Chapter 37: The Under-Secretary
Author's Note at the end
You have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
We can't go on just holding on to time
So for now, we'll go on living separate lives
-from Separate Lives by Phil Collins feat. Marilyn Martin
Trigger warning: References to sexual aggression
I studied my neck and chest carefully, tracing the line of the bruises as I followed the path that Peeta had left behind, I could see the imprints of his fingers on my thighs, the redness where his hips and thighs had slammed into me. Turning around, I noted the bruises on my buttocks. My heart raced in my chest, teetering between fascination and panic. I was no stranger to the harm that could come to a human body. But Peeta's behavior confounded me and I was at a loss to explain what had happened.
I shook my head and let out a deep breath before returning to the bedroom where Peeta snored quietly.I was still tired and wanted to sleep a little more but my mind was spinning and would not let me rest. I went quietly to the bathroom downstairs and turned on the jets, not trying to look at myself too long in the mirror. However, when I went to lather myself, I was tender to the touch, a certain rawness having set in.
I toyed momentarily with the idea of calling Jo and asking her if this was normal but I was truly embarrassed about sharing this particular series of events with her. I also didn't need anyone to tell me what I was already coming to understand. This was not normal and could never be normal under any circumstances. At best, I was allowing a hijacked version of Peeta to have his way with me. At worst, there was a part of Peeta that was emerging, a hybrid version of himself that he, consciously or not, gave free reign to and those parts of himself that embodied all the things Peeta was not – jealous, possessive, violent and demeaning. It would require another brain entirely to figure out why, instead of terrifying me, I was excited by the encounters, as if having this evil version of Peeta do things to me gratified me. This realization about myself brought on those familiar feelings of self-hatred that I did not wish to examine at the moment.
Anyway, I'd been able to stop him, to snap him out of his rapture and this modicum of control went a great deal towards assuaging what should have been fear for my own well-being. I had no way of knowing that this control was a hideous illusion, that my rationalization was shielding me from what I should have seen clearly before my eyes but could not. I was in a moment of my life where keeping the myth of Peeta's wholeness was more important to me than my survival, the same need to ignore his episodes when he first came to District 12. My vision was clouded by love, dependency and fear of loss and in that way I did not see what was really escalating before my very eyes.
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I didn't want Peeta to know about the bruises. I recalled the incident some months earlier, when during an episode, he'd pushed me to the floor and bruised my face. When he saw what he'd done, he'd walked away, fully intent on leaving me that day. And he probably would have moved directly into that flat above the bakery if I hadn't fallen apart. I didn't think I had it in me to handle another incident like that so I did my best to cover myself up that day. It was easy to keep the neck bruises hidden as long as I kept my shirt buttoned up, despite the fact that the heat from the bakery ovens proved somewhat stifling at times.
During the frenetic pace of the day, I soon forgot that I should hide myself, which was ironic because when it came down to it, it wasn't my uncovered neck or chest that gave me away. When I sat to have dinner, I found my bottom area sore and rather unbearable. I was able to hide the discomfort when we dined, using the excuse of fetching this or that to get up and give relief to my poor bottom. But when it was time to watch a bit of television, I squirmed in my seat. Peeta, ever observant, reached over to squeeze my thigh, his large hand landing right on the fresh bruises he'd created the night before. Unprepared for his touch, I winced, a small gasp escaping me before I could suppress it.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, I just bumped myself right where you touched me." I lied and for once, he believed me. But my squirming was distracting and he turned to study me again, his eyes scanning me. As if coming to some realization, his face fell.
"Come upstairs with me." He said, standing up and holding out a hand.
I had no choice but to follow him. When we were in our bedroom, he began to unbutton my blouse. I tried to push his hands away in protest but he captured my hands in his own and kissed them gently.
"Katniss," he whispered, a look of desperation overtaking his features.
How could I have resisted? I let him undress me. His eyes widened when he saw the trail of bites and splotches where he'd sucked too hard on my skin. He followed them with his eyes, unbuckling the belt of my pants and pushing them down gently over my thighs when I flinched. Stepping back, he took in my torso, circling around to look at my thighs, the bite marks and bruises. I was undone by the look of pain that suffused his features.
