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Haymitch hauls them to the kitchen table after he's called Delly and the boy, Dalton, back in. She can hear them moving around in the living room and gets up, without a word to Haymitch, and hisses at Delly, "Put that damn clock away. What the hell were you thinking?" Delly is ashen, upset, and she nods consent.
"I…I forgot," she stutters, and Katniss glares at her until she looks away.
"That must be a nice luxury," she snaps, "being able to forget."
Then she rejoins Haymitch and Peeta at the table.
In some small part of her brain, she knows this isn't Delly's fault, that she probably forgets the clock in their second arena, has more important things on her mind than Peeta's pearl. But she's furious that Delly's even here, that these people are going to live in Victor's Village, that her time with Peeta is ending. Because he'll choose someone else, she's sure of it.
Haymitch is in full-on mentoring mode, and she can tell he's beyond pissed that he didn't know about this. He likes Peeta better, never tried to deny it, and he's mad that she's been handling this without any help. She raises her chin (the memory of Cinna strong), and glares at Haymitch. Peeta is still wilting, exhausted, and she gets him a glass of water, wordlessly daring Haymitch to command her to sit down, to command her to do anything at all. He waits until she's given Peeta his water and sat down beside him to chew her out.
"What the hell was that?" he spits at her. Peeta looks surprised. She's not sure if he's more surprised that Haymitch didn't know or that Haymitch's anger is directed solely at her.
"That was Peeta, having an episode," she tells him, her voice as deadly as his. "You may not have noticed, but after the hijacking, he had some side effects."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me? Did you tell anyone?"
"I didn't want to tell anyone." Peeta's voice is hoarse but firm, and she looks at him worriedly. He's so weak after his episodes; she squeezes his hand under the table. "I don't want anyone else. I only want her."
She glows, flushed but exhilarated by his words. This doesn't go unnoticed by Haymitch, which pisses her off because it's none of his business.
"That's nice," Haymitch snarls, sarcastically, "but did either of you star-crossed lovers think about the fact that you were programmed to kill her and only her?"
They shrug in unison.
"She could take me," he mutters, and Haymitch scoffs. He's furious, Katniss realizes, not only because he wasn't told, but also because he's genuinely worried about her.
"He's never tried to hurt me," she tells him, a rush of affection making the words spill out. "Never. He's even gentler than usual."
"But he still thinks you killed his family."
Well, there's no denying that: he just saw it happen. He turns on Peeta, his wrath subdued somewhat by silencing Katniss.
"They all about her?" he asks brusquely.
"Yes, but…" Peeta's muttering, blushing, and she suddenly knows that she doesn't want Haymitch to hear this. "I love her the most. That's why they're all about her."
The chair hitting the floor as Haymitch jumps to his feet, his fists slamming on the table, makes her jump but it scares the hell out of Peeta. He whimpers, wraps his arm around her waist, his face in her neck, shaking like a leaf. He clings to her for dear life, as if he's still in the middle of his episode. She puts a comforting hand on his back, rubbing it, but she's more focused on how pissed she is at Haymitch.
"He just had an episode! What the hell's wrong with you?"
"What is wrong with you?" Haymitch explodes. "He doesn't have episodes about you because he loves you, he has them because he was programmed that way!"
"It's not because of any programming or hijacking!" Peeta insists, facing Haymitch but still clinging to her, his voice shaking. He's angry. Even with the gravity of the situation, she can't help but notice how incredible he looks when he's angry.
"Right," scoffs Haymitch, disgusted at Peeta's unshakable faith in his love for her, in Katniss' unshakable faith in her ability to survive anything, "the Capitol has nothing to do with this. This is what true love always looks like. Obviously, I'm the deluded one here. What the hell are you thinking?" He's whirled on her now, and she glares at him, not wavering.
"You're the one who told me he needs me," she says, and though it might be mean (she doesn't do it because he needs her, she does it because she loves him), it has the desired effect. For the first time, Haymitch looks shaken.
"Go help Delly unpack," he tells Peeta, and Katniss begins to protest before she realizes that it's exactly what she wants: to talk to Haymitch, make him understand in a way she can't in front of Peeta. She and Haymitch make drunken promises in the middle of the night, and if they're really going to solve this, they can't have any of Peeta's brightness, any of his hope. He nods, and she feels something she can't remember feeling in a long time, but she pushes it aside. She can't worry about Peeta and Delly; she has to convince Haymitch she's right.
As soon as he's out of earshot (though not too far, because she can still hear Delly gushing over him), Haymitch looks at her, eyebrows raised. She sighs.
"I can't leave him alone," she admits, her voice soft. "You gave me hell for leaving him alone in the arena, and it's…it's just as bad." She feels an immense catharsis in confessing this: that the moment Peeta sinks into an episode, he's once again a piece in their Games, and by extension, so is she.
"What happens if you're not there?" he asks, and his voice is quiet. She always marvels at the shorthand she and Haymitch speak in, whether it's with or without words.
"Last time I wasn't there, he stabbed himself in the hand," she shoots back. Haymitch sighs.
"Well, why can't you come get me? Maybe I could—"
"Dammit, Haymitch," she growls, "I can't leave him, can't go anywhere when he's like that! I don't have time to show up at your door like a scared little girl and ask for your goddamn help!"
"He is going to hurt you," Haymitch growls at her, "and I'm offering you an out, sweetheart."
"I don't want your out," she hisses at him. "And even if I did, you'd be drunk. I invited you over for dinner a month ago and you still haven't showed up, because you're drunk all the—"
"Oh, knock it off," he interrupts, "Stop pretending you wouldn't be me if it weren't for him." He's right: she would be. She sighs.
"Look," she says, "we need each other, because he's actually glad there's people here. You need to be my ally." He nods; this was never up for debate.
"Maybe, if we're a team, we can get them to leave," she suggests. This would be perfect: the three of them, the deranged and the drunk, alone in the only place she's ever felt at home. Peeta will bake. Haymitch will drink. She will…but the way Haymitch shakes his head, suddenly avoiding her eyes, tells her far more than she wanted to know.
"They're not going anywhere, are they?" she asks. Her voice comes out deadly, the sound reminding her of her bowstring taut before a kill. He shakes his head again, glances around for alcohol (as though the first thing Delly would move in would be liquor—she's supposed to be the deluded one?). She waits him out, lets full minutes pass while he avoids her gaze, and when he finally makes eye contact, he sinks into a chair as if her hateful gaze has physically wounded him.
"You son of a bitch," she hisses. "You knew? You knew! And you didn't warn us? Where the hell do you get off being pissed at me for keeping things from you? What the hell is your problem?"
She's having trouble keeping her voice down, desperately does not want Peeta to hear this. She's the one who is identical Haymitch, who understands his damage, but she is too mad to understand right now. She drains the glass of water Peeta left on the table.
"When did they call you?" she asks, trying to keep her voice level. He sighs.
"About a week ago. Asked how you were. If I'd known he was like this, I wouldn't have—"
"Shut the hell up," she snaps. He does. "If you'd had the decency to tell us, you would've known this a hell of a lot sooner."
"I was trying to protect you," he mutters, his voice soft. "You said I was still your mentor."
She's not sure whether she wants to punch him or burst into tears. She did say that; she meant it. He's the closest thing she has to a parent now. But why the hell doesn't he trust her? Why couldn't he have told her this, given her some warning?
"Did they ask if we were stable or did they just tell you people were moving back?" she asks, and she wants to put the venom back in her voice, but she's drained. She's suddenly as exhausted as she is after a nightmare. This is a nightmare.
"They told me they were coming back eventually, asked if you two were stable enough to handle the first wave now. I told them you were."
"We're not," she replies automatically, but her mind is fixed on something else. First wave?
"There will be more then?" she demands. He nods.
"They—well, okay, Paylor—wanted to give you time to…to, uh…" He has no idea how to phrase it.
"To regain sanity?" she suggests. "To stop assassinating the wrong person? To stop singing while I starve myself to death? To stop hallucinating the ghost of my dead sister? To-"
"Neither of you were stable enough to be around people," he says, interrupting her. "Dr. Aurelius suggested you be left in solitude, or some semblance of it, for awhile. Said you…uh, both of you…weren't ready yet."
The way he's avoiding her eyes tells her everything. They held off on returning because she wasn't stable enough. They did this for her. Peeta wasn't a danger anymore, if they sent him back here with her. He loves people, always has, and if their doctor deemed him stable enough to be around her, he's stable enough to be around anyone. It's her, the crazy soldier who killed the wrong president, their damaged Mockingjay; she needed the time in solitude. They slowed the progression of the district for her. She wants to feel gratitude, but mostly, she just feels sick.
"I'm still not ready," she mutters, but the words stick in her throat. This is Delly's home, Greasy's Sae's home, Thom's home. It belongs to them just as much as it belongs to her. And she's the one who made them wait, after everything they've been through, to come back home. She didn't have to wait, despite the fact that she's the damaged one, the destructive one. She is an inferno, destroying everything, not even considering anyone but herself as long as the flames are still burning. Finally, she is starting to get an idea of the effect she can have.
Haymitch clears his throat.
"Yeah, well, I'm not ready for company either. And I'm only being your ally if you keep me informed about him and let me help," says Haymitch gruffly. Clearly his time being her gentle mentor, her only remaining parent, has come to a close.
"I'm not running over to your place every time he has an episode," she tells him, and a bit of the anger is back in her voice. It may be fake, but it certainly makes her sound stronger.
"So, why don't we agree that you'll come over more often, and then you can figure out how to help me from there?" The way she says it makes it sound like she might need his help, but it seems to make him happy. Maybe he just needs to be needed.
"Is it getting better?" he whispers. This is what his agreement hinges on. And, though it isn't, she says, "Yes."
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