Katniss
When Peeta leaves, I have trouble getting out of bed. There's no reason for me to face anything outside my hospital room, because he isn't here; I'm still considered mentally disoriented, so they haven't assigned me a schedule to follow yet. My arm remains blissfully free of purple ink and I allow myself to sink further and further into listless exhaustion. I hear the doctors talking about me, saying I'm suffering some sort of relapse. They talk about medications, but my mother and Prim head them off, insisting that time is all I need to come out of this. My head doctor comes by, talking at me but never saying anything that penetrates the hazy fog that surrounds my brain.
I'm just so tired all the time, no matter how much I sleep. My eyes won't stay open, and my limbs are too heavy. Where would I go anyway? Peeta's gone, and it feels like everything outside of my bed is just too difficult for me to deal with. So, for the most part, they leave me alone and let me sleep for as long as I want. I'm a fan of this method of treatment.
I know there is only one thing that will make me feel better again, and the doctors know it too. But no one questions Coin decision to send Peeta and the others away, and no one mentions bringing them back.
One day, I hear a voice that does what the others could not – it wakes me up.
"You know Sweetheart, the boy won't be too pleased when I fill him in on how you're acting without him here to carry around your sorry ass," Haymitch gripes as he drops into the chair beside my bed. "Is that what you're waiting for – someone to heft your bony rear from place to place? 'Course I was a strapping young man once myself, and while it's been a long time, it is possible I could attempt to carry your skinny behind around if the situation called for it."
I crack open my eyes and let out a groan at the sight of him. "What do you want?" I complain.
Never one to mince words, he replies, "Get the fuck up, Katniss."
His response has the desired effect of startling me with its crassness, and I can't help the sputtering laugh that pries its way out of my throat. His responding smile is snarky and self-satisfied, but it makes me feel warm, nonetheless. I rub my hands up and down my face to clear away some of the drowsiness that's draped around me like cobwebs.
"Welcome, welcome! Welcome back, Katniss Everdeen!" he yells in his best imitation of Effie Trinket while I clumsily pull myself up into a sitting position. He throws his arms wide, succeeding in making himself look like a complete moron.
"Are you drunk?" I grumble as I adjust myself against my pillows.
"Believe me," he answers, dropping the absurd Capitol accent. "If there was any type of black market in this hole, I'd have sniffed it out by now. Seems that Coin runs a tight-enough ship that no one's willing to spill information on any side action." He pauses to let out a long exhale. "You're worrying everyone, Sweetheart."
I nod in understanding, because contrary to popular belief, I have been at least semi-aware of what's been going on around me. "I'm just tired," I say, hoping he'll drop it. Haymitch should cut me some slack, considering how many times I've had to pull his sorry ass back from a bender. I'd even go so far as to bet I still smell better than he ever did back in 12.
He rolls his eyes at me. No such luck, I guess. "We're all tired. Get up."
I let out a pathetic whimper and point at my medical bracelet. "I'm still 'mentally disoriented'," I object. "I'm not sure where you expect me to go."
"You can put on some pants and join all the other mentally disoriented victors at dinner," he grouses, whirling his finger around in a get to it motion.
I groan crabbily, because now that I'm more cognizant than I have been in days, I notice how starved I actually am. He's got me now, and he knows it. I swing my legs over the edge of my bed – I am wearing pants already, thank you very much – and stumble my way over to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.
Once we're in the hallway outside of the infirmary entrance, we're joined by Annie and Finnick.
"Katniss! There you are! I haven't seen you in so long! Are you feeling sad now that Peeta and the others are gone? Are you sick? I've missed seeing your face! Haymitch has too, even if he won't admit it. Wouldn't you agree, Finn?" Annie shoots statements and questions off at me without pausing for a breath, throwing her skinny arms around me to draw me in close to her.
I nod a few times to try and assure her, but I'm really only able to say, "I've just been tired, Annie. I'm sure everyone's been fine without me."
Finnick smirks but manages to bite his tongue; he's trying to keep from calling me out on my antisocial behavior. He slings his arm around my shoulders like he did at the hovercraft hangar when the others shipped out. It's comforting, brotherly even; it feels like something that could have become a common occurrence between Gale and I, if only he'd never fallen in love with me. With his other hand, Finnick reaches out and tangles his fingers with Annie's, and our three-headed victor huddle lurches our way down the hall after Haymitch.
