CHAPTER XXI

At the end of the night, Haymitch returns to the house with me. I don't want to be there alone with people I don't know, so I've offered Haymitch a bed and a fresh bottle of liquor in exchange for his services. When we enter the kitchen, I notice Sae's been cleaning by its spotlessness. The woman cannot rest. She's chatting in the corner with the blonde medic. Avery is still on the table but his lower half has been redressed in pajama bottoms and his exposed back now sports some impressively identical stitches. Fresh linens and a pillow have been laid underneath him.

Seated next to him are two nearly identical looking brothers. I recognize Bailey, but the bearded one is new. He stands as soon as he sees me, eyes flooding, and then suddenly scoops me up into a tight embrace. My face shows my shock as my feet dangle a foot above the ground.

"Hey now, Bailey. Let's let the nice lady breathe," the younger brother utters softly. Stroking his shoulder he seems to become aware of what he's doing. "Oh – Oh! I'm so sorry Miss Everdeen! I'm just so – I don't – I don't know what we'd - " He can't find the words and continues to stutter out half sentences.

"I understand. It's okay." He looks relieved to be able to stop trying to find the words. His brother holds out his hand and flashes a charming smile. "The name's Cash, Miss. It's a real pleasure to meet you. I can't tell you how thankful I am you were there for my brothers." He winks, "They say you're a bird, but I think you're an angel."

Embarrassment floods me and I drop my eyes to my toes. "All right, Casanova," Haymitch smarts, "tone it down."

Sae picks up her shawl and walks over. "I'm heading home. A medic will be returnin' early in the morning to give another dose of morphling. Oh, and I sent one of the lads out to your garden to finish planting those trees you left behind, hope that's alright. I'll see you in the morning." I thank her, having long forgotten the morning's plum trees, and escort her out.

Before I return to the kitchen, I reach into a gaudy urn and pull out the bottle of liquor I have secreted away. Haymitch grins at its sight but stops himself before he takes a swig from the bottle. He pours out four glasses and hands one to each of us. Bailey and Cash look much obliged for the liquid comfort, but I wrinkle my nose at the pungent glass. After Haymitch knocks his back in one gulp I hand mine to him to finish. He raises his eyes in challenge. "I learned my lesson. Once was more than enough."

Though I'll never say it out loud, I know I am similar to Haymitch. If I start trying to find peace at the bottom of a bottle, I won't ever crawl out. The memory of the last time I drank white liquor, the night the Quell was announced, is still vivid. I thought it was awful going in, but I had no idea how much worse it could be coming back up. I made a complete fool of myself and broke down in front of both my mother and sister. As far as I can remember, that was the first time they took care of me. Though Prim was the one that held me, brushed my hair, and tucked me in, my mother did sit on the edge of the bed so I'd know she was close. That was the first day I saw that my little duck was no longer the little girl I volunteered for. That was also the first day that 'Career Peeta' arrived. I wanted him to hold me but instead got lectures and training exercises. I still burn with shame at how he judged my weakness that night.

"You boys liking 12?" starts Haymitch, showing his sociable side.

Cash brightens, "Definitely. We were happy for the work, but knew right away we wanted to stay. We want to start fresh someplace and where better than a district doing the same thing." Bailey adds, "Being a part of the crew since the very start, we feel a connectedness to the place now. The heads said they'd make sure we get a top spot on the permanent housing list."

"We'd like a place with shop space," Cash continues with aplomb. "We all worked the menswear lines in 8's factories, so we know the trade backwards and forwards. We used to dream that after the war we'd open our own tailoring shop - Hennessey Brothers: Fine Tailors."

"I'm sure the team will do their best for you," I bolster.

Haymitch asks, "He wake up at all?" "Yes, about an hour after you left. Mid-stitching, he woke up cursin' and spittin'."

