The blood in my veins runs cold.
"You there?" I hear Gale's voice in the receiver. I drop the phone, leaving it dangling from a cord on the wall, and walk immediately upstairs. I slam my door and crawl into the closet. Downstairs I can hear the commotion.
I hear Peeta answer the phone, "Hello?" He must hear a click, because he tells Effie and Haymitch there's no one there. There is some more bustling as they clean up dinner, but I just pull a scarf Cinna made me from above and wrap it around my hands. I hear some footsteps on the stairs. I guess it's Haymitch. Now that he doesn't drunkenly drag his feet, he and Peeta are difficult to discern from one another, but Haymitch's footfalls are more even than Peeta's, which makes sense since he can actually feel both his feet. I hear the springs of my mattress squeal as Haymitch sits on my bed.
"So who was on the phone, sweetheart?" Haymitch is the only one who knows how Prim really died. Who is responsible. He's the only one who will know why I'm hauled up in a closet again.
"Gale."
It takes a minute before he responds. I can't tell if he's trying to think of what to say, or whether he's debating saying anything at all. Finally he just sighs. "Oh." And after another moment. "I figured."
"Yeah," I say through the door.
"Yeah," he says back. I reach up, grab the knob, and push the door open. I stay curled up in the bottom. I'm not leaving, but at least now I can see him.
"I don't know what to say to him. I was better pretending he didn't exist anymore." I state while staring at the carpet on my bedroom floor.
"You can't pretend him out of existence."
"I can try," I scowl back.
"That you can," Haymitch replies.
"You know, I thought about putting him in the book," I confess.
"I thought the book was for dead people, Katniss."
"It is, but he feels dead to me. My best friend is gone. He's been gone since the firebombing. Honestly, he was gone long before that. I feel like I mourning who he was. That Gale is never coming back." I know I'm right.
"That boy was never who you thought he was." I give Haymitch a quizzical look. It's not like he and Gale were ever close. I think out of anyone, I know Gale better than Haymitch. "He was always an angry boy. He put what he thought was right ahead of everyone else's interests, including his own. You just didn't see it until 2, but the rest of us did. You kept seeing the boy you thought you knew, not who he was. I'm not saying he didn't care for you, Katniss. He did. But the revolution, this war… it was always in the front of his mind. It was always the most important thing. It was more important to him than you, than his family. He wanted to bring freedom to the people of Panem, no matter what the sacrifice was."
I let Haymitch's words sink in.
"And now that it's here, he has to live with his regrets. It's a lonely life, when you let vengeance drive you instead of…"
"Instead of love," I add. That's how it all started for me. All I ever wanted to do was keep my sister safe.
"But he got the result he wanted. The war is won. There are no more Games. The Districts are free from the Capitol. For once, Panem is working for the good of its people. And now he's realizing the consequences of his choices. Everyone else is free, but not Gale. He'll never be free from the blood on his hands."
"We all have blood on our hands," I spit back.
"But the blood of children? I know it keeps Effie up at night."
"Do you?" I smirk at him.
"Are you smiling? Are you smiling in your closet at my expense, Mockingjay?" Haymitch waits a minute. "Get out here." I do. I brush my hair, I go to bed. Haymitch goes for the lamp, but I ask him to leave the light on. He does, and he makes his way back downstairs. I hear him rustling around downstairs, muttering to himself in a hushed voice before he finally leaves. I don't sleep until the sun rises again.
After about two hours of restless sleep, I wake up. I do not feel right at all. And it's not Gale. It's not Prim. My body hurts. I'm freezing. I cough a little, and a burning sensation rips through my chest. I am sick. After a bit, Sae comes upstairs to check on me. I'm surprised it's not Haymitch, but she says he seems hungover. Haymitch hasn't drank since we got back, so I drag myself out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. Haymitch isn't hung over. Haymitch looks just like me.
"I'm sick," I say.
"Me too," he says. We don't eat Sae's food. She's not mad, she just packs it up and brings it to the Market. Haymitch and I find a couple spare blankets in the living room and wrap ourselves up. I plop on the couch, he collapses into the chair. We drift in and out of consciousness. I can't warm up.
Later that morning, Effie cheerfully bursts her way into my kitchen. "Well, Peeta won't be over for dinner tonight. He's sick as can be, poor thing! Oh! Well you two don't look so well yourselves."
"We're not," Haymitch groans from under the blanket.
"Well, if I'm playing nursemaid to all three of you, it would be easier if you were in one place. I'll go get Peeta." She flitters out the door, chiding under her breath, "Goodness, I was not cut out for this."
