"I still don't know if this is such a good idea."
I suppress a smile and turn to look at her from my seat at the kitchen table. "Katniss, you agreed. I already told my Dad that you would take the job. Do you want to leave him hanging?"
Katniss snatches my empty coffee cup from my hand, whirling with it to the sinkful of soapy water she has waiting. In the few weeks that she's been here, she's made the dishes her job; I guess since I do most of the cooking.
She scowls at me, scrubbing furiously, bubbles flying all over the counter. "Of course not. But… I'm not good with people. How do you expect me to sell things to them?"
I swallow my last bite of toast and laugh. "It's mostly just taking money from people and handing the goods over. Most people can't be bothered to talk much; they want to get in and out. Just think of it like a trade." I take her my plate, which she grabs and starts washing vigorously.
"Fine," she says tensely. "But if I scare away all your dad's customers, it's your own fault."
"I'll take full responsibility," I say solemnly, reaching out to give her dark braid a playful tug, leaning to plant a kiss in the tender spot behind her ear. "Take it easy on those dishes, tiger. I only have the one set."
She sighs. "I'm done anyway." She pulls the plug and moves to grab a drying cloth.
"Leave it," I say, taking it from her hand and depositing it in the drying rack beside the sink. I take both of her hands in mine, tugging her towards me.
She leans into me for just a second before pulling away and rolling her eyes. "C'mon. I don't want to be late for my first day."
I catch her hips and pull her back to me, pressing myself against her back. "We have a little time," I whisper hoarsely, nuzzling her neck. "It's not a long walk."
"Peeta…"she protests half-heartedly, but her actions betray her words. Her hand slides up as if of its own accord to press against the back of my head, pulling me closer to her as she tips her head back, exposing the long column of her slender neck. She pushes her hips back to rub against me and I can feel myself hardening through my jeans.
I slide my left hand up her body, trailing my fingers over her until my thumb grazes the bottom of her breast. She gasps, pushing her ass back into me, trying to find friction. I'm completely hard now and I grind against her, circling my right arm around her tiny waist and pulling her into me.
Impatient as always, she grabs my left hand in hers and, weaving our fingers together, cups her breast with both our hands. I chuckle and lean down to catch her earlobe between my teeth. A little moan bursts out of her lips and a shudder runs down her spine.
"Now," she pants softly, letting go of me to unbutton her pants. "Now, now, now."
She pushes her pants down and kicks them off her feet. "In a hurry are we?" I laugh huskily, but she just whirls around and rips my jeans and shorts down too. She throws herself on me, kissing me violently, pulling at my bottom lip with her teeth and making my groin ache. I slide my hand between us and dip my finger inside her, hearing her moan; she's already so wet.
"Jesus, Katniss," I whisper hoarsely.
"Fuck, Peeta, now!"
With a guttural sound almost like a growl, I spin her around, bending her over the counter top. I fumble in my pocket and cover myself with a condom, then sheath myself in her to the hilt. She cries out, her fingers curling helplessly on the smooth countertop, scrabbling for purchase. "Yes," she breathes, pushing her hips back to meet me hard.
I can tell that this will be over quickly. I pound into her and she bucks her hips back to meet me, crying out with each thrust. I feel her closing around me and tension building deep in my belly, so I slide my hand around her hip to circle on her clit. In just minutes she is practically howling, her walls clenching around me as I follow her into oblivion, seeing stars and slumping down over her back.
We rest there, both breathing heavily. She reaches her hand behind herself to cup my cheek and I kiss the back of her neck tenderly. I slide out of her and dispose of the condom, then go back to her, wrapping my arms all the way around her as she turns to slide her arms around my waist.
"I love you," I whisper into her hair, inhaling her scent which is part my shampoo and part pure Katniss.
She is silent, but after a moment, I think I feel her smile against my chest. "I know," she says, and kisses my chest through my t-shirt.
"Well, we'd better go," I say, letting go of her and grabbing my boxer briefs and jeans off the floor.
She lets out an exaggerated sigh but bends to scoop her own pants and underwear off the ground, pulling them back on. "Now I don't want to go anywhere," she grumbles as she fastens the button on her jeans.
I cock an eyebrow at her, fighting back a smug smile. "Oh? And what would you rather be doing all day?"
She scowls, a dusky flush rising in her cheeks. "You know."
"I don't think I do," I say, letting my grin spread over my face. "Care to elaborate?"
She rolls her eyes, pressing her lips together to hide her own smile. "Come on, idiot," she says, pulling her coat on and heading to the door.
The bakery is close enough to my apartment that we can walk there. It's brisk out, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. After a few blocks, she finally asks the question that I know she's been squirming about for at least five blocks. "Does your dad know? About me?"
"What, that you ran away from your mother's house because you were being chased by thugs? No."
"What about…" she hesitates, then makes a vague gesture between us, color rising in her cheeks.
She seems so flustered that I can't help but laugh. "Does he know that we're screwing every night?" She punches me on the arm. "Ow. Well, I didn't tell him any dirty details but he knows you've been living with me, so I'm guessing he assumes a certain amount." I pause uneasily. We haven't discussed this at all, and even though I know what I want, I don't think Katniss does, yet.
"I think he thinks you're my… girlfriend," I finish hesitantly. "I hope that's okay... I didn't bother to contradict him. He'll ask fewer questions if that's what he thinks."
She nods. "I guess that's simplest."
I want to ask what the fuck we are, but I don't. Coward.
A bell rings as we swing open the door of the shop and step inside. My dad comes practically bounding out of the back room with a huge smile spread across his good natured face.
"Hey guys! How was the walk?"
"Pretty good. Refreshing. Dad, this is Katniss."
He smiles warmly, dusting his perpetually floury palms off on his apron and reaching out to shake the hand that she thrusts awkwardly at him. I put my arm around her slender shoulders and I feel her press into my side as she tries a smile.
"Hi, Mr. Mellark," she says.
"So great to have you here, Katniss," he answers, shaking her hand a little too vigorously. "I hope my son has been taking care of you."
Her grey eyes dart up to me with panic and then back to him, and she flushes. I cover my laugh with a cough as she answers hesitantly, "Y-Yes, he's been… great."
Dad's eyes flit over to mine, twinkling, then back to her. If possible, his smile gets even bigger. "Well, let's get started," he says, prying her out from under my arm and showing her where she can put her coat in the back room. "Peet, you can get started on today's prep," he casts as an afterthought over his shoulder as they disappear behind the door. I shake my head and laugh, pulling off my scarf and stuffing it into the arm of my coat and following them more slowly.
Dad gives Katniss the tour, shows her the register, teaches her how to ring in the purchases. It's a slow day, but she does well with the few customers there are. I spend my day in the back, prepping and putting the finishing touches on some fondant flowers for a wedding cake commission that's due for this weekend, so I don't get to see her much all day. I wonder how she's doing but remember that not only is my dad hovering over her like she's a new kitten, but she happens to be a woman who survived on the streets by herself, with angry drug dealers after her. I'm sure she can handle taking cash and giving the old ladies their bread.
Closing time comes finally, and I hang up my apron, trudging wearily through the door into the front. Katniss is laughing, no doubt at some stupid joke my father just told.
Despite my weariness at the long day, I feel my mouth curve into a smile of its own accord. This feels right somehow, Katniss with me at the bakery, laughing at my dad's dumb jokes. It feels like family.
I wrap my arms around her where she sits on the stool at the front counter, kissing her cheek. "Hi."
She smiles and turns to look up at me. "Hi," she replies, closing her eyes and pursing her lips for a kiss. Instead of lowering my lips to hers - which is of course, what I really want to do - I reach up and dab her nose with flour from my dirty hands.
She is so surprised that a genuine, happy laugh bursts from her mouth and she lurches off the stool away from me. I dodge a half-hearted attempt at a slap and dart in to fold her in my arms, pressing a reverent kiss to her brow.
The days continue to pass like this, slowly and then faster, fall hurtling towards winter at breakneck speed. Katniss works at the bakery; I got to school and join her in the evenings and weekends. At night, I sketch her for my classes and we make love every which way we can. And I am blissfully, ridiculously, deliriously happy that I decided to walk home from the bar that night last month.
It's November now, and the ground is covered by a soft blanket of snow. It's still warm enough that we can walk though, and Katniss and I make the trek home from the bakery together, our gloved fingers clasped together, booted feet crunching softly in the crisp whiteness that coats the sidewalks.
Katniss is telling me about one of the customers she had to deal with today, grumbling in that adorable, grumpy way she has, about the ridiculous order she had to take. "Cats!" she blurts out huffily, gesturing wildly with her free hand. "She wants fondant cats! On her goddamn cake!"
I suppress a laugh as we round the corner to our street. "Well, it'll be an interesting challenge, that's for sure."
"Interesting? Is that code for 'stupid'?" she retorts. This time I can't keep my laughter down, and the glare she shoots up at me only makes me laugh harder. I lift our clasped hands and kiss the back of hers, and her brow smoothes, the corner of her mouth twitching, before she looks away.
Suddenly she stops in her tracks and I'm jolted to a stop by her hand in mine, her fingers clenching me painfully through our gloves. Her face is drained of all color.
"What?" I ask, worriedly. "Katniss, what's wrong?" She doesn't answer, just raises her free hand to point down the street ahead of us.
My car, sitting at the curb outside of our apartment building, has been smashed to shit. Snowflakes drift lazily in the windows through the gaping holes where the glass once was, and I can see wide, white rips in the seats where the upholstery has been slashed. Red spray-painted graffiti - and not the artistic kind, either - defaces the trunk, hood and side panels. Someone's really taken their time with this, really enjoyed it. This isn't just a random act of vandalism; it's a message.
I know who it must have been; that fucker that I beat the shit out of, the week that I first brought Katniss home. I was foolish enough to think that it was over after that night, stupid to even hope it would be that easy. I should've gone to the cops, should've moved in with my Dad, should've taken Katniss and ran with her to another fucking state.
"Go upstairs," I tell her, pulling my phone from my coat pocket.
"What are you doing?" Katniss asks.
"Calling the police. We're going to tell them everything."
I expect her to protest, but for once, she doesn't, and there's a look in her eyes as she turns away from me that I've never seen before, not when I first met her, not when that guy pushed her way into my apartment. Both those times, even beaten and bloodied, all I ever saw was defiance, but this is something else. It shakes me, because behind those grey irises is something that doesn't match up with the Katniss I know... and it's fear.
I'm shaken from my reverie when a marked police car pulls up to the curb in front of me, stopping a few feet behind the bumper of my car. And imagine my surprise when the door opens and Gale fucking Hawthorne steps out, still looking as dark and dangerous and handsome as he did when we were teens.
When we were in school together, I hated the guy on principle, just because he got to spend time with Katniss. And spend time together they did; besides Prim, he seemed to be the only person that she spent any amount of time with. At the time, I suspected that there was something going on between them, and I still don't know for sure.
This day could not get any fucking worse.
"Hey Mellark," he says, and I feel a small amount of relief that at least he fucking remembers me.
"Gale," I say grimly, and shake the hand that he extends to me. "It's been a while."
"That it has. How're things?"
I raise my eyebrows pointedly and wave a hand towards the beat up remains of what used to be my car. "I've had better days," I reply caustically.
He barks out a humorous laugh. "Yeah, I guess so."
He takes my statement about how we found the car and has a good look at the mess that's been made of the vehicle. I dance around the truth, trying to avoid having to tell him that his former friend and maybe more is up in my apartment right now, and at the heart of everything. I almost consider letting him go before he sees Katniss, but I know that that's not an option. This has to end.
"Wait," I say, as he starts to make his way back towards his squad car. "You have to talk to Katniss, too."
He stares at me blankly for a second before my words seem to register. "Katniss? Katniss Everdeen?"
I stop myself before I blurt out Yeah, how many Katniss' do you know, asshat? and just nod. "Yeah, she's upstairs."
His eyebrows jump towards his hairline, surprised, and his mouth pops open as if he's about to speak, before he wipes the expression from his face. "Lead the way," he says, gruffly, and I turn to unlock the door, pulling my keys from my jacket pocket.
He follows me up the stairs to our apartment and I can feel him looming behind me, casting his shadow over me already. His unspoken question What the hell is Katniss Everdeen doing with you? radiates from him to me.
Katniss is in the kitchen when we walk in the door, and she's wearing my pajama pants low on her hips, with one of my t-shirts. The clothes are way too big for her, but still the sexiest thing I've ever seen her wear, aside from nothing. I'm glad she still wears my clothes even though she has her own now, and I hope Hawthorne will get out of my house quick so that I can rip them off with my teeth and get started on forgetting this stupid day.
"Hey," she says, when she hears the door open. "I made us hot cho-" she turns and stops abruptly when she sees our guest following me in the door.
"Hey Catnip," he says with a grin that even I have to (begrudgingly) admit, is handsome. "Long time no see."
"Gale!" she runs and folds her arms around him, her mouth curved into an answering smile. "What are you doing here?"
"I got the call about Peeta's car." Oh, so I'm Peeta now, okay. Nice to know that I warrant a first name with Catnip around. "He said I needed to talk to you, too."
Her face falls, and she looks at me for confirmation. I nod. "Katniss, we can't keep going like this. You need to tell him everything, from the beginning."
She sits down with him at the coffee table and I go to shower and change. When I get back, they're leaning close together, talking in low voices. They look like two pieces of a matched set, with their dark hair and grey eyes, and it gives me a pang somewhere in the vicinity of my stomach. My hot chocolate sits forgotten, and I decide just to go straight to bed.
Sometime after 2 am, I wake up to Katniss' mouth around my cock. We fuck furiously, desperately, after which, we lie silently side by side, both pretending to sleep. There is something hanging in the air between us, though I have no idea what it is. I push it out of my mind, tell myself I am imagining things, that Katniss isn't clinging to me harder than normal, that I am imagining the way her desperate kisses feel like an apology, and an end.
