Chapter 18
The next week arrives with the sound of warm conversations filled with remembrance and struggle to accept, and even some laughter. Then we know. We're not alone. A few hundred others return because, whatever has happened, this is our home. I recognize some faces from my past life here in the district, others belong to people I saw regularly in the hallways of District 13's lodging. A sweet knock on Peeta's door lets us know Delly Cartwright is back. She sounds cheery and excited to be back, but most of all, she doesn't stop talking about how impressed she is with Peeta's recovery.
"I knew being back here would be good for you," she tells Peeta. He just smiles and gently nudges me under the table. I barely have time to interpret his gesture, wondering if I'm part of his remedy, because she's turned her attention to me and won't stop talking about how proud Panem is of its Mockingjay.
"Thanks, Delly. I was just the face they used, though. Everybody fought together," I say, quietly thinking about the ones we lost in battle. Finnick and Boggs, and even the ones we lost in other ways, like Cinna and my sweet Prim.
"Everything you did was brave, Katniss. Coin wanted you to think you were just a symbol, but you know your actions contributed to winning the war. Even the television special on the district the other day recognized it," Delly mentions.
"What special?" I'm intrigued by it and can't help but think that Plutarch has something to do with this.
She talks about it casually; more concerned with trying all the different mini pies Peeta has baked. "Oh, the special they aired after the district's re-inauguration. You didn't see it? It was very touching. The shot of Peeta and you walking out of the Justice Building, a business license in his hands. That was very inspiring. I think it even motivated me to move back sooner."
"The shot of what?" Peeta shouts. I thought I'd be the one to turn red in rage, but he's mad and shocked. A hidden camera, I should have known. But Peeta couldn't suspect it, he wasn't exposed to Plutarch as much as I was in 13. He's only learning more about the tools Plutarch is willing to use to achieve his objectives now. Like the silver parachutes in the City Circle. Not only a terribly symbolic way to end a war, but also an almost bulletproof way to rule me out of the game. To finish breaking me. To ensure I wouldn't present any danger to the ambitions of a foul leader. Whether Plutarch was fully aware of it, or not.
"They're invading in our life again, Katniss! You see that?" Peeta protests with a small punch on the dining table.
I want to tell him it's okay. Better that than being forced to speak. I'll just talk to Haymitch later, see what he knows about it. Maybe he can try once more to keep Plutarch out of reach. We've had enough of gamemaker interventions for a lifetime. I don't say a word, though. Instead, I stare at Delly, who began giggling like a schoolgirl.
"Sorry," she says. "It's just that... Well, Peeta said our life, not our lives. Get it? I don't mean to pry, but I'm happy for the both of you," she sighs and smiles at us.
"Excuse me?" I say, now annoyed at whatever she insinuated. I wonder if this special she just mentioned painted us as a couple again, if Panem now expects us to run the bakery together, or even announce a new pregnancy. It's hard to figure out what I'm feeling if Plutarch is trying to do it on my behalf on a television screen.
The truth is what Peeta said was just a slip of the tongue, I barely noticed. I turn to him, expecting to hear a similar explanation, but he doesn't say a word. It's only after I kick him under the table that he explains he was referring to three of us, "Haymitch, Katniss, and myself. Like that banner, Delly. They won't leave us victors alone."
Delly seems to take his explanation, though there's a mesmerized look on her face every time Peeta and I talk to each other. When she leaves to settle into her new house, I take a deep breath of relief. All that staring was starting to make me uncomfortable. Especially since there isn't anything to speculate about. Peeta and I spend a lot of time together, awake or even asleep. But we're surely not a couple. Whenever my mind wonders about it, I'm reminded that any form of affection he's shown me can be simply interpreted as friendly. Unlike the games, there is no kissing anymore, no evidence of the romance that used to get us sponsors.
I catch myself desiring those kisses. It's been so long since I felt his soft lips, so reassuring. Convincing me that we could be safe at last. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I'd like for Delly's suspicions to be right. I've even tried harder to figure out if Peeta still likes me that way at all. The problem is, I wasn't good at making my intentions clear before, and I'm certainly no better now. Whatever these intentions may be, I think. After all, whenever I try to unravel what I'm feeling, I pull away of fear he doesn't feel the same. Afraid I took him for granted only to be denied a second chance.
It's close to midnight and I should head home and have a shower. Summer is not quiet over yet and it wants to ensure it makes a lasting impression before autumn takes over. I stand up to leave when something comes on television, as Peeta flips the channels. Probably looking for the cooking show he likes watching when it's late and sleep escapes him. We're on the screen, though it's not the special Delly had mentioned. It's footage from our victory tour. A special about Panem's living victors, "May we honour the dead and cherish the ones who overcame," the announcer says. I sit down again, upset they're still playing this card. With Plutarch as head of Panem's communications, I have a feeling he'll make us relive this as long as he can.
