CHAPTER 14 - SECRETS
PART I
Katniss wordlessly collapses on top of me, making a sound that is a passion bred hybrid of a gasp, a moan, and a sigh of utter contentment. The day ended up hot and humid, as many late spring/early summer days do here in District Twelve. Both of us are liberally coated with a sheen of sweat. I can feel our bare skin sticking together in all of the numerous places where our bodies touch. It feels at once clammy, tacky, and much too warm for such close contact - and I, for one, would not have it any other way.
I feel Katniss shift slightly as she puts her lips to my ear. She wetly kisses my ear for a moment, sending delicious shivers down my spine. I can hear every breath she takes as I lightly run my fingers up and down her back.
"Tell me," she whispers.
Moving her thickening hair to one side, I place my own lips against her ear. "I love you, Katniss Everdeen," I whisper back.
I feel her cheek rise in a smile against my cheek. "I love you, Peeta Mellark," is her reply.
My arms tighten around her as I roll to one side. A small giggle - a sound I never grow tired of hearing from her - escapes her throat as we end up now side by side. I slide my arm out that was under her and, using my fingers, brush damp strands of her hair off of her forehead, even as I feel her own gentle fingers doing the same to my hair. My free hand slides down her side and my fingers find a long, puckered line - her souvenir from that day in District Two when she was shot by an unnamed Peacekeeper. Gently I trace the outline of her healed wound. The few times I've glimpsed it I could see it was still an angry pinkish red. Suddenly I feel her hand close over mine and gently, but firmly, move my fingers away from the scar.
"Peeta...don't...please," Katniss pleads.
"Katniss...it's okay, really," I murmur to her, but I honor her wish and instead intertwine my fingers with hers.
"It's ugly," she whispers. If she had been treated in a Capitol hospital the doctors there would have taken great pains to make the scar invisible. District Thirteen hospitals, however, were known for their efficiency and excellent care - not for aesthetics. Still, Katniss simply wouldn't be Katniss without the myriad scars she carried on her body.
"What did you do with her?" I suddenly ask her teasingly.
"What? Do with who?" Katniss asks in confusion.
"Don't play dumb with me, girl," I say sternly. It's a good thing it's dark in here - otherwise Katniss would be able to see I wasn't able to keep a straight face. "Oh, sure, you may look like Katniss Everdeen, and you may sound like Katniss Everdeen, but my Katniss Everdeen would never be self conscious about a little scar."
"Oh, stop!" She says, smacking me in the shoulder. I can hear the laugh in her voice, though.
"There's my Katniss!" I say emphatically, drawing her close to me for a kiss.
"How can I?" Katniss breathes as our lips part.
"How can you what, my love?" I ask softly.
"Be so lucky," she finishes. "So incredibly lucky - my Dandelion."
In response, I kiss each of the fingers that are still twined with mine. She then draws my hand to her lips and repeats the gesture, kissing each my fingers. Wordlessly, we lay there for a few more minutes, then, with a groan, I reluctantly roll out of bed to stumble to the bathroom. Along the way my foot encounters something warm and furry that hisses indignantly at me.
"Sorry, Buttercup," I mutter, lurching clumsily to the bathroom. Tomorrow will be cane day, and hopefully the day after that will be my "back to normal" day. But for now, I either use the walker or have a wall or piece of convenient furniture to help steady me as I try to walk. I close the bathroom door and, squinting against the light, flick the light switch on. Blearily I examine my face in the bathroom mirror as I run water in the sink. Soaking a washcloth in the cool water, I quickly sponge myself off, pausing to divest myself of what Galen calls "my new best friend." I briefly consider a cool shower or full bath but decide to wait until morning. Grabbing a fresh washcloth and soaking it in the cool water, I allow my thoughts to stray back to those mysterious Reaping Slips that I had found earlier in the day.
Haymitch definitely has some serious explaining to do, I say to myself as I wring the washcloth out. Turning off the light, I open the bathroom door and cautiously make my way back into the bedroom.
