I know this chapter took forever to post. I'm trying to finish editing the novel that I wrote so I can get it bound for myself by Christmas so I had to back off of this story for a while. I continue to appreciate all of the wonderful reviews and everyone who has added me to their favorite author/story/alert lists.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters within the book series. These belong to Suzanne Collins.
They say misery loves company. I guess that's why Haymitch and I are getting along so tremendously. It's really unfortunate that Peeta and I aren't giving Plutarch the kind of sound bites he thought we would. He's still hardly speaking to me. But he knows that us, the couple, is of absolute importance when it comes to the rebuilding of Panem so he is still cordial when the cameras and reporters are around. I'm not as good at putting up a front as he is. It's our last full day in the Capital and the taping of my interview regarding the new school in District 12 is scheduled for after dinner. The news crew is coming to our hotel to film which is nice since I'm trying to stay as close to Peeta as possible. Even if I can tell I'm not wanted. It's hard for me to accept that his horrible attitude is solely because of me. So before we go down for dinner I corner him and resolve myself to force him to talk to me.
"This is getting ridiculous," I tell him, not bothering to hold back my annoyance. "Why don't you just tell me what the problem is so we can move on," I suggest. My brash attitude has taken him off guard. That unattractive scowl he's been wearing around me fades and a definitive look of anger replaces it.
"The world doesn't revolve around you, Katniss. Not every mood I feel is because of you," he says.
"Oh, I see. So you're not mad at me?" I retort.
"No, I'm still plenty mad at you," he admits. His voice is getting louder. I wonder how long it will be before he is fully screaming at me.
"Well then let's talk about it," I say crossing my arms to my chest at an attempt to show some control over the situation.
He shakes his head like he can't believe I have the nerve to even talk to him. This is not my Peeta. This is an angry, insensitive and highly unappealing version of my husband that I am beyond sick of it.
"Fine. Let's talk about it," he finally says. "The thought of you letting Gale put his lips on you disgusts me."
Gale. Again! How many times is he going to bring this up? "Peeta," I say as calmly as I can. "I didn't know he was going to -," I stop myself because he doesn't care whether or not I knew what was going to happen. All he cares about is the fact that it did happen. "I'm sorry that I put myself in that situation." I refuse to apologize for feeling the way I feel…felt about Gale. That is mine. Just because I am his wife doesn't mean he can tell me how to feel.
"I'm not sure you are sorry," he spits at me. It takes every ounce of strength I have to try not to scream at him for being stubborn and unreasonable. But I am not that strong.
"You know what, Peeta? You are really starting to piss me off!" I yell at him.
"I'm pissing you off?" he says with incredulity. He rises to his feet and I gather that he's finally found the fight he's been looking for.
"Yes! You are pissing me off. And I know what you are doing."
There is no way that Peeta would disregard my apology when he knows I am sincere. He would rather be mad at me then have to deal with the other feelings he's experiencing being in the Capital.
"You think you know everything," he says.
"I do!" I yell. "I know that this isn't about me. It's about you and how you can't stand being here. Just admit it, Peeta. You are not strong enough for this," I spread my arms out to emphasize our foreign surroundings. I know it's a low blow but I have to be honest if I'm going to get an honest reaction out of him.
He becomes instantly furious. "Why do you always do that?" he yells.
"What?" I say taking a step back from him. I have to remember that Peeta is not always in control of himself.
"You try to emasculate me," he clarifies moving a step closer.
"That's not what I'm doing. If you could stop being so defensive then you could see how ridiculous you are being."
"That's what I'm talking about!" he yells. "You blame everyone for everything, Katniss. It's my fault I'm not handling what happened with Gale well. I'll bet it's my fault that we had sex when you knew I was mad at you. You knew exactly what you were doing and now I have one more thing to feel bad about. Thank you, Katniss, for making this trip all about you just like everything else in our lives!"
I want to yell back at him but I don't because I know he is right. I do always make everything about myself. He's usually up for going along with it but not in this environment. Not when he's so vulnerable. It's clear that he needs time and space to calm down but I don't want to leave him now. Not when I finally having him talking to me. I slowly move across the room to where he is standing. He's staring out the window looking into the darkness of the streets. His hands are balled into fists and are visibly trembling with rage.
When I am directly behind him I call out his name in warning. His head moves a fraction of an inch in my direction before I place my hand on his shoulder. He lets me.
"You're right," I say softly. "I have made this trip all about me. I'm sorry I did that."