Bailey interrupts, "I've never seen anything like that before, outside the Game of course. That thing was huge and so angry. I didn't even notice him at first, then Avery threw a crate at it to distract him away from me and he just charged right at him." He takes a healthy gulp of the fiery liquid. "He's the eldest, you know? Both our parents are gone and he takes the responsibility seriously. Didn't think twice about having that bear go at him instead of me."

"I understand," I say softly. And I do. It's hardly even a conscious thought; it's our duty. He studies me, "You really do don't you?"

"It's as natural as breathing," all three men look at me with serious gazes. "I didn't even think before I volunteered. I was saying the words and pushing her behind me before my mind could catch up."

"We lost our little sister last year." His eyes begin to well up. "Her tiny lungs couldn't take all the smoke from the bombings. Went to sleep one night and didn't wake up again. It was awful for all of us, but he took it the hardest," Cash describes.

"What was her name?" I ask quietly.

"Des- Desdemona," a voice garbles from the table. Avery's eyes flutter but struggle to stay open.

I move back to make room for the two anxious men. "Hey there, big brother, decided to stop sleeping the day away?" Cash jokes lightheartedly. "You safe? It didn't get you?" He questions worryingly. "Just fine, not a scratch. All thanks to you. Here, have some sips of water." Bailey holds a glass to his lips for him to sip slowly. He coughs, "Hurts. Something warm?"

The two younger brothers look up at me like a pair of lost puppies. "Give me a few minute." An idea sparks. I head into the study, pulling out my mother's journal, and try to locate the page I recently read about a mining amputation. She listed an old Culpeper recipe for a tea for blood loss. Flipping through the pages, I find the familiar entry: yellow dock, rosehips, nettles, beet powder, anise, elderberry, and honey to sweeten. I retrieve a small copper bowl and dole out the measurements of each item. Back in the kitchen, I steep the tea mixture and pour a mug for Avery.

"You're Katniss Everdeen," Avery mumbles, opening his eyes up enough to see me for the first time. His brother tips small sips into his mouth. "What're you doin' in my bedroom?" His brothers laugh at his morphling haze and Haymitch smirks, enjoying the show.

"You're on her kitchen table, Avery." "Oh," he sips again. "Why's Katniss Everdeen's table in m'bedroom?" No one tries to correct him a second time. He quiets and we think he's fallen asleep when, "Hey Bailey," he starts. "Yeah, brother?" "Did Katniss Everdeen make you tea, too?" The men snicker at that. "No Avery, she only made special tea for you."

His drugged face smiles at that. "'Cause 'm the handsomest." We all can't keep a straight face at that one. I squat down so my face is at his level and playfully tell him, "You know, you can just call me Katniss." His eyelids are too heavy now to open and he's halfway back to sleep.

"M'kay Katniss Everdeen."

I don't sleep well with new people in the house. I'm not really worried, but it still is uncomfortable. But by the afternoon, they've moved Avery back to the cabin and my house thankfully returns to its proper level of solitude.

Sam is disappointed when I tell him I won't take him out to hunt, but he quickly recovers when I pull out the enormous bear pelt and tell him his newest assignment. His eyes gleam at the prospect of delivering the finished fur to the crew at the cabin. Boys will be boys, I suppose.

I spend most of that day quietly swinging on the porch. I briefly tend to the garden and I counsel Samson on his work, but I find myself lost in thoughts. The little sleep I found brought dreams of Boggs. I haven't dreamt of his death in some time. How could one step cause such carnage? It was the first in a series of truly terrible dominoes to fall. But Boggs, he was the consummate soldier. He was already transferring security protocols while I hadn't even come to terms with the fact that his legs- the ones he was standing on seconds prior- were no longer there. I shudder at the image of his boot thrown so far away from his body. There was so much blood, the Holo kept slipping in my hands. Homes was adamant that he could staunch the blood flow and save him, but Boggs knew.

I wonder if he knew what he was doing when he passed that Holo to me. Would he have been disappointed with all the destruction that followed? Would he have been pleased that he succeeded in keeping me alive?

