TW for this chapter: mentions of suicidal thoughts/ideation
Peeta sets up a time for me to speak with Dr. Aurelius the next day. It's hard. It's painful. I'm pretty guarded, but I share the bare minimum. Peeta is incredibly encouraging, telling me anything is better than nothing.
I talk to Aurelius again a couple days later, and I share only minimally more, but he seems pleased with any improvement, and just getting me on the phone is a big step up. He tells me he's sending me refills of my medications on the train within the next couple of days. I was supposed to call and ask for them to be refilled maybe a month ago, but I didn't. I just didn't care enough about myself to do it, even if it might have helped me feel better.
I'm technically supposed to be taking anti-anxiety medication, antidepressants, anti-rejection medicine for my skin graft, and a once monthly birth control pill. I remember scoffing when they mentioned that last one to me while I was still in the Capitol. The idea that they could think having sex would be a concern of mine when I was so far gone was laughable. They explained, however, that they cared less about the contraceptive use but rather wanted me to take it so that it would regularize my cycle. Apparently getting my hormones predictable would help them dose my other medications to make them more effective.
Peeta is on antidepressants, anti-anxiety medications, and anti-rejection drugs too. He also has various mood stabilizers that help him keep control when he flashes, some of which he takes daily, others of which are for emergencies. He's really good about taking everything when he's supposed to. He hates himself when he flashes and wants to avoid it as much as possible.
After my second talk with Aurelius, Peeta and I decide to work on the book some more. Peeta hadn't brought it up in the few days between when I ran and now. He didn't want it to upset me, but I told him I wanted to keep going with it.
It's a painful day. We tackle Cinna and Portia, including some sketches of Portia's that Peeta saved and the note Cinna left me in my mockingjay book. I write about Boggs, remembering his kindness, bravery, and willingness to follow his own compass, even though that was something they actively tried to train out of him in 13. We call Annie and share stories about Finnick. I write them down while sobbing with her over the phone. I tell her how much I depended on him in 13, she tells us what he was like when he was in 4, how funny and gentle and loving he was.
By the time we finish, Peeta and I are both drained. We climb upstairs and into my bed. As I hold Peeta, something about him feels wrong. His muscles are a bit tense, his heart beating a little faster than usual.
"Are you ok?" I ask him. I'm worried he might be flashing, but when he speaks his voice is level and calm.
"Yeah, I'm alright," he says, turning to face me. "I'm just thinking."
"About what?" I ask him. He sighs.
"I haven't...I haven't really been back into town at all since I've been back. I haven't been anywhere near the bakery. I know I should have, but I've been too scared. The furthest I've gone is the train station, since I can get most things that I need from shipments there, and if I need anything in between shipments I pay Sae to get it for me at the market. I just haven't been able to handle it yet."
"You don't have to," I say softly, running my fingers through his blonde curls. "It took me ages to go into town, and it's even more personal of a loss for you than it was for me."
"I want to," Peeta says. "I can't just stay stuck in Victor's Village forever. I want to help rebuild this place. I just am so scared of what it's going to feel like to...to see it." We lay in silence for a moment, me still stroking Peeta's hair.
"I'll go with you," I finally say. "Tomorrow, or whenever you want. I'll go with you and I'll stay with you. For as long as you want, we can stay, or if you want to go right away, we can go. Whatever you want."
"Tomorrow," he says, almost whispering. "We should go tomorrow."
"Ok," I say. My fingers seem to be bewitched by the softness of his curls, because they continue their movements without my volition.
"Thank you," he says quietly, pulling me in close to him and closing his eyes.
The next morning, when we wake up, I can tell Peeta is nervous. I need to take this opportunity to be there for him. He's been so good at being there for me so many times when I've been wrecked emotionally, and it's the least I can do to try to chip away at that debt. Even beyond that, I know how hard this will be for him, and I don't want him to go through it alone.
I dress quickly before he does, and go downstairs to put something together for breakfast. He shouldn't have to take care of me today. I steep some tea and find some muffins that Peeta baked yesterday. Good enough. I've never been domestic, but at least he doesn't have to worry about getting anything together. He comes down a few minutes later and smiles at me somewhat nervously.
"Tea?" I ask, handing a mug out to him.
"Thanks," he says. He takes it and sips it. I give him a muffin too but he only takes a few bites. He's too nervous. I eat my own quickly, and soon after he finishes his tea we set off. Walking down the hill from Victor's Village, I can feel Peeta growing tense. I slip my hand in his and he seems to relax ever so slightly. As we get closer to town, though, he stiffens up again. When we reach the outskirts of the town center, I pause.
"If you want to leave at any time, just tell me," I say. "Anything you need, just let me know." He nods and takes my hand again, and we start walking.
We enter the town square and I hear his breath hitch. While the streets have been cleaned and cleared of ashes and bones, the town is still leveled. Very little has actually been rebuilt yet. They're starting work on the school, the first major rebuilding project, but that is nowhere near here, and all Peeta is seeing is destruction.
He walks us around the area in a slow circle, and I know what he's thinking. This is where he grew up. This is where he would run and play with his brothers, with his father, with Delly, with all his other friends. It's unrecognizable, and he thinks it's his fault. We both blame ourselves for the firebombing. It is unequivocally my fault. The bombing came directly after I shot down the Arena, there is no mistaking it for anything other than direct retribution. But from what I can tell, they lied to Peeta in the Capitol, telling him that 12 was still intact, but that it would not stay that way if he didn't perform well in calling for a ceasefire. He knows the timeline now, but still can't assuage his guilt.
He starts leading us off to the left, and I realize we are heading towards the bakery. I feel anxiety mounting in myself for him. This will be so, so hard.
When we reach what remains of the bakery, my heart breaks for Peeta. While I'd been into town, I hadn't actually made my way to this particular spot. I think I had subconsciously been avoiding it. It's demolished. While no buildings in town were left unscathed, some held up better than others. Not the bakery. All that's left is the cracked concrete foundation, and four charred pillars that once held up his home. I'm sure Snow targeted it specifically.
Peeta walks through what would have once been the front door, and just stands in the middle of the empty structure. I see his lip start quivering just a moment before he breaks down into sobs. I immediately throw my arms around him. We slide to the ground, sitting on the dusty floor of the bakery, and I just hold him while he sobs into me, his body wracked with grief. There are no walls, there is no privacy. There are people out and about, but they either don't notice or, more likely, have the decency to pretend not to. Almost everyone in 12 has had a moment of grief like this. My heart hurts at Peeta's pain. He is absolutely devastated.
"It's ok," I whisper into his hair, though the words are meaningless. I can't make this ok. I can't make his pain go away.
"I knew it would be hard," he says through tears. "But this...it's so bad, Katniss. They're all dead. There's nothing here. Nothing. Not one thing to show that my family ever lived."
"You're here," I say to him. "You're here Peeta, and you are proof of the best of them."
"I don't want to be here," he gets out through sobs.
I feel a new level of awful at his words. Since his hijacking, Peeta has become somewhat prone to suicidal ideation. Usually it only happens after he's flashed; between the anger at himself for doing it, the awful thoughts his mind is subjected to, and the sheer exhaustion of it all, he has confessed to me that he sometimes thinks death would be easier. I've never seen him like this in any other context, but I suppose it's not all that surprising, given how devastated he is.
"You are needed here, Peeta. You being here keeps your family alive in the world. You bake your family's recipes, you tell Rye's jokes and listen with Bannock's quiet demeanor, you exude your father's kindness and understanding. Every good thing about your family, you carry it with you and you spread it through your actions in the world. You do so much good for me. So much." I stroke his back as he continues to cry, although his breathing seems to be steadying somewhat. After several more minutes like this, his tears subside. He looks up at me and wipes his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"Don't be," I reply. "This is so hard, Peeta. What you're going through is so hard. You have every right to be upset, to need support." He hugs me again and we stay like that for a minute. Finally, we get up and start to make our way out of the bakery. Right as I'm about to step off the concrete platform, however, I feel my boot catch on something. I bend down and pick it up. It's a small fragment of a copper-toned metal. It's been charred by flame, but I can still make out the word on it.
"Peeta," I say. He turns around and looks at me. "Peeta was this...was this part of the sign?" I reach out my hand to him and he takes the piece from my palm. I see him running his fingers over the engraving, tracing the letters of the world "K" with intention. His eyes are glossy again, but tears don't fall.
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, it was. I'm gonna...I'm gonna keep this, I think. I'm gonna keep this." I nod, and he slips the little piece of his family into his pocket.
I decide I need to show Peeta some sign of rebirth, so I take him to the makeshift market. They're planning on setting up a more permanent structure, but right now there's a block set up with little open air wooden stands, and anyone who wants to sell goods or food can set one up. We go to Sae's stand and get servings of stew for lunch. Peeta finds a woman selling baking flour and thoroughly overpays her for the product. He looks happy, though. He's been getting all of his baking supplies from the Capitol, and while there is nothing wrong with that, I think it makes him happy to be getting things from home.
He decides that he wants to visit every market stand. He buys things he won't use, but I know why. He, Haymitch, and I are still the only three people in 12 with more than enough money to spare. He wants to share what he has, to try to help people.
When we finally head back to Victor's Village, dusk is starting to fall. We walk back hand in hand, not saying much. I'm trying to think of what I feel for him right now, and I think the best word I can come to is proud. I'm proud of him. He conquered something so terrible today. I hope he's proud too. We go back to my house and I make us a simple dinner. He offers to cook but I refuse him, I still don't want him taking care of me today. When we finally retire to my bed, we lay on our sides, facing one another.
"You did really, really good today," I say to him, truthfully.
"Thank you," he says.
"You're welcome," I say.
"No, I mean, not just thank you for the compliment. Thank you. For being there for me. For doing this with me today. I don't...I don't think I could have done it alone. Thank you for helping me, Katniss." I smile at him.
"That's all we can do, heal together, right?" I say. He nods. He looks like he wants to ask a question, but doesn't.
"What?" I ask him.
"Can I...can I kiss you, Katniss?"
I should say no. I should say no. I should say no. I should say no.
"Yes."
He leans in and puts his lips on mine. They are so impossibly warm and smooth and comforting. It's a gentle and soft kiss. He runs his fingers through my hair, and I can feel him start to smile against my lips before he pulls away. When he does, I want him back almost immediately. I feel that hunger again, that I felt once in the cave, once on the beach. I want more of him.
"Goodnight, Katniss," he says.
"Goodnight."