Sundays are our days together, and we usually spend them relaxing and just enjoying being together. But today, a feeling of unease hovers over us, left over from last night. I know that we should talk about what happened, that I should find out what Gale said, if anything, but by some unspoken agreement, we both avoid the subject like the plague.
We eat breakfast in silence, and then she mumbles something about laundry before disappearing from the kitchen. To distract myself from my uneasiness, I start on some of my homework, hoping that I can throw myself into the lines and the shading and push the worries out of my mind until they're gone. It works, a little, as I let my worries and my fears drain out onto the parchment.
"Peeta," her voice interrupts my reverie.
I look up at her from my drawing and the smile dies on my face. She's got her coat on and a bag with what I assume is all her possessions slung over her shoulder. I feel my face drain of color as my stomach drops. I set down my pencil and stand, going over to her. She won't meet my eyes, staring at an empty spot on the linoleum floor.
"You're leaving?" I ask. I want to reach out to her, take her bag from her so she can't leave, shake some sense to her, or maybe fuck her until she screams my name. Of course, I do none of those things, just stand there stupidly with my hands dangling helplessly at my sides.
She nods, her gaze locked on my left shoulder. My eyes close involuntarily, and I can feel the burning starting behind my eyelids.
"Why? Why now?" I ask, keeping my eyes closed, trying to keep the tears from showing. "I thought…" my voice trails off. I don't know what I thought, but whatever it was, I hate myself for thinking it.
Her tongue darts out nervously to lick lips that are parched and dry. "I called my mom. She's better now and I think it's time to go," she says evasively. I open my eyes then, trying to find something, anything on her face that will give me a clue as to what's going on in her mind.
What the… "What about the dealers that are looking for her, that came after you?"
She shrugs. "She said the neighbors finally called the cops and they took care of it. All the people who were after her are in jail now; they won't come after us." I wish I could believe that but she's a terrible liar. But why would she lie about something like this?
And then it hits me, all the feelings I had that day that I woke to find her gone rushing back to me. Except this time, it's true. She just doesn't want to be with me any more. I've imagined it, dreamed it all up. The realization is like a knife in my gut. Maybe this has something to do with seeing Gale yesterday, after so long of being apart. Maybe she's remembered how much they have in common, and realized how little she has in common with me.
"Umm… I don't want you to think I'm not grateful, because I am," she goes on, her eyes settling on the floor at my feet. "I know that I'd be lost without you. But you've done enough for me and I think it's time to go."
I want to not believe her. I want to yell at her until she admits that there's something else going on. But the trouble is that it's too easy to believe that she doesn't want me, that she never really wanted me. Everything she said - which was shockingly little to begin with - was a lie, a lie to stay alive. And I find that I can't even be angry at her for it.
I've been waiting for this day since the first night I carried her shrunken body back to my apartment. I never expected her to stay with me, never thought that she would ever feel the same way about me. It was only a matter of time before something or someone was the last straw. Somehow though, knowing it's going to happen doesn't ever come close to actually experiencing it.
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handful of cash. "Here," she says, holding it out to me. "I don't want to owe you anything. This is everything I earned at the bakery."
I'm shaking my head before she's even done speaking. "No, Katniss. I don't want your money. You need it more than I do."
Her eyes meet mine for the first time and she glares at me. "Just take it, Peeta, okay?"
No. No way. She can leave me if she wants but I'm not taking money for it like some whore. I can't beg her to stay, but I can refuse to take anything from her. I stare back at her stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest. She huffs in frustration and deposits the cash on the table in front of me and turns to go.
I stare down at the money on the table for a moment, dropping my hands to my sides limply. This is all that's left of Katniss Everdeen, of this whirlwind... thing that we had together; a sad little pile of green paper that I don't even want.
No. I have to know for sure.
I dart after her; she's already at the door, ready to go. I catch her wrist at the last second and she freezes where she stands, but still doesn't look at me. "Katniss," I plead, hating that it sounds like begging, but she won't look at me. I swallow hard. "Do you remember what I said, in the cemetery? I told you that I would let you go if you really wanted to go. Do you? Really want to go?" She doesn't answer but I can feel her body tense, and then she yanks her wrist from my grasp.
"Goodbye, Peeta," she says, and I think I hear a catch in her voice, but she won't let me see her face. Instead, she reaches to turn the doorknob and steps right out of my life as abruptly as she came.
I want to mope around and feel sorry for myself, but I hate myself for even considering it. Grow some balls, Mellark, I chide myself. Scrubbing my hands through my hair with a groan.
But it's more than just missing her, more than just the aching empty hole she left behind, although that would be enough. I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Katniss is a terrible liar, and there are so many things about her explanation that just don't add up.
Except that it can all be explained by Gale's sudden re-entrance into her life. I have no idea what was said, what was discussed, because I went to bed like a coward rather than see them together. I should be happy for her. I want her to be happy. But right now... I just can't, not while it's so fresh, not while this uneasiness hangs over my head.
I know I should call my dad and let him know that he'll need to find someone to cover Katniss' shifts for the rest of the week, but I can't stomach the thought of that phone call tonight. Instead, I sprawl out on my stomach on the couch and watch a string of stupid action movies and eat too much popcorn. But no amount of car chases or bloody fist fights can make the lingering anxiety go away, and the longer I ignore it, the worse I feel.
Finally, I give in, feeling like a pathetic sap, and pull out my phone. I tap out a quick text. Hey, did you make it home okay? Just want to check.
I sigh, my heart pounding against my ribcage as I wait. We got Katniss the phone a few weeks ago so she would have some autonomy when I was at school, since I don't have a landline. I don't know if she'll keep it now that she's gone and won't be working at the bakery anymore, but surely she has it on now. She hasn't been gone long enough to warrant shutting it off.
I wait as long as I can, checking the screen with annoying frequency. Finally, as the credits of my most recent movie roll upwards, I type a second message.
Not going to be that guy. Just want to make sure you made it. Please answer, or I'm coming to look for you. I hit send before I can chicken out, knowing how needy it sounds, but also knowing that if she really wants to break up with me (if that's even what you can call it), she'll tell me to leave her the fuck alone.
When no reply comes, my stomach twists, and I feel like I'm going to vomit. Is she with Gale and he doesn't want her to answer her pathetic ex? Or is it something worse?
There is one way I could find out for sure, that I could know once and for all.
I call Gale.
He answers and he acts as though he's surprised to hear from me.
"Where's Katniss?" I ask without preamble.
"What?" She's not with you?"
I feel a chill of fear. "Seriously Gale," I say, fighting to keep my voice level. "Please. If she's with you, you can tell me and I swear I'll leave the two of you alone. She left this morning and I'm worried about her and I just need to know."
"I'm telling you, man, she's not fucking here."
"Fuck!" I swear into the phone. "She said she was leaving and that everything was settled, that the cops brought everyone in. Is that true?"
"No," Gale says, "dealing with the drug lords is a risky business and we don't even know exactly who to go after, yet, or if we even can."
"Fuck, man, then she's in trouble. You didn't see these guys, I fucked them up really good. If they find her, they'll kill her."
"C'mon man, Katniss can take care of herself," he says and I grip the table so hard I'm worried that I might snap the corner of it off.
"Listen," I say, struggling to keep my voice low. "You may have been Katniss' best friend in high school but it's been awhile since you've known her. She's only been with me for a couple months but I know her, alright? I know her, and I just have this feeling that she's in trouble. And I need your help."
He's silent for a moment. "Jesus, you're really serious. You really think she could get hurt?"
I roll my eyes, taking advantage of the fact that he can't possibly know that I'm doing it. "Gale, these fuckers beat her to within an inch of her life. She ran the risk of being raped on multiple occasions. I know she can take care of herself but there's only so much that one person can handle, and these guys were deadly serious." I take a deep breath, swallow my pride, and say, "Please, Gale."
He swears under his breath. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'll come get you and we'll go there together."
I allow myself a small sigh of relief. "Thank you. Please hurry."
The knock at my door comes less than 15 minutes later, the entirety of which I spend pacing up and down my living room like a caged lion, already outfitted in my jacket and boots, ready to go. I yank the door open and there he stands, his hands on either side of the doorframe, leaning in towards me. He looks up, those piercing grey eyes, so much like Katniss', boring into mine.
"I could lose my job for this, you know," he comments mildly.
I bristle. "I don't really care, Gale."
He scans my face and then shakes his head decisively. "I don't either. You're not the only one who cares about her, Mellark."
"Good," I say firmly.
I usher him back out the door, locking my apartment hastily behind me, and soon we are in the squad car, racing down the road to Katniss' house. Gale puts the flashers on and the cars part in front of us like the red sea did for Moses, which is a good thing because Gale doesn't play it safe with the gas pedal.
I have never been to Katniss' childhood home, and I don't know where she lives, but Gale does and he drives there by memory. Any other day I might be jealous of him, that he knows these little things about her life before, but I find that today, I can't find it in me to feel my envy. I don't really care if she decides she'd rather not be with me, like she said earlier at my apartment when she left, but I just need to know that she's safe.
Gale skids the police car to a halt outside a row of ramshackle houses. They're all in serious disrepair, garbage and broken lawn furniture littering the front yards. The snow does little to neaten up the appearance of the neighbourhood, so disorderly and grungy are the homes.
It breaks my heart to think of Katniss living here. From what I've heard her tell me, I don't think her house would've been so run down when her father was alive, but he's been gone for a long time. This house has been occupied by many seedier characters since her father died.
I grab the door handle and I'm about to go charging up the front steps before Gale grabs my arm. "Listen, you can't just rush in half cocked. If there is someone there, as you seem to think there will be, you're going to get yourself killed."
"So what's your plan, then?" I ask, craning my head to look out the window, trying to see what's going on inside the darkened windows. My body is tense like the string of a bow, adrenaline rushing through me, making my hands shake.
"We'll go around back," he says. "There are windows all around; we should be able to see if there are any lights on inside. We'll look in and see what we can see, and if it's fine, we'll ring the doorbell and talk to her like normal people."
"And if it's not fine?"
"Well then that's when we charge in like heroes and save the day."
I'm impatient and nervous and terrified for Katniss, but I know that Gale's right, and rushing in blindly isn't going to help her, if she is in trouble. I try to tell myself that everything's probably fine, I'm probably overreacting, but follow Gale slowly anyway.
We pass through the gate into the backyard, and we can see that all the lights in the top floor are out, but there is a faint yellow glow coming from the little window at ground level that opens into the basement. Gale lies down on his stomach in the snow, peering carefully down into the light, and I copy him. My eyes take a moment to adjust, and then my stomach is turning.
It's exactly as I feared. I know now why she didn't answer my texts; a dark rectangle lies on the ground between her and her assailants, crushed and misshapen. Katniss is huddled in the corner, arms wrapped protectively around a dirty, shrunken woman with lank greyish-blond hair who I can only assume is her mother. Katniss is barely recognizable; her face is swollen and discoloured and it looks like her nose might be broken. Still, her eyes are clear as she stares defiantly at the two men in the room, and I glance over with a fierce pride to see that the marks of her fists and teeth and fingernails mar both men's faces and forearms. My wildcat.
But then my stomach lurches painfully again. "What do we do?" I ask Gale.
He's already up and on his way back to the car. "What the fuck, Gale, we can't just leave her in there."
"Don't worry, there's no fucking way we're leaving her in there with them." His voice is controlled, calm. He yanks open the door of his car, and he's on the radio before I can even follow suit. Backup. Yeah, backup would be a good plan. I wonder belatedly if a cop working with a civilian to attempt a rescue is strictly legal (or very smart), but quite frankly, I don't give a fuck.
He disconnects with the station. "Okay, here's the plan," he says. "I'm going to go to the front door, cause a scene, hopefully draw them both up there. You're going to go in the back."
"What if they go after you?"
He draws a handgun grimly from his holster. "I'm a good shot, Mellark, don't worry about me. You just worry about getting those girls out of there."
Gale reaches into his car and comes out with another handgun, offering it to me, handle first. I hold out my hands and shake my head. "No, no way. I can't take that."
He grabs my wrist and forces the gun into my hand. The grip feels alien and unfriendly in my hands. "Just take it, man. And pray that you don't have to use it."
I pull up my coat and stuff the gun down the back of my jeans, feeling a chill wash over me. For some reason, having a weapon makes this all startlingly, horrifically, real. The stupidity of what we are about to do is not lost on me, and I hope to whoever's up there watching that we all make it out intact.
"Wait until I get them upstairs," he instructs me. "We know there are two of them down there, so I'll try to make enough commotion to get them both to come up. You break in the back door, get Katniss and her mom, and get out. With any luck, we'll be out of there without any issues, and if not, our backup's on the way."
He pats me on the back, probably harder than necessary, and I grip his arm tight, trying to thank him and tell him to be careful all in that one gesture.
I sneak back into the yard while he goes up to the front steps, and poise with my ear to the rickety screen door. I hear the doorbell ring, then banging when Gale crashes through the front door. Watching through the little window, I see both men careen up the stairs. I know I only have a few minutes and every minute I waste, Gale is more in danger, so I hurriedly smash the glass on the door with the butt of the gun and reach in to turn the knob.
I can hear them speaking in raised voices in the entryway, so I sneak as quietly as possible into the basement, shoving the gun back into the back of my pants. I round the corner and my eyes go straight to Katniss, seeing the blood matting her dark hair, the split in her lip and the swelling in her face. She looks up at my footsteps, and her eyes burn into mine, still a challenge, until she recognizes me.
"Peeta," she breathes, and she clutches me with claw-like fingers as I fall to my knees at her side. "I knew you'd come. I'm sorry, I fucked up so bad-"
"Shhh, don't," I say, cupping her cheek gently in my hand. "You don't have to apologize. Let's just get you and your mom out of here before they come back!"
She nods painfully and grips my arm so I can help her stand. "My mom-"
"I've got her," I say and bend to pick up her mother. She's even lighter than Katniss was that night that I met her, and she feels frail, like if I held her too tight I could crush her into dust.
There's a commotion upstairs, a scuffle, and I feel a thrill of fear for Gale. A gunshot goes off and Katniss' nails dig into my shoulder.
"Who's up there?" she asks and I don't have time to answer, before one of them is thundering back downstairs.
It's the man who followed us to our apartment, and he grins a humorless yellow smile when he sees me standing there. Slowly, I put Katniss' mom on her feet, letting Katniss hold her up, and I put my body in front of both of them. I think of the gun stuffed into my jeans, but I know I won't be able to free it without putting them in danger.
"Round two, fucker?" he asks, and I know he remembers me. I guess you don't forget the face of a guy who beats you to a pulp with a baseball bat. But this time, I know it won't be so easy for me to subdue him; he pulls a wicked, dirty knife from a sheath at his belt, brandishing it in front of him.
I hold up hands in a gesture of surrender, feeling my shirt and coat ride up with the motion. "Hold on, man, let's talk about this."
"Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about. I'm going to gut you for what you did to me, and then I'm going to gut your pretty little girlfriend. Maybe I'll have a little fun with her, first."
Rage boils up inside of me. I push Katniss and her mom back into the corner and I drop my hands, letting them curl into hard fists. But before I can do anything, he attacks.
I'm stronger than he is, but he's fast, and with his knife slicing the air between us, I can't get close enough to land a hit. I hear Katniss scream my name and I know that all I've got to do is get them an opening so they can get out of here, get up the stairs, the other cops will be here soon-
"Katniss, run!" I shout, and I make a mad lunge, towards him. One of my fists makes contact but I'm way too slow and the knife sinks into the space between my shoulder and my chest muscle.
Searing pain slashes through me, and I stumble back, pulling the knife out of his hand as I go. He kicks me in the side of my knee and I go down, hard.
And fucking Katniss doesn't listen to me, of course, and runs to my side instead. "Get out," I say hoarsely, seeing him coming at me to finish the job, I think, but then I feel her hand on the small of my back. She wraps her slender fingers around the handle of the gun she must have seen when I put my hands up.
And she yanks it out, points it at the man, and without hesitation, pulls the trigger three times.
"Mr. Mellark, we're discharging you," the stern faced woman with kind eyes tells me, finally.
We've been in the hospital for what seems like an eternity. It's been a few days for sure, as they set Katniss' broken nose and stitched up my shoulder, and put Mrs. Everdeen on IV fluids. She was dangerously malnourished, and had Katniss not gone to her when she did, she might have died.
"Thanks Sae," I say, flashing her a smile. She rolls her eyes, reminding me of my girl, which only makes my smile widen further, before it falters and I remember that Katniss might not be my girl anymore. She did leave me, after all, and I tell myself that I don't expect her to stay with me just because I (sort of) saved her life. She saved mine too.
I guess you could say that we saved each other.
The same could be said for Gale of course; he subdued the other guy upstairs when he looked in the direction of the gunshots, and came running down the stairs in time to see our assailant fall to the ground and die, with three bullets fired by Katniss' hand in his chest and abdomen. Gale's backup arrived in time to call the ambulance while he helped me get control of the bleeding from the wound in my shoulder.
Gale's mom showed up at the hospital after we'd all been stabilized and helped Katniss make the decisions about Mrs. Everdeen, who is still too out of it to be herself. She's going to stay at the hospital for a while in in-patient care, to try and get her straightened out, off the drugs and back in a sound state of mind. I smiled when I saw Katniss stroke her mom's lank hair back from her too-thin face once they had her sedated.
"What about Katniss?" I ask Sae carefully, and she smiles knowingly at me. She puts the clean clothes that my dad had dropped off for me before leaving against his will to open the bakery on the foot of my bed, and departs, closing the door behind her without another word.
"How hard is it to get a straight answer around here?" I grumble to myself, climbing gingerly out of bed, awkward with my arm in a sling.
I'm soon faced with another similar problem; I can't get my clothes on with only one hand. After several attempts – and misses – later, during which I almost wipe out right onto my bad arm at least three times, the door cracks open and someone enters without even knocking. I hurriedly cover myself with my pants.
"Jesus, don't you people knock? I'm naked here." I look up, frustrated, and see Katniss in the doorway, her cheeks pink beneath the bruising and taping of her recently set nose.
"Hi," I say quietly, letting the hand that clutches my pants drop to my side. I'm suddenly self-conscious, which is stupid; Katniss has seen me naked dozens of times and in just about every compromising position you can imagine and some you probably can't. Maybe it's because I don't know what's she's doing here, what she's going to say. Maybe it's because just a few days ago she broke up with me and stomped all over my heart. Maybe it's because I watched her shoot a man dead to save my life.
"Hi," she answers quietly. "I got discharged today."
My eyebrows shoot up towards my hairline. "Me, too."
She steps forward hesitantly, and takes the other side of my pants' waistband, holding it out so I can step into them awkwardly. Then without a word, she pulls the string on the hospital gown, her eyes flickering to the bandaging around my chest and shoulder. She takes my shirt off the bed and helps me pull it over my head, carefully avoiding my injured arm.
"Thanks," I say, my voice rough, and her grey eyes snap up to meet mine. Slowly, she leans forward and up on her toes to kiss me softly on the lips.
My heart swells painfully at the touch of her lips to mine, and I wrap my good arm around her waist to pull her closer. She resists, careful of my injury, but slides her hand around to rest at the small of my back, in turn. Then abruptly, she pulls away.
"Peeta," she says, pausing to take a deep breath before continuing, "I'm sorry. For leaving."
I study her face. Her eyes flicker to mine and back down. "When we saw your car… I knew what it meant and I'd already ruined your life enough. I couldn't risk you getting hurt."
I laugh darkly. "Goddammit, Katniss. Of course, you would think that breaking up with me was the noble thing to do. But I'm a grownup, Katniss; I can make my own decisions."
She shakes her head. "You're far too good for me, Peeta. You should have someone better, someone less screwed up, someone who can tell you that she loves you."
My stomach twists inside me at her words and my breath catches in my chest. Does she mean what I think she means? That she loves me back, but she just can't say it?
As I watch her, her eyes flicker up to mine and she opens her mouth and I can feel the words hanging in the air. She hesitates, and I know she's about to say it, but then I realize that I don't need to hear it. "Katniss," I whisper, and tilt her chin up so she's forced to look at me. "I don't want someone better. I don't want anyone else but you. Yeah, you have baggage, but you don't need to do this alone. Let me help you."
She takes a shuddering breath and her hand tightens reflexively on my hip. She leans her forehead against my chest, and I can feel her breath as she inhales my scent through my shirt.
"Let's go home, Peeta," she says finally, and my stomach flips again.
"You're coming with me?" I ask.
She burrows deeper against my neck, and I can feel her breath wash warm over my collar bone. "Where else would I go?" she replies. "And... this time I'm not leaving. I want to be with you," she says softly but with a certainty that she's never had before, and I can't keep back my smile as I press a kiss to her shiny, dark hair.
We take a cab home together, and once inside, we undress and take a shower together. We wash the smell of the hospital from each others' bodies, carefully skirting our multitude of hurts. She helps me keep my bandage dry, helps me towel myself off afterwards. It's familiar, reminding me of the night we met, only this time, Katniss takes care of me.
Finally clean and gingerly dressed in pajama pants, I slide wearily into bed while she uses the bathroom, pulling the covers up with my good arm. I have to face the wrong way because of the side that my injury is on, and it feels weird, facing the wall instead of the door and the rest of the room.
The light flicks off, and then I feel Katniss' small form clamber over my legs. She squirms into the space between me and the wall, making me shuffle back to make room for her with a chuckle. She rests her head on my good arm, her hand sliding back to rest on my thigh as we lie back to front, curled around each other. I feel myself drifting into sleep almost immediately, pain medication and too much excitement and being back in my own bed getting the best of me far too quickly, before I can really relish the feeling of having her back in my arms, safe, and finally beginning to be free of her burdens.
And it might have been my imagination - maybe I was just blissed out, or high on my meds, or maybe I was dreaming - but as I slowly slip away into unconsciousness, I think I hear her whisper three little words when she thinks I'm already asleep.
The End.
Author's Note: Well, that's all folks! I'm truly sorry for the extremely long wait, but I hope that it was worth it. For the record, I realize the big rescue at the end is not very realistic, but I hope it made for good reading. ;) Big thanks to Jennagill for her beta work on this part and on part 2; the mess that is part 1 is all my own doing. And thank you all so very much for following, reading, commenting, and for being so patient while I figured out what the heck I was doing with this story! You are all so very wonderful; I never expected this story to get even a fraction of the attention that it has.
I don't have any plans to start anything new for The Hunger Games fandom at this time, but if you liked this and my other works, check out The Endless In-Between, which is a THG fic inspired by The Lovely Bones, which I am writing in collaboration with panem and so-amazing-here, under the username amazingpanemmemories!
Thanks so much again for your dedication to this story. I love you all so very much. I'm madefrommemoriesff over on tumblr; come say hi!