Last Time in Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:
"I hope you don't mind; I'm not going to ask Prim," Peeta continues, keeping his voice deliberately light. "I love her, but she's like my sibling. It'd be like asking Chet or Johnny to marry me."
"That's it!" I say, a little light going off in my head. "Chet! You should ask Chet!"
"To marry me? Isn't that illegal?"
"It is. Besides, isn't he already married?" Darius asks.
"Yes! Exactly! To my cousin, Jacintha! That makes him my cousin, right?" I ask Darius intently.
I can see the same light that went off in my head going off in Darius's own. "You're right. In the eyes of the Capitol, Chet is your family. He's an Eiken."
I turn to Peeta, frantic. "Can you do it? Get your brother for me?"
"And ask him to do what?"
"Ask him to save us."
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Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged
by RoseFyre & FanficAllergy
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Chapter Twenty-Eight: Attribute of the Strong
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"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."
― Mahatma Gandhi
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As soon as Peeta leaves, an awkward silence descends like a spring downpour. Darius and I stare at each other across the table, his hands curled around his now-empty mug of tea while my undrunk cup sits forlornly in front of me. We used to be friends, possibly heading toward more, but now… now I don't know what we are. We're not lovers; that slipped away before it could really even begin. I'd hoped we could remain friends, but it seems as if that too has been lost. I don't know what to say; I don't know what to do.
Neither, it seems, does Darius, because the first words that come out of his mouth are hesitant, unsure. "I'm… I'm sorry."
I stare at him. What does he have to be sorry for? He's been nothing but kind and understanding. He's done nothing deserving of blame. He didn't cause my father to develop black lung. He didn't cause my mother to go away. He's not the one who couldn't save either parent. That burden falls squarely on me. I'm the one who failed. I'm the one who should be sorry, not Darius. My hands tighten where they rest in my lap. I should say something. I don't.
Darius continues, his eyes staring into his cup as if it holds all of his courage, "I should've done more. Gotten you a doctor instead of this." He reaches out to finger the shawl draped around my shoulders.
"I like the shawl," I say dumbly, unable to even acknowledge the other part of his statement.
"Can you forgive me?" he asks.
I continue to stare at him. "For what?"
"Not taking care of you better. Not taking care of your mom." He seems truly broken up about it. His eyes meet mine for the barest instant before he stares back into his cup. But in that instant, I could make out unshed tears glistening, and I can't help but be reminded just how striking his sea-green irises are. Inanely, the thought that he'd be an even more popular Victor than his brother, Finnick, if the circumstances had been different flits through my mind before I can stop it.
Dragging my thoughts back to the present—if more unpleasant—reality, I say, "But that wasn't your job." I glance back at the bedroom door. We pushed it closed to hide my… the body. "This isn't your fault. I didn't tell you about my mother."
"No, but I should have guessed. There were rumors, whispers. I could've investigated, found out sooner." His fingers tighten around his mug. "I could've gotten you help."
"And then what?" I ask him gently. "A doctor would've had to report this. We would've ended up in the Community Home anyway." If I'd thought for one moment that getting the Capitol-trained doctor would have saved my mother, I would have sought her out long before, even if it meant indenturing myself to pay off the debt. But the doctor is a drunk and has killed more patients than she's cured. In fact, no one in the Seam uses the doctor for anything other than to confirm the death wasn't from foul play.
He seems to acknowledge the truth of my words. "Still, I—I could've done something."
"You did enough. You helped me more than you should. And you didn't ask for anything in return." The lie slips past my lips before I can stop it.
A flicker of pain tightens the corners of Darius's mouth into a grimace. "But I did. And I'm sorry for that." He stares into his mug again. The tea can't be that interesting.
I still don't understand why he needs forgiveness so desperately. I would've never accepted his charity, and he knows that. Or he should know that. Only the thin pretense of Darius's courting allowed me to accept what gifts I did. If he'd summoned the Capitol doctor when we'd first met, my mother might still be alive. But Prim, Aven, and I would have definitely gone to the Community Home. Or, more likely, I would have sold myself to whomever would promise to take my siblings in and protect them—even Donaldson.
"You don't have anything you need to be sorry for," I tell him in as kind of a voice as I can muster. "If you had tried to get a Capitol doctor, I would've refused. Lied. I couldn't owe you that big of a debt. It would've been too much."
"I know." He makes a face filled with a mixture of understanding and self-loathing. "And that's why I never did it. But it doesn't mean that I don't wish—"
I hold up a hand to stop him. "Wishes, like what ifs, don't put food on the table or keep us out of the Community Home. Dreams are all well and good, but they've got to be rooted in the here and now and not the when and if."
He finally meets my eyes. "How'd you get to be so smart?"
"I'm not," I say with a shake of my head. "If I were, I wouldn't be in this predicament."
"Can you forgive me, at least?" He pauses. "For what I did do, and what I didn't do, and for what I should have done?"
"Of course. If that's what you need. I forgive you." They're just words. Words are easy.
Darius gives me a sad smile, and we lapse back into that awkward silence. Eventually, I can't stand it. I need to do something. I glance at the clock; where's Peeta? He's been gone for a while. And Prim and Aven should be home soon; I should probably get dinner started. Who knows how many dinners we'll have left in this place?
A day this bad calls for comfort food, and that means squirrel stew. My mother used to make it whenever she had a bad patient or my father had a bad day in the mines. I've come to associate it with home and family—two things that are under threat right now—and I know Prim feels the same way. I can't give her much comfort right now, but I can at least do this. The familiar rhythm of chopping up meat and vegetables distracts me from the awkward silence and what promises to be an even more awkward conversation to come.
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AN:
Written: 10/17/21
Revised: 11/4/22
We're back! Sorta, kinda. Yes, we've had this written for a while, but revising is always a thing, and well… Points to the last year… FanficAllergy is up to three different, unrelated cancers, and right now we're waiting to see if the treatment worked. To be fair, if you have to have cancer, the three FanficAllergy has had are the ones you want… they have a decent survival rate, at least. So health news aside, it's also been busy on the real life work front. All of the editing jobs. LOL.
Now onto the story! So, Darius wants to be forgiven, but let's be real: Katniss isn't great at forgiving. There's awkwardness. Sadly, it is what it is. This is a chapter a long time coming because it signals the closing of a door. Yes, Katniss ended the relationship with Darius but there was always hope… at least on Darius's side. Now, well, the truth is out there. The question is what happens next… At least once they're done with this current crisis. But just like real life, things happen when they happen. Even in the midst of crises… catharsis and conflict can occur. ^_^
So since this is a short chapter, hopefully we'll be able to put out the next one quicker.
Let us know what you think! Your reviews inspire us to write more. This is especially true with fic. Since we don't get paid for this. ^_^ To those who do review, you're the reason we haven't abandoned our fics. We love you.
Until next time! Thanks for reading!