I sit on the edge of the bed, running the cool cloth along Katniss's arms and shoulders. With a contented groan, she takes the cloth from my hand after a moment and sponges herself off, then rolls out of bed and into the bathroom. Still self conscious, she waits until the bathroom door is closed before turning the light on. I get out of bed to open the windows wider in the hope of catching an errant breeze, but the moist air flowing through the window is still tepid. Sighing, I return to the bed and roll over on my back as I see the light go off under the bathroom door and then hear the door swing open. I feel the bed give slightly as Katniss joins me.
"I thought about running a nice, cool bath while I was in there," she says softly.
"Why didn't you?" I ask. "I would have joined you," I say teasingly.
Katniss is quiet for long seconds; the only sound in the bedroom is our slow, even breathing. In spite of the oppressive heat in the room, I can feel myself begin to slowly slip into sleep, so it barely registers with me when I feel the bed move as Katniss rolls onto her side.
"I'm sorry," she says in almost a whisper.
"Hmmm? What? Why?" My slumber-bound brain struggles to process her apology - trying to determine just what it is she's sorry for.
"For being so - well - shy with you," she says haltingly. "It's not just that scar from being shot. It's the places where my skin looks funny from being burned, and all the scars on my hands, arms and legs from years of hunting, and - from being so - skinny..." her voice trails off as I turn toward her.
"Katniss," I say in a soft voice. "It's you I love. Every mark on you - every scar - is just another sign of a struggle that you won. And as for being skinny - I remember seeing you on some of the worst hollow days when we were younger - when even on the hottest days you would wear long pants and long sleeved shirts to hide your arms and legs...but you couldn't hide your hands from me." I take both her hands in mine and gently caress her fingers.
"I could see how thin your hands were - how brittle your nails were from not eating well. I could see, when you turned your head and the collar of your shirt would open a bit, how much your collar bones stood out. I could see how sharply your cheek bones had become, how dry your lips looked, how big your eyes looked. How sometimes you would wear a scarf over your hair because you'd lost clumps of it." I pause to kiss her fingers, feeling her hands trembling slightly in mine.
I take a deep, tremulous breath before continuing. "And I was so afraid for you, and I tried so hard to think of ways to sneak food out of the bakery - but after the night with the bread, mother watched me so closely, and every time I thought I could take just a little, there she was, watching me - and at night...at night I would curl up in bed and wait for my brothers to go to sleep so I could finally cry from the fear and frustration I felt."
Even now, in remembering, I can feel tears forming in my eyes. Suddenly Katniss lets go of my hands and then I feel her fingers on my face, brushing over my eyes, and I know she can feel the wetness and I let out a small, choking sob, and I hear her make a little sound in her throat too, and my own fingers explore her face and feel her tears also...
"And, that whole time I loved you. I never stopped loving you. So don't think that me seeing a few ribs, some scars, and a sharp hip bone or two will make me feel any differently about you than I have in the past - or do right this minute." I lean forward to kiss her and the kiss she gives me in return is almost indescribable in what it makes me feel.
"I really don't deserve you - and I'm so incredibly happy that you think otherwise," she says between kisses. "I love you so much!"
"I love you, too, my love," I whisper.
PART II
I'm dimly aware of some soft sounds in the bedroom as I roll over in bed, still half-asleep. Opening one eye, then the other, I see Katniss getting dressed, moving quickly and quietly about the room. Suddenly she spies me watching her and favors me with a quick smile. I return her smile, loving the way her cheeks dimple when she smiles.
She sits on the edge of the bed, smoothing my hair away from my eyes. "Sorry for waking you," she says softly.
"I was already awake," I lie, examining her clothing. It wasn't what I've come to think of as her "hunting clothes."
"No hunting today?" I ask.
"Rory and I are gonna check the trap and snare lines - then I'm taking him to the pond to start teaching him how to fish," Katniss says, still stroking my hair.
"Ahh, the famous pond - and when are you taking me there, my love?" I ask teasingly.
"Peeta, you know you make too much noise in the forest!" Katniss exclaims.
