Learn to Fly
Summary: Five times 'Peeta' was Katniss' Guardian Angel
AU. "They say an angel gets its wings when they accomplish a good deed of great magnitude." "But what about you? Will you get your wings back, Peeta?" "Nope, not me. I'm stuck here with you." Implied K/G but very much K/P.
Genre: Romance/Drama
Chapter Length: 5227 words
Warnings: Utterly cute bb Katniss and possibly British Peeta, wtf?
Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with any religion and have taken artistic liberty with the interpretation of angels and any higher beings of the sort. Don't kill me.
Wow, I'm really happy about the overwhelming response this story received from all of you! There are so many of you who've added this story to their alert and favorite list. You guys are awesome, and I really appreciate it all! Not to mention, I've also received some really good reviews and feedback as well, so I'm really happy. Don't be afraid to leave your comments on the reviews once in awhile. I try to get back on all of my reader's input.
Also, a big thanks to my anonymous reviewers whom I couldn't thank personally, Peetapeetapeeta, THGfan, Thefallen, Tigris, KinnaFatniss, GIFtoJPG, andCannoli.
For those who liked the Prologue, I'm glad the premise wasn't received too badly. I know how particular some people are about these kinds of topics, but it seems that the story was well received. In this chapter, to avoid confusion, Peter refers to Peeta, and you'll find out later how he transitions into the name Peeta. Although, I'm sure it's pretty obvious by now. This story will recount five encounters and incidents the angel Peter faces during his stay on Earth. So as such, there will be five chapters besides the prologue and epilogue for a total of seven chapters (hopefully. I might change my mind Ahaha)
Anyway, enjoy the read!
Chapter 1: The Fall
During his short time on Earth so far, Peter had come to understand a few things.
First, although he retained his intangible form, he was very much subject to human-like feelings, emotions, and sensations. That explained the sudden all-consuming grief he had felt not long ago. It was almost too hard to bear. It made him feel weak. It made him feel imperfect.
Second, time on Earth passed painstakingly slow. What would have been a snap of a finger in his old home would now feel like eons. It was dreadful for the most part, but he had come to appreciate it. The slower passage of time allowed him much contemplation and observation. And unlike the heavens where he was usually stationed to watch over the mortal world, thousands of places at a time and more than thousands of times in an instant, he could only focus on so little now, limited by the confines of vision and perception he was imposed with.
Third, he was no longer able to communicate with his father and creator, and it pained him so. It was almost unbelievable how these mortal men could hold on to even a semblance of faith in a being they could neither see or talk to and still keep their sanity. He held those that chose to keep that faith in high regard, but was not surprised when others chose not to acknowledge the possible presence of higher powers. Who could blame them? He was a higher being himself, and yet even he was beginning to doubt as well and he had only spent a fraction of the time here on Earth than most mortals do. The Earth was a cold, dark place that he only tolerated as a duty, once upon a time. It was only once that he thought that the Earth held anything worthy of saving and keeping sacred, and yet, even that was lost.
Fourth, his father expected something of him. He just didn't know what. There were rumors and tales of similar cases with beings of his sort being banished into different realms. It had happened to Lucifer, and he showed no signs of regret for what he had done, and thus there were no signs of his possible return. Michael, however, was one who returned to tell the tale of the humans' free will, choice, and compassion, despite his return being initiated by their putting him to death, on a stake no less. Although his journey wasn't banishment in itself. He had volunteered. Things are always different when you are willing. From what Peter had observed in his short time on Earth, there was no such evidence of what Michael had seen and witnessed, and Peter held no hopes of finding it soon. It was possible that Peter would run into one of his own kind during his stay on Earth, but it was unknown to him if he would be aware of it if he had. It troubled him greatly, having to prove himself worthy of his return.
Fifth, he was essentially powerless compared to his previous stature. His wings were now remnants of their former glory, his feathers scaling over and the pliable bones he used to fly, growing brittle. In addition to that, he couldn't even touch a thing. It was probably a precaution set up so as to prevent the punished from meddling with mortal affairs, as so many angels had taken an interest in doing lately. He was one of those angels, the only difference being that he was caught.
Sixth, and the most puzzling of all, was that the only mortal who seemed to notice his presence was the little girl whose mother's death he had paid firsthand witness to upon his arrival on Earth. It was annoying to say the least, when he found he could not distance himself from the child, and what made it worse was that the child seemed to enjoy his tribulation as it squirmed in its bed, smiling up at his form. And still, as the child grew and mortal time passed, the entire arrangement had become more of a trying ordeal than ever.
This was how he had found himself stuck, only a few meters from the bustling toddler who was now being cradled by the latest prospects for her adoptive family. 'Katniss' they called her, and he scoffed at the name. They'd be better off calling her Sagittaria, the much more elegant and regal sounding name for the horrendous plant they chose to name her after, but it wasn't like he could voice out his opinion on anything of that sort. Even in his former stature, his influence was limited, but back then he didn't think it could get much worse.
By mortal time, he assumed it to be two years since the day of his banishment, and since then he had been dragged, along with the child, to numerous orphanages. The child was not aware of all the rejection she had inadvertently faced at each orphanage, no one wanting a baby who stared into a blank space of nothingness and smiled at it incessantly instead of focusing on any possible parents' eyes.
"What is she looking at?" They had always asked, but of course, no one could give them an answer. Peter knew that the girl was transfixed on his invisible form, and he had made it sort of a game to distract her as much as possible, not thinking much of it and particularly enjoying it when he was able to make the child laugh and once even blow a bubble of snot from her nose in her laughter.
All potential parents had thus evidently thought there was something wrong with the child's mind, and of course, this meant that nobody wanted her, but it was only when the child turned three that she began to care.
Katniss was an odd child to the humans that had dealt with her. Even at the age of three, she refused to speak and gave only hints as to what she was feeling with the expressions of her face. This, to the humans, was not enough, and they had tried and tried again to coax her into speaking, but Peter knew better than that and with all the time he had spent observing her, he knew the planes of her face expertly to the point at which he knew what she was thinking even with the slightest hints of the movement of her face.
It was then to his surprise that one day, when the other children at the orphanage had been particularly mean and left Katniss to play by herself at the sandbox, that she spoke up, in complete sentences no less.
"They ignore you too." She said, her voice small and weak from its lack of use. He was startled at her sudden speech, the first time she actually tried to communicate with him instead of merely acknowledging him with her curious gazes.
"You could say that." He spoke, wondering if this child was able to hear him too. "But it is more as if they cannot see me at all."
"That's okay." She said, concentrated now on drawing marks on the sand with a small stick. "I can see you, and you can see me." She smiled. "I'm Katniss."
"I know." Peter answered humoring her sudden outburst of conversation. He decided her voice was pleasant to listen to, so unlike the blabbering mouths of many humans who spoke more than they needed. It was probably because Katniss was a child, but Peter was grateful that she wasn't one for excessive words and was direct with her speech.
She paused from her ministrations with the sand to look up at him expectantly. Was she expecting him to tell her his name as well? He laughed.
"They call me Peter." He spoke softly. It was the first time he had uttered his name on his own accord. Everyone usually just knew who everybody was, and there was no need for introductions where he had come from. It was an odd word coming from his mouth.
"Peeta." She repeated, mispronouncing the simple syllables despite herself. He found it funny that she had inadvertently turned a name that meant 'rock' into one that meant 'bread', but Peter didn't have the patience to correct her and she was probably the only one who would ever call him that anyway, so he let the little error slip past him. "That's a funny name." She laughed, resuming her actions as she drew away on the sand.
"Not much more amusing than yours, little one." He returned. It was actually relieving to have someone to talk to after all this while, be it merely engagin in conversation with the simple mind of this mortal child.
"You talk funny too." She squirmed a little. "It makes me uncomf- uncumfta-" Peter was amused at how she was having difficulty speaking out the word 'uncomfortable.' She gave up and frowned. "I don't like it." She settled for the crude words.
"But what other way should I speak to make you comfortable?" He now teased, expectant of her answer. This child was very amusing indeed.
"Idunno. Like a normal person." She shrugged, obviously displeased with his refusal to conform to her wishes.
"Ah, but you see, I am no normal person." He hesitated for awhile, wondering if he had revealed too much, but when no thundering bellow of anger and flames of sulfur came to extinguish his being, he let himself continue. "I am an angel."
She frowned at him, obviously not believing his words. "That's not right." She pointed at him accusingly. "You don't have wings."
