Haymitch's admittance was unexpected and frankly broke my heart into a million pieces.
"It's a privilege to protect the two of you. You both are proof that as damaged as the Capitol has made us, you don't have to rely on alcohol or drugs or anything of the sort to rise above what they've tried to turn us into. You are proof that you don't have to end up like me. Protecting you is a privilege."
I honestly am at a loss of words. Haymitch has never been the kind of open person like Peeta is. He keeps it in; he stays in the darkness set in his own mind rather than embrace what could be. He is just like me in this way. But Peeta is always so good with his words.
"Well, protecting you is our privilege. You kept us alive when no one else would. You kept the both of us alive, through two impossible games and an impossible war. You saved her when I wanted her to be saved more than anything. You helped to get me back when she needed me. You helped me save my mind. You have been the stability in our lives that we never had before. And we still need you Haymitch. Our daughter needs you. This family, this family that you have preserved though all the odds were against us, we need you."
Haymitch averted Peeta's eyes and sought my own once again. "Do you want to put your mother at risk? Really and truly at risk?" I had been afraid of this question, and even more afraid of my answer. I was not good with words; I have never been able to accurately articulate what I am feeling. But I need to grow up and stop hiding behind excuses.
I find conviction in the silence that follows. "No. No I don't. But losing you without even trying is not an option. There is a possibility that you both will survive."
Suddenly, I am back in the arena. Claudius Templesmith has just informed me both Peeta and I can make it out alive. I feel that flame of hope rise within me, threatening to overwhelm everything else inside of me. I find Peeta. I protect him. I preserve him. And then Claudius has changed his mind. The Capitol has changed their mind. I have to kill Peeta or I have do die. One thing or nothing. But there is always a third option. The berries. All or nothing. Even as I put the berries into my mouth, I wondered if I had made the right decision. Would the Capitol choose to let us both die anyway? But no, they are far too selfish for that. They would rather prolong our lives. Make us into their pets. Keep us at their sides. What if they had chosen differently?
Prim would still be alive. I would be dead. Peeta would be dead. Amy would not exist.
"It may only be a possibility, but you know it's a strong one. More than likely, you both will be just fine. It's a risk I am willing to take." Just like with the berries, I will take my all or nothing chance.
"I'm willing Haymitch. But you have to be too."
He says nothing, taking in everything Peeta and I have given him to think about. For at least ten minutes there is not a sound, hardly a feeling other than the beeping of the machines hooked up to Haymitch and the feel of Peeta's hand in mind. Twenty minutes. Silence and hands. My legs itch to rest and I eye the chair pushed against the wall. Peeta follows me and pulls us to the chair; I end up in his lap and we resume staring at Haymitch, just waiting. Thirty minutes. Haymitch lays back and looks at the ceiling. I think he's finally going to speak but still, nothing. He just lays there, eyes up and thinking.
"I want to talk to your mother." I nod. I assumed just as much.
I am not allowed in the room while Haymitch and mom discuss their options. I am left in the hall, fretting over the words being spoken just through the door. Peeta won't let me press my ear against it.
"Let them talk. They need to."
"Oh sure, I agree with you. But why can't I hear? They can talk just fine with my ear against the door. They won't even know."
He smiles and just keeps his arm locked around my waist. "Katniss, come on." I huff. "Fine, but if they don't reach a verdict, and one I like things for today will not end pretty." He chuckles into my hair, causing goosebumps on my arms. I move away from him. "Quit distracting me!" He just laughs some more.
"Oh, I'm glad this is funny for you." I cross my arms and throw myself down into a chair. He kneels down next to me and turns my face to look at his. "I'm just as scared as you are, you know." I roll my eyes and am tempted to stick out my tongue in defiance. "I am. I'm just trying not to show it. I'm trying to make you smile or make you laugh. By distracting you, I'm distracting myself."
I continue to glare at him, but I know it isn't as strongly as before. This is affecting him just as much as it is me. "Alright, keep trying." He kisses just below my ear. "While affective, I don't think you should start something we can't finish right now," I whisper breathlessly. His low chuckle vibrates my cheeks with his lips still against my neck. The goosebumps are back.
"Whatever works is what I'm sticking with," he says, moving his lips against mine. My fingers are in his hair and I move closer to him. I forget we are in the hallway of a very public place. I forget for just an inkling of a second. And then the door opens and my mother finds me wrapped around Peeta in a very unlady-like way. I ignore the redness I feel envelope my cheeks and stay just the way I am in Peeta's embrace. It's all I can do not to vomit actually. If I move, the room will spin and I will hear the words I am terrified to hear.
"He's agreed to the surgery."
I am torn in half. More like into thirds. The three possibilities are so openly in front of me now. One. Nothing. All. Much like in the arena, I have feelings I cannot begin to understand, options and decisions that will forever outline the future in ways I have not yet even considered. Everything could end badly. Everything could end.
"We consulted with the doctor. We're going to operate tomorrow."
I buckle in Peeta's arms. "So soon?" She nods. "He really shouldn't wait any longer than he already has," she says sadly.
"Is he really so limited with the time he has left?"