"I'm not talking about a hunting trip - just a nice day in the woods...you know, just you and I. A picnic, maybe," I say.
A flicker of confusion - and conflict - sweeps across her face. For as long as she can remember, Katniss has always looked at the forest as a place to harvest sustenance. The forest was also her sanctuary - a calming place for her to retreat to when she needed to get away. And she's right - I make way too much noise to be a successful hunter. The few times I was allowed to accompany her I was constantly amazed at how swiftly and quietly she was able to move.
I grasp her hand gently. "Katniss - we don't have to picnic in the forest. We can do something else. We -"
"No, you're right," she says suddenly, in a confident voice. "I mean, I do love you, Peeta - and I want to share things with you - important things in my life. Yes. We'll picnic by the pond. Soon," she adds with a smile, then leans down to kiss me.
She straightens up quickly. "I need to get moving," she says. "I'm surprised Rory isn't already -" Katniss never finishes her thought as we both hear an impatient knocking at the door.
"That's gotta be Rory. I won't be back until the afternoon - we're getting a late start as it is and the pond is a bit of a hike." Katniss gives me a quick kiss and bounds out of the room. "Love you, Dandelion!"
"Katniss, wait!" I gasp, rolling clumsily out of bed and pulling on a pair of shorts. I scan around the room until I spot my cane. Grabbing it, I cautiously make my way out of the room and slowly descend the stairs.
Katniss is tearing around the kitchen, grabbing her game bag and filling her water bottle, as Rory stands by, watching her with a bemused expression on his face.
"Morning, Rory," I greet him.
"Morning, Peeta. Is she always like this in the morning?" Rory asks with a grin. Katniss overhears him and shoots us both a baleful glance.
I chuckle as I enter the kitchen. Grabbing two paper bags, I busy myself with filling them with a variety of breads for the two of them. I hand both bags to Katniss, who shoves them in her game bag with a grateful expression. She gives me a quick kiss, murmurs, "Love you," and turns to leave.
I toss Rory a cheese bun. Katniss catches the movement out of the corner of her eye and whirls around. I know cheese buns are her absolute favorite and I'm sure she's wondering why Rory and not her, so when she opens her mouth to protest I immediately fill it with a cheese bun of her own.
Katniss's expression turns immediately beatific as she bites into the bread, then turns for a last time as she and Rory walk out the door, still munching their breakfast. As the door closes I chuckle as I turn to heat up some water for tea.
The quiet of the house brings yesterday's mysterious discovery back to the forefront of my mind. Those mysterious Reaping Slips, and the cryptic notes and Mockingjay pin drawings - all of which were in the leather bound volume from the Games that Katniss and I were Victors in - raised more questions in my mind.
I carry my tea and then a plate with a couple of warm cheese buns into the living room, as always walking deliberately with my cane. I settle in on the couch and open up Haymitch's chest, then pull out the 74th Games volume again.
I leaf through several pages of notes that Haymitch had taken, starting with the train trip from the district to the Capitol. I find notes that he took after our first conversation - when I insisted on cleaning him up alone after he literally vomited on himself - that he must have written after I left him in his sleeping berth that night.
I read: "Had a talk with PM after he cleaned me up. Good kid. Starry eyed in love with KE. Made me promise to do everything I could to make sure she wins. Crazy kid."
What made me look closer at these notes were not the words, but the small, surprisingly neat doodles he made. After the letters "KE" was another small doodle of the Mockingjay pin - and after the letters "PM" was a doodle of a hand, palm forward and fingers pointing up, with the thumb and little finger folded across the palm so just three fingers remained straight.
The same sign that all of us assembled in the square that day - Primrose Square now - the same sign we made to Katniss when she volunteered from Prim. The old gesture of respect, love, and goodbye to someone you cherish.
