word, not even with our spoons scrapping against the bowls ceramic frame. Mitch and I had some of the bread while Katniss didn't, uneven make eye contact with the substance. Mitch gave the cat some of his liquor soaked in bread which Katniss scolded him for, but said nothing. She and I cleared the table while Haymitch bonded with the cat. Then, Mitch washed our dishes and Katniss dried them, setting them on the wire rack beside the sink.

When they were done, they sat at the table, still without a word, and I excused myself to go downtown.

Outside, the trees were bare. The ground was hard, just about frozen. The air was chilly, too. Winter was on the brim of overtaking District 12 and from what I had seen in the fall, winter would not be welcoming time of year. The people would struggle even more so than they already had in the warmer months.

I went first to the Justice Building to see if the Capitol had sent any message which I was glad to fine they hadn't. I had been expecting them to send for me to return back to 2 by now or for Katniss to return to the Capitol for some unruly and inhuman business. Yet, to my luck they hadn't and so I went down to the center of town.

I went to the butcher to buy some meat and the general store to buy a bag of beans. I went to the tailor to place an order for myself for some heavier shirts and the shoemaker to put in an order for boots knowing it would be easier for me to send a request to have them sent from my home or from the Capitol, but knew these people needed the business and to wait an extra week would cause me no harm.

It was as I was walking back to the Village, the long way, down along the Seam a boy, man came out of one of the homes and in front of me.

"Didn't know you were still here." He stated blandly, crossing his coal covered arms across his chest.

"I don't plan on leaving anytime soon." I tell him.

He looks me up and down. And I do the same to him. He looked a lot like Katniss - dark brunette hair, olive skin under the coal, a tall stance, and those ghostly sliver eyes - it was as if they were related.

"Why are you here?" He asks.

"For her."

He snorts, shaking his head. "Why are you really here? What are you really doing? Using her? Taking advantage of her? Huh?"

His words hit that spot and something inside me is triggered. My spine straightens and my knuckles grip tight, the skin around them going white. I step to him so our chests are just barely touching, the anger inside me just about bubbling over.

"You ever accuse me on laying a finger on her in anyway considered wrong, I will beat you to a pulp," I say, teeth gritted.

He stands all. "Don't mess with her," he threatens.

And then I look down at his feet to see the boots on his feet. Capitol shoes, they're unlike the shoes the shoemaker makes or the people in the district wear. And its then I realize who he is. This is Gale, Gale Hawthorne. This is Katniss's childhood friend, her hunting friend.

I shake my head before stepping back and then around him, continuing home.

"You have no right to be here." I hear him say from behind me.

I turn to face him. "Why's that?"

"You don't belong here, you don't know her."

"And you do?" I challenge him, stepping to.

"I've just about known her, her entire life."

"Then you know she barely sleeps or when she does she wakes up screaming? You know she can barely eat without her stomach twisting into knots that just about make her keel over? You know she zones out sometimes, days on end and its pretty fuckin' scary? You know that just about the only thing that's keeping her stable right now is that damn cat she hates?"

He looks at me stunted.

"I have a pretty good idea who she is and what she's going through," I tell him.

"But what does she know about you?"

"She trusts me."

He snorts, as if he thinks I'm joking.

"What about you, does she know you love her?"

And it's then his entire body goes rigid, completely still. And that's all I need to know, he answered my question perfectly. No.

Then, with that I turned back and continued to walk.

…

No one, but myself was in the house when there was a knock at the door. Katniss was at Haymitch's house and Mitch was there with her. They were doing some "winter cleaning" as Haymitch had told me when he came to retrieve her, drag her out of the house.

It couldn't have been Katniss at the door either. She wouldn't have been one to knock. She'd just walk in without making a sound and slip upstairs to her room. Haymitch was the same way, not knocking I mean, but he wouldn't be as silent as Katniss was, he was more flat footed disaster.

And so as I made my way to the door a few names came to mind…

Gale Hawthorne

The Tailor

Effie Trinket

The Shoemaker

Rye Mellark

Romulus Thread

It was none of those people though when I opened the door. It was an older gentleman probably in his late forties, early fifties. He was dressed in what I supposed seemed to be common clothes among the merchants. He was tall and had board shoulders. His hair was blond, but you could see the specks of gray and white spreading through the sides. His skin was pale as if not one speck of coal had ever touched it and blue eyes.

The man gave me a small, thin smile.

He was the man that a couple times had sold me bread at the bakery. He looked a lot like Rye Mellark, expect for his hair was a lighter shade of blond. It was Peeta Mellark, though, who was his true doppelganger. This was Mr. Mellark.

Eleven days had gone by and now he had finally come.

"Sir." I nodded.

"Son," he smiled again, "is Katniss here?"

I shake my head. "You can come inside though and wait, if you'd like. She should be back soon."

He nodded his head in agreement and I stepped aside, allowing him to step through the doorway. When he's inside, I shut the door behind him before leading him to the kitchen. He took a seat at the table and I offered him a cup of tea, something I found that was a commonly liked drink among the people of 12, fun facts from Mitch and Kat.

Again he agreed and I heated some water on the stove before mixing in the herbs. It's when I hand him his cup, sitting down across from him at the table that he speaks up.

"Thank you," he says, "for taking care of her."

I shake my head. "I don't deserve that."

He shakes his disagreeing. "It's what Peeta would have liked, wanted."

"I'm sorry about your lost," I say, looking down at my hands.

"Thank you."

There's a long pause before he continues.

"He would have liked you. You're a good person, like him in ways."

I shake my head. "I'm the furthest thing from good."

His lips quirk at the corners. "You did what you had to, son. It may now have been right, even if it was your choice on whether or not you went into that arena, but you did what you had to get out of there alive."

"I've killed people."

"And I'm not saying that it's right," he tells me, not daring to break eye contact, "But I'm not saying it's wrong either."

"It doesn't change the fact though."

"But what you are doing now, son. That does change the fact of who you are. It shows you have depth, it shows your true self, just not some killer. Caring to Katniss, being there for here when no one else is, when she has lost it all, giving what you can, that's something else."

"It's not enough."

"It's pretty damn close," he smiles.

And before I can say otherwise, I hear the back door click shut, Katniss appearing from the night. Her eyes go from me to Mr. Mellark. Her body stiffens and she stutters. Her breath falters and her knees wobble.

There's a long moment, long, and then she finally seems to find her voice.

"Mr. Mellark," she stumbles.

He nods, "Katniss."