"For the love of – Odds, can you all hurry the hell up?" he hollers back at us. Haymitch has gotten at least a hundred yards ahead of us, and evidently doesn't appreciate our dawdling. "It's like herding geese trying to get all of you to a meal, I swear. I expected better from you, Odair!"
"Which Odair? There are two of us now!" Annie calls back, her voice melodic and teasing. "He probably means me, yes?" She leans around Finnick to confer with me, effectively slowly our group down once again. At Haymitch's resulting moan of frustration she breaks out in giggles and starts pulling us quickly to catch up with him.
As we draw near my cantankerous former mentor, Finnick chuckles and asks Haymitch if raising geese doesn't sound like a valiant endeavor to undertake after the war ends.
I can't help the grin that's tickling the corners of my own mouth as I take in the merry chaos around me. Perhaps I do have some things worth getting up for, after all.
While it isn't easy to adjust to life in 13 without Peeta, I do try. Not just for myself, but because I can't bear the idea that I may be hurting those around me; I don't want to worry the others here with me in 13, or the people I care about who are off fighting on the front. Haymitch certainly rousted me out of bed by telling me he'd be speaking to Peeta about my condition, but I have no idea if he was being truthful. Still, I would hate to think that Peeta was worrying over me while he needs to be focusing on the work he's doing in District 2. Other people need me to be stronger than I am inclined to be, so I will try for them. The first time Prim saw that I had gotten up for the day on my own, her beaming smile lit up the room. When I saw that, I couldn't help feeling guilty for my earlier behavior.
Annie takes to spending time with me during the days that Finnick trains with the soldiers from 13. My endurance still isn't up to par yet to participate in advanced physical activities with the others, and Annie's mental state exempts her on a permanent basis. Once she and I have read through all the books the nursing staff have brought us and wandered all the halls of the infirmary, I remember my intention to return to the forest room where Peeta and I had spent our last night together. It takes us the better part of two hours to find it, but the look on Annie's face is well worth it when we do.
"Do you think they have a beach hidden away somewhere down here as well? Because I could really get on board with that," she quips, her eyes wide with wonder as she steps through the doorway.
"Not that Peeta showed me, but I wouldn't put it past them," I reply with a shrug.
Even though we're probably miles underground, the long grasses dance as though a breeze is moving past them. The leaves in the trees rustle, and if I close my eyes, I swear it's as though I'm back home in 12. I run my fingers along the long blades, letting them tickle my palms and remember the remarkable beauty of what Peeta and I had here. I've missed him every moment we've been apart.
When I look up, I realize Annie has moved off to explore, letting me alone with my wandering thoughts. After spending so much time with her, it has become clear to me how much time Annie spends in her own head; being so familiar with the practice, she is always generous and patient whenever my mind wanders.
I call for her, and she pokes her head out from behind a tree about twenty feet further into the room.
"Oh," she coos. "Are you back, Katniss?"
I huff out a laugh and nod. I find a wide flat rock to perch on and watch as she picks long pieces of grass, methodically braiding and twisting them into a thick length of rope.
"How did Finnick avoid getting shipped out with the others?" I ask her. I realize the question has been dancing around my consciousness every time I see the two of them together, while the space beside me where Peeta should be remains empty.
She looks around pointedly at the walls and the ceiling – every victor's silent way of asking about microphones – and I shake my head; we're safe in here as far as I know. Peeta told me this room was long-abandoned by the time he stumbled on it, so I can't imagine it remains a priority to the government of 13.
"Well, at first I thought the wedding would be enough to get Coin off our backs," she begins, returning to her intricate work with the grass. "But Finn started picking up on some less-than-subtle hints from her that he would end up getting deployed with the others. I figured it was time to go all Annie Cresta for a bit."
"What do you mean?" I question her.
She smirks and tilts her head back and forth a few times. "Ehhh…. I'm not stupid Katniss, you know that. And being mad certainly has its advantages."
It takes me a moment, but then I begin to understand. "Annie Odair, did you…pretend to go crazy to keep your husband home?" I'm holding back a laugh as I speak, but I let my grin take over my face.