About an hour later Effie returns with Peeta in tow. He's wearing pajamas. His blonde hair is plastered flat on one side of his head, and his curls are wild on the other. He sits next to me on the couch. Effie goes upstairs and pulls a spare blanket from the linen closet. She wraps up Peeta and puts the kettle on the stove. She opens my mother's medicine cabinet and takes out 3 fever pills. She makes us each take one, and then hands us a cup of tea. I lay my head on the armrest and curl my feet in. Peeta mirrors me on the other side of the couch. Our legs are wrapped together, but I'm not worried about him misinterpreting anything right now. I'm not seductive, I'm a feverish mess. And I'm starting to feel sick to my stomach.
I ask Effie to bring me my plant book. I point out some medicinal herbs that should be growing in the Meadow. She seems appalled at the idea of digging in the dirt. I tell her to wear gloves, but all she has is satin and she certainly will not violate them with filth.
"You are all lucky that I'm here. Apparently I'll do anything for my little Victors!"
With that she flits out of the house. I'm not sure who she will corral into helping her, but I'm certain Effie will come back with the herbs. She will not, however, get dirt under her nails. While she's gone none of us move. Haymitch eventually turns on the TV, but I can't concentrate on it. Peeta moans softly in his sleep. I try not to vomit on my floor.
Effie returns with Greasy Sae. She has the herbs, which Effie grinds with a mortar and pestle. I didn't even know Effie knew what that was for. She steeps the herbs in tea, per the plant book, while Sae warms up a pot of chicken soup on the stove. The tea is forced down my throat, but I admit I'm starting to feel a little better. Not quite so out-of-it. I still feel awful, but minus the fever and with the pain slightly subdued, I can sit up and eat the soup. Peeta and Haymitch do too. Sae heads home, and Effie paces around the kitchen, tidying and fretting until we hear a crash.
Haymitch bolts from his chair and rushes into the kitchen. Effie is passed out on the floor. We feel her head. She is burning up.
"Stupid woman. Stupid stupid," Haymitch curses. "Come on, sweetheart. Come on, wake up." Effie comes to almost immediately, and looks woozily up at Haymitch.
"Mr. Abernathy, your breath is atrocious."
We all laugh. We force fever pills and tea and soup into Effie, and then I tell her and Haymitch to go upstairs and take my mom's bed. They oblige and make their way up the stairs slowly, leaning on each other.
"Come on," I take Peeta by the hand and lead him upstairs. He looks confused the whole time. I chalk it up to the flu, but at the top of the stairs he freezes, staring at Prim's door.
"I honestly don't think I can sleep in there, Katniss. I think I'd rather just stay on the couch." He says quickly, tripping over his words.
"Don't be silly. You are staying with me." I open my bedroom door and head in.
"I'll just go home, Katniss. It's fine."
"It's not fine. You are sick, and so am I. Let's just sleep."
He follows me into my bedroom. I decide to take a bath before bed and soak the sick out of my skin. I go into my bathroom and run the water. I look back out, and Peeta is already under the covers, sleeping soundly. I let my body soak for a while, then towel off, throw on some fresh pajamas, and climb in bed. Peeta is sleeping with his back toward me. I can't help myself, and curl up into him. My knees hook behind his, my face lays on his shoulder. I lay my arm across his waist and hold him for a long while. I doze off. I wake when Peeta stirs. I feel his body stiffen suddenly when he realizes I'm wrapped around him. I pull back a little, and he rolls onto his other side to face me.
"I think I should go downstairs," he whispers.
"Maybe," I whisper back.
"Katniss?" he says.
"Mmhmm?" I mumble back, my eyelids drooping.
"Can I kiss you?"
I'm wide awake now. I feel a pit open up in my stomach. It's not a bad pit, though. It's fluttery. Maybe it's the fever. I'm not thinking straight when I whisper back, "okay."
I wait for a second. So does Peeta. He slowly inches forward until our front sides are pressed together. I was just pressed along his back a few minutes ago, but this seems more intimate. His rests one hand on my waist, and his thumb slips under my shirt and slowly caresses the skin of my midriff. The other cups my face. I don't know what to do with my hands, so I leave them awkwardly at my sides. He rubs his thumb gently over my lips, and it reminds me how I used to rub the pearl on my mouth back in 13. He moves his face slightly forward on his pillow, and finally he presses his mouth onto mine.
His lips are on fire. It reminds me of kissing him when he was fevered during our first Games. His mouth moves slowly with mine, and I find myself reciprocating. My stomach is doing flips. He presses into my hip bone with the hand on my waist, and I moan slightly into his mouth. His eyes open and meet mine. Maybe it's the flu, but his eyes are such a pale blue it reminds me of fog. There is a hunger there - I feel like we are picking up from where we left off with that kiss in the cave, before my head started bleeding and he made me lay down. There is something stirring there. That kiss was real. This kiss was real.
This is not keeping my distance.