A/N: Hi everyone! First, just want to say thanks if you're reading this story. For a little bit of background: I used to be a huge Hunger Games fan when I was younger, and wrote fics for it and for lots of other books/shows. Rereading the books over quarantine made me want to get back into writing, so I figured why the hell not. Basically, just to reiterate the summary, this fic is situated post-Mockingjay, pre-epilogue, and takes place from Katniss's POV. You can assume everything is cannon up through the end of Mockingjay, but from then on/before the epilogue the fic will be cannon divergent. M rating is primarily for a combo of language, angsty/dark vibes, and (eventual) smut. Main theme of the story is growing back together/healing with, of course, a focus on Everlark. Last thing is a TW/content warning: though it won't be central to the story, there will be some mentions of suicidal thoughts/ideation/actions that are consistent with cannon experiences, so please keep that in mind if it would be a problem for you. Other than that, I hope you enjoy! Please review :)
Chapter 1:
I don't know how he's doing. Peeta's been back in 12 for four days now. I've really only interacted with him on that first day, when he planted the primroses. I've seen him out my window, walking to and from Haymitch's with various baked goods. A couple times at night, I've thought I might have heard him screaming, but usually I am just coming out of nightmares myself, and I can't fully tell if I'm hearing him, myself, or the murdered children that can never seem to leave my mind. I do know that on the night when I couldn't even bring myself to attempt sleep, and instead curled up on the window seat in my room that faces his house, I saw the light in his studio turn on around three in the morning, and then the kitchen light an hour or two later. I don't know if I want to know how he's doing or not. I think some part of me does, must, after all we've been through together care about how he's feeling, how he's coping, how his grip on reality is. But I don't even care how I'm doing right now. I feel myself oscillating between numbness and pain all day and all night, and I can't figure out which one is worse. Sae is still making me breakfast and dinner most days, and while I eat a bit more than I did when I first got here, it still feels wrong. Doing anything normal feels wrong, and certainly taking pleasure out of anything feels wrong, even if it's something as simple as good cooking. Haymitch is trying to live up to his title as my guardian, I really can see that he's trying. He makes his way over here most days, but the losses have mounted high for him too. His sobriety ended with the war, and he's been having good days and bad days in regard to his lucidity. I know he cares about me. I think I'm glad. I just feel like I need to mute everything I feel, otherwise I'll feel way too much.
On the fifth morning of Peeta's time back in 12, I walk downstairs from my bedroom groggily. I'm hardly sleeping, and I want coffee, but I don't really know what I like in it. I've only had it a couple of times, and the only positive experiences were when Peeta fixed it for me on the train. Drinking it straight in 13 almost exclusively led to me having some sort of anxiety-induced, caffeine-fueled meltdown. I don't have the energy to do much else, so I just flop myself down onto the couch, having transitioned from lying down in one location to another. I can feel myself slipping. My mind goes blank, all I see is an empty canvas. Familiar figures creep in and out. A dash of gold eyeliner, a toned body covered only in netting, a shirt coming untucked and forming a ducktail. No. I don't want to see this. I push them off my canvas, returning to the nothingness which, while empty, is at least not full of the people that I failed. A knock on the door brings me out of myself. I sit up slightly, confused, as Sae doesn't usually knock. She comes so often, and I'm not very dependable, so she usually just lets herself in. I get up and slowly make my way over to the door. When I open it, I do see Sae, but she's not alone, or with her granddaughter. She's standing with Peeta, who is on my step holding a basket full of cheese buns.
"I...I think you liked these," he says with some hesitation. "Real or not real?"
"Real," I say, with a small smile. "They were my favorite."
"I woke up this morning and I just, I don't know. I knew you liked them, even though I hadn't actually known that I knew that before, and I just had to make them. I don't know if that makes any sense, but please take them." He reaches out to hand the basket to me, but I don't move. Something very very small within me sees a very very small piece of the old Peeta within him. And although I don't really know how I feel about that, what I feel about him, or anything else except the magnitude of loss, I don't want to let the familiarity slip away.
"It looks like you baked a dozen," I say. "I can't eat that many. Come in and share with me." Peeta looks nervous, but steps into the house behind Sae. I think he feels more comfortable knowing that he isn't alone with me. If something went wrong, Sae wouldn't know how to do much, but she'd know to run for Haymitch. She starts cooking eggs at the stove, and Peeta and I sit at the kitchen table together. Looking at the table, I see Gale, with his back ripped open from the whipping. I see my mother, focussed and present, treating the patient at hand. I see Prim, following her every move and learning skills that would set her up to help people, and ultimately set her up to die. No. I blink, and now I look at the table, and see a table. I see Peeta, sitting and fidgeting with his hands. I reach into the basket and pull out a cheese bun, ripping off a small piece and putting it in my mouth. I hate how delicious it is. It isn't really fair that I should experience something good, when so many people are gone. I can't help but smile a bit at the taste, though.
"Is it good?" Peeta asks, noticing the change in my expression.
"Yeah," I respond, taking another bite. Peeta grabs one from the basket and starts to eat too. Soon Sae serves us both plates of eggs and we share the meal together. We don't really talk much at all, but I like being in his presence. There's a familiarity in being around him, something comforting about recreating what was normal a long time ago. I don't mind that feeling.
About 20 minutes or so later, Haymitch stumbles through the front door. He greets Sae first and takes a portion of eggs. When he turns to look at the table, his expression clearly registers surprise at seeing Peeta and I together. I know the two of them have been seeing each other since Peeta got back, and I'm sure Peeta knows that Haymitch is my guardian, but the three of us haven't been in the same room together since I killed Coin.
"So, the star-crossed lovers of District 12 have reconnected, eh?" he says. I immediately feel myself shutting down.
"Shut up, Haymitch," I get out. I don't want to let myself withdraw that easily, but any references to the Games, to whatever feelings I had or am supposed to have, make my mind retreat to the world of blank canvas.
"Well, I'm glad you two are on speaking terms, or at least coexisting terms. It makes my job easier," says Haymitch. He grabs a cheese bun out of the basket and starts chewing on a large hunk of it.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Well don't fret, sweetheart," he says while chewing the bun. "Legally, you have me all to yourself as your guardian. The powers that be think that after his extra time in therapy in the Capitol, the boy here can manage himself for the most part. But Aurelius wants me to "maintain my mentorship," as he so lovingly put it, and make sure to keep an eye on you both. So, getting you both in the same place certainly helps." Peeta looks visibly uncomfortable when Haymitch mentions that he can be on his own. I know he still doesn't trust himself. I don't really know what therapy was like for him these past few months. I suspect they must have continued Prim's anti-hijacking morphling treatment, and I would imagine Peeta is a lot more receptive to talk therapy than I am, but I really don't know where he's at in terms of his memory and his stability. He certainly seems better than he did when we separated during the war, but I don't know what might set him off. I don't think he fully knows either, and I think that terrifies him.
"I'm not as confident in myself as the doctors are," Peeta says quietly. "I'm glad to have Haymitch around, if you don't mind." He looks at me and then shifts his glance down to his hands quickly.
"Of course I don't mind," I say immediately, because I honestly don't. I'm not sure what Peeta's thinking here, if he thinks I need Haymitch's undivided attention, if he thinks the two of them interacting would make me uncomfortable confiding in Haymitch if I needed help, or if he's just severely overestimating Haymitch's sobriety and imagining that he is really taking care of me. In any case, Peeta has every right to be cared for in whatever ways will help him, that I'm sure of, and Haymitch is now the closest thing that either of us has to a parental figure in 12.
Peeta smiles up at me, and the three of us finish our meal in silence. Sae heads home, and Peeta and I clean up the dishes while Haymitch moves to the couch and turns on the TV. I don't really like watching it; the news makes me uncomfortable, and the new entertainment programming seems frivolous. But I realize that today is Paylor's formal inauguration, and Peeta and I join Haymitch to watch the televised event. She was elected as acting president soon after I killed Coin, but she chose to put off the inauguration ceremony until at least the beginnings of rebuilding were underway. For once I actually feel some semblance of pride in what we fought for. I still hold a deep mistrust for the government, even though it is now one that we fought to create, and I don't always feel that all the loss of the war was worth it. I know in my head that it was, that children will no longer be reaped, families will no longer starve, but it doesn't always feel the way it should. Looking at Paylor, though, makes a small part of me feel something close to happy. For the first time in my life, I see a leader who I know will work hard for her people, and genuinely try to do what is best for Panem, rather than what will work towards her interests. I shift my glance from the TV set to Haymitch and Peeta on the couch. As many thoughts as there are still swirling around my head, I feel a sense of pleasant stillness that has evaded me for a long time.
I'd like this to last.