Annie's own smile is unabashed as she twirls in a circle and then gives me a small dramatic curtsy. "I will admit, it wasn't my best work. I threw some things, cried a bit – I'm pretty sure Plutarch knew what I was doing. But the truth is, I do fair better when I'm with Finnick; so, I like to think of it as a preventative measure. Besides…we're trying to have a baby, and I need him here for that."
"I understand Annie – wait. You're what?" I'm astonished by this new information. I understand that not everyone shares my own crippling fear of bringing children into this world, but it's the middle of a war! I feel flabbergasted even trying to comprehend what Annie is telling me now. "But…. What about…everything?!" I demand, gesturing loosely in all directions. Everything is in shambles; districts are being burned to the ground, people are dying, how can anyone want to bring a baby into this world?
"Believe me, I know, Katniss," she counters gently, already anticipating all my arguments. I realize that I never have to explain this paralyzing fear of mine of having children to another victor, because they are the only other people who understand how helpless we truly are when it comes to keeping them safe. Recognizing this is a relief; I have had to justify my feelings on this subject to so many people, and I don't want to get anxious and upset and angry with Annie while we're here in this place where I have only good memories.
"I'm luckier than some, in that Snow tended to ignore my existence, but never so much that I ever felt safe enough to hope for a family. Finn always wanted to have children, but they had him on so many contraceptives while working in the Capitol, that there really wasn't a way for us to even try." As she speaks, I see what my life would have been without the rebellion. Eventually Snow would have demanded a baby from Peeta and I, and unless we somehow found a way to undermine him, we would have been powerless to refuse. "But now… we get to start anew, Katniss. We get to be us! So, after a lot of conversations, Finn was able to talk me into it, and now we're trying. He's always been a dreamer, my Finn. Even when it all seemed completely hopeless, he knew what he wanted – he wanted me and our baby. And they call me the mad one!" She titters and cackles in a way that reminds me she's not entirely sane, even on her best day.
Annie closes the distance between us and holds up a crown she's formed from the length of long grass she'd been braiding as we've talked. It's beautiful and intricate, reminiscent of the elaborate braids my mother used to do for me on Reaping Day. When I smile at Annie's work, she places it on my head and arranges my hair, so the crown holds back the wild pieces of my short hair that are tangling in it.
"One day, Katniss Everdeen," she whispers, a mischievous grin in her voice. She's staring directly into my eyes, and I can see the lucidity in her gaze; she's here with me, fully. She brings her hands to my face, resting them on my cheeks. "You will feel the way I do. We may never be truly safe, you and I, but we are loved. And maybe one day that will be enough for you, just as it is enough for me now, so I can be brave enough to take this chance with Finn. Someday this war will end, and we'll need that love to help us through what comes next."
I reach up and squeeze her wrists in acknowledgement. She knows how I struggle with words, and like Peeta, she grants me the space to absorb the things she says without feeling obligated to construct a coherent response. I know what she is telling me, and I know it is true. If we all survive this war, I decide I want to be there to see Annie and Finnick's baby. I want to see the new world it's going to be born into, and I want to be part of the love that helps all of us to heal. We will all need each other when this ends, one way or another, and I reckon that Annie and I will have many more conversations like this as we grow and change and fear. And if she loves Finnick even half as much as I love Peeta, I'm not surprised Annie allowed him to talk her into every bit of the life he's been dreaming of having with her.
As time continues to pass, I slowly fall into a routine; breakfast with Prim and my mother, walking and talking with Annie, exercising with Finnick when I feel up to it, dinner with whichever victors are around, reflection time with Haymitch or Prim. Occasionally I see my head doctor, or wander through a small, wooded area up on the surface above 13, under supervision of course. Annie and I return to the forest room many times, and eventually we decide to let Finnick in on the secret of its existence. When he crosses the threshold and comes to stand at the edge of the long grasses in the wild meadow, he almost bursts into tears. In this moment, I realize we all need healing, that we're all still working on ourselves.
With the structure of a daily schedule, I'm finally able to feel a little bit more useful, a little more like myself. While I was in the Capitol, I lost so much of my sense of self; the head doctor says it's because the guards would use neglect to break us down. We never knew when we'd be fed, or taken out of our cells to be tortured, so there was no way for us to focus on anything besides those things. Knowing when my mealtimes will be and who I'll see when I wake up in the morning is making my broken brain feel just a bit more normal; until Peeta returns and I can wrap my arms around him, that's all I can really hope for.
Beetee summons me to Special Weaponry and presents me with a beautiful bow that seems to hum when it touches my skin. It's made for you, he tells me. It responds to my voice, and while I have access to incendiary and explosive arrows, I elect to stick with firing off the regular ones. The muscles in my back and arms burn with the effort, but I leave our session with a smile on my face – I feel one more piece of the old me click back into place.
During reflection time one evening, while Haymitch is endeavoring to teach me the rules of chess yet again, I finally give voice to a question that's been tip-toeing around in my mind since my first conversation with Snow during my imprisonment.
"Haymitch, what happened to Effie?" I ask him. Snow had mentioned she was missing, so I had assumed she was safe with the others in 13. But once I arrived here and she was nowhere to be found, I began to worry that she had suffered the same fate as Cinna. Whenever Haymitch plays at imitating her, there is no pain or sadness in his teasing expression, once again making me wonder where she ended up. I explain all this to him, and while he doesn't take his eyes off the chessboard in front of him, the corner of his mouth does tick up in a small smirk.
"You're smarter than I give you credit for, Sweetheart," he mutters. "Well, certainly more tenacious at least." I roll my eyes at how quickly he retracts his half-compliment of me. "She's safe," he assures me. "I smuggled her out of the Capitol before you blew apart the arena. We were already on schedule to break you all out, but then you had to go and be all dramatic about it."
I ignore his jab about my actions in the arena – it's not the first time we've sniped at each other about this. "So, she's safe…in a district?" I ask, making sure I have this correct. He nods. "But you won't tell me where?" I check, already knowing the answer. Haymitch wouldn't risk telling me, not when there are hidden ears that may be listening. If he's gone so far as to hide Effie Trinket in an anonymous safehouse in an unnamed district, it shows that he cares enough about her to make sure no one can touch her. He confirms my suspicion with a quick shake of his head.
"Maybe if we both make it out of this war, Everdeen, I'll let you know where she is," he teases.
I agree because I want to keep Effie safe. As much as she drove me crazy, Effie truly loved her victors; Haymitch, Peeta, and myself were hers, in every sense of the word. We were a team all the way until the end, and I am relieved to know she didn't lose her life because of me.
"She must have kicked up a real fuss," I venture, taking my turn at the game in front of me.
Haymitch scoffs and immediately takes one of my game pieces. "You bet your ass she did," he laughs. "She's a tough ol' broad though," he murmurs affectionately. "If anyone is going to survive a rebellion and find a way to thrive, it'll be Odds-damned Effie Trinket."
I haven't heard from anyone who's gone to fight in District 2. I didn't expect to be privy to much news from the front, but I had hoped for…something. I pester Haymitch, but he's tight-lipped, only telling me that everyone is alive. President Coin refuses to even grant me an audience, while Plutarch talks around my concerns and never actually answers any of my questions. I'm ready to start pulling out my hair in frustration when I get my wish, much to my horror.
I'm getting used to the blaring alarm that precedes the mandatory viewings here in 13, their piercing sharpness no longer sends me skittering into corners or hiding under furniture. So, when it goes off while I'm eating dinner with Finnick and Annie, I barely blink at it. I choose to ignore Caesar Flickerman's incessant chattering on screen and focus on poking at my mushy dinner. I don't blame Caesar for his part in my imprisonment, because without his interviews I never would have been able to warn Peeta about Snow's plan to bomb 13; and without that act, he could be dead, and we may never have been rescued.
But the words "District 2" catch my attention, and I whip my head around to focus on the large screen at the other end of the room. There are explosions and avalanches, and I feel my throat close up at the realization of just what is taking place in front of me. They're trapping people inside a mountain…just like my father. It feels like I'm watching the moments leading up to my father's death, and I can't help but think of all the children who are losing their fathers today in this military operation. The loyalists in District 2 are supposed to be our enemy, but really, I feel closer to them in this moment than I ever will to the rebels here in 13.
Then it gets worse.
Enobaria gives a speech to the evacuees - she's strong and vulnerable, effervescent and striking in her armor. People listen to her; injured and traumatized citizens pour out of the mountain military base and into the city center of District 2. In the wider shots, I can see Johanna standing with Peeta, as well as Gale a few feet from them. For the first time in weeks, I feel something unclench in my chest. Seeing proof that they're all alive fills me with such a sudden wave of relief I almost begin sobbing into my dinner.
Suddenly Peeta breaks away from the group on the stairs of the Justice Building, yelling at the rebel soldiers with his hands up. Gale follows behind him with his gun raised, and Johanna is shouting at Peeta, trying to call him back. He's trying to calm people down, but in doing so he's absolutely frightening me – he isn't protecting himself, and I'm too far away to do anything to help. He stops beside a man, dropping down to a crouch next to him; it seems he is attempting to comfort him. But when the camera angle changes, we can see that the man has a gun to Peeta's neck. I must cry out, because multiple people turn to look at me here in the cafeteria. My boy with the bread squeezes his eyes shut and blows out a harsh breath, and I will him to just fix this now. If he dies, I will die with him amongst the wreckage of District 2.
And he does - thank the Odds he is able to spin his words into something golden and winning and manages to talk down the desperately wounded man who probably doesn't have anything left to lose. He rises and continues speaking, transitioning from a pleading exchange with one man into a moving address that inspires the survivors to surrender to the rebels. It's finally over, and my heart is just beginning to work its way back down from the place in my throat where it has taken up residence when it happens.
A shot rings out, and Peeta falls to the ground.
And then, the screen instantly goes black.
One heartbeat. Two. A third. Everything is muted; Finnick is moving his mouth, but no sound is reaching me. Annie is covering her ears and has her face pressed against the table. Other people are standing from their seats, pointing at the large screen.
Finnick reaches out and grabs my arm, shaking me roughly; I think he's saying my name. Suddenly I'm spun around and come to a stop with my face against a man's chest. Two hands lock around my upper arms, forcing me to take a step back. I'm shaken again and fingers take hold of my chin, forcing me to look up into the face of whoever has me. It's Haymitch - did he see? Does he know about Peeta? Do I have to tell him that Peeta's dead?
He's shouting, but I can't hear a thing. All I can hear is the roaring in my ears, and then, "-niss! Girl, snap out of it!"
"Wh – what?" I stammer, blinking many times in a row. It's loud – so loud now. Everyone is yelling over each other in the cafeteria, and Finnick is working hard to calm Annie down.
Haymitch is trying to catch my gaze, and once he sees that I'm able to focus on him, he starts again, probably repeating what he's already said to me at least once already. "He's alright, Sweetheart! The footage is from last night; the Capitol got a hold of it after it happened."
"What?" I croak out. I hear him, but I need him to tell me again. There can't be any misunderstanding. "Are – are you sure?"
He nods once, it's decisive and confident. It's what I need, desperately. "Boggs called in this afternoon. Said Peeta is alive and is already recovering from surgery. Evidently he has a few bruised ribs and ended up having his spleen removed – thank the Odds Beetee's armor works as well as he said it would."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I practically screech at him. "You've known for hours that Peeta was hurt, and waited until after I saw him shot to tell me? What the hell were you thinking, Haymitch?"
He has the audacity to shrug, and I have to fight the urge to smack him upside the head. "We didn't know if the Capitol was going to air the footage, and Coin wanted to hold off on alerting the district to Peeta's condition until after he cleared surgery. I'm sure she's already been on the phone with Cressida and her team to put together something to let the rebels know he's alive; she can't afford to lose one of her prized figureheads."
I understand Coin's thinking, but I can't forgive her actions. I deserved to know that Peeta was hurt, and more importantly, that he survived. "Do you swear he's alright? He'll live?" I beseech Haymitch once again.
"I swear, Sweetheart," he tells me firmly. "Coin was already filming a confirmation of his condition to broadcast when I left to come find you."
I nod to let him know I understand, but I'm unable to say more since my body is shaking violently as I come down from the torrent of adrenaline that I just experienced.
Finnick and Annie stay long enough to confirm what Haymitch has just told me, then rush out of the cafeteria to allow Annie to calm down in private. Haymitch takes the time to walk me back to my room in the infirmary, and along the way I hear the echoes of Coin's voice as she extols the rebel medical corps stationed in District 2 who heroically saved Peeta's life.
Her propo airs repeatedly for the rest of the night, but her words do not make me feel any better.
I fall into a restless sleep as the image of Peeta having a hole blown through his chest plays repeatedly across the back of my eyelids, never letting me truly escape the pain of it.