I sigh heavily and take a sip of tea. So, he had already written me off. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised - after all, I had come to him and stated that my goal was to die so that Katniss would live. I leaf through some more pages, finding one more notation - "FIGHTERS!" I recognize that one - after I smacked the glass from his hand and he decked me in return, Katniss had shown him her skill with a knife, and he was more impressed when he saw how adept she was at throwing knives as well. It was then that he pledged to remain sober enough to help us both in the Games - which, to me, meant he would help Katniss, and help me help Katniss as well.
I close the volume with a thump. I decide that I can't wait any longer. Tomorrow is too far away. Leg or no leg, I need to talk to Haymitch - today.
Going into the study, I pick up the phone and punch in Haymitch's code. I hear it ring once, twice, three times, and finally it's answered halfway through the fourth ring.
"Abernathy residence," a woman's rich voice answers.
"Sae? It's Peeta," I reply.
"Peeta? Why are you calling? You're right next - oh, your leg! Do you need something? I can -"
"No, no! I'm fine, really! I just need to talk to Haymitch - he's there, right?" I say quickly.
"At his usual perch," Sae says, "Passed out as usual. Hang on, let me get him."
In the background I hear shouting, then some other noises I can't identify, then a sound like the phone was dropped on the floor. Finally, after much fumbling around, I hear a familiar voice.
"What?" Haymitch growls.
"It's Peeta. I need to talk to you," I say quickly.
"I know who it is, kid. So talk. I'm awake now, you know."
"Not on the phone," I say. "Can you come over?"
"Why the hell can't you come - oh, never mind. Galen fix your leg?" Haymitch asks.
"Yes, but I still need a cane at least through to tomorrow," I reply. "Can you come over?" I say again, impatiently.
I hear Haymitch mutter some obscenities under his breath. "This can't wait?"
"No," I say firmly, "it can't. Haymitch, please - it's important."
"Shit. Okay, fine. Be there in a few." He breaks the connection without another word. Now I sit and wait - and, for the first time, begin to wonder if I really want to know the truth.
PART III
Haymitch arrives ten minutes later, barging through the front door without knocking, as usual. I'm in the living room, but when I hear him enter I haul myself to my feet and limp into the entryway.
"This way," I say, inclining my head towards the study. Haymitch arches his eyebrows but remains silent as he follows me into the study.
In the study, I take a seat behind the desk. The very desk, and the very chair, that President Coriolanus Snow sat in the morning of the start of our Victory Tour, over a year and a half ago. The same place where he sat and, in his polite, refined manner, threatened Katniss's family, as well as the Hawthorne family, with death if Katniss failed to cooperate with him in quelling the burgeoning uprisings springing up all over Panem.
I had thought that the ghosts of the previous government, and the Games that they so enthusiastically supported, were gone - until my discovery yesterday. My eyes fall to the volume on the desk, and to Haymitch, now sitting expectantly on the chair in front of the desk, eyeing the volume with suspicion.
Haymitch finally breaks the silence. "You have some questions - about this?" He asks, pointing to the volume.
"Yes," I manage to croak out, my throat suddenly tight. "I do." My voice sounds utterly formal. I remind myself that I'm speaking to a friend. I just hope he's still a friend after we're done.
"Well - go ahead," Haymitch says. "Ask away."
"Haymitch, I - that is to say, there's some...I mean, I found -" I struggle to find the right words. Words rarely fail me - but today they do. So, with trembling hands, I reach forward, opening the volume cover, and carefully peel back the leather to reveal the Reaping Slips. Removing the Slips, I close the volume and repeat the process with the back cover. I glance at Haymitch. His face is impassive.
I sit back, waiting for a response from him. His face is a mask - perhaps slightly paler than before - but that just could be a trick of the light. But still, he remains stonily silent.
Finally, I ask the question. "Are these," I begin, indicating the Slips on the desk, "what I think they are?"
Haymitch's head nods up and down, slowly, once. "Yes," he says quietly.
"And even the unopened ones - they all say the same thing?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"They do," he replies. "To be honest, Peeta - I never expected you to start ripping my books apart."
"It was - an accident," I explain, as I tell him what had happened the day before. As I talk, Haymitch nods his head thoughtfully.