"Peeta, it's nothing…" I started but he gave me a look so final, I fell silent.
"This is not nothing, Katniss! I don't remember doing this," he said, running both hands through his hair.
"You don't remember last night?" I asked, closing my shirt over my exposed skin. "When I asked you to stop, you came back to yourself."
He held me gently by the shoulders, his wide eyes aflame with panic. "We can't play this game anymore. There's something wrong with me. I swear, I don't remember doing this to you." He swept the air before my body. "I have a vague image, like a dream in my head, of us being together and it was incredible, like always, but not this." He became lost in the recollection.
Now I was frightened. "You don't remember waking me up? Kissing me?" I wanted to say, having savage sex with me but instead I let the question hang in the air.
"No. I don't." he dropped his arms, almost in defeat. "First thing tomorrow morning, I'm calling Dr. Aurelius, like I should have done from the first."
I quailed at the thought that Peeta had not been mentally present at all last night and a host of sordid conclusions populated my mind. This was a deterioration in his condition that I hadn't comprehended when we were together. Instead, I had miscalculated yet again and the flame I thought we could contain proved to have the potential to turn into an inferno at any given moment and consume us both.
I didn't realize I'd gotten lost in my thoughts until the sound of the sliding drawer snapped me out of my reverie. I was suddenly having a flashback to the day when he almost left me and a mad panic seized me. I went to stop him but almost collapsed when I remembered my trousers were half-way down my thighs. Yanking them up, I made my way to Peeta, who held his pajamas in his hand.
"Where are you going?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"The guest room. And I want you to lock this door, okay? I'm not taking any more chances." He said this as he moved towards the door.
"You're exaggerating again! Please, you know I can't sleep without you." I whimpered, hating myself even more for exposing my need for him yet again.
He pulled me into a hug. "We have to be mature about this. I refuse to wake up next to a corpse." I jumped at the image and he squeezed me closer to him before looking down at me. "I don't want to be away from you either, not for a second. I told you – even if I'm the worst thing for you, I can't stay away." He took a deep breath, as if fortifying himself.
"But I'm sick and you have to help me get better. Just for tonight, until I talk to Dr. Aurelius." He kissed the top of my head. "Please, don't make this any harder. It's already close to impossible for me."
"Don't I get any say?" I asked, knowing already what his answer would be.
"Not this time," he said, caressing my cheek before releasing me and heading to his room. "Lock the door and don't open it under any circumstances!" he said pointedly before closing the door behind him.
I just stood disoriented for a moment, staring at the door as if it would give me further instructions on what to do. Finally, I washed up and dressed, as was my habit in the evening but sleep eluded me and when I finally did succumb from sheer exhaustion, I dreamed of a creature with Peeta's face shredding me to pieces until there was no trace of me left.
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When my eyes fluttered open, I was shocked to see the bright light of morning streaming in through the window. The mourning doves were silent and all was calm and peaceful. I sat up suddenly, instinctively reaching over to Peeta's side but of course, it was empty. I glanced at the alarm clock and saw that it was mid-morning. My first thought was that we'd be late to open the bakery. I jumped out of bed and dressed, sprinting down the stairs but was brought up short by the sight of Peeta sitting at the kitchen table, sipping his tea and reading the newspaper.
"The bakery?" I asked breathlessly.
"Aster opened for me this morning and roped in a cousin to help with deliveries. We took a half-day off." He said this as he set the newspaper down. I walked over to him and he put his arm around me, resting his head on my stomach. "This was more important."
"Did you call Dr. Aurelius?" I said.
He nodded his head against my stomach.
"What did he say?" I asked, somewhat impatiently.
"A lot. Or at least I said a lot. Sit down." He got a cup and poured in the tea, setting it down in front of me. "It's good for us to sleep separately for a while." He fiddled with the spoon next to his teacup, tapping it nervously against the table. "I have been freaking out in an irrational way about Gale ever since I heard he was coming." I made to interrupt him but he put a hand up. "No, when I mean irrational, I mean, in a Capitol-hijacked-brainwashed-irrational way, without any real reason for the way that I feel except for the tracker-jacker conditioning and my own very old insecurities. And I'm sorry."
"I know, it's okay." I hurried to assure him, settling gently onto his lap. My thighs no longer throbbed as much as they had yesterday.
"No, it's not, Katniss. I'm still dangerous. I'm even worse when I try to repress things because they come out in these half-episodes and you end up paying the consequences. I've been trying so hard not to bother you with my insecurities." Peeta shook his head, his blond hair which was almost too long flopped over his forehead. "He suggested we just ride this out and see if things get better before considering other treatments."
I nodded, just enjoying the feel of him around me. After my lonely, uneasy night, it was a relief to feel him next to me again. "I still don't think we have to sleep apart," I groused.
"Well, it sucks, that's for sure," he said. "But it's temporary, you'll see." I hoped for both of our sakes that he was right.
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Spring was so slow in coming that year, which was ironic, because the country as a whole was still struggling to get back on its feet after the upheaval of the revolution and the new government and the last thing it needed was to be under a heavy blanket of cold. Gale's upcoming visit made me think a little bit more about what was happening in the larger world around us and I sensed in all the coalition building, political wrangling, and negotiations for power, a reflective mood was emerging. Considering that Capitol citizens were not known for the profoundness of their thinking, this was somewhat remarkable. There were panel debates on television about the Games by some of the younger journalists, discussing the kind of society that had given rise to the permissiveness with which the Games were treated. The mainstream media was less inclined to take on the issue. This made sense to me because the generation who not only indulged but encouraged and profited from the games, the current generation of adults, did not want to implicate themselves any further in the atrocities of the past seventy-five years than they had to.
There were affirmative action initiatives to ensure an equal representation of districts in the newly formed House of Representatives. There was also a Senate and an elected President with term limits. This was the most boggling of all – to have a new President every four years when we had had the same leader since before most of us were born was an intellectual adjustment. And yet, there was something fitting in that.
It all seemed very strange to me. When Peeta and I sat in the evening to watch the newscasts, we were sometimes confused by all of it. Ironically, though Haymitch had some insights to give on the whole process, it was Effie who was able to clarify a lot of the political points. She'd begun a sort of consultancy with the Mayor's office, offering assistance and the benefit of her remaining Capitol contacts in the service of District 12. The time she spent with the Mayor gave her a lot of information about what was taking place in the Capitol, especially when he decided to run for election in the fall as one of the representatives for District 12. It was an unstable time in the country and when it all became too much for me, I shut off the programs and just ignored it all. But Effie and Peeta spoke about it often while I avoided such conversations whenever I could
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Later that week, I was annoyed to find Haymitch underfoot, disorganizing the pastries and cookies I had worked so hard to arrange in the display case.
"I just fixed those, you know." I complained with irritation.
"I'm aware of that." he said as he grabbed a piece of pound cake in one hand and a cupcake in another. "I'm just trying to help you out. The case was a little full." He shoved a row of butter cookies into complete disarray and straightened up with a satisfied air, biting into the cake with a mock-meditative gaze. "There. That's much better now."
I shoved him ungraciously out of the way. "Would you go sit at a table like a normal customer?"
"He's not a normal customer." replied Peeta as he emerged from the back of the bakery with a broom to collect Haymitch's crumbs into the dustpan. "Normal customers actually pay for things."
Haymitch stretched his arms out dramatically, his baked treats still in each hand as he doubled over in an exaggerated bow. "You are paid with the infinite bounty of my good company."
Peeta shook his head as I rolled my eyes. At that moment, the door chime of the bakery tinkled.
"My little love-birds!" Effie squealed as she walked through the door, wrinkling her nose instinctively when her eyes fell on Haymitch messily devouring the last of his cupcake. She carried a very official looking leather notepad holder.
"Effie." I muttered as I wiped down the crumbs that Haymitch left on the counter.
"Oh, darling." she exclaimed warmly, then peered closer at my face. "We really have to talk about the those dark circles. I have a wonderful cucumber cream at home. I think we are both desperately in need of a facial!" she said in that sing-song way that only she possessed of speaking. Effie was right - I hadn't slept a wink in the last few nights, waking every time I drifted off to sleep by terrible nightmares and unable to find any relief without Peeta next to me. At some point, I'd given up and gotten dressed for the day. Now I was swaying on my feet from exhaustion and wanted nothing more than a nap. When I said nothing to comment, she plowed on.