She doesn't have to say a word. I can see it in her eyes. "That close to death and we didn't know it," I whisper more to myself than anyone else. I tighten my grip on Peeta. What if I lost him? What would I do? For just a moment I picture my life without Peeta. A life without my husband is not a life I want to live. But I have a daughter now. A beautiful bouncing daughter who is so full of laughter and nearly a year old and the perfect combination of Peeta and I. If I ever lost Peeta, I'd be beside myself with grief. But I have Amy to think of. And where my mother was not able to with me, I will raise her. I feel my eyes start to tear up. Ugh. This is all hypothetical. I will notlose Peeta; it is not even an option. A life without this man by my side is not in the cards for me.
I do this all the time. I think of the worst possible option, harping on it, forcing myself into a sadness that has no reason to exist. I should be happy right now! I will not lose Haymitch. I will not lose my mother. They both will be fine. Everything will be fine. It has to be. It has to be. It has to be. Anything else is just not an option.
Mother stays at the hospital that night, preparing for the next day. When Peeta and I walk through our front door with Amy in our hands, it's all we can do not to collapse on the floor. We are exhausted. It has been a very emotionally tiring day. I get Amy dressed in her pajamas and hold her against me. She sees Peeta walk up to us and smiles, holding her arms out. "Dada."
He takes her from and she wraps her tiny arms around his neck. Everything has to be perfect. It just does. I lean forward and kiss Peeta quickly on the lips. He tucks me under his other arm and I am lost in the bliss of this moment. This perfect undamaged moment with my husband and my daughter. Anything could change in a matter of seconds.
A minute. An hour. In our case, one day will change everything.
Together we put Amy to bed and flick the light off in her room. I walk into the kitchen, beginning to clean the dishes from this morning. Peeta dries as I wash. We are so domestic now it is shocking. We are war veterans. Rebellion starters. And we are doing the dishes while our child sleeps in the next room over. This ordinary life of ours is so extraordinary I sometimes have a hard time fathoming it. I got everything I ever wanted that I never wished for. And now apart of it is crumbling away. "No!" Peeta stops drying the dishes and looks over at me.
I hadn't realized I voiced this out loud. "I keep thinking the worst," I explain, my voice hardly above a whisper. I see the muscles in his arm clench as he grips the counter. Not now. For just a few seconds, he holds onto the counter edge so tightly, I wonder if he might break a piece of it off. Peeta hasn't had an episode since that day six months ago, when Amy was still only a baby. I drop the dish I have in my hand into the sink, water splashing up onto my arms and Peeta's. My hands are still wet as I bring them around Peeta's waist, pulling him from the counter. Together, we sink to the floor, his head finding its way to my lap. This is how we spend most of his flashbacks.
I begin to hum the Meadow Song, my fingers brushing up and down his cheek. There are no tears in his eyes and his hands soon relax against mine. "Peeta?"
His fingers stop mine from touching his cheek and he instead kisses my palm. "I'm here." I breathe a sigh of a relief. Although this time his flashback may have been brief, I am still terrified. Again, my mind conjures up the worst. What if he hadn't come out of it?
He smiles sadly as if he knows what I am thinking. He probably does. "I've said it a million times by now, but always."
"Always," I whisper in agreement, hugging him close to me. He sits up and hugs me back. We just hold each other for what could have been hours. I don't really know. I vaguely remember being carried into the bedroom and being tucked in. I remember rolling over into Peeta's side and I remember his arm slipping around me to hold me even more. I don't remember sleeping. I remember waking up. I remember the phone ringing. I remember hoping for the best. I remember something shattering on the floor. I remember Amy crying.
Peeta rushes back into the room. "They had to do emergency surgery on him Katniss. They said we should come to the hospital." I can hardly breathe. Hardly any breath. When did the air get so thin?
"Haymitch?" Peeta just looks at me and my world collapses when he answers me. "It's not Haymitch Katniss. It's your mom."
I had briefly considered this option. Maybe not briefly, but it was not as big of a concern to me as Haymitch's health. My mother is healthy, perfectly healthy. She had all the time in the world. She is the embodiment of health. Was. Was perfectly healthy. Now she is imperfect. She is not whole. She is broken again.
"Is she…is she alive?" Peeta nods, and the relief I feel is so intoxicating I can hardly keep myself from screaming. "They…they don't know how long she will last Katniss. She's slipping away."
She's slipping away. Again. She's leaving me. Again. I must have passed out because the next thing I can remember is Peeta pressing a cool cloth to my forehead. I glance over at the clock and realize I was only out of it for a few minutes. I try to sit up, but I nearly throw up from being so dizzy. I fall back against the pillow, waiting for the room to stop spinning. I am too stressed. This shouldn't be happening. This was a bad way to wake up. Everything just keeps escalating, getting worse and worse. "Can you get Amy ready? I'll be down stairs shortly. I just…I need a minute."
He kisses me lightly and leaves the room to go get our daughter. I place my hands over my stomach, willing the nausea away. There are promises to keep and a future to maintain. My child will have her grandmother around. She has to.
Don't die Mom. Please. Don't die.
Author's Note: Only one chapter left…and an epilogue! This has been such a crazy journey. It started off as a oneshot for goodness' sakes! I LOVE YOU ALL AND YOUR REVIEWS KEEP ME HONEST. I feel a little like a hooker. You give me love and I give it back. So a classy hooker. A hooker who's in it for the love, not the money (that's not a hooker that's a relationship…)….I just called us all hookers didn't I…REVIEWS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME.