On my first day back, Haymitch and Rory help me break into my old house. It was just as I left it, with the exception of the items my father had left for me on the table. I'd found them first when I broke through the back door's window and we all stumbled our way into my kitchen. Haymitch had come to chase out any animals and Rory had come to check power sources and my appliances (apparently technological matters were part of his training in District 2 – I didn't question it).
Prim had gone home in a sour mood to prepare us all dinner. None of us had pushed on the fact that she was still furious with me, although we all knew that it would pass. It was an anger built out of love, not hatred.
Coming upon the table, I'd paused at first, not quite understanding what was on it. I'd remembered that I had left it bare, just in case the house was used after my death. In fact, the rest of the house was perfectly ordered, just in case.
On top of the smooth surface stood a picture frame, two parts that folded together. One side held an image of my brothers and father, the other, a sketch I'd done of Katniss a long time ago, sitting in the school yard. I let my fingers ghost over the edges of the frame before I set it back down and looked to a small notebook that was next to the table. Instantly my mind recognized it as my father's, one I knew he filled with all of the family recipes. I didn't have to open it to know it was brimming with everything I longed to bake.
Finally, tucked next to the book was a letter written on thick parchment. My hands hovered over it before I looked up to meet Haymitch's stare.
"He didn't do this for my first Games," I mutter, dropping my eyes momentarily.
"Probably didn't think you were coming back the first time." Haymitch responds and I can hear his shrug in his voice. I laugh bitterly and lean against the table as I listen to the sound of Rory flicking light switches upstairs.
"He knew I wasn't coming back this time – we talked about it." I'm almost forceful, spiteful even. The anger spurring inside of me building from somewhere I don't quite understand.
"Maybe he thought you could do it again. Hope does funny things to people kid. Besides, you found it, didn't you?"
Haymitch's boots are moving out the door before I have a chance to respond. Instead, I pull out a chair and sit at the table, the letter mocking me from where it sits. I desperately want to read it, but I'm not sure I could take another heavy emotion today. The sound of Rory heading back into the kitchen pulls my attention and I stuff the paper into my pocket.
"You should be all set – your spare room light flickers but I doubt you'll use it," Rory announces, lumbering back into the room. He sees the items on the table and eyes me wearily. "Don't worry Peeta. The Everdeens are like this sometimes." And then he's gone, escaping out the back door and apologizing through the shattered window when more pieces fall onto the ground.
I'm back in District 12 for a week before I start to get back into the flow of things. I spend the first few days bouncing from one construction site to another, moving wood and hammering nails to keep my mind occupied. In the evenings, when it's cooler outside, I try to get back to baking. The recipes in my head are a little rusty and more than once do I have to look at my father's notebook.
In those moments, I nearly have to stop what I'm doing and clench the back of a chair, desperately trying to prevent the overwhelming sadness at his death. I try not to think about the letter tucked under my pillow that I can't bring myself to read.
The first successful loaf I prepare I share with Haymitch, Prim, and Rory. We've taken to eating together nightly, if only to keep each other company. Since my return, Rory has joined Prim in Haymitch's house, all of them living together in some weirdly functioning unit. I don't ask and nobody offers details about what exactly happened with Rory in District 2.
Everyone has their war story, I've come to realize.
It's late when I'm sitting in my kitchen, drawing on a scrap piece of paper. I've spent the day at the building site for our new market, helping work on the framing so that they can start putting everything else together. An older miner by the name of Thom is leading the rebuilding effort and he doesn't question the scar on my head or the familiarity that I arouse in some of the other workers nor the rumour that apparently I've been dead. It seems nobody wants to relive the Games in my District and I'm thankful.
The phone ringing is what startles me and I look up, my eyes landing on the ever-silent machine that's now almost vibrating with excitement. My stomach leaps into my throat as I stand and lift the receiver, my voice coming out as a croak as I say "Hello?"