"We are having important government visitors early tomorrow morning and I've been assisting the Mayor's office in organizing their agenda." She announced. Haymitch looked up at her archly.
"I wondered what other kind of "assistance" you've been giving the Mayor's, ahem, office these days." he quipped.
Effie stared at him coldly, then turned away, ignoring him before continuing. "Anyway, as I was saying, the Under-Secretary of Defense - your very own cousin - will be here on a tour of the District. This will be very exciting." I wanted to chuckle at the reference to Gale as my cousin but I suppressed it as it would certainly come off impolitely.
"Reporters?" said Peeta from behind me as he returned from emptying the dustpan.
"Well, you know, the press corps, a few representatives from the major networks, the usual for this kind of visit. Nothing huge, I mean, he's not President Paylor, of course, but he is from this district and a bit of a celebrity in his own right. He'll be visiting the Center, the Seam and the site of the new Medical Center. He is scheduled to be in this area in the morning." Her eyes swept the bakery, tsking at Haymitch before taking in the chairs, the small paintings Peeta had added to the decor, the covered tables, the evergreen boughs perfuming the air and nodded to herself. "Yes, this will do just fine!" she chirped.
"So glad we passed inspection." I said sarcastically. The tension in my body had dramatically increased and I was not well-rested enough to call forth any kind of manners. Peeta furrowed his eyebrows and cast a look of warning in my direction.
"Attitude, young lady!" Effie admonished. "Now, I have other places to visit."
She made to leave but Haymitch called out, "What, no advice to 'bethe beautiful, smiling versions of yourselves tomorrow?'" He imitated her high-pitched voice as he said this.
Effie turned to stare down her nose at Haymitch. "Frankly, dear barbarian, they've earned the right to be themselves, in all their natural glory. You, however, would benefit from being anything but. Good bye!" she waved at us as she bounced out of the shop.
"Bah!" said Haymitch in annoyance as he made dusted himself off in preparation to leave. "Thanks for the snack! I'd love to stop in and watch the show tomorrow but that would require me to actually stay awake in the morning and I'm afraid that would be too much for me. Anyway, I have an appointment with the witch-doctor tomorrow and I have to shore up my patience." The "witch-doctor," in this case, happened to be the nickname he'd given Dr. Aguilar, who insisted on regular medical visits in view of his persistent love of drink.
Peeta shook his head at the departing figure of our mentor before putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him. "About tomorrow - Dr. Aurelius says I have to take concrete steps to normalize our situation. So, if you need to talk to Gale for any reason, don't think you can't, okay? You have stuff you need to resolve and I don't want to interfere with that."
I looked up at Peeta, the anxiety caused by Effie's announcement dissipating somewhat. I hadn't realized how tense I was over this very matter until he said this. I was so grateful, I threw my arms around him and kissed him, the relief washing over me like warm water. Peeta's blue eyes twinkled down at me as the tension drained out of me.
"I've missed you." he complained and rained kisses down over my neck, covering the bruises with them.
"Four nights." I whispered, feeling a flutter of excitement in my belly.
"Four nights too long." he said, kissing me, his mouth so achingly soft and warm, I wanted to cry from the feel of it. I missed his tender way of being with me and even though it had only been a few days, if felt like he had been gone a month. I returned his kiss hungrily, giving no thought to the windows facing out to the street, the unlocked door, or the potential for interruption. Peeta, as if reading my mind, stepped to the bakery door, turned the lock and flipped the sign. Pulling off his apron, he put his arms around me and lifted me up so that my legs were wrapped around his waist, carrying me through the back of the bakery, pausing only to switch off the ovens as he walked by. I kissed him as he walked and I don't know how he did it but we were upstairs and in our bedroom before I realized it.
We tore off each other's clothing, oblivious to the bits of dough, the floating powder-white dust of flour, our fingers stained from food coloring, sticky from sugar. The insanity of the last week fell away like the bakery bits that still clung to our now discarded clothing. Peeta pulled back unhappily when he saw the now-fading bruises again but I wrapped myself around him, keeping him close to me. This time, he wasn't getting away. His jaw seemed tense but otherwise he kissed me back, his hands traversing my skin, waking my every sense to focus on him and I trembled from want and need. When he ground into me, my wetness bathed his rigid cock and he moaned against my lips. I could feel his impatience and purred into his ear "Foreplay. Later."
He nodded in relief and sank into me. I welcomed his hard length filling me. It was like breathing again and I thought something inside of me would flare up and set everything around me on fire. I understood a lot of things - I knew how to survive, I knew the many ways in which a person could die, I dreamed madness and sometimes lived with insanity but I also knew what it was like to have the hands of someone who loved me on my skin, to desperately want, if for a moment, to be one, uninterrupted being with that person and I had a flash of gratitude because it was a small, hard-won victory in a battle we now had to fight each time Peeta touched me. I gripped him as he rocked into me. For the moment, the beast inside of him was pacified and when we exploded together, I felt I understood every part of him, even the darker parts and while there was a flutter of anxiety in my chest, there was also serenity and peace.
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When we fell asleep in the flat, it was largely unintentional - just a few moments of rest after a week of vigilant insomnia. But sleep overtook us both and it wasn't until much later when I opened my eyes again. Everything was pitch black. Peeta had pulled the covers over us and I was curled into the crook of this arm, his breathing strong and even against my cheek. I was perfectly warm and the night was quiet. We were breaking our own rule but for the moment, neither of us really cared. It felt so good, so safe to be here with him that I allowed sleep to reclaim me, willfully forgetting the oncoming storm of Gale's visit tomorrow.
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Entering the bakery with his entourage for the first time, it was as if I had never seen him before and yet at the same time, there was no way to mistake him. The classic tall, dark and handsome man, Gale Hawthorne was a sight to behold. He'd filled out from our time of hard training and austerity in District 13. His hair was thick and healthy, fashionably trimmed. The suit was simple - no Capitol elaborations whatsoever - just clean lines and solid, dark grey fabric. His eyes were mesmerizing in his olive face and I had an inkling, for a moment, of the effect my own eyes had on people and I could almost perceive my own beauty, or what would pass for beauty if I had the grace and charm to match my appearance.
Gale looked good and healthy and I don't know why, but it filled me with a bittersweet feeling of satisfaction.
Mayor Greenfield walked alongside, his tall lankiness a compliment to Gale's rugged elegance. It was clear the Mayor was of a more bookish, meditative nature but he nonetheless was able to project his presence when necessary. The Mayor shook Peeta's hand heartily, making small talk.
"How is Wesley?" asked Peeta. "He was in here the other day with some of his school mates."
"He's caught a cold from running around in the snow with his friends all afternoon. Nothing to worry about, though." he said as they continued to chat amiably.
I felt a flash go off as I stood on the other side of the counter, staring at my former best friend. Gale put up a hand in front of the journalist and shook his head. "No pictures." he said quietly but firmly. There were murmurs of disappointment but he looked intently at me. "Only if you allow it."
"I suppose, just a few." was all I said. Peeta was at my side and shook Gale's hand and, to my utter surprise, without nervousness and with perfect manners, offered to give him a brief tour of the shop. I followed along quietly as Peeta explained the design, expressed the proper gratitude to the District and the Capitol for the speed with which everything was built. It was one of the most bizarrely civilized things I'd ever witnessed.
I examined my feelings as I watched Gale and Peeta, mediated by the Mayor, considering that my fiancee was giving a tour to the man who was once my best friend, with whom I once entrusted the well-being of my family, who volunteered to rescue his rival, whose ingenuity took the most important person in my life from me.
I wanted to feel dead inside, or perhaps, if I had to feel anything, it should have been righteous indignation. What I felt growing instead was a sadness so deep it almost swept me from that moment. Only the sight of Peeta's retreating back as he showed the kitchen - his little piece of survival - kept the floodgates of agony away.
I'd spent the entire period leading up to this visit with my eyes fixed on Peeta, worrying about his reaction, so focused on his issues, that I never stopped to consider my own heart. It wasn't the best place to be right now. I was a storm of aching contradictions and Gale only brought home the fire-bombings and Prim - always Prim. I began to feel somewhat light-headed and resisted the urge to run upstairs and hide in a closet.
When the group returned, Peeta and I posed with Gale before the bakery sign, the one recovered from the original bakery and preserved inside the shop where Peeta had placed it in a display case. They took a few more photos near the goods and then the corps retreated somewhat. Peeta struck up a conversation with one of the journalists and the Mayor, leaving Gale and me alone.
"Nice place." he said sincerely. "A lot nicer than the original bakery."
"Yes, it is," I said, feeling somewhat shy.
An awkwardness hung in the air between us, so palpable, it was almost impossible to speak through it. I could tell it frustrated him but this was me and I had nothing to say.
"Hey, what are the woods like?" he said and there was real longing in his voice.
"Winter woods. You know - snow and ice. Not a whole lot of game but I manage to get turkey, some deer, squirrels." I tried to sound normal, to shake the strangled sound out of my voice.
"I haven't been hunting in a long while." he said. I didn't respond to this, forcing him to continue. "I have a break in my schedule tomorrow morning. Do you think you'd be up to going with me?" He cocked his head in the direction of the group of people who trailed him and in particular, one gentleman with closely cropped hair making indiscreet signals that it was time to go.
"Assistant?" I muttered, to which Gale laughed.
"Yeah, they've even got my bathroom breaks on a schedule." he turned towards me and I felt crowded by his eyes, his physicality. It suffocated me and I realized I wanted to get out of the stifling space of his acute gaze that seemed to see too much.
"Tomorrow morning, usual time and place?" he prodded.
I nodded quickly. "Okay. You think you could get up that early?" I attempted to rib but it came out flat.
"Yeah, old habits die hard," he said this and he looked at me again, as if taking in every inch of me. These days, only Peeta ever really fixed his eyes on me in that way and I felt uncomfortable with Gale's intensity.
I stepped back with the pretense of straightening a chair to give myself the space I needed. Peeta, at that moment, drifted over to me and placed an arm around my shoulder. It was spontaneous and gentle, not meant to be possessive at all and I was grateful that he understood so much about me without having to be told. I was as rigid as a strung bow but felt myself slowly relaxing under his touch.
"Thanks for showing us around. You've done a great job with the place," Gale said, after only a brief moment of hesitation, his eyes flicking quickly away from Peeta's arm where it rested on me.
"We both did," responded Peeta. "Katniss has worked at least as hard as I have if not more," he said and there was genuine pride in his voice. Further conversation was cut off when Gale's assistant explained to Gale that he would now be throwing his entire schedule off if he lingered further. The poor man cast Peeta and me a tight smile that reminded me of the ones Effie plastered on her face when she was stressed about some aspect of our schedules and I thought perhaps it was not the most fun job in the world.
"My assistant will deliver a couple of things your mother asked me to give you. I'll see you tomorrow!" he said this as he shook Peeta's hand but his eyes stayed locked on mine. Soon he was swept up by his small crowd of people and was gone as suddenly as he came.
"Tomorrow?" asked Peeta, turning his full attention on me.
"He asked to go hunting. For old time's sake. And to talk to me." I said pensively.
Peeta simply nodded at this. "That's good. You guys probably need that," he said as he absently wiped an already clean counter.
I walked up behind him and placed my arms around his waist. "Thank you for trying to understand. I know this is hard."
"Not harder than anything else. I'm fine, really." he said and our conversation ended when the door chime announced the arrival of new customers.
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Despite the cold, the sun mocked me with it's clarity, suspended like a yellow diamond on the backdrop of the deep blue sky. It rose inexorably over the edge of the world in utter serenity, without a care for the chaotic lives upon which it shined.
Peeta was already gone when I awoke. Our bakery hours forced us on the road when it was still night and he took every opportunity to shut off the alarm and let me sleep in. Today I felt particularly guilty sending him to work in the bakery all alone while I wiled away my time in the forest.
As I walked to the place where we'd always entered the woods, I could see Gale waiting. He was dressed casually but not in typical District 12 fashion. He wore cargo pants that recalled the military with a similarly styled jacket, fitted but with sufficient pockets for holding supplies. I could see the black leather belt of the quiver that held sleek black arrows. In his hand was an impressive, full-sized bow, shiny and new, nothing like the handmade bow that I was accustomed to hunting with. He did not have the air of a common hunter but of a warrior. I unconsciously caressed the softened, supple leather of my father's worn hunting jacket between my fingers, deriving comfort from its texture.
When I arrived at the gate, I stood before him, taking in his appearance, the glow of health and fashion. I thought of the rags we wore in our youth, the perpetual hunger and fear and marveled that so much about our lives could change so quickly.
"Catnip." He said in greeting.
I was slightly astonished for a moment. I'd never expected to hear myself called by my nick-name again and hearing him say it in that lonely copse of wood, under the rising sun caused a fist of nostalgia to close over my heart and the bubbling pool of misery seemed to beckon at my feet.
"Let's go," was all I trusted myself to say.
I was generally worthless for words, never speaking very much to anyone except for Peeta. He somehow held the key to all the unspoken words in my heart. Once I could say anything to Gale or pass the hours in comfortable silence in the peaceful retreat of our woods. Now he was a virtual stranger and the silence was like a heavy weight - the pall of Prim's death hanging like lead between us. I lapsed into my taciturn silence and so wandering those familiar woods, I searched for something to say to break the sound of my feet crunching through the frost-covered ground.
"It's going to be a cold one today," I said, the vapor from my warm breath clouding my face in confirmation of the fact.
"Yep," he was all he answered and we walked quietly onward. We came upon a group of wild turkey and as if we'd never left the woods, we felled three of them in quick succession. Quietly and expertly, I bled and bagged them, offering one of them up to Gale. He simply laughed and shook his head.
"Where would I take it, Catnip?" he said between chuckles as he passed the bird back to me.
"No, I suppose you are right," I muttered. I worked intently, thinking this could be a nice gift for the Community Home.
"Hey!" He made to reach out his hand to stop the flurry of activity but thought better of it. "You look really good. Healthy," he said finally and I steeled myself in expectation.
"You seem surprised," I said.
"Well, I remember what shape you were in before the trial. I…" here he stuttered uncharacteristically. "I should have tried to see you," he paused. "You seemed pretty determined not to have me around."
"As I recall, I didn't say much at all," I reminded him, his last words echoing in my ears.
"That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family."
What could I have said? There was an aching pit in my stomach now that I stood before him, a toxic mix of nostalgia, horror, anger - the destitution that comes when something so big, so incomprehensibly harrowing befalls you that you have no description for the total emptiness it leaves behind.
"No, not much. But that's your way," he said, his grey eyes peering at me with that epic intensity that made me want to crawl under a rock and hide. "Look, it's like this. I know it's been more than a year but I just wanted you to know that you aren't forced to be confined here to District 12. On President Paylor's authority, I am able to offer you a change in your confinement."
I tilted my head, not quite understanding what he was saying. "A change?"
"The reason I wanted to see you is because I requested that you have the option to change the district of your confinement from 12 to any other one of your choice. The Justice Department doesn't care as long as they know where you are but you don't have to be here in 12. You can go to District 4 with your mother or…" here he took a deep breath, "District 2, with me and my family." He swallowed hard before continuing, "There are excellent hospitals and you would get the best possible care…"
"Wait, are you telling me that you want me to leave District 12?" I said, utterly shocked by what I was hearing.
"No, I don't want you to do anything. I want you to do what makes you happy. I…" here Gale closed his eyes to try to gather himself together. "I am not sorry about the war and I think that we had to do whatever was necessary to ensure that the Capitol was defeated. But I regret losing Prim. I regret losing your friendship. I guess I want to make some of that up to you."
I was stunned, both by the offer and the sentiment. "I...Gale, we have the bakery. We put so much work into it. We can't just up and abandon it. It would be such a waste." I said, the idea of leaving District 12 at this moment in time completely foreign to anything I had considered before.
"The bakery is really Peeta's dream, Katniss, not yours. You were never interested in opening a shop before."
I felt a stab of irritation rise up in me. "How would you possibly know what my dreams are? Where have you been the last year to know who I am?"
"Whoa, you can't possibly have changed that much!" he exclaimed incredulously. "There is no way that you are dreaming of baking rolls and frosting cakes! You don't have to be here if you don't want to." Gale ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. "You just need to know that you have other options, that's all."
"You mean, other options besides District 12, the bakery, or Peeta? What's the real issue here?" I said.
Gale looked up at the sky and shook his head. "There is no issue here. Peeta's not hijacked anymore. You don't have to stay with him or anyone else out of compassion."
"Where the hell did that come from? I'm not with Peeta out of compassion!" I shouted. "I love him. And we take care of each other." The words were choked at the end, as if I was forced to pull back a curtain on something intimate, something I wanted to keep safe and covered from prying eyes.
"Why would I want an alternative to my life here? And certainly I don't want an alternative to Peeta! Is this why you came out here? To insult me and all that I've worked so hard to accomplish since the fighting ended? Because if that's the case, you shouldn't have bothered!"
I stomped off in the direction of the entrance to Victor's Village, fury fueling my every step. I was astounded by Gale's audacity, the nerve that he had to insinuate that I would want something other than what I had at the moment. I heard his long strides behind me and soon he was standing in front of me, blocking my way to the gate's entrance.
"What!?" I spat in anger.
"Okay, that did not come out right back there. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate any of the things you thought. I just wanted you to know that if you ever want a change, I have the power to give it to you. You can do anything, go anywhere. You don't have to settle." I stood stoned-faced, staring at him. "Dammit, Katniss! I just wanted to do something for the way I fucked up every single thing between us. Your mother would love to have you in District 4! And I'm not exactly asking you to bear my children!" Here my eyes grew wide in shock. "I'm just telling you that I will try to be your friend no matter what. You can always come to 2 and have a life with people who care about you. If you have that already, then congratulations!" He took another deep breath. "You have options. That's all."
I breathed deeply, trying to still my racing heart. It was so easy, so very damned easy to be angry with him, to willfully misinterpret him. But deep down inside, I knew what he was offering me. I understood what he was doing because hadn't we done that for years as young people? Hadn't we tried to take care of each other before the Games and the war before every black, wicked thing came between us and changed us, in most cases, for something worse than what we were before? I wanted so much to appreciate the gesture but then I had a sudden vision of Prim's body bursting into flames…
"Thank you," I whisper, trying with all my might to keep the tears from falling. "I understand and I'm sorry I over-reacted."
He took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, so there's that at least."
"Yeah, there's that after all." I smiled but felt the melancholy radiating from me. "I'm not - ready for what you are offering. Friendship, I mean. I see Prim and I can't…" I faltered, looking to the ground for relief.
"I get it," he said sadly.
I was suddenly ready to go home. Alone. I didn't think that even Peeta could give me relief. "But I'll keep it in mind," I said quietly.
"I'm in town for a couple more days. Meetings and such, especially since Greenfield is running as Representative of District 12. I think I could get behind him. I like him."
I smiled at this. "He's actually a very decent person."
"Yeah, I gathered that." He paused and looked at me again. "Are we okay?"
I nodded stiffly. "We're okay." I said the words but I don't think either of us was convinced of their sincerity.
With that assurance, the most anyone could get from me, Gale turned around began his solitary trek back to his rooms in the Mayor's Residence.
XXXXX
Author's Note:
I got some pretty strong reviews for this chapter. Good! Abuse in any form and sexual aggression in particular is not to be taken lightly. Therefore, if I've included it, there is a purpose for it and I think it adheres to the very realistic possibility that this might have been an issue Everlark would have confronted on their journey as a couple. I promise there is a purpose for all of this and not merely for shock value. There are also some things that by necessity would not have happened between Katniss and Peeta because, had certain things occurred, we could not have had the conclusion we received in the Epilogue.
Many thanks to Solasvioletta and Plumgal1899 for betaing and keeping my plot and grammar from scaring everyone. I also want to give an extra-special thanks to princessbubbles25 for pre-reading and being willing to share her ideas on this chapter.
An extra special thanks to an amazing lady, nightlockinthecave, for the new banner for this story. She did such a phenomenal job that I almost cried when I saw it. Truly! There is no way to describe how lucky I am to have her make this for this fic.
HG Fanfic Rec: Stockholm Syndrome by ohalaskayoung. Talk about naughty Peeta! Very nicely done so far.