A/N: Hey, guys! The storm has passed (for the moment). Okay, let me rephrase . . . the PK storm has passed. Naturally, there are other storms aka Hurricane Coin, still to come. ;)
Once again, I must praise you all for your awesomeness and your uncanny ability to make me blush with said praise. So, thank you from the very bottom of my heart (yes, all the way down to the deepest, darkest pits of my soul) for all of your reviews, alerts, and favorites.
Also, note the song for this chapter! See? I pulled out Journey for the occasion. Can't go wrong with Steve Perry . . .
Warning: This chapter contains explicit language due to the presence of one Johanna Mason. You have been warned.
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.
Me: Well, the worst is over people.
Peeta: Thank god.
Katniss: Yes. Thank you.
Rye: Seriously, our tear ducts praise thee.
Me: I know, I know . . . but you do know what this means, right?
Finnick: I'm finally present in a chapter once more? You know you've missed me.
Johanna: And don't you forget me!
Me: Oh, could I?
Chapter 20: Open Arms
We sailed on together, we drifted apart
And here you are by my side
So now I come to you, with open arms
Nothing to hide, believe what I say
So here I am, with open arms
Hoping you'll see what your love means to me
Open arms
I'm in the Capitol cell once again, but this time it's different.
Yes, I'm still crippled with burning pain that ruthlessly consumes my entire body. The cell is still dark, dank, and ominous. The stone floors and walls are stained with varying shades of red. The shackles that smother my wrists still chain me to the wall.
However, the Peeta that sits beside me is not the Peeta of my imaginings. The real Peeta sits beside me now, the Peeta who is slowly beginning to heal from his time in this torture chamber.
Dr. Riley had been right; Peeta had needed a breakdown. He had needed to reach his lowest low, and he finally had a month ago after that fateful doctor's appointment. The argument that took place in our compartment afterward, the resulting flashback that it prompted, the realization of what could have happened—Peeta broke. Completely.
And it was for the best.
Because now he can build himself back up, strive toward a new identity. It's a fresh start, and one that he desperately needs.
"Why did you bring me here?" he asks quietly as he surveys the walls. "I don't want to be here."
I shrug. "I can't control my subconscious."
"Try a little harder."
"Peeta," I chastise, though I take his hand and give it a squeeze. "You can't simply choose forget it happened. That didn't turn out too well, remember?"
Peeta flinches at the reminder and a familiar guilt shines his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I tell him gently. "And don't start with the whole, 'leave me for your own good' speech. It's not happening."
Peeta smiles wryly. "As long as you don't start with the, 'I'll never leave you so just deal with it' speech."
"We're a mess."
"Completely. But that's just us, I think."
I smile slightly. Since Peeta's breakdown, he's lost most of his scathing remarks. His sarcasm has lessened. Slowly, as the days have passed, he's become more and more of the Peeta I remember, and every day I get another glimpse of the man he will become. I won't be disappointed.
We're quiet for a moment before Peeta suddenly speaks. He points to the far wall by the door and says, "Snow used to stand there," he admits softly. "To watch . . . and to taunt. He wanted me to break. And he wanted it to be because of him."
"But you didn't," I remind him.
"No," Peeta agrees. "Not completely anyway."
Silence falls over us once again, but after a few minutes I hesitantly ask, "Tell me more?"
Peeta's eyes harden. "You sure you want to know? I'm not going to censor anything."
"You need to talk about it," I tell him. "It'll help."
"I reserve the right to keep some things to myself," Peeta retorts determinedly. "Some things are better left unheard. Better left unsaid."
"Peeta," I protest slightly, but he raises his hand.
"I'm not ignoring that it happened," he assures me. "I'm not going to shove it to the back of my mind and try to pretend it didn't happen." Peeta looks at me pleadingly. "But, Katniss, there are some things that happened in here that I'll never be able to put to words. And even if it were possible, I'd never share them with you."
"Still protecting me?"
"It's kinda what I do."
"Fine," I agree. "You can keep some secrets. But I'm beginning to think that your secrets have secrets."
Peeta smiles without humor. "You have no idea."
"And I'll never know."
"Not even a little."
I hide how much this bothers me. There were never any secrets between us before. But that was before. This is now. I'll just have to accept it.
"I guess I can give you an idea of what a typical day was like," Peeta says eventually. His eyes narrow at the door. "Every morning at precisely seven o'clock, an Avox would deliver a tray of food and a pitcher of water. Just enough to keep me alive. Nothing more, nothing less."
I watch him carefully as he begins to paint a picture in my mind's eye. Peeta's eyes have glazed over slightly as he remembers what it was like. I don't think he's realized his hands have clinched into fists. "I'd have about an hour to myself before the Peacekeepers would come in. They actually weren't too bad. They might throw a few punches, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. They always made the mistake of coming too close. I could usually get in a hit or two." He smiles suddenly. "I broke one guy's nose. Bad. There was blood everywhere. He screamed like a little girl. It was kind of funny."
A memory enters my mind. Something that Dr. Riley told me when Peeta was first brought in. "Dr. Riley said that almost half of your wounds were defensive," I say quietly. "You fought back when you could."
"When I had the strength, yeah," Peeta admits. "Sometimes though, after a particularly harsh—" He pauses as he tries to find a word. "Session . . . I could hardly move for days without blacking out. I was constantly getting blood transfusions at night because I kept losing too much blood. It was always the same doctor." Peeta shakes his head. "The guy seemed to hate what he had to do. He hated seeing me. I know that he didn't approve of what they were doing. But he never said anything. Just took care of me and left. Sometimes, though, when it was really bad, he'd give me a shot of morphling. It just took the edge off, but it helped."
Peeta pauses then, seeming to search his mind for something he's willing to share. Finally, he actually stands up and goes to a spot near the middle of the room. "They started trying to hijack me after a few weeks, when they realized that I wasn't going to break the usual way. They would take me to another room, and even though they kept me chained, I still had some maneuvering room."
Something pricks at the back of my mind. I have a feeling I know how this story will end.
When Peeta continues his story, he proves my hunch correct. "I've already told you that I killed two of my . . . interrogators. And why." His eyes darken in rage as he remembers what the Peacekeepers told him they would do to me. I shiver. The idea of a stranger's hands running over me . . .
Peeta sees my reaction. "I knew they couldn't get to you," he says. "But it was the idea. It was knowing that they were serious." Peeta takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, trying to calm his temper. It is much easier to provoke now. Finally he simply says, "I had to protect you."
"So you killed them."
He nods and points to a space near his right. "I took one of them by surprise. The venom usually made everything a little crazy. You know how it is. But this time it wasn't so bad. I could still tell what was real and what wasn't. I heard his neck snap, but I didn't see him fall." Peeta looks to his left now. "The other one jumped on me. That fight took longer. I broke his radio so he couldn't call for back up, and then it was just the two of us. Despite everything that had happened, I was still stronger than he was. I won."
"Of course, they killed me for it," Peeta adds like an afterthought. "But don't worry. As you can see, they brought me back."
I bite my lip as another memory enters my mind. One of Peeta's earliest flashbacks. "You said that they killed you three times," I say timidly. "And you said . . . you said that those were your happiest moments."
Peeta blanches. "Katniss, you have to try to understand. Being in here was hell. I don't regret it. I could never regret it. Because as long as I was here, you were safe. And that was all that I wanted." He sighs and surveys the room. "But as the days pass—days when you're in so much pain it eclipses your power to process it all—you start looking for a way for it to end. Even if it means death. Because in that moment, you just want the pain to stop. In that moment, Death is your friend."
"You wanted to die."
"Yes."
I wake up with a gasp, breathing heavily.
"Katniss?" Peeta questions, immediately alert despite having just woken as well. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I assure him quickly. "Just, um, can you help me sit up?"
That's one thing that sucks about being thirty-eight weeks pregnant. I can't sit up without a little help. Okay, okay, technically I can . . . but it's a tiring experience.
"Bad dream?" Peeta asks once I'm leaning against the headboard. In a gesture that he wouldn't have attempted before his breakdown, he wraps his arm around me, tucking me closer into his side. I willingly nuzzle closer, my cheek rubbing against the soft material of his t-shirt.
A selfish part of me wishes that it was his bare skin. I miss the days when he slept shirtless. It wasn't purely for aesthetic reasons, though a shirtless Peeta was always something to marvel at, but it was the intimacy that I missed. The closeness.
I shove the thought to the back of my mind, and hug Peeta closer, resting my head on his chest. "It wasn't a bad dream necessarily," I admit after a moment. "Just . . . slightly disturbing."
Peeta tenses slightly. "Was it about our conversation earlier?"
The conversation about his imprisonment that I just relived in my dream? Yes.
My silence reveals my answer, and Peeta sighs. Before he can think that I'm not able to handle the truth, I quickly speak. "It's not like it was too much," I tell him. "It just makes me sad."
"I don't want to make you sad," he replies before whispering, "I want to make you happy."
I smile, kissing an exposed patch of skin along his collarbone. I ignore how he tenses just briefly. Anything remotely intimate makes him nervous. I have a few ideas as to why, but I haven't brought them up. I know that that intimate side of him will return, though. There are too many passionate nights branded into my memory to make me think otherwise.
"You do make me happy," I tell him. "Every day. Don't ever doubt that."
Peeta holds me in silence for a moment before he asks, "If the dream wasn't bad, then why'd you wake up like that?"
Hesitantly, I lift my head from his chest to stare at his face. The darkness of the room makes it hard to distinguish any clear features, but his blue eyes shine brightly. I stare into my favorite pair of blue eyes—eyes that have recently gained a hint of a hidden sparkle—and search for the answer to my question. I don't want to voice it.
"Katniss?" Peeta prompts, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why?"
I sigh, giving in. "It's just something that you said. It just . . . made me think."
"About what?"
"Do you . . ." I take a shuddering breath. "Do you still want to die?"
There's a brief moment of silence as Peeta debates his answer. "No," he says, causing me to relax with relief. "Katniss, maybe I didn't explain it well enough. I never really wanted to die. It was the pain that was ruling my mind. You can't help your thoughts when you're in that much pain. You can hardly remember your name. All that exists in that moment is the pain, and your only desire in that moment is to make it stop. But when the Capitol brought me back, I was always grateful. Because I didn't want to leave you."
I huff, exasperated. "Well, then why didn't you say that earlier?"
Even in the darkness, I can see his sheepishness. "Hey, cut me some slack, will you? It's hard to explain."
"I know," I reply softly. "Sorry."
"You know, lately we're apologizing to each other a lot."
"That's true. It's kinda weird."
"What? Apologizing in itself? Or that fact that we are apologizing?"
"We never used to apologize."
"Yes we did. Well, I did. You did on rare occasions. When you realized that makeup sex wouldn't solve everything."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," I retort with a smile. "I don't remember you complaining." I meant for my comment to be light and teasing, but Peeta's muscles tense beneath me. "Peeta?" I question. "I didn't mean—"
"No, it's alright," he quickly interrupts. "It's nothing you said."
"Then what is it?" I ask in concern. "Tell me."
"Well," Peeta begins, sounding nervous and . . . embarrassed? "You just got me thinking."
"About what?"
"Sex."
"Okay . . ." I say slowly, trying to understand what's going through his mind. Peeta's thinking about sex. Typical guy thing to do.
"And about our lack of."
Suddenly, it all clicks in my mind and I press my lips tightly together so I don't laugh. This isn't a laughing matter, and I don't want to hurt Peeta's feelings, but he needs to know. "Peeta," I begin, and though I manage not to laugh, the smile in my voice is clearly heard. "If you're offering to have sex with me, I'm gonna have to say no for a few different reasons. One, sorry, but you're not ready. And that's okay because two, sex is the last thing on my mind. Sex is what made me like this," I say, gesturing grandly to my swollen stomach. "Which, by the way, I am so ready to have this baby. I'm tired of feeling like a whale but waddling like a duck."
Peeta chuckles slightly and my eyes close at the sound. I missed his laugh.
"Seriously though," Peeta says. "I don't want you to think that I don't want to. I do. But, it just . . ."
"Doesn't feel right," I finish for him, repeating his own words back to him. "Peeta, it's okay."
I had an idea why Peeta was now so uncomfortable with sex. It wasn't that he was actually afraid or unwilling to do it. He was scared of the feelings behind it. If his memory was as good as mine, he knew for a fact that when we made love . . . we made love and then basked in it. If my guess is right, Peeta is afraid to feel so much so strongly. Strong, positive emotions still hurt him. Part of the reason is because I think he feels as though he doesn't deserve to feel them. Another part of the reason is that he's worried to feel so strongly and then be ripped away from me again.
"I just don't want you to think that I don't want you," Peeta says softly. He gently trails his fingertips over my cheekbone, and my eyes close without my permission. "You're everything to me."
It's in this moment that I'm grateful once again for his breakdown. Before that moment, he would never say what he just did so freely.
I open my eyes and smile. "Thanks. You're pretty important to me, too."
"Pretty important?" Peeta repeats in mock outrage. "That's all I am?"
"No," I admit, and in that moment I make a snap decision. Maybe, to ease Peeta's worries, I should gently guide him through his stronger emotions—like passion. I almost giggle to myself. It's like we're back in our cave during our first Games. Hesitant touches. Hesitant kisses. Only this time, it's him that will be struggling to keep up.
This could be really fun.
So I slowly lean in closer to him, giving him time to adjust to my closeness. He tenses, but I ignore him. I allow my lips to gently brush the skin of his neck. "You're far more than important," I breathe. I plant another soft kiss on his neck, a little higher than the previous. "You're my best friend." Another kiss. "You're my husband." Another kiss. I've reached his jaw. "You're the father of my child." Kiss.
Now, my lips are hovering just over his. I make sure to lock eyes with him as I say, "I need you. More than anyone or anything. You're my life."
And then I close my eyes and press my lips to his. It takes a moment before Peeta begins to return the kiss, and when he does it's hesitant, but I don't mind. Gently, I wrap my arms around his neck, threading a hand through his hair. Peeta tenses for a moment, because I've trapped him against me, but it passes in another second and he's kissing me again.
This second kiss is not as hesitant as the first. I internally rejoice when I feel one of Peeta's hands trail down my back. Taking it as a sign, I kiss him with more passion, and Peeta responds accordingly. Unable to help myself, my hands begin to roam, traversing the planes of his shoulders. At the touch, Peeta tenses just slightly. His shoulders still pain him. Somewhat more hesitantly, I allow my hands to rest on his chest. I can feel his heart hammering, and a thrill of power and satisfaction runs through me. I'm a whale and I can still make his heart race.
Suddenly, Peeta surprises me by deepening the kiss. The moan that escapes me is inevitable. And loud.
And regrettably snaps Peeta back to the present. Damn.
He pulls away from me, both of us breathing hard. I'm happy when he rests his forehead against mine, still showing comfort with us being this close. After he catches his breath he says, "Well, that was . . ."
"Fantastic."
I see Peeta smile in the darkness. "You still attack me."
"With good reason."
"Thank you," he says softly. "I needed that."
"You just have to get used to feeling so strongly again," I tell him. "Baby steps."
"That was a baby step?"
"Hey, you're the one that made the leap."
I rest my head on his shoulder contentedly, smiling when I feel Peeta press a kiss to my hair. We're silent for a moment before he says, "Well, this conversation has been extremely enlightening. Remind me how we went from talking about me wanting to die to having sex?"
I giggle. "I have no idea."
Peeta glances at the clock. "It's about time to get up anyway."
I groan, snuggling further into Peeta's warmth. "No, it's not," I argue. I don't want to move. The mood is too good. Too calm and content. It's a feeling that I've not shared with Peeta for too long, and I miss it dearly. Peeta is slowly coming back to me. Except for his sometimes darker personality and the obvious danger that he seems to unknowingly radiate, he's the Peeta I remember. The kind twinkle in his eye has returned, though it hides behind an ominous glint.
"Five more minutes then," Peeta agrees, holding me to him.
I smile as I continue to ponder the changes in him. So much progress has been made in the past month. I remember my prediction I made about his future personality as I watched his first physical therapy session. So far, I've been spot on. Peeta is much the same person he was, but with a few twists. He is no longer an idealist, but a realist. He's learned the hard way that sometimes good does not overcome evil. He is not as trusting as he once was, and I know that at the moment, he only trusts three people wholeheartedly: me, Haymitch, and Rye. Everyone else he regards with hidden suspicion and caution, some more than others. His optimism and cheerfulness that initially drew me to him are gone, replaced with a calm contentment. Then there's the darker side of him, the violent side of him that was created within the walls of the Capitol's cell. The side of him that's willing to kill. The side of him that's dangerous and should not be provoked.
But I don't mind this new development—it makes me feel safer.
"Our five minutes are up," Peeta announces. "Come on. We've got a date with Johanna."
Johanna. In some ways, she's been having an even harder time than Peeta. For the past month, we've been unable to see her. After one of her doctors discovered her stealing morphling from another patient, they realized she had a terrible addiction. When I had told Peeta, he didn't seem too surprised, revealing that it wasn't uncommon when they were captive for them to get shot with some morphling to calm them and prevent retaliation—which both of them were known to do.
So for the past month, Johanna hasn't been allowed visitors in order for her to go through detox and a rehabilitation program. This is her first day where she will be allowed visitors, and Peeta is adamant that we go. I don't blame him. I want to see Johanna, too.
It takes thirty minutes before both of us are ready to go. I stop at the door, an idea coming to me. "Do you think we should take Maya?" I ask Peeta. "She might help."
Peeta glances down at the wolf that is currently blocking the door, staring at us with an expression that says, "You better not leave me here."
"I think it would be alright," he finally decides after a moment.
"Well we need to take her with us anyway," I say as I remember something important. "Lieutenant Caine asked me to bring Maya down sometime today so she could work with her. She's worried Maya might have lost some of her bomb detection skills."
Peeta, of course, knows about Maya's new talent, but he's yet to see her in action. "That could be fun to watch. At least as long as she's with us, she'll be able to warn us if Coin put a bomb under the bed or something."
Well, I suppose that's one way of looking at it.
"Speaking of Coin and assassination attempts," I whisper as we walk down the hallway. "Have you and Haymitch decided to stop conspiring in secret and let me in on the plan?"
"No."
"Peeta—"
"I promise we'll tell you," he says sincerely. "But right now, I just want you to focus on you and the baby."
I scowl, but mutter, "Fine then."
The ride down to the hospital floor is silent, but not uncomfortably so. Maya seems happy with the pleasant atmosphere—her tail has yet to stop wagging.
When we step off the elevator, I notice Peeta's eyes sweep the room. He still has some hyper vigilant tendencies at times, and I imagine those tendencies are simply a part of him now: sweeping the room, noting escape routes, and possible threats. I frown when I see him tense slightly and follow his line of sight.
I scowl.
My mother is organizing charts near the front desk. Our relationship has not mended since our argument nearly three months ago. In fact, I can honestly say that we haven't so much as seen each other during that time, despite how often I was visiting the hospital. It's safe to say that whatever semblance of a relationship we had is gone. A part of me mourns the mother I lost, the mother I really didn't have. I felt cheated in many ways. However, for the vast majority of the time, I truthfully didn't give a thought to my mother. She's out of my life.
I assume Peeta's reaction is due to the discord between myself and my mother—discord caused by him. Wordlessly, I take his hand. "Let's go," I say softly. "It's not your fault."
"You should have a relationship with your mother," Peeta retorts as we walk down the hallway, out of my mother's sight. "You can fix it."
"There's nothing to fix, Peeta."
He has always defended my mother to me; always urged me to mend my relationship with her. He's the reason my mother and I were on fairly genial terms for the majority of a year. I know why, even if he doesn't. Peeta's relationship with his own mother was completely beyond repair. He aches for what he lost, and doesn't want me to feel the same way. The problem with his theory is this: I'm not as good a person as he is. I have no desire to repair the relationship. All bridges have been burned, and I'm not about to try to rebuild them, only to have her light them up once again.
Peeta's eyes narrow for a moment, debating whether to push the issue. I'm glad when he sighs and relaxes, giving my hand a squeeze.
We reach Johanna's wing of the hospital fairly quickly. She's been transferred to Peeta's old room, actually. Before Peeta raises his hand to knock, I ask, "Do you want me to wait outside?"
This is the first time Peeta and Johanna will have seen each other since being rescued by 13. They may want to talk about things that neither of them want me to hear. Plus, from the little Peeta has told me about his capture, I know that he and Johanna grew very close. Maybe it would be best for me to give them some time by themselves.
Peeta seriously considers the question, before shaking his head. "Johanna's not as censored as I am. Frankly, she'll answer any question you want about our time in the Capitol, and she'll answer it sarcastically and blithely, like it doesn't bother her at all. It's how she copes. Probably better than what I tried to do, but just know what you may be stepping into."
"She's my friend, too, Peeta," I say and with that I knock on the door.
"If you don't have food, I don't want to see you!"
I glance at Peeta, who merely rolls his eyes. He opens the door and steps into the room. Maya and I follow behind him. "What about an old friend?" he asks with a slight smile.
"Golden Boy!" Johanna's thin face lights up, giving her frail-looking form life. "Long time no see."
"You look like hell," he retorts as he takes a seat near the bed.
"And you're not as buff as I remember you being," she retorts. "Where'd those godly muscles disappear to? You look like a wimp." Her eyes suddenly spot me. "And who's the whale?"
"Missed you too, Johanna," I respond wryly as I ease into the chair next to Peeta.
Johanna's eyes remained glued to my stomach. "It looks like a tumor," she says. "A freakishly large tumor that sucks all the life out of you."
Well, it's good to see you too, Johanna.
"I wouldn't go that far," I say. "But I do get tired easily these days."
"And you brought Lassie with you," Johanna continues as she looks at Maya, who is sitting between Peeta and I, eyeing Johanna curiously. "How sweet."
"I thought she might help," I explain. "She's certainly helped me and Peeta. Finnick, too."
"What am I supposed to do?" Johanna retorts. "Whisper all my secrets and hope she understands? Does she give good advice?"
"You might be surprised."
"I hate surprises."
Okay, so Maya wouldn't be helping Johanna. It was worth a shot at least. We fall into a moment of awkward silence before Johanna begins to speak.
"So, Golden Boy," she says, looking at Peeta. "How you been? I hear you have quite a temper these days. Already told Coin to shove it. Guess Snow actually got something right, keeping us locked up, huh? Confrontation isn't so scary anymore, is it? Not when you know all the tricks."
"She's nothing I can't handle," Peeta replies evenly.
"Yeah," Johanna agrees. "She's nothing compared to those Peacekeepers you killed, right?" Peeta tenses at the reminder, but Johanna either doesn't notice or doesn't care. "Couldn't believe it when I found out," she says. "But, hey, I guess some good things came out of that place."
Johanna suddenly turns to me. "You know he was tortured for days because he killed those two pricks," she tells me. "Never seemed to stop screaming. But, of course, by that time, we were already very familiar with each other's screams."
"Jo," Peeta warns threateningly, but Johanna is nonplussed.
"What? My therapist says I should be honest."
"Keep some things to yourself."
"What? Oh, come on, Peeta!" Johanna huffs in annoyance. "Why shouldn't she know what we went through, huh? Why shouldn't she?"
"It's okay, Peeta." I thread his fingers through mine, trying to assure him that I'm strong enough to hear whatever horrors might come out of Johanna's mouth. But if I'm being honest, I'm trying to reassure myself as well. "I'm fine."
Peeta studies my face for a moment but says nothing. He turns back toward Johanna. "So how are you?"
"Why, I'm just as happy as I can be," Johanna replies sarcastically. "Why shouldn't I be? I'm in District 13, the savior of Panem! I'm in the company of the two people who are even more messed up than myself. I'm trapped in a little white room that does nothing for my mood. Needs a splash of color, if you ask me. Oh, and let's see . . . yeah, I've got nightmares that would even make Snow shit himself. I can't seem to stop shaking because nothing sounds better than a shot of morphling. And damn it, I would love to take a shower without thinking that I was going to die." Johanna scoffs, whether at herself or us, I don't know. "Yeah. I'm fucking ecstatic."
"I can tell," Peeta replies drily. "Want to escape?"
Johanna's eyes light up. "Really? You can bust me out of here?"
"For a while."
"I'll take that."
And before I can even protest, Johanna is slipping out of bed while Peeta is getting her clothes. "Um, am I the only one who sees the problem with this plan?" I ask as Johanna throws a soldier's uniform over her skinny form. "I don't think you're supposed to leave."
"And since when do I give a damn about rules?" Johanna asks with a slightly maniacal grin. "Come on, Preggers. Don't spoil my fun."
My eyes narrow. "Never call me that, again."
"Really, she hates any and all nicknames," Peeta adds as he tosses Johanna a jacket.
Our friend's eyes narrow as she gazes back and forth between us. "So, is all the drama settled between you then? I've heard rumors."
"Finnick?"
"You can torture me," Johanna replies with a dark smirk. "But I'll never tell."
Peeta actually rolls his eyes, amused. But when his eyes meet mine, I see his vulnerability, his anxiety. I give him a warm smile, taking his hand in mine. "We're fine," I reply, answering Johanna's question and reassuring Peeta simultaneously. "There's nothing we can't handle together."
"Oh, please," Johanna shudders. "None of that 'love conquers all' stuff. Makes me nauseous."
But Peeta and I don't listen. I gaze into his eyes, smiling. Peeta returns my gaze, his blue orbs seeming to sparkle with a secret. I can't help the giggle that escapes me, especially when Peeta's lips twist into a know-it-all smirk that I've missed dearly.
But apparently, Johanna doesn't have time for our staring contest.
"Seriously guys, you're gonna make me puke."
Both Peeta and I laugh. And for the first time since his return, the mirth that escapes Peeta is completely genuine. I close my eyes, leaning into his chest as his arm wraps around my waist. I can't imagine my smile disappearing anytime soon. Peeta is finally healing. He's finally come back to me.
"Come on, stop with the googly eyes. It's repulsive. I'm repulsed."
Still smiling, Peeta and I quickly devise a plan to sneak Johanna out of the hospital. It proceeds flawlessly. In fact, it was ridiculously—hilariously—easy. It was simple enough for me to distract the lobby with faux labor pains, while Peeta and Johanna slipped out unnoticed during the flurry of commotion. Although, for a moment, when Dr. Riley hurried to my side with a determined expression that quickly turned to exasperation and suspicion when she looked me over, I thought that maybe our goose was cooked.
But Dr. Riley continues to surprise me. "Well, false alarm," she says airily. "Happens all the time."
Her announcement causes all the nurses who had hastily assembled by my side to disband and resume their own business. This is when Dr. Riley leaned forward, her stern hazel eyes piercing me with a firm look. "Have her back in two hours," she told me. "And I won't say a word."
Nothing slips by this woman.
I give her my best smile, reassuring her that it would be done, and ease myself off the examination table. As quickly as possible, I make my way down to the cafeteria—though I have to make a small detour to drop off Maya with Lieutenant Caine—and easily spot Peeta and Johanna sitting at our usual table. I grab a tray of food and then take a seat on the other side of Peeta.
And that's when I notice just who all is sitting at the table.
Everyone apparently decided to have a lunch date. My entire prep team, Hazelle and the kids, Finnick and Annie, Rye, Gale, Haymitch . . . everyone. And it seems as though everyone has something to say.
My prep team is excited to see Peeta and yet bemoaning his lost muscle mass. Finnick and Annie are wrapped in their own little blissful bubble that no one at the table as the heart to pop. Hazelle tells me that I look like I'm about to burst, and that the baby should be coming any day now. Posy innocently asks how the baby got into my stomach in the first place, sparking an outrageous explanation from Rye about a stork. Prim greets Peeta, Johanna, and I with a smile before returning her head to Haymitch's shoulder, closing her eyes. She's the only one who could get away with that in public. My mother greets me quietly, and I force my reply to be civil. Haymitch and Gale are the only two who do not speak immediately.
Haymitch and Peeta lock eyes very briefly, and Peeta nods his head just slightly. I resist the urge to punch both of them. Stupid conspiracy that I can't be a part of yet . . .
Gale, however, does not even make eye contact with anyone. He focuses entirely on his plate in front of him, stabbing his fish with more force than necessary. I sigh sadly, wondering how this could have happened, how I lost my best friend. It's all Coin's fault. She's fed his hatred for the Capitol, so much that it's caused him to forget his morals. He doesn't see it, but he's become the very type of person that he claims to hate.
As if sensing my silent condemnation, Gale's steel grey eyes meet mine. There's a tense staring contest between us for a moment before he abruptly stands up and stalks away. Peeta's eyes follow him warily, and I place my hand on his knee, hoping to relax him. After a few seconds, Peeta simply takes a deep breath and returns to the conversation currently taking place.
Rye is apparently planning his next prank and is asking for ideas.
"Come on, it's needs to be brilliant," he urges us. "Something that they'll remember me by forever."
"You're asking for a prank of historical proportions," Peeta says dryly. "Aim a little lower, brother."
"What? I can do it," Rye retorts with a mischievous grin. "You know not to challenge me. I can't resist."
"I don't think you can top reprogramming everyone's schedules," I tell him honestly. "I think that's how you left your mark in District 13's history. How'd you even do that anyway?"
Rye raises his chin proudly. "I'm much smarter than I look."
"Not that hard to be," Peeta mutters under his breath and I clamp my hand over my mouth to hide my smile.
Suddenly, Finnick enters the conversation, wearing a grin almost too big for his face. "Sorry to interrupt, but we have an announcement."
"Well, let's have it," Johanna says sharply after a moment of silence. "The anticipation is killing me."
Finnick merely smiles wider, glancing at Annie for a moment before declaring, "Annie and I are getting married!"
Our cheers and congratulations are instantaneous. Even Haymitch has a light in his eye at the news. Peeta's smiling softly, locking eyes with me for a moment and we share a knowing glance. Wordlessly, he pulls me to his side, keeping his arm draped around my shoulders. I lean against him happily, my cheeks beginning to hurt from my constant grinning.
After the congratulatory remarks die down, Finnick says to Peeta, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, and Peeta. You get to make the cake."
Peeta raises his eyebrows. "It's been a while since I made a cake."
"Rye can help."
"I can what?"
Finnick rolls his eyes. "Come on, Peet! You're my best man!"
"I am?"
"He is?"
"What is with the twenty questions?" Finnick asks with a smile at Rye before looking at Peeta. "And yeah, you're my best man. Who else would I choose?"
Peeta's eyes fill with warmth. "Thanks, Finnick. Sure. I'll make the cake."
"Great! The wedding is tomorrow!"
Well, I think it's safe to say that this chapter is considerably lighter than the previous! There was actually fluff. FLUFF. What is this strange, foreign concept?
Well, Finnick does in fact exist! And he's getting married! Guess we know what occurs next chapter, huh? ;)
Oh, and we've learned where Johanna's been all this time. I've been getting some questions about her whereabouts and so know you know. And, don't you just love her? She called Katniss "Preggers." Gotta love it.
And so I guess the summary for this chapter is: Katniss and Peeta, after a good cry, have come together once more; Katniss attacked Peeta in the most wonderful way; Peeta is very conflicted about one decision: Kirk or Picard?; Haymitch is heaving a big sigh of relief because weddings promise alcohol; Johanna is still badass and is currently in talks with SNL; Prim needs a nap; and Why is Mrs. Everdeen still in this story?
Quote from the next chapter comes from . . . Rye!
"Let's go, Baby Momma!"
Hmm . . . perhaps someone will crash the wedding? ;)
Lots of love,
AC