"I'm planning for you to have a long life."
"Why? You don't owe me anything."
"Because you earned it." *

Yet who of us hasn't earned the right to a long, happy life? When I count in my head, the dead always seem to outnumber the living. Every one of them died before their time.

Yesterday a bear wandered in to town and in one moment, if a claw was a little higher or a little deeper, Avery would have never seen another day. If Boggs had stepped just a little to the left, maybe he would still be here. How do you reconcile that? In a second everything can change.

"Katniss! Oh I'm so thrilled you answered! I know it is late but I just had to talk to you! Such big, big news!" Effie's voice is a welcome sound. Having not heard anything since the package arrived weeks ago, I was mildly concerned. If things had been less exciting in 12 I may have been more so, but I hoped no news was good news. "It's been some time since your last call. All is well?"

"Everything is marvelous, my dear, I hardly know where to begin. There is oh so very much to divulge. Let's see, let's see, let's see… last time we spoke we had just received your box of treasures for our favorite boy, and goodness did you deliver! However did you do it? I must confess," her voice drops conspiratorially, "many of the items you found baffled me - but oh - if you could have seen Peeta's face." Her volume increases again, "Of course I knew you would know just what to do. My plans never fail."

"His face?" I try and return to her comment.

"Yes, his face, his face! His eyes lit up and those two dear dimples dared to show themselves. Such a handsome boy, I do adore it when he smiles," She preens like a proud mama. "Katniss, dear, is there some special District 12 importance of coffee cups? Now that you've sent it, he refuses to use another one. Rather outré. Your clothing choices were a bit plain but Peeta didn't seem to mind. Most exciting, is that he's drawing again. Did I mention that he wasn't when I arrived? Well, he's now rediscovered it and his fingers are positively filthy."

"Now," she clears her throat, returning to Escort mode, "we have much to plan for. Peeta has decided he is ready to leave the facility." Then she says five words that cause my knees to buckle from underneath me. "He's ready to come home."

I sink down onto the floor, the cord dragging the phone as my body pulls it down. He's coming home. Here - with me - home.

Effie, unaware of my shock, continues on. "His medications are stable and there isn't much for the doctors to do now besides run a miscellany of mysterious tests for 'research'. They aren't pleased with the decision, but he's agreed to call them daily. My word, he's been here for over five months, what more can they want?" She huffs in frustration. "Anyway, I have lists and lists of things to do so we can be ready to leave as soon as possible."

"How soon?" I practically whisper, unable to find my voice.

"Hmm," she voices distractedly. The sound of flipping pages heard in the background. "What was that, dear? You asked when? If I have any say in it, we should be in transit in one but no more than two weeks. I've alrea -."

The receiver drops out of my hand like a hot brick. So soon. That is so soon.

Effie's voice continues to chatter away unintelligibly. I flounder to retrieve the receiver and return it to my ear. "- and finding an acceptable train car these days is easier said than done. A shocking lack of velvet." She sighs with disappointment, "But I know we shall persevere.

"Now tell me the honest truth, Katniss. How dreadful is that district of yours? I shan't abandon Peeta and I assured those pesky doctors I'd stay with him while he settles in, but I must prepare myself for the wilds. District 12 was always so dusty and drab, but alas Peeta is rather excited at the prospect, so I must cover my disinclination."

I struggle to form words. I think my vocabulary tumbled out onto the floor when I dropped the receiver.

"It, um," I attempt, "it's no Capitol, Effie."

"Well that's an understatement," she scolds. "Is it an absolute mess? Are the builders all brutes? I know any culture or company will be on short supply, but what of the rest?"

How do I respond to any of that? Stick to the basic questions, Katniss. "The construction is going well. The crewmen are, um - fine." Good, those are answers.

"I suppose I shall resign myself to being surprised," she sighs again. "Perhaps I'll suffer through a phone call with Haymitch to find out more. Well, I don't have a moment to loose. You may not hear from me, it will be a big week, you know. I simply cannot wait to have both of my Victors near!" Then her voice cracks, "Our team will finally be together again!" She covers her emotion quickly, "Must fly, my dear – tata!"

My left arm trembles. I've lost all control of its movement. Its tremors rattle the hard, plastic receiver against my temple. What is that noise? Are my ears ringing?

The unnatural hum from the receiver blares like a siren. Everything else around me has gone mute except for that incessant hum. There's a sharp pain in my breast and when I bring my right hand to rub at the aching, I feel my chest harshly rising and falling. It feels like a Capitol corset is being yanked tighter and tighter.

He's coming here. Soon. He'll be here soon.

The melody to "The Hanging Tree" bounces around in my head and I'm back in 13. I'm back in 13, with shaking hands, tying knots with Finnick, waiting for the Rescue Team to return. I feel the unfamiliar boiling warmth of hope held deep inside my heart. The urge I felt when they arrived to run as fast as my legs could take me and fuse myself to him. After weeks of fear, I'd finally hear his laugh and to feel his arms around me. I'd finally know he's safe again under my protection. I'd finally put him somewhere he can't get hurt. *

But my body also remembers how wrong that hope turned out to be. I was so sure he was reaching to embrace me. That is, until his fingers wrapped around my throat. While my vision blurred and my lips began to turn blue, I remember thinking about how I had grown to know these two large hands so well. In only one year, against my wishes, I grew to trust those hands with my life. Such an unimaginable betrayal that it was those two hands then squeezing my life away.

I remember shock as I stared at his hardened unrecognizable face while I listened to the symphony of delicate bones fracturing. I had spent countless nights clutching that pearl and thinking about Peeta and I reuniting. Never once did he look at me with such hatred. For precious seconds, I forgot all instincts to even fight back. I remember my mind eventually letting go, an acceptance of my fate washing through me. I comprehended that I had already breathed my last breath and death's embrace sounded like a rather welcome relief.

Effie says he's better, that the doctors have helped, but what if they're wrong? I have such hope for his return; I have pictured it in my head countless times, but what if I'm wrong again? What if he still hates me? Against my will and my reason, his good opinion matters much more to me than all others. It can't be fixed; what's been done cannot be undone. Is it even worth trying?

My neck feels numb or maybe it is my hands. Rolling over to press my cheek against the grain of the wood floor, I feel simultaneously hot and cold. Shivers and sweats. Is the ground moving? The delicate hairs all over my skin stand to attention. I feel myself yanked backwards, ripping me from reality. Peeta slams me into the ground. His body pins me down as raises his gun and brings it down. The air reeks of tar and murder burns in his eyes as he tries to crush my skull. No, NO!

You're not in the streets of the Capitol, Katniss. You're in your study in 12. The war is over. You're safe. You're safe. You're safe. You're safe.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I survived the Hunger Games. Peeta was hijacked. We survived the rebellion. Prim did not. I am in 12. Peeta's coming to 12. Peeta's coming home. It's… it's where he belongs… home… with me.

"Katniss… Katniss..."

Everything hurts.

"Come on, child, wake up."

No. If I move, everything will hurt more. No, thank you, I'll stay right here until further notice.

"Katniss, you can't stay here."

Oh yes I can.

"So we're going to do this the hard way, huh?" Then in one swift motion, I find my body, which to this point has been frozen and curled on its side on the study floor, turned onto my back then pulled by my arms to sit up. I groan, feeling the ache in every muscle. I tightly squeeze my eyelids together then open them warily. Sae is sitting in the desk chair looking down at the pathetic sight of me.

"Good afternoon, child. Would you like to tell me what happened here?" Couldn't she choose an easier question?

"Afternoon?" I ask blearily.

"We weren't surprised when you were gone all morning but started to worry when you still hadn't shown by lunch. Didn't notice you the first time I checked, but caught sight of your foot on the second pass." She leans down and pets my cheek where the floor's wood grain is likely imprinted. "Now what happened to leave you in such a state. I'd reckon you spent the whole night in that position. Am I right?"

