Intricate Strokes, Delicate Precision

Option A

By: KaKaVegeGurl

Author's Note:

Something I've been wanting to share with my readers, and if you've been around fer a while you'll know what I'm talking about.

A while back, WHILE BACK, I think in TBBA, I mentioned that my BOOK/Trilogy, Only Skin, that it had been sort of... 56 pages long, was erased from existence. All of my hard werk on the first three chapters... Gone.

That has turned into a blessing by now, of course.

I pretty much SCRAPPED that version when I turned Calvin (The main character) from a sixteen year old in high school to a twenty year old in college.

When I did that, it changed the ENTIRE story. Like, seriously. So losing that draft of the book was actually sort of... enlightening.

It also made me keep around fifteen copies of the same fucking story now. But that's besides the point.

Fer those that read D, you've met Ben Rowley. Who is sort of character 3 from Only Skin. If you like him, if you think you could sympathize with the guy, let me know. He's pretty dear to me.

But I just wanted to share that with everyone, some kind of... Light in the darkness or some sappy shit like that.

Thank you all fer remaining PATIENT.

Fer readers of Option P, it's not up yet, it's written, but I have to remake all of the graphics fer the bars and stuff on the site, because I was robbed lol. And those graphics don't exist. But it shouldn't be too hard, just gonna take a bit of time.

P will most likely be up with Option B.

Thank you all fer waiting and being patient, and so understanding, I could've never asked fer better readers. I love you guys.

Thank you lot fer reading, please continue on and enjoy! Have a nice steaming cup of yaoi.

~KaKaVegeGurl (A)

Review Response:

Time to give the anonymous some love...

Tasmia Kabir: "I will finish all of the options, of course. I wouldn't leave readers hanging, you have my werd. It just takes a bit of time now that life is getting in the way more and more. I'm so glad you like my version of the story and that you were awesome enough to take time and review. Totally warmed up my heart fer this winter. ^^ Welcome to the fan group! I love all of you! I'm also really glad that you like C, not many people are into it, I think. But I love it. ^^ It's cool that you live in Queens, New York. Ever find a watch repair there called Gray & Sons? Totally win. blocks out email addresses, I suppose you could go around it by just removing the at symbol and the dotcom or something. So I deleted yer second post because it was still edited out, hope you don't mind. Thank you, and I hope you stick around, updates are a coming!"

Side Notes:

I see my vision burn, I feel my memories fade with time,

But I'm too young to worry.

These streets we traveled on will undergo our same lost past.

I found you here, now please just stay for a while.

I can move on with you around.

I hand you my mortal life, but will it be forever?

Seize the day, or die regretting the time you lost.

It's empty and cold without you here, too many people to ache over.

Trials in life, questions of us existing here,

Don't wanna die alone without you here.

Please tell me what we have is real.

So what if I never hold you, or kiss your lips again?

So I never want to leave you,

And the memories of us to see.

I beg: "Don't leave me."

Chapter 9 - Memories

I'm stopped in the middle of my lunch when one of the militia of 13 comes up and hands me a slip of paper.

"Suit up," He says sternly.

The notice he's given me is a summons, and I pull it close to read that I'm being put into Katniss's team, they've lost one, and they need a quick replacement.

"Are you sure this is... Logical?" I ask, looking up at the man.

"They're Coin's orders," He states plainly, "It's obligation, not choice."

Coin has obligated me to join the team on the ground; with Katniss. I can't argue it, so I stand up with my tray and follow after the militiaman.

He leads me out into the hallway, through passages, until I walk into the combat locker room to get dressed.

It's little work and finally I'm stepping up into the train, being dropped onto field level, and the first thing my eyes meet is little Katniss Everdeen.

She looks startled, surprised even.

But Boggs doesn't hesitate to move forward and snatch the gun off of my shoulder before I can do anything else.

I wouldn't harm her, that's not my job. I've already agreed to let what happens happen, but her eyes watch me as I lower my fists to my sides, "I wasn't going to do anything," I say, dropping my voice, "I'm still human, after all."

Boggs leaves us then, making some distance, before contacting Coin.

Katniss stares still, gun in her hand, nervously awaiting some sort of attack on my part, I guess.

"You could shoot me," I offer, "That might make you feel better. It wouldn't do much for me, but I seem to remember that you need little comforts."

"Shut up," Gale says automatically; from Katniss's side. His hand gently touches her gun's point down now that she's raised it to me. He almost looks like he disagrees with her shooting me; almost.

"I wouldn't mind," I continue, "It's not the first time you've wanted to hurt me, Katniss."

She winces at her name, shakes her head, and looks away as Boggs comes back, almost stomping towards us in his annoyance.

"I want two people on him at all times," He says, motioning to me, "Katniss, would you come with me?"

Just like that, she's gone with him, and two of the group join my side as flank.

Gale smirks victoriously and crosses his arms.

I look at him and shrug, "I wasn't going to do anything, anyways. All this does is keep me warm."

