A/N: And here we are again!
And this chapter is when everything becomes so disastrously angsty, impeccably depressing, and gloriously dramatic. Prepare yourselves. The rest of this story will definitely earn it's T rating for language, dark themes, and some sexual situations. I will give warnings for things like language and give you a head's up for steaminess . . . but that particular head's up won't come for a while.
First we have to get through some lovely PTSD. Oh, the wonderful drama that shall spawn. For those of you who want a quick fix and fluff, sorry guys. Believe me, I want that too. But we've got to be realistic. Fluff and PTSD and torture don't go together.
Oh, and start paying attention to the song titles for the chapters. They will definitely give you a hint as to how the chapter is going to go. Most, if not all, will pertain to Peeta. Including this one.
WARNING: This chapter does contain some explicit language, courtesy of one Johanna Mason. Just a warning if you don't like f-bombs.
And I guess that's that . . . so . . . (summons best Joker voice) . . . AND HERE WE GO!
Random Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games Series. As the past two stories show, my version of events would have been quite different.
Johanna: This is ridiculous.
Me: Not really.
Johanna: Why must you be so cruel? Seriously. This sucks.
Me: I know.
Katniss: I mean, we've already been through so much.
Peeta: Yeah. Especially me. Hello! Tortured for months! This guy right here.
Me: Yep.
Rye: I think you like making us miserable.
Me: Yes. But I like seeing you struggle only to come out stronger for it. Trust me. The ends justify the means in this case.
Haymitch: Whatever. You still don't have a soul.
Chapter 13: Yesterday
Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be
There's a shadow hanging over me
Oh, yesterday came suddenly
After my mother leaves the room, I slump down tiredly into the chair by Peeta's bedside. I sigh deeply, closing my eyes. Almost immediately, I regret the action as my heavy lids refuse to open after a few seconds of respite. I need to sleep, and at the rate I'm going, I'll probably conk out for at least ten hours, maybe more when I finally succumb to my fatigue. And yet, like the masochist I am, I simply cannot allow myself that rest. Because it would be ten or more hours away from Peeta.
I can't leave him. Not again.
When Haymitch enters the room two hours later, I'm barely able to keep my eyes open. "At this rate, you're going to be looking as shitty as Peeta," he says dryly. I don't even acknowledge his comment, keeping my eyes trained on Peeta's face. "Come on, sweetheart." Haymitch walks around the bed until he's standing beside me. He offers his hand. "You need to sleep just as much as he does."
"I can't leave him." My tired voice cracks. "I can't."
Haymitch sighs. "He's not going anywhere, sweetheart. In fact, according to Dr. Riley, the drugs they have him on will keep him asleep for the rest of today. Something about healing and sleep or something like that. He's not going to know you're gone."
"That doesn't matter," I argue. "I have to stay."
"No, you have to sleep. Think about the kid. You can't push yourself this hard anymore, Katniss."
I bite my tongue in anger. Why is the baby everyone's trump card in getting me to do what they want? The fact that they're always right frustrates me even more. For a moment, blinding resentment flows through me. If I weren't pregnant I could stay by Peeta's side as long as I wanted. If I weren't pregnant people wouldn't always be hovering over me, making sure that I took care of myself. If I weren't pregnant this entire situation would be easier.
But I am pregnant. I do need to take care of myself, and I know that the only way this situation would be easier is if it didn't exist in the first place. With a sigh, I admit, "You're right." I meet Haymitch's eyes. "It's just . . . I'm scared, Haymitch. I'm scared to leave him."
"I'll stay with him," Haymitch says as he holds out his hand again, waiting for me to take it.
"Promise?" I ask as he pulls me to my feet.
"Promise."
I nod tiredly, my shoulders sagging in fatigue and defeat. "I'll be back later," I tell him needlessly.
"I don't want to see you back here before supper," he orders in a paternal tone. "Seriously, Katniss. Get some sleep. You're no use to Peeta or the kid if you can't keep your eyes open."
"I know." I sigh before looking down at Maya. "Let's go, girl."
Immediately, Maya scrambles to her feet and follows me out the door. The hallway is completely barren with the exception of a nurse quietly shutting the door to another room. As I'm walking by, I just manage to glance into the room; lying on the bed, looking smaller than ever, is Johanna. I have to force myself not to barge past the nurse and into the room to see my friend. Johanna will be here when I get back. I can see her then.
Maybe she'll be able to help me with Peeta.
When I finally reach my new compartment—I'm impressed I even remembered the room number in my sleep-deprived state—it's not until I'm lying tucked under the sheets that I realize how tired I am. Exhaustion rests heavily in my bones, and I can't fathom moving anytime soon. Without my permission, my lids close, and my last coherent thought before sleep takes me is that for the first time since the arena, a flicker of happiness lightens my heart.
Four grey walls enclose me. A hard floor of blood-spattered stone rests beneath me. A single light dangles from the ceiling, swaying in a nonexistent breeze. It's cold. It's damp. My body aches with every movement. My ribs are ablaze with a fiery pain that eclipses anything I've ever felt. Needles puncture my lungs. I'm unable to take a full breath.
I hardly notice the ache in my shoulders anymore. The dull throb is easily ignored now. I shift slightly, trying to find a position that is less painful, but with every twitch of movement, white-hot pain burns my chest. I try to take a deep breath, but it catches in my throat. I cough violently and hear something snap. Rib number three.
A second later I feel the pain: sharp, intense, and blinding. I gasp, struggling for the breath that the pain is taking from me. A slow tremble begins to overcome me. My aching muscles protest. I cough again and taste the metallic bouquet of blood on my tongue. Punctured lung.
Maybe this time they'll finally let me die.
Suddenly, the door to my mausoleum opens. Standing in the doorway with the bright light of the hallway shining behind him, Peeta looks like a divine being. His hair is the shiny, golden blonde that I remember. The strength in his chest and arms has returned. A soft, sun-kissed glow radiates from his skin once more, filling me with warmth. Peeta's okay. He's fine. It's as though he never suffered.
And that's when I notice the scars.
They mar his torso and arms. Some are long and precise, cut by a cold, methodical hand. Some are jagged and gruesome, a sign of frustration and anger. Some patches of skin are puckered with burns. My eyes traverse his network of scars. I force myself to examine every single one. Like a punishment.
I did this.
"Stop that," Peeta orders softly. He walks into the room, unaffected by the gore that covers the walls and floor, until he kneels right in front of me. I immediately look away from him, unable to look him in the eye. I can't bear to see the blame I know will be waiting to torture me further. "Katniss." My eyes close as his voice caresses my name. I don't deserve that. It must be a trick. "Katniss. Come on, beautiful, look at me."
A tear escapes me at the nickname. He's only used it a handful of times. I think it's because if he used it all the time, the endearment attached would fade. It would lose its potency. And so he only uses the term sparingly, but always at the right moment. After a night of love. A lazy morning spent in bed. Christmas day. My birthday. Always when I need to hear it most.
"Katniss, please," he begs. "Look at me."
At the sound of his plea, my eyes betray me. I gaze into his eyes, ready to cower at the resentment and blame I expect to see . . . but I find nothing but love and concern. The kind twinkle in his blue eyes shines as brightly as ever. However, his gaze is filled with the wisdom of one who has seen too much too young. It ages him. I know that this weight in his gaze is due to the pain he has suffered.
It's my fault.
"Will you stop that?" Peeta asks with a gentle smile. "Stop blaming yourself, Katniss. What happened is not your fault. I don't blame you."
"You should." My voice trembles with unshed tears. "Every time I stepped out as the Mockingjay . . ."
"You gave the people hope," Peeta interrupts. "Katniss, no matter what you did or didn't do, I was still going to be in pain." My breath hitches at his bluntness, but he smiles, cupping my cheek in his palm. "Hey, don't be sad," he says. "I knew what I was getting myself into, and I don't regret a single day of the time I spent in this hellhole." He looks around the cell pointedly. "I did it for you. I did it for the baby. It was my choice, one that I would make again in a heartbeat."
I open my mouth to argue with him, but Peeta places his fingers on my lips. "I'm running out of time," he says. "You're about to wake up, and I still need to say a few things."
"Okay."
"Okay," Peeta repeats, taking a deep breath. "Look, Katniss, I'm not going to sugar-coat things. The future that lies ahead of you is tough. You'll have the baby to take care of, but you'll also have me. The place I'm at right now, in my head . . ." he trails off bleakly, sighing. "It's not a pretty place to be. I'm gonna need your help, but I won't want it. I'm gonna be an asshole at times, and it'll probably seem like I want nothing to do with you. But you got to know that I need you more than I need air to breathe. I may leave, but I'll always come back."
Peeta gives me a self-deprecating smile. "The next few months are going to be hell in so many ways. I'm not the same person anymore. I've changed. In some ways for the better and in some ways not. I think both of us are different people now, and I think you know that."
I nod. "I'll always love you," I tell him and he smiles.
"I know," he replies. "But I mean, how could you not? I'm irresistible."
A laugh escapes me, and the sound is so foreign that it makes me pause in shock. Peeta's smile fades as he reads my reaction. "I'm sorry you've gone through so much pain," he says. "I'm sorry I haven't been there for you, but I had to do what I had to do, and we both know that."
"I know," I reply softly. "It just hurts."
Peeta's eyes close. "Yeah, it does," he agrees. His eyes open again, and he looks at the door. "I'll have to go soon."
"Don't go," I plead, grabbing his hand. "Please, stay."
"You've got things to do," he says gently. "I've only got time to say one more thing. Katniss, I know it's easy to say that we're different people now, but it's much harder to actually see it. I'm not the same guy anymore, beautiful." Regret colors his face. "After what I went through . . . there's no way to come out the same. I know you'll know this in your head, but it's going to be a hard pill to swallow. In a way, we're going to have to fall in love all over again."
I give him a shaky smile. "I don't think it will be that hard. Painful, maybe. But not difficult."
"You always were the stronger of the two of us," he says with a smile. "Despite what you think." The light shining through the door brightens even more, and Peeta sighs before looking at me. "I've got to go."
I grab his hand. "Stay."
Gently, Peeta pulls his hand from mine. "Time to wake up, Katniss."
"Peeta—"
"Wake up, Katniss."
"Don't leave me."
"Katniss."
"Please . . ."
"Katniss!"
I wake suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath. My eyes blink rapidly as a blurry face slowly becomes clearer. "Are you alright, Katniss?" Prim asks softly. "You were mumbling in your sleep."
"I'm fine," I say softly, closing my eyes as I remember my dream. Peeta looked so healthy, so strong. But his scars . . . his scars were a reminder of what he had endured. And yet, as I think back, Peeta wore them well. They didn't seem to bother him. What really mattered was that he was whole. Something told me that this Peeta in my dream was the man my Peeta would become, once he recovered. "We'll be fine." Prim looks at me oddly, but I merely smile. "Trust me, Little Duck."
"Alright." Prim shakes her head. "I just came to check on you. We were getting worried."
"Worried? Why?"
"Well, apparently you've been asleep for about a day," Prim answers with an amused smile. "It's noon the next day."
My eyes widen. "Is Peeta—"
"He hasn't woken," Prim assures me. "But he should wake sometime today. We've been slowly weaning him off the morphling."
"I need to be there." I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand quickly, already heading toward the door. "I need to be there when he wakes up."
Maya hops off the bed, immediately trotting to my side ready to go, but Prim stops us both. "Wait a minute, Katniss," she says calmly. "Look, you'll have plenty of time before Peeta wakes up. Use it to take care of yourself. Take a shower, put on some fresh clothes, get something to eat . . . okay?"
I sigh deeply, knowing that she's right. "Okay."
"Good," Prim smiles triumphantly. "Now get to it."
"Why should I listen to you?"
"Because I'm the smart one."
I feel a smile pull at my lips. "Since when did you get so confident?"
"Since I saw my sister shoulder the weight of the world and not fall," Prim says softly. "I figure if you're strong enough to do that, I can do just about anything." She smiles softly, looking sheepish. "I'll see you at the hospital."
"Okay."
Prim gives me another shy smile and then leaves, shutting the door quietly behind her. I stare at the door for a moment, wondering yet again when my Little Duck grew up. Shaking my head, I heed her advice. The shower feels heavenly, the hot water pounding away the tension in my neck and shoulders. I forgo dressing completely in the District 13 uniform. I pull on the pants, but I leave the shirt alone and substitute one of Peeta's shirts instead. Quite frankly, the button-down of the District 13 uniform is too tight in the chest, and quickly becoming too tight everywhere else. I didn't show until much later in my pregnancy than normal, likely due to my physique and the fact this is my first pregnancy, but my body seems to be making up for it in spades.
I swear my stomach was smaller when I fell asleep.
Feeling exponentially better with extra sleep and clean clothes, I head down to the mess hall, Maya still trailing loyally behind me. Everyone gives her a wide berth, but no one objects to her presence. Good. I would hate to get into an argument this early.
It's not until I take my first bite of food that I realize just how hungry I am. For once, I'm glad for the extra portion my pregnancy guarantees me. Maya sniffs at my food before shaking her head and making a disgruntled sound. "It's practically tasteless," I tell her. "It's not so bad."
Maya just looks at me nonplussed.
"You're so picky."
In another ten minutes I've finished eating and begin to make my way to the hospital. With each step I take, nervousness coils in my stomach. Peeta will wake up today. Yes, he awoke briefly before when he was first brought in, but we only exchanged one word and a heated kiss. Today the real struggle would begin. Today I will get my first glimpse into my near future—filled with whatever pain and heartbreak that may come.
I've just turned the corner of Peeta's hallway when I see none other than Plutarch Heavensbee arguing with Dr. Riley outside of Peeta's room. Immediately, my eyes narrow and I quicken my pace. "What's going on?" I ask, accusation weighing heavily in my tone.
"I was just telling Mr. Heavensbee—"
"Please, it's Plutarch."
Dr. Riley's lips purse in annoyance before she continues. "I was just telling Mr. Heavensbee that he is unable to see Peeta at this time. Only family is allowed."
It's obvious that Plutarch is flustered and aggravated by Dr. Riley's refusal to let him in the room, even if he's wearing what I'm sure he hopes is a charming smile. Frankly, I think he looks pained. "But I just saw Soldier Hawthorne come out of the room. He's not family and yet he was still able to see Mr. Mellark."
"Soldier Hawthorne has Katniss's expressed consent," Dr. Riley retorts. "You do not."
"Madame, if you would just—"
"Don't 'madame' me. You can call me that when I'm so old and decrepit that I'm deaf. Hopefully, by then you would have shut up and taken no for an answer, because I guarantee you that's what you're gonna get."
At her words, Plutarch's face turns an amusing shade of purple, and I try not to smile. Deciding that he isn't gaining any ground with Dr. Riley, he turns to me. He tries to form a kind smile, but to me he merely looks like a snake waiting to strike. "Katniss, would you please grant me permission to see your husband?"
Oh, he actually called Peeta my husband. He's going for brownie points.
Too bad I'm fresh out.
"No."
Plutarch blinks in shock. "Come again?"
"No," I repeat. "You can't see him."
"We at Command simply want to know when he could possibly do a few propos for us. We need to get his escape out to the people. The Mockingjays are reunited!" he smiles. "And speaking of which, we need you back at work, Katniss."
I smile blandly. "Sorry, Plutarch, but I'm taking an indefinite leave of absence. I'm not leaving Peeta's side."
"I understand that you will want to be there for his recovery, but you can't forget where you're needed the most, Katniss."
If I weren't so inured to Capitol apathy, I would have clocked Plutarch right in the nose. Even so, I still find my fist clenched in anger. Was he serious? "Plutarch, I'm going to be blunt with you."
"Wonderful."
"I don't give a damn about the rebellion right now," I tell him, ignoring his shocked face. "In fact, on my list of priorities, it doesn't even make the short list. Now, let me make this clear. First and foremost, I'm a mother. Second, I'm a wife. Third, I'm a sister. Fourth, I'm a friend. And then somewhere far on down the line I'm the Mockingjay. Can you guess what my priority is at the moment?"
Plutarch's face hardens. "I would assume Mr. Mellark."
"And you would be correct."
Dr. Riley is fighting to contain her grin, but somehow she manages to keep her face stern. "Now, Mr. Heavensbee, as for your desire to use Mr. Mellark for propos, I can assure you that he will not be able to do anything Mockingjay related for months. He has a very long recovery that has only just begun, and no amount of makeup can hide what he's been through. If you had half a brain in your head, you'd know that."
Plutarch presses his lips together so tightly they disappear. There's a second of silence between the three of us, before Plutarch takes a deep breath and tries to summon a smile. He fails spectacularly. "Thank you for your input. I will take the information back to Command."
"You do that," Dr. Riley says with a wide smile.
Plutarch gives us a stiff nod before turning abruptly on his heel and stalking down the hallway. The moment he is out of sight, Dr. Riley immediately bursts into laughter. I can't help the short laugh that escapes me as well. When she finally gets herself together, Dr. Riley turns to me, "That was so much fun," she says gleefully, looking half her age. "I hate politicians."
"You were wonderful," I praise with a grin.
"Yes, well, you had your moments, too. Let's share the victory."
"Deal," I agree. My smile falters as I glance at the door to Peeta's room, reality sinking in once more. Dr. Riley notices.
"He'll be alright with time."
"How much time?"
Dr. Riley pauses, debating her answer. Finally she sighs, placing a hand on my arm. "I wish I knew, sweetie. I wish I knew."
"He won't be the Peeta I remember."
"In some ways, no," Dr. Riley admits. "But at heart . . . at heart he's still the same man."
"We'll find out soon, won't we?" I ask rhetorically. My eyes drift down the hallway and a thought occurs to me. "Can I see Johanna?"
Dr. Riley frowns. "Katniss . . . she's not in the best frame of mind. We've already had to sedate her twice since she was brought in."
"Please. I promise I'll keep it short. I just want to see her," I say, which is not entirely true, but that doesn't matter. "She's my friend. Maybe it will help to see a familiar face."
Dr. Riley's eyes narrow. "Five minutes."
"Thanks."
"I've got rounds to make," she says. "I'll see you later. I'll be checking in with Peeta sometime tonight."
"Okay."
We part ways and I hurry to Johanna's room. However, when I reach her door, my hand pauses on the doorknob; fear stopping me from going in. I'm afraid of what I'll see. Johanna Mason seemed to carry an air of invincibility. So much fire and determination. It is hard to believe that I might find her broken.
Finding courage, I twist the knob and step into the room. Immediately, chocolate brown eyes lock on me, analyzing my every feature. So critical is her gaze, that I don't know whether to be embarrassed or afraid. I slowly walk further into the room, and Johanna's gaze never falters in its intensity. When I'm a few feet from the bed, I stop.
Johanna looks tiny. The small hospital bed threatens to swallow her. She's wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, but she's still shivering. Her short brown hair is gone, having been shaven by the Capitol. Her cheeks are sallow and her lips chapped. Her eyes are sunken and red.
"You look like hell."
"You're so fat it's obscene."
For a second neither of us so much as breathes . . . and then the corners of Johanna's lips twitch upward in a smile. "Never thought I'd say it, but it's good to see you."
"Likewise," I reply as I pull up a chair to sit down. "I won't ask you how you are. We both know the answer."
"Good, skip the pleasantries. Always thought they were a waste of time."
It's the perfect opening to begin my questioning, but I can't make myself take it. Johanna just escaped Capitol torture. The last thing she probably wants to do is talk about it. However, before I can think of something else to say, Johanna beats me to it.
"How's Golden Boy?" she asks. "You seen him yet?"
"Yeah," I answer softly. Immediately, I think of Peeta's beaten body lying just down the hall. Sadness so deep courses through my veins that I can't even summon the will to cry. "He'll be fine."
"Not anytime soon," Johanna retorts, anger coloring her tone and building as she continues to speak. "Not anytime soon. No, he'll be messed up. His head won't be right. He'll keep seeing it over and over. He's out of the Capitol, but he's still there. In his head. He can't escape them. No, he's not alright. He might never be alright. Slightest thing will make him jump. Sound of water will make him freeze. Won't be able to see a stranger without tensing, waiting for a beating. No . . . he's fucked."
Throughout her rant, Johanna's heart monitor has been steadily rising, just like her anger. I don't bother interrupting her, no matter how her words pain me. She needs this.
"Damn cowards, they all are," she seethes. "Knew if they didn't chain me like I dog I'd rip their heads off. Damn them all! What right did they have? What right? How dare they take everything from me! It's not like I had anything to give in the first place. It's because of them that I can't sleep without drugs. It's because of them that I'm scared of running water. It's water! Fucking water! And I'll start crying and screaming like a little girl." Johanna chokes on a breath as tears fill her eyes. "Just make it stop," she pleads, sobbing. "Make it stop."
Wordlessly, I press the button on her monitor that releases her medicine. Immediately, Johanna's sobs slow until she's breathing evenly again. Her eyelids close, though it doesn't stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks. I gently wipe them away. "You'll be okay, Johanna," I tell her softly. "Don't you dare give up."
I wait a few moments to make sure that Johanna is sleeping peacefully until quietly exiting the room. My heart is racing. Will Peeta react in any way like Johanna? I sigh as I think of Johanna's rage. So blindingly angry. And then that anger was swept away by despair in the blink of an eye. Can I do this? At least one thing is certain. As long as Peeta is hurting, I'm going to be hurting right along with him.
When I enter his room, he's still asleep. Maya is already lying at the foot of his bed, keeping guard, and her head pops up the moment I step into the room. Dr. Riley must have let her in when I wasn't paying attention. "Hey girl," I say as I run a hand down her back. "How is he?"