"Well I suppose I do look a normal person to you now. I've hidden my wings, you see." He explained to her, not going into the details of why he had chosen to hide them in the first place. They were hideous little things now – smaller and frailer than they once were and unattractive and unsightly even to him. His feathers had grown dull and they were more of a hindrance than anything when mortals chose to walk right through him. He had gotten used to the feeling, but it had still bothered him knowing he was like nothing to them, and hiding his large pair of wings meant less of a chance of being walked through.
"That's not right either." Her brows furrowed in concentration as she studied him with her honest eyes. "You don't look like a normal person at all."
This surprised Peter. He had always assumed his body had taken the shape of a mortal form of some sort, but this was obviously not the case as the little girl's eyes focused on him intently. His vision was limited to what was in front of him, and he had no reflection. It was as if he was nothing to all things related to man. He had never actually seen himself past what parts of himself his eyes could perceive. But he knew he had arms, and legs, and a body upon his initial appraisal, and they seemed normal to him. "Then exactly what do I look like then?" He asked her, sincerely curious.
She pointed to the drawing she had etched out on the sand. "Like this!" She answer enthusiastically.
Peter examined the picture Katniss had drawn on the ground fixedly, vaguely recognizing a semblance of a face, but obstructed by lines protruding out of it. He lifted a hand to his own face, as if trying to feel out what he looked like to the girl.
"You're bright." She exclaimed, now smiling as she looked up at him. That explained the lines. "Very bright." She squinted slightly and continued. "Sometimes it's really hard to look at you."
He supposed the child hadn't meant for her words to come out the wrong way, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat conscious of her perception of him. Insecurity – yet another imperfect mortal feeling. Why was he hard to look at? Was he as hideous-looking as his own wings? He looked at the girl inquisitively, still trying to decipher what she meant by her words. "Bright? Like the sun?"
She scrunched up her nose in thought and brought a fist to her chin in a gesture" of contemplation. "Nope. It's a different kind of bright." She decided. "But you're very pretty."
This caused Peter to laugh quite sincerely at the child's choice of words. If she described him as pretty, there wasn't really very much to worry about, he thought, relaxing more at the revelation. He decided he wanted to know more about how the child saw him. Vanity – the feeling of pride at being praised wasn't so bad if Peter could say so himself. "Do I have hair?" He dug for details, wondering if he shared anything in common with the mortals of this realm. "Is it anything like yours?"
Katniss reached her tiny arm to her back to claim the long braid of hair that ran down it, examining it closely. It was brown and she pouted adorably in distaste of it, but Peter saw that it wasn't nearly as bad looking as the child thought it was. She slung her braid to her back before reaching up for Peter, as if to compare his with hers.
Peter lowered his head down hesitantly, not entirely sure if the girl would even be able to touch any part of him, as he had come to find others could not. He found himself closing his eyes, afraid of the answer, but the sudden feeling of her tiny hand on his head jolted him. He could feel her hand. And moreover, she could actually touch him.
She smiled. "I like yours better." She said as she brought up another hand and started running that one through his hair as well. "I think your hair's supposed to be yellow." She started pulling segments of his short hair at different angles. "But I'm not sure. It's too bright." Peter couldn't believe it. Rather than concentrate on her limited ability to describe him, he couldn't take his attention of the actual sensation that he felt at her touch. Her hands were warm, so very warm, and he found himself crouching lower so the girl wouldn't have to tiptoe to reach his head. Soon enough, she was giggling, snapping him out of his reverie.
His eyes met hers at such a proximity he never dared to establish and he was able to stare into the deep pool of grey that bathed her irises once again. He suddenly had an urge to know what his eyes looked like as well. "And my eyes?" He asked, refusing to break the gaze that they both held now.
"They're blue!" She squealed excitedly as she clapped her tiny hands together. Her smile was so wide at finally being able to perceive his eyes. "I couldn't see them before, but now I do! They're blue!" She extended a little finger to his face to brush a stray strand of hair from his eyes, smiling at their color. "And very pretty." She added.
Peter couldn't help but return her smile. 'Blue.' he repeated to himself in his head. He loved the color. It was the color of the sky, and the color that he was surrounded by in the place he once called home. It was second only to the pale orange the sky's tinge would turn into at sunsets, but he guessed orange wasn't exactly an option for eye color.
Their mutual joy at the revelation was short-lived, however, and was broken when an older child from the orphanage threw a ball of mud at Katniss, passing directly through Peter's chest and hitting her, covering her dress in dirt. Peter turned to the intruding child, and then back to Katniss, who was now suppressing tears.
"Stupid Katniss, smiling up at nothing. You look like a retard." The boy taunted her, readying another ball of mud to fling. "What's the matter? Too retarded to talk? You suck."
The other children started joining him with his taunts, laughing as Katniss stood in silence, now crying unguardedly. Peter wanted so much to silence the insolent boy, never wanting to hurt anyone or anything as much as he did now. Anger – it boiled in him and he just wished he could protect the girl behind him, or at least be visible to scare the mean children away.
"Crybaby!" The boy was relentless. "Who're you crying for? Mommy?" He flung another ball of mud at her, this time hitting her on the side of her face. "That's right! You don't have one! And you won't ever have one, you crybaby! So just run away!"
And that's what she did. She ran away, clutching the ache that followed the hit. Peter resisted the pull that told him to go after her, wanting so much to maim the child in front of him for his actions, for hurting her and for making her cry. By the time the pull got so strong however, Katniss was out of sight, and panic began to overwhelm his anger.
He finally let himself be pulled, his form almost floating at the invisible force that kept them together and he found her high up in a tree, huddled in its branches closest to the sky above, her hands covering her dirtied face and endless sobs escaping her.
"Katniss." He called, his voice lacking a certain fervor at the sound of her cries. It was almost as if he could feel her sadness, and he clutched a hand to his chest at the sinking feeling that seemed to originate from it. "Katniss, come down."
"Leave me alone!" She shouted, her voice breaking between sobs.
Peter frowned, an internal debate going on in his head. He would climb the tree if he could, but as his hands reached for the bark of it, his fingers slid right through the tangible object. It left him no other choice but to fly up there, but as he gauged the strength of his hidden wings, he doubted he could reach up that high without difficulty, and much less carry the weight of a child with him. But as the feeling in his chest only grew stronger at the child's cries, his determination outweighed his uncertainty as he decidedly unfurled his wings and flew up to the child.
"Katniss." He repeated, his voice strained at the effort it took to keep himself up. His voice was closer to her now, and she looked up to find him floating in air.
"Peeta, your wings!" She said, her mouth now shaped into a perfect 'o' in her surprise. The tearstains on her muddied face drew out feelings from Peter that he had never felt before, and he lifted up his hand to try to rid her face of them, to no avail. He could not touch them, but he could touch her, and he drew comfort in her warmth and as her frown turned into a smile, he knew she would be okay. "They're beautiful, Peeta!"
Beautiful. The word echoed in his head. He had laughed off her descriptions of him as pretty, but her words now held so much sincerity it was hard to convince himself that she thought otherwise.
"I doubt they are as beautiful as you think, little one." How could they be? He was struggling to even keep himself afloat at their frailty. He had no time to take heed of her words, he was determined to get her down safely, at any cost. "Now come down with me?"
She looked unsure of his offer as she frowned, obviously unwilling to return to the ground where the mean children awaited her, but Peter's face was pleading, and Katniss gave him a small nod.
He smiled, bracing himself to receive her weight, but somewhere between getting up from her huddled position and supporting herself on a flimsy branch, her foot slid and caught her off balance. Her eyes widened, and the next thing Peter knew, she was falling backwards, plummeting to the ground below.
"No!" He screamed as he darted to catch her falling form, exerting all his energy in the process.
Time seemed to speed up at that moment, despite the nature of this realm, and Peter didn't know if he'd reach her in time. Her tiny form caught on stray branches as she fell and her hands extended out, hoping that one would catch her fall, but none of them did. She reached her hands out further, calling out as she did. "Peeta!"
Her voice was all he needed, and he caught her just moments before she hit the ground, wrapping his arms around her form as tightly as he could, his eyes clenched shut, infinitely thankful that he had caught her just in time.
He loosened his grip on her tiny little frame to see that her eyes were clenched shut as tightly as his had been. He could feel shallow breaths escape her as she writhed in his arms, but when she opened her eyes, relief rushed through him. She looked around, wondering what had happened, obviously bracing herself for impact, but when she found Peter staring at her intently, she smiled.