Late into the night, I'm sitting by a tree as Finnick shows me, or rather, reminds me of how to tie a knot. I've gotten it into an almost muscled reflex, twisting the rope between my fingers while everyone goes to sleep around me.

It's Finnick's words though, that are what lingers with me into the night, not the rope knots.

He's reminded me to try and sympathize with her, to understand.

"You've had it tough," he explained as he showed me the steps in the rope, "I know it's hard, Peeta. But it's really hard for both of you. Katniss is being stubborn, but she's normally like that. She gave up on you, but you shouldn't give up on her. You really loved her. Maybe if you try to sympathize with her, even if it's pretend, it could open her back up."

"I try all of the time with Annie. I love her, even though some times it's hard to get through to her, I know that deep inside she wants me to try, and that she loves me as well. Katniss isn't being fair, but someone has to make a move or you'll both continue to be miserable."

He's pretty convincing; Finnick Odair.

Katniss sits silently, eyes trained on me, until I decide to finally speak up and listen to Finnick's advice.

"These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you," I say softly, "Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth."

It's a bittersweet beginning despite my best efforts to remain optimistic.

Katniss sighs, almost in annoyance, but humors me; thankfully. "I never wanted to kill you. Except when I thought you were with the Careers. After that, I started... Well, I started developing feelings. But I never hated you."

"You make it sound like something real," I speak before I can stop myself, "I can't even seem to work through that much. I can't really ever figure out what's been real between you and I. Some of it feels real, but other things–Other things seem fabricated."

Finnick's voice from nearby nearly startles me when he says: "All you have to do is ask, Peeta. That's what Annie does."

"Ask who?" I question him, "And ask what? Where do I begin? I don't know who's answers I could even trust."

"You could ask us," One of the team says, one I haven't gotten the name of yet, "We're your squad, after all."

"More like my body guards," I supply.

Finnick chuckles.

The other woman, however, answers earnestly, "We're that too. But you saved a lot of lives in Thirteen. It's not the kind of thing we forget."

When the silence follows, I find myself struggling on the smallest thing to ask, something simple. Something that would be just dumb to lie about.

"Your favorite color is green," I say and then ask unsurely, "Right?"

Katniss smiles weakly, looking at me, "That's right. And yours is orange." This surprises me though, orange? That's and awful color. Orange, "Not bright orange," She says at the doubt on my face, "But soft. Like the sunset."

And at once I can see it, in my mind, very clearly. The colors of orange spreading through the sky, clashing with the blue.

"Oh," I feel the breath come from between my lips as warmth fills me in realization, it's overwhelmingly simple, but comforting. "Thank you."

Katniss stares at me with wide eyes then and says in a rush of words: "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open and you prefer the left side. You never take sugar in your tea, but your lips don't curl because it's bitter. You roll up the sleeves of your dress shirts to your elbows and you always double-knot your shoelaces. You hate it in the Capitol, but only because they change my eyebrows. You lick your lips when your nervous and you're always feeding Buttercup when my back is turned, even though you know that I know you're doing it, and I don't like it."

Once she's finished talking though, rising more questions in my head, she turns and darts into her tent without saying anything more or waiting for my reaction. Silence reigns in once again without a 'Katniss' to fill it, and I sit there, thinking over what she's shared.

The things she's mentioned aren't something you'd notice from just anyone. They rather sound like something you'd notice about a close, dear friend, or a lover. The left side of the bed? No sugar in my tea?

I tighten the knot in my fist and the silence stretches on until Gale says something.

"You were going to join her at the drop of a hat," He says, motioning to me, "You were going to run away. And, even though you know how much she cares about me, and she's struggled a lot between us, you've never been jealous of me in the slightest."

I've never been jealous? Why would I be? She's a mutt.

The next morning, I wake up, join the group in eating breakfast and 'Jackson', as I've learned her name is, the woman from the night before, stretches out an arm to share the meat; passing me a packet of salt.

"How did you sleep?" She asks calmly.

"Acceptable," I joke and the rest of the group nod in agreement.

Boggs smiles and watches me while I taste test the meat, adding a dash of salt over it for a sense of flavor.

"Baking and painting," I start, trying to make sense of the thoughts still wandering around in my head, "Those are obvious, I can see them clearly. But the rest of what she said, was it all true?"

Some of them shrug and smile, but Boggs answers: "Well, a lot of it we don't know, but the rolled up sleeves part, I can agree with that one. In all of your interviews with the Capitol, and Snow, they were. It seems odd that she'd just mention small things like that. Aren't you more concerned about other things?"

"The small things help."

Jackson scoops up a spoonful of some odd sort of sauce and drips it over her food, "You can ask us anything. If we can, we'll try to answer our best."

I nod slowly, thinking it over, "I don't even know where to start."

One of the other men, Castor, shrugs, "Try something relative, that we all might know, or be able to answer, that's as good a starting point as any."

"Like the war," Boggs suggests, "We're all sort of a part of that."

A few of them chuckle and I roll my shoulders in thought.

"Alright," I say, thinking harder, "Well, I don't know if I really knew much about the war; before it happened, I don't think. Is that real?"

Boggs chuckles with a few of the others and nods, "That's real, sure. Both you and Katniss were kept out of it for the most part. Haymitch kept nearly everything out of your minds, he figured you had enough to worry about, without a world war. Not until it was necessary, at least."

"The fire in twelve, was that real?"

Again, Boggs nods.

I stop and think it over, remembering the images, the wording or something, someone... Someone telling me that there was the fire, and that twelve was no more.

I'm not sure how much time passes when I finally ask more questions.

"Most of the people there died from the fire, real?"

"That's real," He answers, watching me close, "Less than nine hundred of the people from twelve made it to Thirteen alive."

"It doesn't seem right," I say slowly, trying to work through the blurred images of before, the image of a camera, the script in my hands, my feet supporting my weight, one pressing in my toes, the other in my hip.

"I feel like I warned District 13 about something... About–"

"The bombing," Castor answers, but Pollux shoves him in the shoulder and makes an odd action with his hand, "Sorry," he apologizes.

But what he's said has put in motion a few memories for me.

Darius, holding out his oozing hand of blood and bone and tissue and me trying to console him.

I'm saying things to comfort him, "Are you listening?"

I am.

I'm listening.

And then there's this... this startling image of Snow saying things, of fear, of Katniss begging on a screen, the churning in my stomach and the sweat in my palms. Then there's blood on my tongue, I can almost taste it, it's so real.

"I did, I did warn Thirteen, about... 'Dead by morning'." I can feel the impact of the punch and the blood being grinded between my teeth, the gasp of pain and glaring up into the eyes of a snake. So clear, clearer than any real memory I've had for some time.

"The only thing I regret is not killing you when I had the chance in there!"

The snake, Snow.

"Is that real?" I ask numbly.

Boggs nods, "That's very real. You warned us, and at first we weren't going to listen. But Katniss and Haymitch vouched for you, made us at least start a drill to prepare for the bombing."

"Run, Katniss!" I'm screaming at the camera, struggling against the soldiers, and the one in front of me grabs my collar and slams his fist hard into my jaw. I fall back, nearly knocked senseless into the arms that are pulling me down. Blood spills from my mouth before they grab me off of the stage.

The memory is clear, so clear against the background ones, everything is so sharp, taste and smell, fear, pain.

"I was beaten," I say, touching the corner of my jaw, feeling the hit over and over again, "Was that real? There's no way it can't have been real."

"It was, from what we know," Jackson says softly, "We saw your blood on the screen, when you warned us and they hit you."

"Was it my fault?"

"Was what your fault?" Boggs asks, raising a brow, "Being beaten?"

"The bombing," I answer back, still feeling the pain of the punch and a new sort of panic settling in for the long haul.

Boggs shakes his head, "No, that wasn't your fault. It was ours, it was our cutting into their feed, and Snow, not you, Peeta."

I try to allow his words to sink in, but something else trickles in as an after thought, "Something was my fault, I'm sure. Was the fire in Twelve, was that my fault?"

"No," Boggs says sternly, staring at me, "President Snow destroyed Twelve the way he did Thirteen, to send a message to the rebels."

"Don't blame it on yourself," Cressida says, watching us all in silence, "You don't have to keep looking for something that was your fault."

"I just feel like–"

"I know something that's your fault," Katniss says from a distance, just earshot from us and we turn to her.

"What?" I ask.

"Katniss," Jackson says, warning her.

Katniss shakes her head, "No, no. But I do know something that is really his fault," She takes a seat nearby and smiles at me, laying down her game, "You're the reason I'm alive. You stuck your neck out for me in the games, both times."

Everything goes silent as I think over the new information, as I filter through the conversations, I remember the sunset orange and double-knotted shoelaces, over and over again as I tie them each and every day before going to school, before baking or painting. As I try to paint on canvases and walk from the Victor's Village.

"Something you said," I start finally, after a long moment in my thoughts, "Last night, Katniss, you said I'd rolled up my sleeves. Was that... Because of Portia?"

Katniss nods nervously, "That's right," She says softly, "Portia always would roll your sleeves up."

I rush over memories of her. Portia. Hugging her and accidentally calling her my mother, of her folding my sleeves up numerous times. And I can remember doing the same afterwards.

"So, that's real," I tack that thought down correctly, "But she's dead, isn't she? Her and the prep team, right?"

"Right," Katniss confirms.

Gale, giving me a cold look, adds: "Just after you were saved, actually."

Everyone looks at his dead-pan and they stare in silence.

I shrug and put a healthy amount of the salted meat into my mouth, chewing through the thoughts. That's fine, he can be bitter.

But I'm glad I know a few things, if I get enough of it sorted out, maybe I can be back to normal soon.

Ending Notes:

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, feel free to give me yer points of view in a review, or just drop in to say 'good story' anything werks. ^^

~KaKaVegeGurl