On the other end of the phone, all I hear is silence. It drags on for a moment too long before there's a 'click' and the line starts to hum. I return the phone to its cradle and continue my drawing, thinking nothing of it.
I'm learning how to lay brick. It's hot and humid as my shirt sticks to my back, the sun beating down on us with a strange level severity. The market building is coming together with every day that passes, its end result coming closer and closer every day. I can feel it in the men and women that I work with that this will be a huge first step in rebuilding the District.
I've never been more proud in my life to be part of something.
Deep in concentration, I barely notice the shadow that looms over me as I lay another brick and lather on more cement.
"If you're just going to stand there, you could at least get us some water," I groan, turning and rubbing the sweat from my forehead. My heart stops when my eyes land on her, staring at me with her mouth open and her fingers clenched into fists at her shirt hem. "Katniss." Her name escapes my lips in a rush and I feel more lightheaded and woozy with every second that passes.
When I step forward, I think the most crushing thing is that she steps backward. It hits like a wallop to the chest and I can hear the workers around me slow their efforts as they watch the scene play out before them. I want to leap at her, gather her up and never let her go. But I can see by the look on her face and the shock in her eyes that this is not what she wants or needs.
It's only after she takes off, bolting out of the Square and towards the Village, that I get to have my first breath since her appearance.
"What are you waiting for?" Thom shouts from somewhere behind me, bringing me back to the present. I know he's talking to me. Despite never telling him or anyone, he knows exactly what's happening here. What am I waiting for? My home is back.
I take off running, my leg jerking with every step after being prone in a kneeling position for hours. It doesn't matter though as I see her moving over the hill, barreling back to the safety of her house. I crest the hill to the Village just as she slams her door shut. If I were closer, I'm sure I would hear the lock click.
My steps falter as I slow to a walk, trying to figure out just how I'll never stop apologizing for everything that I've done.
I try the door, just to be sure, only to find it indeed locked. My knocking goes unanswered as well. But I'm not going to give up – not after everything. Instead I settle myself on her porch and decide to wait her out, just in case she chooses to come find me.
It's a few hours later when I see Gale himself, hurtling over the hill with a backpack and bag in his hands. He's dressed in traditional military greens and I can tell he's frazzled. He looks distressed even from here. I stand and step down from the porch, unsure of exactly how this reunion will go. When he gets close enough to see me, much like Prim, he draws up short.
And stares.
For too long.
"You're dead," He shouts, the sound reaching me and dragging me down.
"Not quite. Perhaps, just missing."
He stares at me for a second longer before he drops the bags and pushes past me, pulling out a set of keys and turning the lock over. He doesn't even wait for me to step inside before he's taking the stairs two at a time and shouting Katniss' name.
"Catnip!" The sound echoes off the wall as I take my first look inside the house. It's almost sterile with the way it's cleaned, everything in its place. It looks nothing like the home I remember it as. Above me, I hear a bedroom door slam open and then boots stop moving.
It's a long while before Gale comes back downstairs and pushes me from the entryway back to the porch.
"Don't worry – just give her time," Gale mutters as he closes and relocks the door behind us. Turning back to me, he runs his hands through his hair, seemingly pulling at it as he looks down at me. "Since you left, I haven't stopped chasing her down. That girl has become a runner." He says, exasperated.
Together, we make our way over to my house at his urging and we sit at my kitchen table, the silence almost overwhelming.
"Is she alright?" I ask, finally regaining my ability to talk.
"No. But she will be now," He replies sadly, looking away. "Where were you?" There's a hint of anger in his voice.
"I couldn't come back yet. There was so much..." I can't finish, my words almost cowardly.
"You couldn't even let her know? That you were alive? Peeta – geez, are you a fucking idiot?"
"It would have been worse if she knew I was alive but not back! It would have broken our promise to each other, to always come back and be there." I try to reason, but even I know it's a bullshit excuse. I'd been too afraid to come back.
"You don't understand how it's been. You don't get it," Gale mutters. I wonder in that moment if he's thinking about all of the times he thought it would be him and Katniss. I wonder if now it is him and Katniss. The idea makes me blanche and he notices it easily. "Don't get stupid – there's nothing left between us."
I'd let out a breath of relief, but I think that'd be too obvious. He laughs lightly anyways.
"I did my best, Peeta. To keep our promise. She kept running though, as though it would make it better. But I did my best – even getting on the next train when we discovered she wasn't in District 4 anymore."
"What?" My eyes snap up to his at his words and he shrugs.
"She said you picked up the phone – that's why she came home. She called you last night because sometimes she does that just to make sure. But last night she said you picked up. Got on the next train back here without telling any of us. I figured if she was going anywhere she'd come back here, so I got on the first train after that and came back."
"I didn't know it was her." I reply quietly and look at the picture frame I've placed in the corner of the window sill. Katniss' still silhouette in the image catches my eye and I stare at it. "I miss her." The words seem ripped from my chest. Now that she's here, all I want is to hold her.
"I get it – but you need to just wait. You've spooked her. She's been trying to come to terms with thinking you're dead – this is a huge shock. You know her Peeta, just try to imagine what it would be like for you," Gale replies and shifts back in his chair.
"I wouldn't have made it this long," I mutter back. And I know then that it's true. If Katniss were to die or leave me, I wouldn't stick around. I'd have nothing left.
The silence seems to fill the kitchen for a long time after that. Gale sits with me for an hour before getting to his feet.
"I guess you're going to see your brother?" I ask when he stands.
"What?" Turning, he stares, slack jawed. "My family doesn't live here anymore, Peeta." He insists, frowning.
"That's not what I've seen. Go see Prim, ask her about it." I don't mean to intrude, but the shock on his face, mingled with the hidden smile, is almost a reward.
"Goddamn Rory," He mutters and heads out the door. He's almost gone when he pops his head back in and smiles sadly at me. "I'm glad you made it. She will be too. Just, grow your hair in okay? That scar looks painful." And with that, he's gone, stalking off across the lawns towards Haymitch's house.
I spend the first few hours staring at the picture frame as I hold it in my hands. I remember the afternoon I drew it, sitting at the front counter of the bakery. I'd spent the whole of the lunch hour just watching as Katniss played with her younger sister in the school yard. It had been just after her father died and a rare moment that she'd smiled since.
I'd wished I'd talked to her then. Not wasted so much time.
It's past midnight when I finally crawl into my bed and turn out the light. I stare at the ceiling for what seems like hours as the darkness surrounds me. It feels especially lonely tonight, considering that Katniss is so close yet still so far away. All I want is to bust in her door. To find her and apologize and beg for forgiveness. Somewhere between all that, I'm able to drift off into a restless sleep.
My bed isn't cold anymore. I keep my eyes shut, thinking it's perhaps a dream, as my body comes alive by feeling the arm around my waist and the foot hooked around my leg. When I feel the warm breath against my neck, I peek open my eye and steadily release the air from my lungs.
I can't wait anymore. My body folds around Katniss without waiting a moment longer; dragging her from her sleep as my chest presses to hers and my leg pulls her flush against me. I don't hesitate to brush my lips against her forehead, resting my chin on the top of her head as the breath shudders out of me. She doesn't squirm or move, apart from the quiet weeping that seems to overtake her.
"I am so sorry," I whisper, on repeat. It flows out of me in gasps, in between hitches in my breathing. My fingers hold her shoulder blades and if it was possible, I would mesh our bodies together. I just want her closer. I want her never gone from my side. "Please, forgive me. Please. I love you so much," It aches in my chest, the sound of her tears.
I hold her there for a long time, her body slowly seeming to calm down as I continue my mantra. "I'm sorry. I love you. Forgive me. Please."
After a while – after too long – she seems to pull away from me, her face reaching up until we're staring at each other, eye to eye. Her grey to my blue. There's a crackle of electricity between us before she presses a too-wet kiss to my lips, her tears mingling on her skin. It's hot and frantic and her hands reach up until she's pulling at me like I'm disappearing through her fingers. When she pulls away, it's only an inch and so that she can breathe.
"You came back," She whispers and I don't know why we're whispering because I just want to shout and scream and laugh and cry until she knows how much I fucking love her. "I knew you weren't dead – I knew it," She continues and then grabs me again and pulls me to her lips.
We kiss and kiss and kiss, her tongue skating past my lips and into my mouth. Her teeth pull on my lip as my hands find her braid and release it. Hair slides down over her shoulders as my hands slip against her spine, tracing the too-prominent bones there. The heat seems to take over as she pushes me onto my back and rests over top of me, her body withering against mine and pulling moans from my mouth.
I want slower. I want to savour this. I want her.
"Katniss," I hiss her name between clenched teeth as she bites my neck. I try again and clench my hands around her waist, urging her hips to stop their movement against me. "Katniss, please," I plea. It seems to bring her up short and she pauses, looking down at me with red lips and mussed hair.
"You don't want-?" Her whisper almost wounds me.
"No! No I do! Feel, I do!" I shout in reply, dragging her hand until it glides over the hardness in my pants. When she looks up from where her fingers linger, she smiles wickedly and leans forward again. I stop her, my hands resting against her cheeks as my thumbs stroke slow circles. "Katniss," I try again and just stare at her. I watch as her great facade seems to come apart at the seams, her face falling into the despair and sadness that must have consumed her for so long. "I'm sorry, can you forgive me?" It's a harsh whisper.
I'm not sure I want to hear her answer.
I hold my breath.
"Peeta," Her eyes close slowly and she sits atop me, her breathing unbalanced and creaking in her chest.
"Please," I urge and force my hands to stop their tempting climb to her chest.
"You never needed to apologize. You promised you'd come back and you did. Now shut up and let me have you." Her lips are once again on mine, the kiss burning through me and stealing my air. I don't question it, not for one moment, as she rocks herself against me and her tongue dances with mine.
The pace has slowed down enough that I'm able to feel her. My hands trace the line of her shirt before I slowly start to lift. When I pause at her chest, she lifts her arms in silent permission and I discard the cloth on the floor. The sight of her bare torso spurs me on and I roll us over until she's below me, her hands pinned above her head as our eyes meet.
"I love you," I whisper, sinking down and trailing my lips from her jaw to her neck, from her chest to her stomach. Pausing at her pajama bottoms, my fingers loop themselves in the waist band and I force her to meet my eyes. Her lift of the hips is another silent gesture and I slide them off to reveal more bare flesh below. Meeting her eyes, I hold her gaze as my mouth slips down to her core. Her fingers find my hair as her moans fill the room, echoing off the bare walls. Slipping a finger inside, I work it slowly in time with my mouth, nibbling and kissing as her hips buck towards me. I feel a pull on my hair just as I feel her crest around me, her body lifting off of the bed and into the air. I don't stop my assault on her until she's resting again, like jelly, on the mattress.
"Peeta," My name comes out as a whine while her fingers clench around my shoulders trying to pull me back to her. I go willingly, sliding myself along her body and wrapping her close to me again, as though I'll never get the chance for another moment like this. Falling back to earth, she starts to laugh lightly, pulling me back to look at her.
I can see it there, the absolute love that she has for me. It's the same look we shared on the night I left District 13. But now it's a smile hidden behind it all, not a sad goodbye.
"Don't ever leave me again," She whispers into my ear as she plants kisses along my jaw. They're slow and languid and even though I can still feel myself straining against my own pants, I don't care. I'll take this soft Katniss. I'll take any Katniss.
"I won't ever go. Not ever. I promise." I reply gruffly, my hands sliding up and down the skin of her back. Her kisses start to slow until I feel her head tuck against the crook of my neck, her breathing tickling the small hairs along my chest. I feel my body stir and protest but I mentally shut it down, instead removing my pants to try to get some relief. This closeness, this is what I really want. Sex is passive – this trust, this love, this is what I came back for.
We lay together for hours, her curled up in my embrace as my body tries to relax. Neither of us sleep and instead we listen to the sound of our breathing, assuring each other that we're both real and we're both here.
After a while, as the dawn's early morning light begins to slink through the window, I lift myself up, pulling her with me, until I'm leaning against the wall and she's resting on my chest. She looks beautiful like this, with her hair cascading down over her shoulder and her olive skin almost glowing in the low light. When she looks up, her grey eyes catch mine and there's a sparkle in them.
"How did you know I was alive?" I ask. Her smile tightens but doesn't disappear.
"Because you said your body made you do things that you should do. Not that you wanted to do. If you wanted to die, you would have. But I think you knew you went to the Capitol for more than just getting control again – didn't you?" Her pause allows me to think, taking in her words. In more ways than one, she's right about this. "You went to kill him – didn't you?"
My head nods before I even consider it. Killing him was what I should do. Just another trick my body played.
"I knew you were still alive." She concludes with finality as she squeezes her eyes shut and grabs hold of my hand.
"Then why all the running?" I don't want to bring it up, but that's a part that I truly don't understand. If she was convinced I was alive, why did she try to run away from where I would come back to? Looking down at her, her face is tight with a scowl.
"I was trying to get to the Capitol to bring you back." The way she says it, under her breath and tight with frustration, almost makes me laugh. And then I realize that she was trying to get to me when I was trying to stay away. "Gale made me come back – they were all convinced you were gone and that I was losing my mind. So I just came back and cleaned. Everyone thought I was crazy but I was waiting. And you took so goddamn long – Mom moved out and the Hawthornes scattered and everyone just kinda, went crazy too." She pauses and pulls in a breath, sitting up until her back is straight as she tells me the story. "None of them tried to help me apart from keeping me here. They were all just trying to keep it together for themselves – but with the war..."
"Katniss." My hands find hers and I lace our fingers together. "I'm sorry I stayed away. I had other things to tie up and-" The fall of her facade and the gentle touch of her fingers along the scar on my scalp nearly break me down.
"Oh Peeta," She whispers, getting to her knees and hovering over me. My hands find her waist and hold her steady as she rests her cheek against the top of my head.
"Portia's dead." It comes out of me in a groan, the still fresh pain of it bubbling under my skin. Katniss only holds me tighter, her arms and legs wrapping around my torso. Though the mood isn't close to anything light, she can't contain the laughter that spills out of her as she feels me harden against her backside.
"This is inappropriate," She gasps and moves to pull back.
"No it's not," I reply and grip my hands around her waist. "Portia pushed for this. She would be happy I came home to you. She would have been so happy."
"Let's not..." I know she wants to say 'let's not talk about the dead' – I don't need to hear her say it. Instead I capture her lips in mine and unabashedly rub myself against her core. Above me, she withers as a groan escapes her mouth.
"I'm so glad I'm home," I mutter against her cheek, just before I slip myself inside of her. I almost cry at the warmth and the feeling of her surrounding me.
"You promised," She replies, slowly moving in my lap, her breathing starting to pick up. The smile that finds my lips grows significantly.
"I promised you. Always."
I finally got what I dreamed about back on those swing sets: Katniss, a family, a home. The Capitol has taken so much from me since the Games. But now I've got my whole life to be here. I've got my whole life to be home.
AN: And there we have it. The end. So many goddamn words. There's still an epilogue, but that won't be much. So I just wanted to thank each and every one of you that followed, favourited, reviewed, everything. You've been incredible and the support I've received has just been unbelievable. So thank you thank you thank you. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did reading it. On a side note, I'll be finishing up The Watcher very soon, and then likely posting a new AU story sometime in the near future, so keep an eye out if you're interested. Much love.