When I wake up, Peeta is still out cold. He's on his stomach, the sheets pulled up over his legs and his bare back providing a canvas for the morning sunlight breaking through our cracked window. I rip the sheets off, my body drenched in sweat. My dream from last night is still so vivid, so real, that my chest clenches when I close my eyes. I can see Boggs in front of me, bleeding and knowing he's dying, but yet so hopeful. I feel his flesh and his pain. I remember the tears carving streaks down his blood-caked cheeks.
"Peeta. Peeta," I shake him until he wakes up, rolling over and looking at me with a crooked morning smile.
"Come back to sleep," he whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him.
"I need to go," I say.
"Five more minutes," he replies, burying his chin in my neck.
"No, I mean. I made a promise. I need to go to District 13," I say. With that, Peeta is immediately alert and on edge.
"Katniss, that's not a good idea. What happened with those men… That's not an isolated sentiment. Thirteen is not a safe place for you anymore," he says quickly, sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Why would you want to go to Thirteen?"
"When Boggs died," I start, but I can't find the words. Peeta watches me intently, not pushing but engaged. Waiting for me to say what I need to say. This must be coming out of nowhere for him, but Boggs's ghost has been haunting me for hours. I pull the sheet up over my chest and sit up beside him. "Before Boggs died, I promised him I'd take Maya to the sea. Because he told me he would after the war, and he can't now, and…" I breathe in. "I don't want the last thing I said to him to be a lie." I feel Peeta's gaze as he takes me in. "You don't have to come if you don't want to. I know you have to work on the bakery and–"
"I'm coming," he says before I can ramble out any more excuses on his behalf. Relief floods my veins. Boggs would never know if I didn't keep my promise. His wife wouldn't know. His daughter wouldn't know. But I would. And it would eat me alive, like worms in the stomach of an ill dog.
"I need to make some phone calls," I say, slipping out of the bed. Peeta's eyes run over my bare back. I look over my shoulder at him and he smiles. I give half a smile back. I yank a tee shirt over my head and head downstairs. I should use the office, but I don't go in there. I call Effie from the kitchen instead.
"What would I need to do to arrange a trip to District Thirteen?" I ask.
"Katniss dear, don't you think that's a tad imprudent?" Effie tweets on the other end, but after some back and forth she agrees to make the necessary arrangements.
"Is… Haymitch… coming with you?" she asks offhandedly. She's trying to be coy and nonchalant about it, but Effie has never been either of those things.
"No. I mean, I haven't asked, but he has obligations here," I say.
"Obligations? Really? And what might those be?" she clicks, the pitch of her voice getting higher with each question. They really haven't been speaking at all, I realize.
"He has a flock full of baby geese that think he's their mom. They follow him around like he's got them under a spell or something," I reply. It's silent for a moment, and then I hear a clap of laughter.
"Haymitch! A mother! He can't take care of himself, let alone anyone else!" Effie giggles but the words are bitter. Injurious if he'd heard them.
"I don't know, Effie. He's doting on them. Haymitch really cares about them. It's…. it's weird," I respond and Effie's laughter stops abruptly.
"Well, perhaps I should come to Twelve to show you off. Walk you through your itinerary. If ever you needed an escort!" Effie offers.
"Oh, you don't need to do that. We'll be fine with–"
"Don't be silly. I'll be there in three days' time," she interrupts. "Please do pack accordingly," Effie reminds me in her ever irksome way.
"Thanks," I say into the receiver. Effie flourishes through her goodbyes and I hang up.
I tell Rory that afternoon as we pick berries at the edge of the meadow. He's not happy, but he understands. I offer to let him tag along, but he says his family needs him and I can't say he's wrong.
"How did your mom take the news about the bear?" I ask.
"Oh, no one is telling Hazelle about the bear. Got it?" he says with a playful threat. The way he says his mother's name makes me laugh.
"And you said you weren't funny," I tease, ruffling his hair with my hands. I take some of the berries back to my house. I add a little sugar to the cream in our refrigerator and whip it hard until it's thick and velvety. It's a trick Peeta showed me and basically impossible to mess up. I cover the berries and set it on the table for dessert.
It's just my mom and me for dinner. Peeta is pulling double shifts at the worksite until we leave. I try to figure out how to broach the subject. She won't be happy about me going to Thirteen.
"I have something I need to tell you," I start as casually as possible. My mother freezes instantly. She carefully finishes chewing and lays her fork on her plate. She folds her hands in front of her and meets my gaze. I can see she's holding her breath, but she tries to keep her face flat. "Peeta and I…"
"Katniss, I'm so sorry," my mother blurts out, unable to control herself. What is it with people interrupting me today?
"For what?" I ask, visibly frustrated.
"For not being here when you needed me. Maybe if I'd been a better mother then you wouldn't be in this situation," she says, reaching a hand out for mine. I tug mine back, confusion all over my face.
"What situation?" I ask. What does she know that I don't? What is she keeping from me?
"You aren't….?" she stammers.
"Aren't what?" I respond.
"You aren't pregnant?" she asks.
"What? No! Of course not. Seriously?" I spit out, standing from the table. It's not unreasonable for her to think that. Even though we were given shots before the Games, birth control is not something that's easy to come by. The Capitol knew the nation's population was in jeopardy. In the Districts, having a family wasn't a choice. If you were with someone, you were having kids. It's part of why I never wanted to get married. Gale said it was just another tool of the Capitol to oppress us. Limit our resources and give us too many mouths to feed. Parents will do anything to save their children – even comply with the horrors we faced. "I don't want to talk about this," I say. "Just… never mind." I dismiss myself from the table.
"Katniss, what?" she asks. I pause.
"After the Quell… I don't even know if I can, Mom." The words hurt more than I thought they would. I don't want kids. Certainly not right now. But there are no more Games. There is no more War. I don't know what that means, but I'd like to decide for myself. I think Snow may have taken that from me too. Tears sting my eyes and I swipe my hand quickly across my face to wipe them away.
"Do you want me to check you out?" she asks earnestly.
"Yes," I say before I even realize what her words mean. I do. I want to know. We go upstairs and I lock the bedroom door. I don't want an accidental guest. This is between me and my mom. I remember the kind doctor from District 13. She hesitated during my exam. She somehow knew I hadn't been pregnant. Did she know I couldn't be?
I watch my mom's face for a reaction as she does her work, but she keeps it fixed as she concentrates.
"Everything feels fine, Katniss," she finally says and I audibly sigh in relief. "When was the last time you menstruated?"
"Not since before the Quell," I answer. "After my first Games it was almost a year before I started again. Because of the shot."
"Well, whatever is blocking your period is chemical, not physiological. You are perfectly healthy," she replies. "Which means you need to use protection. What they gave you before the Quell won't last forever," my mother adds with a raised eyebrow.
"Maybe I'll get the shot again when I go to Thirteen," I respond.
"Thirteen? When are you going to Thirteen?" my mother asks, her voice suddenly on edge.
"That's what I was trying to tell you." I explain about Boggs and Maya and my promise. I need to see his daughter. I need to fulfill a vow her father will never be able to. My mother is not digesting the news well. I think she'd rather I'd have been pregnant.
"I should go with you," she blurts out.
"No. No," I say quickly. If it's not safe for me there, is doubly not safe for her.
"What are you going to say to Boggs's wife to give her daughter to you?" my mother asks.
"The same thing I did to you," I say without thinking, and with that I feel whatever bridge we had built between us crumble. "Mom, I–"
She drops my hands from hers and stands, patting down her skirt. She crosses to the door. "Sometimes I forget you're still just a girl," my mother says before she closes the door between us. She isn't saying it to be hurtful. She saying it to excuse my words, but later I hear her crying in her room. I pretend I don't, but shame festers inside me. I'm like a child unable to stop picking a scab because there's something satisfying about holding the dead skin in your hand. Bleeding again. But if you pick you can't heal.
I pad down the hallway and knock on her door. She doesn't answer at first, so I knock again. When she opens the door she's clearly just washed her face. It doesn't mask the blotchy spots under her eyes and nose. Her flushed cheeks.
"I've never been good at sorry," I say quickly.
"Katniss, it's fine," my mother dismisses me, but I grab her hand.
"I've never been good at forgiveness either. I've never been good at a lot of things. But I was good at loving Prim," I say. "I can be good at loving you. Just give me a chance."
"I'm so sorry, Katniss," my mother says. She's never said that before. She's never apologized for letting us wither to nothing. But my mom is a different woman now. And so am I.
"Me too, Mom," I say. We hug. It's awkward, but at the same time comfortable. She smells like lavender tea. She smells like soap. She smells like my mom. It makes all my muscles release and my heart slow. When her hand strokes my hair I let myself sink into her chest.
Peeta trudges his way into my room well after I've gone to bed. His skin is burned from too many hours in the sun; his clothes greasy and caked in dirt. He moves slowly. I'm not sure whether he means to be silent or if he can't bear to move any faster than that. When he sees me shift in bed a mix of guilt and happiness slips across his face.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he says in a hushed whisper.
"I wasn't sleeping," I respond.
"I'm just going to shower. I'll be right to bed," Peeta says back.
"Did you eat?" I ask.
"No," he replies. Peeta showers and I make him a sandwich and a cup of mint tea. He eats it ravenously at the end of our bed.
"I like this," he says.
"The sandwich?" I ask.
"Coming home to you," Peeta answers.
"Me too," I reply. He drinks the mint tea and sinks into the bed, his head on my chest, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I feel him drifting but I can't help it when the words slip out of my mouth. "Peeta?"
"Hm?" he responds, his eyes still shut.
"Do you want kids someday?" I whisper.
"Yeah," he answers, squeezing me tight and then relaxes his arms again. I watch his face – slack and peaceful. "But I want you more."
I don't know how to respond, but by the time the words are in my mouth he's already asleep.