Maya sniffs before lying back down.
"No change, then? Yeah, that's what I thought."
I resume my vigil at Peeta's bedside. My eyes rove over his form. Since I've seen him last, some color has returned to his cheeks. I notice that he's breathing a little bit easier now, and that some of his bruises have changed color. At least it's an improvement, however slight.
"I saw Johanna," I tell him softly. "She's . . . she's in pretty bad shape. But she's still Johanna Mason, that's for sure. You should have heard her rant awhile ago. I fear for the life of any Capitol citizen she ever crosses."
"She asked about you," I continue. "I told her you'd be okay."
Peeta's chest simply rises and falls in response. I lay my hand over his since due to his broken wrist I can't hold his hand like I want. "Let's talk about something else," I say. "I'm just now five months along. We're halfway there. Four more months and our baby will be here. You know, we're going to have to start thinking of names. I was thinking since I think it's a boy, I should come up with a boy name and since you think it's a girl, you could come up with a girl name. How does that sound?"
Again, no response.
"Come on, Peeta," I plead quietly. "I know it's selfish of me, but I need you here. We need you." I pause, looking for any sign of waking, but find none. Just when I'm about to withdraw my hand, his fingers twitch. Right on cue, his heart monitor begins to pick up slightly. "Come back to me, Peeta," I order softly. "You promised."
And then Peeta's eyes flutter open. Blearily, he turns his head toward me, still blinking back sleep. "Katniss?" His voice is rough from disuse. "Is it really you?"
"It's really me," I assure him, rejoicing as his fingers gently curl around mine. I reach behind me with my free hand and grab the waiting glass of water. Carefully, I hold it to his lips and let him drink. After a few sips, I pull the cup away and set it back behind me. "Better?"
"Loads," Peeta says before wincing in pain.
"What's wrong? What hurts?"
A smile that holds no humor twitches his lips. "Everything. Don't worry, though. It's nothing I can't handle."
"No," I reply softly. "I suppose not."
Both of us sit in silence for the longest time. I have so much I want to tell him. I want to tell him about the baby, every single development. I want to tell him how much I missed him, how my body ached for him every day. There is so much that I want to tell him, but I just can't find the words.
And so the silence continues.
I stare at our joined hands, which at this moment is the only sign of unity between us. After another ten minutes of silence, I finally manage to say, "I missed you."
Peeta's fingers curl tighter around my own. I look up to meet his gaze. What I see in his eyes makes me want to cry. Where there was once nothing but a kind twinkle with a hint of mischief, there is now miles and miles of pain. That's all I see when I look into his eyes. Pain. I stare into his eyes, searching for something more. Anything.
But I only see pain. Nothing else.
Not even love.
Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall just yet. Never in a million years did I ever imagine I could look into Peeta Mellark's eyes and not see love. It's what made Peeta who he was; his ability to love. Compassion. The twinkle in his eye is gone.
"Not a minute passed that I didn't think of you," Peeta replies quietly. "I would picture your face, the morning after we first made love. You were so happy and content . . ." he trails off before adding, "I was happy and content."
I want to tell him that we'll be that way again. I want to fill both of our minds with the blissful happiness that we once knew . . . but the words die in my throat. Nothing will ever be the same. Not after this.
It's only now that I realize just how much that breaks my heart, and it's with this realization that the tears finally slip from my eyes.
Yeah . . . I forgot how sad that was . . .
So, at least Dream-Peeta was moderately happy, right? By the way, that dream sequence was the first in a few that will be similar. This will give you a hint of what Peeta experienced without doing his POV. Anything Katniss feels or experiences during the dream, is what happened to Peeta. So there's you're little glimpse into what happened in the Capitol. We'll also get some stories from the real Peeta, but those are a few chapters away.
As for Johanna, however awesome it would have been to have her be alright and still kickass . . . that's just not realistic. I wanted her broken. I wanted someone that strong to break because that's real. It happens. Don't worry, she'll build herself back up. ;)
Summary Time: Katniss sleeps the day away with sexy DreamPeeta, and then she and Peeta play the Quiet Game; Prim proves her Elvish roots once again; Haymitch pulled on his Daddypants; Rye is off somewhere terrorizing the people of 13; Plutarch got OWNED; Dr. Riley reached epic levels of awesomeness; and Maya is the bestest wolfy companion ever . . .
Quote from the next chapter comes from . . . Peeta!
"Tell me what I missed. Everything."
Lots of love,
AC
