"Peeta," I breathe, bringing both of my hands to his face. He keeps blinking as he adjusts to the light, but as his eyes open I see they are blue and they are his. I feel myself start to cry but I don't take my focus off of him.
"Hi," he says, his voice a little gravely from hours of non-use. He looks a little bit confused, which is unsurprising given how long he's been out and that he doesn't know where he is or how he got here. I should explain to him right away, but I don't. The first thing I do is drop myself down next to him so my face meets his and I kiss his cheek, his forehead, his lips. I feel him smile a little bit into me, and when I pull away to look at his face I see happiness mixed with the confusion.
"Hi there," I say to him, sniffling a little.
"Hi," he repeats with a small chuckle. He looks at me, and then Haymitch, and then takes in his surroundings and the room around him. "What...what happened?" he asks.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Haymitch asks. I think that's a good way to start. Peeta's memory gets confused when he flashes. I want to avoid making him angry at himself if at all possible, so I want to break the news gently, and knowing where he's at seems like a good way to try that.
"We, uh, we were watching that town hall thing," Peeta says. It's clear in his expression that he is trying to figure out these memories as he explains them. Things are blurry for him. "And then they were talking about the end of the Games, and how I had the last kill, and I'd never thought about that before, or at least not really. The end of the Games was so chaotic, I didn't know what happened when. I started to just hate myself for it, and then...then..." his eyes widen and I can see as the memory hits him. "Oh no," he mutters softly. "Did...did I? I did. Was it bad?" he sounds so vulnerable as he realizes what's happened that it makes my heart hurt. I take his hand in mine.
"It wasn't that bad, Peeta, until I made it worse," I say. "You were gone, but you were making your way back to me until I knocked a plate over, and then the crash was too much."
"What did I do?" he asks, looking terrified and saddened.
"You didn't hurt anyone, kid," Haymitch says. "I mean, you got a couple blows in at me, but no harm done." Peeta looks horrified as he notices the bruise on Haymitch's face.
"Haymitch, I'm so sor-"
"Don't," Haymitch cuts him off. "You don't need to apologize to me for this. Ever." I don't think Peeta can see it through the self loathing he is feeling right now, but more clearly than I have since our time in 13 I can now see Haymitch's guilt over not saving Peeta from the Quell Arena. It is clear to me in this moment that the mutt version of Peeta could beat Haymitch within an inch of his life, and he would be certain that he deserved it, that it would only be a fair response for not having gotten Peeta out of that situation in the first place.
"Why am I here?" Peeta asks quietly. Haymitch and I take a minute before either of us responds, looking at each other. Haymitch nods at me, indicating that I should talk."
"You...you hurt yourself, Peeta," I say. He looks confused.
"What do you mean."
"You were really far gone, and you picked up a knife. You were coming at me, but then you stopped yourself. It was like I could see the real you battling with the mutt in real time, it was clear in your muscles and your eyes. I don't think you could stop yourself from doing something, but you didn't want to hurt me. You...you slit your wrist with the knife." For the first time, he looks down at his bandaged left arm. I see the realization start to show on his face, and then it morphs into sadness.
"Katniss you shouldn't be here," he says. "I'm so dangerous to you, I mean look what I did!"
"Peeta, enough of this!" I say. "Yes, look what you did. You nearly killed yourself because even when you were so far gone you wouldn't, couldn't hurt me. I'm not scared of you and I don't want you to be scared of yourself. The only thing I'm scared about is losing you." The last phrase is quiet but it's true. He looks up at me and I just nod. He knows what it means.
"Okay," he whispers, and he pulls me into him. I slide down the bed and rest my head on his chest like I have so many times before. His heart rate is steady. He's back.
Delly comes in with the doctors a few moments later, and she immediately squeals and fawns over Peeta, who looks happy to see her and laughs at her exuberance. The doctors take Peeta's vitals and seem pleased with what they're seeing. They explain to him about the new drugs and the medical side of everything that happened, and tell him they want to keep him here overnight to observe how he continues responding to the medications, but that then he should be free to go home. They want him to take it easy for a few days after discharge, both so he doesn't do any damage to the stitches on his arms and so he doesn't put any strain on his heart. I'm glad about this, frankly, because I don't want him to do anything that could put him at risk, and I'm also glad for the opportunity to take care of him. I need to show him how important to me he is in any way I can.
We all spend the afternoon and evening talking and fawning over Peeta. He's coming back to himself slowly but surely with each passing hour. He's tired and at some points a little out of it, which the doctors assure is perfectly normal after having been under sedation for so long. Still, he's up most of the time and he's making jokes with us and thanking the doctors for all their help. He may not be fully recovered, but he's himself.
Peeta, Haymitch, and I have to practically beg Delly to not sleep on the floor tonight but rather to go home and get some rest. She's been nodding off for hours, but says she wants to be here to help. Finally Peeta is able to convince her to leave by asking her to go home so she can be up early tomorrow and help clean up my house from the whole mess of the flash. We're planning on bringing Peeta back to my place because it's right next to Haymitch's and I have more medicinal things still left over from when my mom lived there. Delly is happy to have a concrete way to help, so she finally acquiesces.
Late in the evening, I'm lying with my head on his chest and his arm that isn't attached into the IV draped around me. Haymitch has been drifting in and out of sleep for the last half hour or so. Peeta and I have been relatively quiet, just looking at each other and taking each other in.
"Thank you," he says to me softly, rubbing my arm with his hand.
"Thank me for what?" I ask, a little confused.
"Thank you for taking care of me, and for not being scared or running when you would have every right in the world to do just that. Thank you for wanting to stick with me through all of this. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for being you and for being here."
"Well then I need to thank you," I say. He starts laughing a little but I go on, insistent that he hears me. "No, I'm being serious. Thank you for not letting me push you away, for knowing my needs better than I know them myself, for always taking care of me and putting me first. Thank you for always helping me see the light in the world when all I see is dark, and for bringing me hope just by being who you are." He looks genuinely touched. "Thank you for being you and for being here," I say, repeating his words back to him. They are absolutely true, and he's always been better at putting words together than I have, so why not use them?
He smiles at me before leaning in to put his lips on mine. In the contact with his lips, I feel the warmth and steadiness that he always brings to everything. There's even more than that, though. In his lips I feel love. I feel love, I feel that I am loved, and I feel that I am in love.
As we break apart, I try to find the words in my mind to say it, to tell him what I know I feel. It's stupid, really. I know what I need to say and I know that I feel it. I just have so much trouble getting over the vulnerability of it all, even though I know my fears are entirely unfounded.
I'm not even given the opportunity to try saying the right thing, though, because Haymitch wakes up and interrupts us.
"You two are something else, you're even all over each other in a fucking hospital bed," he says, shaking his head. I blush and Peeta laughs.
"Shut up, Haymitch," I say, and I just hear him chuckle at me. I snuggle back into Peeta's side and my head finds its resting place on his chest. This is where it's meant to be. He runs his hands through my hair and I feel myself drift off.
I don't wake again until morning. The return to proximity with Peeta seems to have kept any nightmares at bay. Haymitch is still sleeping in his chair, but Peeta is awake and chatting quietly with Dr. Merson while she scribbles something down on a chart. He feels me shift as I wake up and turns his head toward me, smiling.
"Good morning," he says, kissing my forehead. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine," I say as I yawn. "How are you?"
"I feel totally fine," he says, smiling before looking questioningly at Dr. Merson. She nods.
"He's doing really well," she says. "All of his vitals held steady overnight, which is a good sign that the drug combination is working. He should be ready for discharge in a few hours, and then all that's left to do is take it easy and rest up." I feel my heart swell at this vote of confidence, and do my best to give Dr. Merson an appreciative smile. She returns it in kind and continues filling out her forms.
"Do you feel ready to go home?" I ask Peeta while caressing his cheek.
"Are you kidding?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "I couldn't be happier to go home."
"Good," I say, planting a quick kiss on top of his nose. He laughs at me a little, which just makes me roll my eyes.
After a couple hours in which the doctors adjust Peeta's medicines, check his vitals, fill out paperwork, and give us all instructions, we start making our way home. I hook my arm in Peeta's non-bandaged one as we start to walk, just in case he needs any support. Haymitch is hovering close to him on the other side, as if in fear he might collapse. Peeta is not oblivious to our actions.
"Guys, I'm fine," he says, sounding understanding of and yet slightly annoyed by our overprotectiveness. "Really, I feel alright."
"I just don't want you to fall or anything," I say, not really having a reason for my concern besides just...everything. This time Peeta rolls his eyes at me.
"As long as I didn't lose my other leg without realizing it, I think I'll be ok," he jokes, and I can't help but laugh a little bit. I just tighten my arm's grip in his and move along with him.
Despite all of Peeta's protestations that he is completely normal, the walk back to Victor's Village is decently long and he's getting quite winded. The doctors said that this was to be expected after hours under sedation and the lingering exhaustion from the flash, but I can tell it frustrates him.
"You guys can go ahead of me," he says as he stops to take a breath. "I don't want to keep slowing you down."
"Don't be fucking stupid, kid," Haymitch says. "That's absurd." I nod in agreement with Haymitch.
"Your strength will come back soon, Peeta," I say, rubbing his arm. "It'll be frustrating for a little but as you rest and recover you'll start feeling more normal." He doesn't say anything, but he starts walking again, and we make it the last stretch to Victor's Village without issue. When we reach my house, I see that Delly is seated on my porch. I forgot she came here to clean earlier.
"You're home!" she squeals, jumping to her feet as we approach. Peeta smiles and pulls her into a hug.
"Thanks for helping out, Del," he says.
"Of course! How are you feeling?" she asks, starting to pat him down in an odd way as if to check for injuries. I see Haymitch's face take on a deeply confused expression, and it's all I can do not to laugh.
"I'm good, I'm good," says Peeta. "Lets go inside." When we walk in I see that Deeply has done an almost indecently good job cleaning up. My place is cleaner than it was before Peeta flashed. She's cleaned the kitchen, which was entirely untouched by the whole scene, and I think she might have dusted. I'm not sure if this house has ever been dusted before, I certainly haven't done it.
As we settle Peeta on the couch, I see all the furniture in the living room has been restored to its normal state; the armchair has been righted and the shards of the plate cleaned up. The only sign that anything happened is one small spot on the living room rug. She got out all of the blood, I don't know how she managed it, but there's just a small circle in which whatever cleaning product she used left the area lighter than the rest of the material. I couldn't care less about the rug, I'm just happy I don't have to see Peeta's blood there anymore.
"You did way too much Delly," I tell her. "Thank you."
"Don't be silly, it wasn't a problem at all," she says. "You're all family!" I smile at her as I get up to grab a glass of water for Peeta.
The rest of the day unfolds blissfully normally. The four of us spend our time in the living room; although he insists he can, and he's probably right, I don't want Peeta to go up the stairs yet. He tried to argue but eventually acquiesced from the look on my face. We play cards, we chat, we convince Peeta to let us cook for him. We get phone calls throughout the day. Effie calls to talk to Peeta and her high pitched squealing is audible far away from the receiver. She frets, asks what she can do, if he needs her to send him anything. Peeta laughs and reassures her he's well taken care of. He looks at me when he says it, which makes me smile.
Johanna calls next, and while she starts the conversation with her typical brash teasing about how he's too in love with me for his own good, her voice drops lower rather quickly, and I catch her saying how scared she was that she might lose him. The last call is from Annie, who expresses how much she was worried about him in her trademarked way of nonsensical beauty. She rambles a little bit about how he reminds her of the moon, which at first doesn't make any sense. It isn't until she's been speaking for a few minutes that it becomes clear that the moon controls the tides of the ocean, and she feels that without him the waves would swallow her up whole.
I've only ever seen the ocean briefly on the Victory Tour, but I understand that feeling very well.
After Delly and Haymitch leave that night, I curl up into Peeta's side on the couch. He's rubbing his hand on my back and we're lying in a comfortable silence.
"I want you to know how much I appreciate you taking care of me like this," he says softly.
"I know," I reply, idly running my finger up and down his arm.
"You need to know, because no matter how annoyed I get with you worrying about me, or how much I might tease your cooking, I am so grateful to have you with me." I laugh and he pulls me in for a kiss.
As we drift off to sleep, I think of how incalculably grateful I am for him. I'm grateful for every person who was in my life today. I'm immensely grateful for Haymitch, and I'm even extremely grateful for Delly. I'm grateful for Effie, Johanna, and Annie, who even though they aren't here in 12 help us know we aren't alone.
I think back to what Delly said earlier. You're all family. I think she's right. The weird little unit form the 74th Hunger Games has expanded, to encompass this strange hodge podge of half-broken humans, all united both by our shared pain and our shared desire to help one another heal. I love these people. This is my weird little family. I'm grateful for them all.