I nod, but hiss at the pang that shoots through me from the movement.

"Ah, let's hold that thought until we get you in a hot bath. Come on, meet an old lady halfway." She holds out her hands and together, with great effort, I find my feet. I feel dizzy, lightheaded from the sudden change in altitude, but Sae keeps a tight grip and escorts me step-by-step to the bathroom.

She fills the tub, spoons in several fragrant salts, and tells me to climb in. "Ain't nothing I haven't seen before," she tuts. Once I undress and settle, sinking down so that the water has me submerged to my chin, Sae plants herself down, ready to continue our conversation.

I close my eyes and focus on the slow relief of my muscles. "Effie called late last night."

"Bad news?" She guesses.

"The opposite."

I know I need to elaborate. I slide my body down and immerse my head. Holding my breath, I savor the complete saturation, baptizing the night's distress.

Returning to the surface, I keep my eyes closed and try again. "I panicked, remembered some bad memories, you know, the usual. Didn't have a closet nearby so I stuck with the floor. It's not bad news though." Leaning my head back and gazing at the plain ceiling, I inform, "She's bringing Peeta back to 12."

"He done with the doctors then?"

"Enough I guess. He's tired of that facility they've put him in. He wants to come home."

"Makes sense." She looks at me quizzically, "I'd have thought you'd be happy about this."

"I am," the words leap out, "I want him here." I struggle to express myself. "I.. I don't like it when he's not… near. Don't ask me to explain why, I really can't say."

"Oh I could make one or two guesses, but no matter," she laughs affectionately. Handing me a bottle of shampoo to work through my damp hair, she asks, "So when shall we expect our newest neighbors?"

"Effie said around two weeks," I mumble as I lather the gel. "Not wasting any time are they?" I shake my head: no, they're not.

I continue my ablutions as Sae passes on the latest news. They've finished building another two structures and are discussing what trades should be brought to replace the mines. The Capitol medicine worked wonders and Avery is already begging to return to work, but is being forced to rest. Samson is toiling away at the bearskin, eager to exhibit it to the older men and, apparently, everyone is telling tales about the attack. The more they feast on the meat, the wilder the stories seem to become. Sae cackles as she regains a tale of how I climbed the bear's back and wrestled it to the ground.

With my hands pruned and muscles much more cooperative, Sae helps me out of the tub, careful of my wobbling balance. As she wraps a towel around me and turns to leave, I stop her. "Will you help me get Peeta's house ready?"

She turns back to me and plants a kiss on my forehead. "You rest today and we'll start fresh in the morning."

"Goodness, child, this is depressing."

With that and an arsenal of mops, brooms, and rags, Sae and I begin our assault on Peeta's house. Most of it is already so tidy our efforts focus on dusting and freshening up the place. I clean the kitchen of any questionable items and open all the windows to invite in some much needed fresh air. I'd like to fix up the sterile-feeling rooms downstairs, but know it's not my place. I can only hope Peeta will make improvements once he settles.

With Sae's encouragement, I carry over two crates of supplies to restock his pantry. I include jars of preserves and honey, a small bottle of my maple syrup, tins of sugar, tea and coffee, and some fresh herbs from the garden that I hang to dry and infuse the air. The best decision was to, with Samson's assistance, lug over the large and barely touched sack of fine white flour. Sae and I both cross our fingers that he will be inspired to put it to good use

When I examine both guest rooms on the second floor, I don't imagine Effie Trinket being pleased at either's décor. It's of Capitol quality, of course, but the style is decidedly masculine. Though I do not possess a keen eye for fashion, I do know that Effie Trinket is the farthest thing from masculine. So, in an effort to express my gratitude, I exchange the linens and drapes for the feminine one's I asked Cinna to arrange for my mother's room. She'll never miss them and I know anything Cinna purchased would meet Effie's requirements.

That evening, as stealthily as possible, I sneak Peeta's quilt back into his room, attempting to make the bed as if it never was removed.

*Quotes from The Hunger Games and Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins