Chapter 6
Whatever else happened between us in the past, I was not expecting that kind of answer from him. The idea that he could still have feelings for me seems totally ridiculous. If anyone should hate me, it is Peeta, for everything I put him through, for everything I said. But no. And I am the blindest person in the world, it seems, for when I express my concerns to Haymitch and Greasy Sae they both look at me as if I've lost it.
"You are not surprised," I say, somewhat astonished.
"Why would we?" Greasy Sae says. "That boy has been in love with you since the stone age."
"He can't still be," I argue back. "Not after all that happened. I'm not the same person I was before!"
"No one is the same person after the Hunger Games," Haymitch says, alarmingly sober. How many days till the next shipment this time? Three? Four? "Or after a war, for that matter. Yes. You are a different person, but so is he. I don't know what he sees in you, anyway, but I suppose something remains in there, and he clings to it."
No matter what I argue, they always have a counter argument. It's like I cannot free myself of Peeta's love no matter what.
Do I want his love? I don't deserve it, that's for sure.
I think of Gale, too. Do I want his love? There, the answer is a resounding no. Not that kind of love. While Gale will always have a special place in my heart, but there is a certain violence deep within him that worried me, even before Prim's death.
Gale... how fitting is his name. He is an untamed force like the winds. Impossible to stop.
Peeta is gentle, in sharp contrast. How did he even survive the first Hunger Games? How did he live long enough for me to find him? Had they not changed the rules he might have died. He would have been spared all the suffering.
Yes, he asked for death many times since then. Unlike many of us, Peeta always saw himself as expendable. He saw the bigger picture, he saw how things could work out without him, perhaps much easier than with him. But I wouldn't let him die, not even when he was a threat to me. I couldn't sacrifice the goodness in him, the hope that he had represented since I was eleven years old. He saved my life, then, and I have tried to repay him by saving his.
But then, everyone at the Quarter Quell was trying to keep me alive, while all I wanted was to keep him. Everyone wanted to keep me alive so that I could become the Mockingjay. They all had a purpose for me.
Except for Peeta. He just wanted me to live. He did not want me to be the Mockingjay, and then he fought hard against the hijacking of his mind, battling between reality and lies, having lost his family and a lot of friends in the process.
And then he came back to District 12, and now he sleeps with me every night.
I don't resist when he kisses me.
He never imposes, and if he sees me uncomfortable, he stops. Mostly, I feel his lips when I'm being pulled from nightmares, as he tries to calm me. Not just his arms, but his lips, too, are hard at work, keeping me sane, pulling me back to reality. Sometimes he kisses my neck, sometimes my cheeks, sometimes my hands, and rarely my lips. He saves those kisses for the worst moments, when it is very hard to calm me, or when my screaming leaves me powerless and defeated.
How long can we go on like this? How long can he be content with just that? Is it ever enough? What is true, is that I don't think I could ever relinquish it, not now, when I have shared my bed with him every night for almost a year. The primroses and dandelions around my house are ready to bloom again, and I cannot wait to see them.
x-x-x
I'm lying on silky sheets in a canopied bed. I do not know this place, but I have the feeling I have been there before. I am wearing the red dress from my first Hunger Games interview, although my hair now cascades down in soft curls. It is quite long and cared for. No doubt my prep team and Cinna had something to do with it.
I try to sit up to explore exactly where I am, but my hands are tied, and I cannot move. What's going on here? Where am I?
"Hello?" I call out, but no one replies.
I fidget with my shackles, trying to free myself, but the more I try, the tighter they become.
"It's no use, you know?" I hear Finnick's voice very near me. Out of nowhere, another bed appears next to mine, and there he is, sitting naked with his knees drawn up. He is slowly rocking himself, his wrists and ankles chafed from now absent ligatures, and he is crying. "It's no use. The more you fight, the more they hurt you."
"Finnick..."
"You are a champion now, you have to accept your fate."
"My fate? But..."
"They say Snow himself will have you first, at least that's what his wife has just told me. They say he will burn that dress off you, and then have his way with you. After that, you'll be fair game for the others."
"This can't be happening!" I fight against the ropes, but they only pull me tighter. There are ropes at my ankles, too, and the four points pull me towards the corners of the bed. It hurts, but it takes all my willpower to stop myself from fighting.
The pulling stops, and eventually the ropes slacken a bit.
"See?" Finnick says. "That's better now."
"How can you stand it?" I ask him, the anger boiling in me.
"I have no choice, do I?" he gives me a crooked smile. "If I don't do as I'm told, they'll hurt Annie and Finn. I cannot let that happen."
His image flickers off, and I can hear the door opening. I'm fighting the ligatures again, and they are pulling me harder than ever. I cry out, but try to remain focused. A figure has entered my room, and try as I might I cannot discern who it is. I can feel the hands going up my thighs, my torso, my breasts... I feel the legs swinging to my sides, as he, Snow clearly now, straddles me. The look on his face is terrifying. His wicked smile tainted with blood, and the air suffocating with rose scent.
"Now, my Mockingjay," he says, "let's see you fly out of this one..."
"No... no! NO!"
I see the knife before I feel it, cutting through the bodice of my dress, the tip barely breaking into my skin. I'm pleading for him to stop, and even Finnick's concerned voice can stop me.
"You've got to stop struggling, Katniss," his pained voice tells me, "or they'll hurt him."
"Peeta..." I whisper.
"That boy you never loved is not here to save you," Snow says, his hands poised to rip the fabric off my body. "Now it's time to pay for your lies!"
"NO! PEETA!"
I kick and scream and fight Snow as he tries to subdue me. He will not get the better of me, he will not make me an object of luxury, he will not break me. He will not...
"Katniss!"
I hear my name, and then I feel the lips pressed against mine, the arms clinging to my body, the passion running through it. And I'm awake. Awake and in Peeta's arms. Snow is not real, the room is not real, the red dress is not real... But Peeta is. His lips and arms are real, his warmth is real. Everything about him is very real.
And I cling to him as if my life depends on it, and I kiss him with all the strength I've got. I can't let him go, and I'm pressing myself to him. He is half kneeling against the wall as I kneel in front of him, kissing him as if the life will leave my body if I don't. He responds with equal force, his hands clutching the fabric of my nightgown at my back.
And that's when I feel it, for the first time since the Quarter Quell, that stirring deep within me that makes everything but Peeta disappear. That thing that makes me lose contact with the world but keeps me attached to him. That thing that makes kissing Peeta not enough.
Before I can truly register what I'm doing, I've pulled his shirt off, our lips separating just that one moment I need to get it past his head. In that brief second, Peeta looks at me, as if to make sure I'm awake and aware of what I'm doing. I am, of course I am, now more than ever.
I let him undress me as we roll back into bed, where his hands touch me and mine touch him, where he erases every single drop of pain and anguish left from my nightmare. There is no reason left, no reason because there is no need for there to be any. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that we made it out, we survived, Snow did not break us, and we came out alive.
We came out together.
x-x-x
I'm lying on my belly, next to Peeta, the sheets somehow at my waist. I can feel Peeta's hands stroking my back, his lips kissing my brow. I open my eyes and he is watching me, a small smile on his lips. In the dim light of dawn, his blue eyes are burning bright.
I smile at him, and lean over to kiss his lips, resting my head on his shoulder. He pulls me closer, protecting me in his embrace. There are no nightmares, but he is there, and I am happy he is there.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey."
"Did you sleep?"
"Yeah, bit. You?"
"Nah, I couldn't stop looking at you. I had to convince myself over and over that you are real, that I am not dreaming this."
"You're not," I say, passing my arms around him. "This is very real."
"I'm glad. I don't think I could face waking up now and finding it was all a dream."
"Some things should remain detached from reality," I say, and I can see he doesn't quite like what I'm saying, so I finish, "this is not one of them."
"No, I guess not."
I kiss him again, and he sits up then, bringing me with him. I'm barely aware of the fact that I am half naked in front of him, not that it matters now, and he is as undressed as I am. He is looking at me intently, as if studying me. There seems to be a question burning in his lips.
"We've come a long way, haven't we?" I ask, trying to encourage him to talk.
"We have." He still doesn't look ready.
"What is it, Peeta?" I ask, my hand at his cheek. He leans down and gives me another kiss, his lips lingering on mine as he works up the courage to speak.
"I live in a world where illusions seem very real at times," he tells me. "Sometimes I cannot tell the two apart."
"I told you, this is real."
He chuckles. "That's not what I'm afraid of. I think I am quite convinced of that now. What happened last night was real."
"Then? What's worrying you?"
"Perhaps it's my imagination, but..." He takes a deep breath before looking straight into my eyes. This is it. "You love me. Real or not real?"
I smile, and I savour this moment, even though I know my delay is only making him more nervous. I kiss him, and then, looking straight at him again, I reply.
"Real."
A/N: So, that's it! :D Hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it Gotta run! Any comments or questions, just rewview/PM me