"Don't patronize me," he says jerking his body away from my hand.
"I'm not," I say. "I really am sorry." I put both of my hands on his shoulders now and rest my head between his shoulder blades. "I've known that you are having a hard time here and I haven't even tried to be here for you." I wait for him to respond and when he doesn't I add, "I know this is a lot harder for you than it is for me. With what they did to you here."
He lets out a deep sign and only then do I notice he's been holding his breath.
"I am still pissed at you about Gale," he says, his voice a little lighter.
"I know," I say.
"And I'm pissed at you for seducing me," he adds but it's not harsh. It's almost like he's making a dig at himself for giving in. I smile.
"I know," I say again. "I shouldn't have done that." I wrap my arms around his waist.
He turns around and his eyes belong to my Peeta. Even though they are intense they are soft and understanding. He leans down to hug me, pulling me toward his chest and burying his face in my hair. "I don't like being here," he whispers. "I want to go home."
"We can go right now if you want. Who cares about one more interview?" I ask.
"That one interview is the main reason they brought us out here, Katniss," he answers. He's always so reasonable.
"I just want to do what's best for you. I don't care if Plutarch is disappointed."
"We're not leaving early because of me," he says. "I don't want to be here but I'm not skipping out on our responsibilities."
We move from the window over to the bed. There's no hint of any sexual foreshadowing when we lie in bed together. I'm just happy to be holding him again after so many nights of sleeping on Haymitchs' sofa.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask after a long period of silent cuddling.
"No," he says. "I don't think it's something that I have to talk about. I just have to survive it, if that makes sense."
It does make sense. Perfect sense, in fact. Gale is something that I don't want to talk about or even know how to. He's something that happened that I survived. That's all the understanding I need. Same thing goes for my mom.
"I understand," I tell him. But there was a bigger purpose for coming here - one that has nothing to do with interviews. We're supposed to be testing ourselves to see if we are well enough to have a baby without relapsing. I've been so focused on him that I haven't let anything get to me. I take this as meaning I am ready. I am over the horrors the Capital inflected on us. There is too bright a future ahead of me to focus so obsessively on the past.
There's a knock on the door when Haymitch comes to get us for dinner. "Does this mean I'm losing my roommate?" Haymitch asks me with anticipation when Peeta and I leave the room hand in hand.
"Don't sound so excited," I tell him. "You're going to miss me," I tease.
"Right!" he huffs. "I'm going to miss you like I miss a hangover when my liquor runs out." He seems more content in the Capital than he has been on the journey to get here. It occurs to me he is probably facing his own demons on this trip. Maybe that's why he didn't put up too much of a fight on coming with us.
The three of us descend into the formal farewell dinner that consists of the company of President Paylor, Plutarch, and the Directors of the Department of Education, Defense, Corrections and Human Services plus many other guests I don't recognize. It's lavish considering there's an interview to follow. I try not to gorge myself on the food because I do have to be on camera soon but it's an ill attempt. We don't eat like this in District 12. The food isn't as lavish as it was under Coin but it's still delicious. I am especially fond of the lamb meat that we don't have in 12.
After dinner the television crew sets up the stage for the interview in the lobby of the hotel. Our presence in the area has packed the city with tourists and spectators. The open area of the lobby allows for many viewers to gather around. Plutarch is giving the interview himself. He thought it'd show the audience that there are no hard feelings between Peeta and I and the former Head Gamemaker. The interview flows sinuously as we go through the questions and answers that we had agreed to discuss. I give an overview of the direction the curriculum will take in our district and he commends my efforts.
"I must say it's quite ambitious of you to tackle a task of such monumental importance," Plutarch says. "What could possibly be next for you, Katniss Everdeen, our Mockingjay?"
"It's Mellark," I correct. "Katniss Mellark."
"I'm sorry, of course. Mrs. Mellark, what's next for you?"
I look over at Peeta who is standing next to President Paylor watching the interview from behind the camera. I think of all the confessions he gave while on live television during the games. I decide it's my turn to one up him.
"A family," I say. "When we get back to District 12 Peeta and I are going to start trying for our first child."
The informal audience around us goes wild with cheers and applause. I see Peeta's mouth drop open from where he is standing and I laugh at his shocked expression. He recovers with an ecstatic smile before he starts cheering and applauding with the audience. Plutarch tries to gain back control but it's useless. What greater showing of hope can we give the country of Panem then the promise to give life?