"I almost didn't give you this one," he admits. "But I figured it would look pretty funny if you had all my books except yours. Truthfully, I figured you'd never even look at it."
"I almost didn't," I say. "But I got curious."
"And now you want answers," Haymitch says. I nod.
"Yes. I do." I say tightly.
"I owe that to you, at least," he says sadly.
"So?" I ask, indicating the book and the Slips.
Haymitch leans back in his chair and stares at the slips for a moment before replying. "Peeta - you and Prim were set up. Every Slip in the Boy's Bowl had your name on it. Every Slip in the Girl's Bowl had Prim's name on it."
Suddenly, there's a roaring in my ears and the light in the room is suddenly too bright. My chest constricts and I suddenly can't catch my breath. As if from far away I hear Haymitch's voice call my name as I desperately fumble at the box in my shirt pocket. With shaking fingers I manage to snap the box open. I catch a glimpse of Haymitch, now looking very far away, as I pop the cap off the end of the auto injector and stab it into my thigh. Almost immediately I'm aware of a cool blackness descending on me as the drug floods my system and fights off my seizure. I collapse back in the chair and allow myself to slip into darkness.
PART IV
I slowly slip back into consciousness. I first become aware of birds - Mockingjays, actually - singing outside the window, followed by the feathery brush of a breeze against my face. My eyes flutter open and I blink a few times, trying to focus on - Haymitch. We're still in the study, and I'm still in the same chair I was before. He's standing near my chair, watching me intently.
"Haymitch?" I manage to croak.
"You okay, kid?" He asks as he moves a little closer to me.
I run a shaking hand through my hair. Haymitch bends down and picks something up off the floor next to my chair, and sets the item on the desk. I glance down at it. The auto injector.
"How...how long was I out?" I ask.
"Five minutes, maybe. You okay?" he asks again.
I hesitate for a moment before answering. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay now."
Haymitch inclines his head towards the spent auto injector. "Nice to know that those things actually work. Didn't know it would put you out, though," he says.
"Neither did I," I reply, wracking my brain, trying to remember if Galen said anything about the medication actually putting me out. I make a note to ask him about it the first chance I get.
"Kid, maybe now isn't the best time to do this," Haymitch says.
I shake my head. "No. I'm fine now. I need some answers. And, like it or not, you're gonna give them to me. Now, not later. You set us up, Haymitch. You owe me."
"Whoa, wait a minute. I never said that I set you up. I said that you were set up. I was not happy with the idea at all!" Haymitch says in protest.
I feel anger welling up inside me. Anger and - betrayal. I knew that feeling betrayed didn't make any sense - after all, Haymitch didn't really know either Prim or myself before the Reaping. My only dealings with him were helping him at the bakery every so often when he would buy bread. But still - dammit, he should have said something!
I sigh. Well, I say to myself, this isn't the first time he's kept something from me. Idly I pick up one of the opened Slips with my name printed neatly on the inside, then toss it back on the desk.
"Haymitch, I need to know. I have a right to know! Someone decided that Prim and I needed to die! And for what?" I shout.
Haymitch leans back in his chair. "It's a long story," he says.
"Katniss won't be back until late this afternoon," I say. "We have time."
"Are you...are you - gonna tell her?" Haymitch asks.
I hesitate for a moment. Am I going to tell her? I mentioned nothing to her the day before about finding the Reaping Slips. Katniss and I have both kept things from each other in the past - but things between us have changed - for the better. We're growing closer with each passing day. She loves me. It wouldn't be right to keep anything from her - not now. But still -
"I don't know," I reply. "It depends on what you have to say."
Haymitch lets out a sigh. "Fair enough. But I guarantee you won't like what you're about to hear."
"I figured that," I snap. "Start talking."
Haymitch hesitates for a moment before he starts to talk. "It all began with my first games as a Mentor -"
Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I realized that Haymitch's story is an entire chapter by itself! And I'm really trying to stay away from overly lengthy chapters, but I promise that I will post Haymitch's story ASAP! Thanks for reading and please review!