Chapter 3: I've Been Working on the District

Haymitch keeps ahead of us as we advance down the foyer. I watch his back, expression leery. My bows and arrows are still in my mansion across the street – what else could I use as a weapon? Eyes darting to the left, I spot a hat rack and grunting, I lift and invert it so it becomes some sort of club.

I suddenly feel a spark of electricity shoot up my fingers as Peeta's hand finds my free one. Lacing my fingers through his, I squeeze comfortingly, glancing down and noting that his own free hand curls into a fist, also ready to fight and bare-knuckled, if need be.

Coming to a halt at the door, Haymitch swiftly and abruptly yanks it open before rearing his knife arm back, poised to throw.

"Who are you? What do you want? Warning you – we're armed!"

Craning our necks to peer around Haymitch, Peeta and I take in a truly bizarre sight: a figure in a yellow body suit is standing on our mentor's front porch, face obscured by a helmet glassed off in the front and colored in a obfuscating tinge.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Abernathy. I'm here with the District 13 Nuclear Toxic Waste Clean-Up Brigade."

"What a mouthful," Peeta leans into me as he whispers. "Try saying that five times fast." I fail to stifle a giggle.

"I don't care who you're with!" Haymitch barks. "You look ridiculous – I even have friends in the Capitol who would be caught dead wearing that out on the street!"

"I assure you, Mr. Abernathy, this is hardly a fashion statement. Just precaution." The glass at the front of the man's mask lifts up, revealing his face. It is terribly wrinkled, and rounded by both snow-white hair and a matching beard. His eyes are even bluer than Peeta's, the sparkle in them downright jolly.

Haymitch seems surprised at the agedness of this man who is clearly our elder. Peeta, meanwhile, seems more interested in the guy's outfit. "What are you wearing?"

"It's called a hazmat suit, my boy. Protects us from radiation. We're here to clear the last of the toxic waste that's been reported as being further in the district downtown."

"I heard some things on the news reports!" I pipe up. "They said 5, 9 and here are the last places with lingering radiation, and it's been or is being sequestered!"

"Thank you for the update, Miss Everdeen – Plutarch was right then!"

I blink. "You know Plutarch?"

"Oh, we go way back….." Even this guy's solemn expression has a tinge of happiness to it, like some kind of clown, and it makes me want to laugh. He sticks out his hand. "Petrie. Bert Petrie."

Haymitch shakes. "You, uh… the leader on this crew, then?"

"I should hope to be, after living 96 years. No one has more experience!"

Now I let out a laugh. "You're 96? Yeah, right, and I'm pregnant." I notice how Peeta sends me a very odd look at this, but I ignore it.

"Oh, yes…. 96, and fit as a fiddle!" Bert Petrie then kicks up what can only be described as spindly legs into a little jig. I, meanwhile, am still finding it hard to believe this man would have been a late teenager, maybe 20, at the end of the Dark Days. Haymitch, however, looks impressed.

"You should have been born in 12. You would have fit right in with the Covey."

Peeta looks at me, bamboozled. "The who?"

I smile softly at him. "They were some of the very first Seamers. Troubadours. My family and some of our traditions are descended from them."

Peeta's face breaks into a dazzling, pleasantly surprised grin. "You never told me that!"

My cheeks turn pink and I duck my head shyly. "You never asked."

"Excuse me. Yoo-hoo! Focus, you lovebirds," Haymitch waves at us, miffed at how we're being rude. He turns back to Bert. "Well, Mr. Petrie, the kiddies and I are the only ones here. Don't let us get in your way. You, um…. your crew…?"

"Oh, our hovercraft touched down in that meadow yonder," Bert points back behind him. "We'll be at the other side of Twelve working, including preliminary repairs on the train station. Re-laying some tracks. Hope you don't mind the noise. We just figured we would notify you. Common courtesy, you know." The ageless man starts to dismount the porch, then turns back. "Oh, and one more thing: Plutarch asked me to tell you that the first shipment of refugees to this district will arrive in a few days' time. We hope to have the tracks up and running to receive trains by then."

"Mr. Petrie!" Peeta blurts out. "If you and your men need an extra set of hands, I'd be glad to assist you!"

"Me too!" Haymitch adds suddenly. I send a bemused frown his way: the hardest work Haymitch has ever done is go on a three-day bender. Taking me aside, my mentor whispers in my ear: "We can't risk Peeta having an episode while he's on the tracks and no one there to help him!"

"Yeah, but with the radiation, do you think it's safe?" I hiss back, not soft enough for Bert Petrie not to hear me.

"Oh, don't you worry about that, Miss Everdeen – we have extra hazmat suits for these gentlemen!"

"And while the menfolk are out slogging, what am I supposed to do all day – sit home and knit?" I frown.

Haymitch shrugs. "You can help, if you want." He turns back the radiation technician. "Mr. Petrie…."

"Oh, call me Bert," he grins.

"Bert…. If you could just leave two…." I cough deliberately. "Three…. hazmat suits on this here porch, we'll be glad to join you once we finish with some spring cleaning."

"Much obliged, Mr. Abernathy!" And waving, Bert hustles out of the Village.

Peeta shakes his head, gazing after him. "96…. what a character!"

After we finish cleaning out Haymitch's attic, the next several days are spent down on the other side of the district, down by Lucy Gray Baird train station. It's strange to be at the station without having to board a train bound for the arena, and much like the Justice Building, the school, and the Village, the structure is in pristine condition. I still find papers on the desk while clearing the stationmaster's house, attached just off the main terminal. It's incredibly spooky, all the more so, because we are still living in what amounts to a ghost district, all but dead.

Bert Petrie and his men work fast, and hard. By the end of our second day assisting him and his crew, all the radiation has been isolated and captured in fancy-looking containers.

Within the hovercraft shipment that came into Twelve is a contingent of engineers from Six. They're the ones who tutor us, Bert, and the rest of his radiation crew on how to lay new track. It appears that, while Gale was spiriting as much of Twelve as he could out through the collapsing Meadow fence, there were others who stayed behind to fight the Peacekeepers that attempted to crack down. There is evidence to suggest that the Capitol forces were driven back here to the train station and slaughtered, before the survivors tore up the tracks for several miles in each direction and closed the iron gates, so Capitol reinforcements couldn't get in. The picturing of it, district citizens rising up to liberate Twelve, fills me with pride but also much sadness. It is all but certain that these brave souls paid for their rebellion with their lives, as the firebombs continued to rain down. More than once, Haymitch, Peeta and I come across decayed, white bone buried under several layers of ash. Some of Bert's crew who are trained in forensic analysis collect these bones, to be identified with DNA later. Haymitch instructs them that any bones are to be reinterred in the Meadow, on the other side of the District.

I watch Peeta as we work throughout the ensuing days. He is diligent, reliable and seems grateful to have something to do to distract him. And despite all he's been through, I have to admit: he is still so strong…. When I see him effortlessly lift a beam the size of two men one morning while sweeping the train platform, I nearly swoon.

Within days, several miles of track have been replaced, meeting up with the old lines several miles beyond Twelve – and just in time too. Though there are still menial repairs to make on certain track lines, the Six engineers judge the railway to be safe enough to start bringing in shipments of war refugees.

The first train of war displaced, overseen by a battalion of Peacekeepers (who have been redesigned into something called Stormprotectors) chugs into Lucy Gray Baird station a week and a half after Peeta arrived home in Twelve. We Victors make it our job to welcome the new influx of immigrants, most of whom I don't recognize. A majority is hoping to settle here and leave behind traumatic memories from old roots in places like Three, Ten and Seven. There are a few, however, who I remember encountering through trades Gale and I would make both through the Hob, Seam and in Town, one being a very familiar face who arrives on the second morning of refugee arrivals.

"Katniss? KATTY!"

"Delly!" I cry, actually leaping into a hug with her. The lovely, redheaded, sunny girl breaks down with tears of joy in my arms. "Where have you been?"

"The Capitol – I was put up in a boardinghouse with my grandparents and little brother; they'll be following me here. We're…. we're hoping to resurrect the shoe-shop." The Cartwrights were a renowned Merchant family of cobblers.

"Well, it'll be nice to have a good shoemaker here again!" Peeta gently nudges me aside to envelop Delly in his own hug. I've always known he and Delly were childhood friends, but the way the hug lingers makes me frown hard. My heart hisses like Buttercup the cat with something that I can only identify as jealousy.

"Refugees, follow me!" Haymitch bellows, waving the immigrants on. "You'll be processed by Peacekeepers in the train terminal, and assigned to a work crew! There is hot broth and grog in the Justice Building! Here, pass these out," he hands a pile of blankets to a passing elderly woman. I hug myself, shivering; a cold nip is blowing in, disrupting this District 12 spring.

Delly smiles at both of us soflty. "Gotta go!" Lifting our clasped hands between us, she squeezes my knuckles lovingly. "It is good to see you both again."

I smile weakly back, slightly regretting the dark thoughts I just had when she hugged Peeta.

With the influx of new people, the rebuilding of District 12 begins in earnest.

The refugees start with the Town, lugging freights of District 7 lumber from Lucy Gray Baird station and rebuilding around the perimeter of the Square near the Justice Building before fanning out. When and where we can afford to, any bombed, hollowed-out structures are reupholstered and restored with new, sturdier materials.

Peeta helps out with these crews, alongside Delly Cartwright. I try not to think about it too much as I crisscross the district into the woods and back again, bringing back fresh venison to feed the hungry workers in the atrium of the Justice Building. By the time the sun sets, all our muscles ache and we're due for a rest.

We get one and more, when one day, we in the Village wake up to the whole of Victors' Hill and everything beyond it blanketed in snow. Thom, a former miner and one of Gale's particular friends, who arrived last week, has assumed command of much of the construction crews and declares a snow day; Bert Petrie relays the message to us by landline phone via the Justice Building.

I stare out the window at the growing storm. "I can't believe Haymitch didn't get a day off from the rail and scouting crews; this blizzard's looking bad!"

"I know – a real howler in April, huh?" Peeta cracks from where he's busied over my kitchen island.

"Have you and the construction crews reached where… where the Bakery used to be?" I float gently, where I am snuggled in a blanket on the couch as Peeta hands me a cup of hot cocoa, and proceeds to give me a foot rub. I try to squirm out of reach, giggling a little, and feel my face grow warm.

Peeta stares at my feet as he massages them, appearing far away and contemplative. "No. We were a couple of blocks down from the Justice Building, remember?"

I smile softly. "I remember. I'd go to the back loading dock in that alley behind it, and trade with your father…"

"Yeah…." Peeta's voice trails off. I can tell he is thinking about his family. Scooting forward, I lean over and cup his cheek, lifting his face to mine so I can gaze into his eyes.

"Hey…. They're at peace. A… a better place now. They wouldn't want you to always be sad…"

Unshed tears are shimmering in Peeta's impossibly blue orbs. My lips slightly parted, I dip my head down, yearning to press my lips to his and kiss him.

Suddenly –

Peeta stiffens, jerking away from me. He crawls backwards like a crab before doubling over, head in his arms and keening.

"Peeta?... Peeta?!" I stagger back, my smoky grey eyes bulging in terror for him. My muscles are frozen in indecision, unsure whether to run to him or to retreat to one of the empty mansions across the street.

"No….. No….." Peeta is mumbling, moaning. "Stay away…. Stay away from me!"

Tears of heartbreak are streaming down my face, and I too moan, lurching towards him, wanting to hold him. "Peeta…."

The door to my house suddenly bangs open and a gale of wind practically blows in Haymitch, his face looking as pale as the new fallen snow. "Sweetheart! There's something you gotta see! …." His eyes cast down to where Peeta is still keening on the floor, and he winces. "He's all right?"

As if by magic, Peeta snaps back to himself, though he still looks a little dazed and confused. "See what? Haymitch, what happened?"

"Scouting out…. by the switchplates couple miles from Twelve. We…. we found something. Sweetheart, I need you to come with me!"

"I wanna come too!" Peeta is staggering to his feet.

"No!" I state firmly, resting a hand lightly on his chest. "Not when you're still out of it, and definitely not in this weather."

"You shouldn't be going out there in this storm either!" Peeta counters vehemently. "I don't want you getting hurt!"

"I'll be fine," I dismiss, smiling at him weakly. "I'll have Haymitch, and my holophone. Remember? Bert gave it to me." I run a tender hand down his arm. "If anything happens, whatever we find, I'll call you…"

"But, Katty…."

"No, Peeta, I don't want to discuss it…"

"But…"

Impulsively, I step into his personal space, pull his face down to mine and kiss him fiercely, stopping his words. I can't help but think back to when I kissed him down in the sewers going to the Capitol, or our very first kiss in the cave of the 74th Games, and, realizing how much I missed this, I melt into the kiss a little. When we finally break apart, Peeta looks just as stunned as he did after both those kisses I've been remembering.

"Stay with me," I whisper, croon tenderly.

"Always," he breathes.

I dare to ghost my lips over his once again chastely, ignoring Haymitch's surprised but pleased look as I hustle past him out the door and into the flurries. I have a feeling that the pink staining my cheeks doesn't have all to do with the biting cold, and my mentor and I hustle across the district until we reach the train station. Then we follow the tracks for about two and three miles past the iron district gates.

By a footplate, marking a switch in the track, still somewhat covered with snow, is an indentation in the earth that looks like a ditch.

"Abernathy! We found some more stuff by that corpse over here!"

Corpse? I think, bewildered, hustling after Haymitch. Who is it? And how will we even be able to tell….?

Looking down into the ditch, my blood turns into the ice all around me, and my heart stops: there by the skeleton, are the armored plate remains of a Peacekeeper's uniform. And on a particular chunk of what must have once been the breastplate…. is the insignia commonly attributed to the Head Peacekeeper…

"Oh, Snow's roses," I breathe. Digging into my pocket, I dial the number to my mansion into my holophone.

The first ring has barely died before Peeta picks up. "Katniss? Sweetheart, are you OK? What did you find?"

I gulp. "Peeta…. honey…." I pause. Start again. "Head Peacekeeper Romulus Thread has been found with a dagger stuck up his ribs… He's dead."