After three days of waiting that feel never-ending, a propo airs across Panem that shows Peeta Mellark is alive and recovering well. Cressida has pieced together the footage that was taken after Peeta was shot in the city center - medics rush in and rebels force the survivors of the military attack to the ground. To my surprise, Gale is one of the first people to rush to his aid and helps to carry Peeta's stretcher out of the square. Johanna and Enobaria stay to help Boggs and the other commanders contain the chaos of the surrender. The next images are of Peeta being rushed into surgery and the medics cutting him out of his armor. I want to climb through the screen and cover his exposed body with my own – his vulnerability should not be so readily available to the world. He is mine.
The last part of the propo shows Peeta sitting in a thrown-together medical tent. He apparently is recovered enough that he's already redressed in his military uniform, although the tight armor he was wearing that saved his life is notably absent. He looks casual, but there is a stiffness to him that makes me think he's still in a fair amount of pain. He jokes that he didn't even know what a spleen was until he no longer had one, but he holds a hand to his side to brace himself as he adjusts his position throughout his interview with Cressida. When she asks him if he has a message for Panem, he smiles and says that he wants the rebels to know he's alive and well, that he won't stop fighting. Then, she asks if he has a message for me. His grin is bashful this time, and he looks down as he grasps the locket around his neck. As long as she knows I'm alive, she'll be fine – Katniss knows how I feel about her, always. She's probably furious with me for getting hurt, and I hope she didn't worry for too long before she got news that I wasn't seriously injured. He shares a deflecting laugh with Cressida, and I can't help the tears that spill down my cheeks at his words. Peeta is forever charming and humble, and I miss him more than I can ever say.
The propo replays for days, but I only pay attention to the last part, reveling in the knowledge that he is alive. I take in every tiny movement and subtle expression on Peeta's face, until it almost feels like I'm in the room with him while he's speaking about his experience in 2. I flinch when he does, I smirk and chuckle along with him and touch the spot on my chest where I remember the pendant would fall during the brief period of time when I wore it in the arena as he speaks his message directly to me. Eventually, it is almost as though I am next to him in that hospital tent in 2. It's silly - I know this - but it helps.
I'm playing cards with Haymitch in my room one evening after a particularly enjoyable dinner spent with Finnick and Annie, that was preceded by an even lovelier day spent in the company of Prim, when I break the comfortable silence with an uncomfortable question.
"Will we go back to 12? You know, if we win?"
He's quiet, but I can tell he's thinking over his answer. "You saw the footage of it?" he finally asks me.
I nod. It was ugly and unimaginable. A nightmarish version of my home district.
"Well," he continues. "Despite all that, I don't really have anywhere else I'd want to go. They spared the Village, so we'd at least have houses if we went back."
"But…what about what happened? Won't it be too hard to live near all that?" I can hear the tremble in my voice, imagining the horror that awaits us back in District 12.
"Is it worse than what's happened to us anywhere else in Panem?" he counters.
He's not wrong. Even with everything awful that went down in 12 on that last night of the Quell, nowhere else truly feels like home. "I can teach you to hunt," I offer, smirking at the immediate frown that takes over his face.
"I'm rich, I'll pay you to hunt for me," he grumbles.
"I'm rich too, I don't need your money," I refute.
"Good," he gripes. "Go be rich and leave me alone."
I huff out a laugh and set about reshuffling our cards for a new game.
One of the nurses comes in, delivering a pitcher of water to us. She smiles and chats with Haymitch while I dole out the cards. Once she takes her leave, he proceeds to completely annihilate me three games in a row. I sip on my water while Haymitch drinks tea out of a flask. Sense memory, he mutters when I question him about it.
My eyes get heavier as the evening progresses, and Haymitch eventually chuckles and shoos me to give in to my exhaustion and go to bed. I don't have it in me to fight him on it – my head is getting foggy, and the warm softness of sleep is fast approaching no matter how much I struggle against it. He ruffles my short hair and flips the light off on his way out. I settle down in my bed and let the contentment of my day wash over me.
Just before I let go of my last connection to wakefulness, I smile and wonder what tomorrow will bring.
A/N: Thank you to everyone for their kind words and encouragement each time I post a new chapter of this story! It means more to me than you'll ever know.