Peeta's watching attentively, seemingly waiting for either a new memory to pop up, or a painful flashback to nest itself in his brain. I better stay here, just in case it's the latter. I watch him swallow hard, and I wait for it. They show Johanna's interview at the Quell, Annie's impressive swimming during her games, and they dub Haymitch a "natural entertainer" when he falls off the stage during the reaping for the 74th games. Then they turn to Peeta and me. Our engagement on live television, the way we danced at the many parties we had to attend, and end the program with the two of us kissing at the beach in the arena. I watched our kisses in the cave alongside Caesar Flickerman before, but the beach moments feel more private. As if we'd forgotten there were cameras around. Or just simply didn't care. I'm disgusted that Plutarch would choose to showcase that to the whole country again.
Peeta's quiet, taking in everything he just saw. He slowly adjusts his prosthetic leg and stands up, offering me his hand. I assume he's inviting me to sleep upstairs, just like the night before, but he stays on the same spot. The credits for the television show are rolling in, a soft song in the background.
"Could I have this dance?" he says quietly.
"What?" I'm startled by this request.
"This dance, Katniss. I want to see if I still know how to dance." His voice is a mix of innocence and eagerness. As if not knowing if he still can dance is breaking his heart.
I stand up, bring myself closer, place one hand on his shoulder and he takes the other one in his. His posture is strong and he begins to lead me confidently, looking more and more like the Peeta we just watched on the television. We move from side to side, his body guiding mine. Peeta's beaming. Happy to confirm he still knows what he's doing, even as awkwardly as his leg can be when he tries to swing me around . I let him lead me until the song on the TV is over, when I use the remote to shut it off. But then, instead of breaking apart, he holds on to my waist so I can feel my chest against his. I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder, vaguely mindful of the sound of his heartbeat.
Although there is no song to serenade us, we dance for a long time. A soft rhythm from side to side, convinced that if we stopped, something bad would happen. Our unison motion the only way to keep our fears at bay. Then Peeta stops and we just stand in each other's arms, keeping each other safe. When he whispers in my ears, "I missed you," something wakes up within me. I feel braver, even if his words make my knees weaker. I kiss his neck and my lips touch the corner of one of his scars. If I ever needed a sign to finally grasp what I want, what I need, this was it. We make our bed right there on the sofa and slowly fall asleep. He untangles my hair and I listen to his every breath.
The next days are followed by more closeness. Even if I can't shake the feeling something is holding us back. A secret Peeta isn't telling me, a thought he hasn't shared. I tell myself I'm being paranoid and that kind of thinking might pull us apart again. I can't let it happen, not now when I can feel what we have steadily unwind into something new, perhaps bigger.
I decide to hunt, the woods being the place where I can best hear my thoughts. Peeta stays behind, preoccupied with the paperwork for his bakery. Since the letter arrived confirming he could have the same lot where his family's bakery once stood, he's begun planning every detail for construction. The blueprint he showed me retains the main characteristics of the old bakery, except this time nobody will live on the premises, leaving more room for the kitchen and a serving area.
I'm halfway to the fence when I see it. Better yet, I don't see it at all. The fence has been taken down, with only a warning sign for wildlife in the area. The same sign informs that the green area that separates the district from the woods will be eventually fenced again, but with bushes. Designed to keep the animals at bay, not district habitants. But for now, the open space unsettles me. Partly because how much more welcoming it looks, partly because it means the woods are open territory now. Anyone from the district may come and go as they please. I take a deep breath and realize that, as much as I thought of it as a private place, more people could use the resources available among the trees. Yet, I secretly, and selfishly, hope the wildlife warning discourages others from joining me.
The truth is the district is finally coming back to life. It might not ever be like the district I once new, but the goal is to make it better. A place of growth, not oppression. With the mines closed, they plow the ashes into the earth and plant food. Machines from the Capitol break ground for a new factory where we will make medicines. Although no one seeds it, the Meadow turns green again. I bring Peeta along and we sow the ground and plant primroses under a tree. I visit it from time to time, and even Buttercup runs over after he understands what the flowers are for. Plutarch isn't the only one who can make a symbolic statement, after all. If silver parachutes came down with the gift of destruction, soft yellow primroses can mark renewal and the strength to start all over again.
A/N: Thank you all for the reviews and nice pms. I'm genuinely touched by how kind you are. I'm moving right now, so it's been a tad too exhausting to write, but I hope to get to the end of this fanfiction by next week. To those who have expressed that they'll be sad to see it go, first of all thank you. But this won't be the last of the stories of how Peeta and Katniss grow back together. It's just that the premise of this specific fanfiction, to read in between lines, prevents me from streching it too much. There's only so much that could happen between "In the morning, he sits stoically as I clean the cuts, but digging the thorn from his paw brings on a round of those kitten mews" And "I tell him, Real" without becoming too repetitive. But after she does tell him real, I'll have more to write and in a separate piece. If you'd like to be aware of it, please add me to your author alerts. I should work on it sometime in July. Thank you all again!