"You're safe." Peter managed to breathe out, but his relief was cut short when he noticed the large gash on Katniss' forehead which now began bleeding profusely. "Katniss, your head." He let out, immediately regretting his words, because when Katniss reached out for her forehead and felt the moisture that escaped it, the sting of the wound had caused her small smile to contort into a painful grimace.
"Ow." Was all she said as her tears started to flow once again at the sight of blood on her hands, and Peter held her closer against his frame to calm her. He panicked. He wanted so much to treat her, to stop the bleeding. Images of Katniss' mother that he did not want to relive flooded back to his memory and desperation took over. But he could not touch anything but the poor girl in his arms and instead started walking back in the direction of the orphanage.
He stopped at the clearing, able to see children still playing and adults gaily conversing amongst themselves. It would cause a spectacle for them to see an injured Katniss floating towards them, seemingly carried by nothing, and yet they were too far off for Katniss to be seen if he just left her here. He was at a loss as he cradled the crying child in his arms, rocking her in a futile effort to ease the pain.
"Katniss, you're going to have to call out to them. I can't take you any further." he told her softly, holding her tiny hand in his. She shook her head, refusing, tears in her eyes. She had never spoken a word to anyone except him, and it scared her to start now.
"They won't come find me." She tightened her hold on his hand. Her face told him she truly believed they wouldn't, but Peter urged her still.
"They will, Katniss. But they won't come unless you call out to them." His voice was desperate now and he settled her on the ground, prying his hand away from her.
"Peeta?" She asked, her voice full of innocent worry. "Where are you going?" Peter took a step backward, and then another, willing himself invisible. He didn't know if it was possible, but if he didn't leave, there was no way Katniss would call out on her own accord. "Peeta, don't leave me!" She screamed, crying now more than ever. "Don't leave me!"
It seemed to be working because now, Katniss' eyes were unfocused and panicked, and she struggled to sit herself up. "Peeta!" She screamed. "Where are you, Peeta? Don't leave me!"
He still stood there, pain now searing in his chest at her desperate cries. But she couldn't see him as she called out over and over.
"Peeta!"
Someone had finally heard her cries, and a woman Peter didn't recognize from the orphanage ran toward her, others following behind her.
Katniss was still crying desperately when they reached her.
"Oh dear." The woman ran toward her, calming her down and brushing the dirt from her face and body, the wound on her forehead not escaping her attention. "Can you stand up?"
Katniss ignored her and continued to cry, her calls to Peter now dwindling into small mumbles for him. "Peeta."
The woman's eyes were filled with worry. "Oh my, she might have sustained a concussion." She eased her arms around Katniss and gingerly lifted her from the ground. "Let's get her inside."
It was nightfall when Katniss was settled into her bed, her head bandaged and her other wounds tended to. When the adults asked her what had happened, for the first time ever, she spoke. But instead of incriminating the children that were truly at fault, at the sight of the taunting boy's threatening face, she left out the details and simply told them that she had gone climbing up a tree and fell, earning her a scolding in place of those who truly deserved it.
But Peter didn't have it in him to be mad. He was just relieved she was safe, and guilty he had subjected her to such a traumatizing ordeal. And when he chose to make himself visible to her once again, he didn't blame her for ignoring him, obviously still upset that he had left her. But she was a child, and it would be difficult to explain his actions to her, so he humbled himself instead.
"I am sorry Katniss." He crouched beside her bed so he was at eye level with her. He was glad she didn't turn away from him, but she wasn't speaking to him either. "Will you forgive me?"
She glared at him, but said nothing.
He never thought he'd ever receive a glare from this sweet child, but he had earned it after everything that happened. Inside though, he wished she knew to thank him for saving her life, but he had no right to be selfish after everything that had happened, even before he was banished to Earth.
He turned to leave once more, but Katniss reached out and held him in place. "No." He turned back to see her sitting up in bed, her eyes sad. "Don't leave me again."
He smiled at her and took his place once more beside her. "Do you forgive me, little one? I am so very sorry."
She scrunched her nose up at him before she nodded, a small smile on her face. Peter returned her smile, reveling at how forgiving this child was. "But you have to show me your wings again." She said in a tiny voice, afraid her request was too much and that Peter would leave her.
Of course, it wasn't too much, but Peter felt immensely inadequate with himself after all that transpired this afternoon. He had only ever brought his wings out to get her down from the tree, and in the end, he had caused her more harm than good. "Is there nothing else you wish for?" He asked. Maybe there was something else he could do to earn her forgiveness.
"Please?" Her voice was small and begging.
There was something about the child's face that made her difficult to refuse, and he stepped back to give himself room as he unfurled his wings, turning his face away from her in shame.
"They're even more beautiful than I remember." She whispered as she struggled to get out of bed to approach him. Peter saw this and instead walked toward her, drawing his wings in closer together and keeping her in bed, afraid she would strain herself after the fall. She didn't resist him as he beckoned her not to get up, but sat transfixed at his wings. "I thought it was just a dream." She reached out to touch one of his wings, and a shiver ran down Peter's spine at the foreign sensation. "They really are beautiful, you know?'
Peter shook his head, laughing slightly at the child's shallow joy. "They are hardly as beautiful as they used to be." He turned to look at them himself only for his eyes to widen in surprise.
His wings were a little larger now, a little of their former sheen returning, but still a dull, dirty white and nowhere near as glorious as they once had been. Had they grown? They certainly felt stronger as he flexed them instinctively, and Katniss laughed as her hand felt the movement. Maybe he had done something right. He turned back to Katniss who was smiling so brightly at him, the white of her teeth standing out in contrast to the dark of the night.
"They used to be so much larger, and much more beautiful than you can probably imagine, little one." He told her, enjoying how much attention she was giving him. She hung onto each word he spoke.
"I want wings too." She pouted as she ruffled the feathers of his wings. "Do you know how to get them?" She asked innocently.
He laughed at her naiveté.
"They say an angel gets its wings when they accomplish a good deed of great magnitude." He explained as plainly as he could to the child. "But I've lost mine." His voice held some bitterness in it, but he had surrendered himself to his punishment, knowing fully that what he had done to warrant punishment in the first place was unforgivable. And yet he was given another chance, albeit his home, wings, status and strength taken from him in the process. The opposite of his explanation was also true for angels found being disobedient.
"But what about you? Will you get your old wings back, Peeta?"
"Probably not ever." He answered honestly. He had no idea what he had to do to regain favor in his father's eyes and he wished it were as simple as it had been when he had asked this child for forgiveness. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, little one." The words didn't seem to hurt him as much as he thought they would. If he was going to spend his time here on Earth anyway, he was happy that he would be spending it with this child.
Katniss gave him a sad, but appreciative smile. "I want you to stay with me." She said, placing a tiny hand on his cheek. "But if you need to leave to get your wings back, I guess I don't mind." She put on her bravest face and Peter appreciated her sentiments. She was wiser than most, even at her young age.
"I don't think that will be necessary, little one." The chances of his returning weren't very good, and he sat resigned to his fate with the child in front of him. He was better off getting used to things than trying to escape them. In his mind, he toyed with the prospect of adopting the little nickname the child had given him. 'Peeta.' He said the name repeatedly in his mind, it didn't sound so bad. If she had it in her to turn the rock of an angel into a life-saving piece of bread, then so be it.
He ran a hand through her hair which was now free from its usual braid. She yawned and her eyes began to droop in her tiredness.
"Stay with me?" The child asked tiredly as she lay down to sleep.
Peter withdrew his wings into his back and held the child's hand in his as she drifted into slumber.
"Always."
Notes: Aww, cheesy use of THG quotes is cheesy, isn't it? Ahahaha. I hope some of you got the allusion of the title to Peeta as a fallen angel, the fall Katniss sustained and the impending fall Peeta is yet to experience (*hinthint*). Also, it was just so convenient that the name Peter means 'rock' and Peeta means bread. It's a wonderful metaphor to establish.
I don't think I have plans to include as many of the THG characters in this story as I did in my other story, Music and the Beast, but rest assured that some of them will make an appearance in future chapters as needed.
On that note, if you enjoyed this story, go ahead and check out my other story, Music and the Beast! It won't disappoint, I promise.
Leave me a review and I'll do my best to update as soon as I can. Your reviews are the fuel to my writing engine!
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