Chapter 21:

I want to say something, but the words are momentarily stuck in my mouth. I'm not in the Seam anymore; I don't think it's safe to talk freely. Hazelle won't talk here and she had searched Haymitch's place for bugs after the Games- I can only assume something happened during the Tour to either have them openly put in place or make Hazelle question her decision. The Peacekeeper keeping watch at Haymitch's door probably won't hear anything as long as we keep our voices low, but his presence precludes us from speaking outside. I cringe as I think about the Peacekeeper keeping watch over Peeta at our house- because I realize it was only because Peeta went home this morning, giving the Peacekeeper someone to babysit, that I was able to spend time alone with Gale without someone following us. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. Though I'm not entirely sure a Peacekeeper would or could have followed me that deep into the woods anyway.

I pull Haymitch close to me on the couch, giving him a giant bear hug, even though his body is slightly stiff in protest. I have to be silent. If the Capitol heard everything Haymitch said this morning, or they managed to follow Peeta and I the whole way out to the fence without being noticed, than they know I went into the woods with the intention of speaking to Gale- but they don't have to know that I actually did speak with him (or that we did anything else). But in those lingering couple of moments that I pull Haymitch's face close to mine, I say everything. "I slept with Gale," I whisper, so softly that I wonder if he is able to hear it.

In response, Haymitch pulls away and looks at me with an expression of complete repugnance, shaking his head. He snorts. "As if I needed to hear another reason why Peeta was too good for you," he says disgustedly, giving me a less-than-gentle shove back onto the couch. I can feel the tension, the anger, in his hands. "You know, he called here earlier- looking for you. Sweetheart- you really fucked up." Haymitch begins to pace. He is beside himself.

"I know," I say back, averting his eyes, starting to fidget. "I just- I just- didn't know who else I could tell, and I knew that you would be honest with me." My eyes are already starting to get a little glassy. Even in just skirting around the issue without saying the actual words, the reality of what I did was starting to sink in. I really did fuck up.

"Honest with you?" Haymitch repeats bitterly. "Well, if I'm really being honest with you, if it were me I would probably punch you in the face right now. Part of me wants to even though it's not." He continues to pace back and forth next to the couch, back and forth. Eventually he spits out, shaking his head, "I should have protected him more than I ever protected you."

I ball my fists at my sides, digging my nails into my palms, fighting tears. Haymitch was right. Sweet, considerate Peeta deserved to be protected far more than me. And I was right!, I exclaim to myself. Of course I still have feelings for Gale. But what I said to Gale before still holds true- what I feel for him doesn't matter right now. Not as long as I am married to Peeta, publicity stunt for the benefit of the Capitol or not. And I never really thought otherwise, ever since the realization that I Peeta and I were going to have to get engaged. I never assumed that my happiness would matter in the grand scheme of things, or that I would get a vote, even with a choice as significant and personal as a life partner that the Capitol was forcing me to have. But I suppose I made my peace with it. I made my peace with it because if I couldn't be alone, than Peeta is the nicest and most considerate person with whom I could have been paired up. Who's to say that being with Gale would even make me happier- especially if things were otherwise the same, if we still had to deal with Snow and the Capitol and the Games? I'm not sure that being with Gale could make my life any more pleasurable or meaningful than it is now, and even if it could, there are too many other things, too many other important things, to worry about. And by ignoring all of my responsibilities- Peeta, Prim, my mom- to explore the what-ifs- I was being selfish, and risking far, far too much. What I could gain by being with Gale was insignificant compared to what I could lose.

"But what I also think-" Haymitch continues, interrupting my thoughts, speaking in a slightly softer tone, "- is that you need to do whatever you have to in order to keep things with Peeta status quo." He glances pointedly around the room, I think as an acknowledgement of the increased camera presence. "If that means that you don't say a thing to him, then so be it. Whatever you need to do to ensure that nothing changes." I suspect that he is cryptically trying to send me a message, like he did so often in the Games. But I've gotten so used to deciphering them that reading between the lines is easy. Clearly, whatever it is that the rebellion is going to do next is going to rely on things being completely normal between Peeta and me.

I hear what he has to say, and I understand it, but if his advice is to not come clean with Peeta, than I dismiss it. I don't know how I could possibly face Peeta every night, to fall asleep with him next to me in bed, without him knowing the truth. I might be good at avoiding key conversations with people I love- but only when it's possible to avoid them. How could I make eye contact with him, let alone make love to him, with such a huge thing separating us that he isn't even aware of?

Amazingly, Haymitch all but telling me that I shouldn't notify Peeta of my infidelity makes me determined to go straight home and tell him. Maybe Haymitch is using reverse psychology, but suddenly I can't wait another moment to confess, to purge myself of this awful wrongdoing before it snowballs into something even worse- an awful secret, an awful deception, an awful lie. The sooner, the better. I jump off the couch and give Haymitch a brusque nod, acknowledging that I heard what he said, and turn to go. Haymitch, knowing that my nod wasn't an agreement, pulls on my forearm to keep me here, lecture me some more, but I yank it away from him and run out the door.

I keep running, the few houses until I reach home. There is smoke coming from the chimney but low light- the house is completely dark upstairs and it looks like there's little illumination from the first floor. Only a fire? Hard to say. Though I absolutely dread what is going to happen after I enter, I also realize that the longer I go without saying something, the harder it will be. If I beg forgiveness now, pretty much right after everything happened, then maybe things will blow over faster. Here's hoping. Hand on the doorknob, I take a few deep breaths. Then, closing my eyes for a moment, I open the door and let myself inside.

As I walk towards the source of the light I see that the kitchen and dining room lights are off, but the fire in the living room is blazing. It's the only light being emitted, the rest of the house is completely dark and silent- like Peeta was getting ready to go to bed. I see his profile staring into the flickering flames, and the shadows that they cast on his face give it a very ominous glow. He doesn't turn to face me as I enter the room.

"Where have you been, Katniss?" he asks. He asks me as though he has absolutely no interest in my reply. Which means he must know that I was up to no good. "I called your Mom's house and she and your sister hadn't seen you. Neither had Haymitch. Or Madge. Or anyone in town." His voice is strained but still somehow detached.

"I was…um," I stammer, wondering whether I needed any more buildup for this major kind of confession or whether it was best to just spit it out. I opt for the latter. "- with Gale."

Peeta looks straight into my eyes, though the one is darkened since it's in the shadows. There is something very eerie, very un-Peeta-like, about the way that he is looking at me. "How do you mean?" he asks, but his voice is flat at the end. Like he's not really asking a question but waiting for me to confirm what he already might suspect. I had been gone an awfully long time.

I sigh. There is no point in belaboring this. I just need to confess. Be honest. Yet vague. In case someone is listening. "You know how I mean. In the most inexcusable way possible." I don't break down into tears, run up to his side and cling to him, beg his forgiveness. I certainly don't deserve it. I just stand there, numb, waiting for his reaction.

Peeta leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs, and looks downward. I see his shoulders slump, not once but several times, almost in a progression. He puts his hands to his face, fists balled tightly, and I can't tell if he's about to cry or punch something. I can see him shaking from halfway across the room and strange sounds emanate from his mouth.

Eventually, Peeta exhales deeply, quickly wiping his eyes. He was crying. But after several deep and shaky breaths, he looks up at me. His eyes are still teary, but he has composed himself. "I- I'm sorry," his voice cracks as he says it, but he avoids another round of tears.

Sorry for what? I wonder. Getting emotional? I want to run into his arms and give him a huge hug, but I can't until I hear what else he has to say, whether or not he will let me. I just stare at him, dumbfounded.

"I- I- just need to get used to it, is all," he feebly attempts to explain.

"Get used to what?" I interrupt. I can't help it. Does he think that this is going to be a recurring event? He could not be more wrong- I am 100% convinced of that now.

As Peeta looks at me, it's almost as though something overtakes him. The emotion seems to drain out of him, faster than his tears. And in its place, a hard iciness appears, then spreads. He gives me a look that I can't even recognize. "Get used to the fact that this marriage is a total farce, Katniss," he says, a cold edge to his voice.

Never mind the fact that the Capitol could potentially overhear- I could care less at the moment. I feel the breath escape me in a rush, like I've been punched in the stomach. I try to inhale again and can't seem to. My mind is racing. The logical part of my brain is attempting to make sense of what has happened, what he just said. He's just protecting himself, I think. I hope. But the pain at his words cuts through my heart like an expertly-thrown knife, almost as though Paavo reached out from the grave. It is the cruelest sort of irony- it takes months and months for me to finally learn that giving my heart to another may have made me more vulnerable, but that that putting my feelings out on a limb was worth it, that the love I felt in return more than compensated. And now, Peeta is trying to take it back, say it never existed, leaving me raw and exposed in the worst sort of way. I hate it.

I am too shocked, too hurt, to move, to look at him, to do anything but stare at the ground and feel horribly ashamed of myself. It's not Peeta's fault that he feels that way- it's mine. All mine.

I hear footsteps as Peeta approaches and feel just a hint of warmth as his hand reaches out to touch me. I look up at him, hopeful- maybe I can hug him after all.

But he simply moves me to the side a bit as he brushes past. "Excuse me," he whispers, and then his warm hands leave me, far too soon. He heads up the stairs, refusing to look back.

I stand there. I have no idea what to do. For a minute, five minutes, half an hour. I can't bring myself to leave, walk out. But he doesn't want me there, so why stay?

I realize that I need to go upstairs. I creep up the steps, as silent as if I were on a hunt. When I approach the bedroom, the door is closed. Putting my ear to the door, I hear sound. Unfettered sobbing.

My heart breaks right there. I have to try to comfort him. Maybe I won't be able to, but I have to try. At the very least, he needs to hear that I still love him. Now maybe more than ever- because feeling like you just may have lost someone will do that to you.

Very quietly, I go to turn the doorknob- but the door is locked.