It was a mistake to come back to Twelve, I was a fool to think I could stay, could build a life with her, I'm nothing but a danger to her, a mutt, a loose cannon that could blow up at any moment and destroy her completely. I pace back and forth in my living room, pulling at my hair, willing myself to calm down but failing. I'm enraged with myself, I hurt Katniss, her wrists are battered and bruised, I didn't even ask her if I'd hurt her elsewhere, oh God, did I do anything else to her?
I knew when I woke up on my couch this morning wrapped in a blanket that something was off. The puddle of water inside my front door that I couldn't explain, the feeling that something was missing, the vague, shadowy memories. I tried while I baked this morning to reconstruct what had happened, but I couldn't. I knew that it must have been an episode, and probably a bad one. It's pretty typical for me to not be able to remember afterwards much of what happened while I was locked in my head that way. But I knew that someone had been with me. Realistically, that could only have been Katniss; Haymitch and Sae don't come to my house in the middle of the night. But I just couldn't remember.
I went over to her house for breakfast anyway, despite my unease. When she didn't come down until much later than usual, until after Sae left in fact, I should have guessed that something had happened. She couldn't even meet my eyes. And when she reached across the table, and I saw my handprints on her arms… what have I done?
I throw myself onto the couch and focus on breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth. 'Calm down Peeta' I think desperately, I can't risk pushing myself into another episode, I have to calm down. What happened last night? Think Peeta think! I remember the storm, the thunder rumbling, I couldn't sleep, I came downstairs to warm some milk, then…? What happened then? There was lightning, blinding light, and shiny images, the jungle, the lightning tree, Katniss blowing up the arena, trying to kill us all… I felt like I was slipping, then… nothing. Nothing except… singing? Katniss singing. A lullaby? Was she singing me a lullaby? Real or not real? Real... I'm pretty sure that's real. Was that before or after I hurt her? It must have been after. She stayed with me and sang to me after I hurt her? This doesn't make me feel better at all, in fact I feel so much worse.
Yet when I close my eyes I can feel her holding me, we were laying right here on the couch and she was holding me, singing to me. I can remember that now and it hurts so badly, I want so much to feel her arms around me again, right now, to comfort me and tell me it was all a mistake, that I didn't hurt her after all.
But I did. I did hurt her, and she's not going to comfort me, she needs to stay far away from me.
I climb off the couch and head for my study. With shaking hands I dial Dr. Aurelius, it's not my therapy day but he's always there to take my calls if I need him.
When she pushes open the door to my bedroom I don't look at her. I've been sitting by the window that overlooks her house all evening, painting, so I saw her striding across the green in the moonlight. I knew where she was heading, and while in my heart I want nothing more than to run to her, to hold her and to never let her go, I know that I need to stay away from her, she's not safe with me. So I stay put and instead I continue working, mixing reds to make realistic blood spatters. "You shouldn't be here," I manage to choke out, still not looking her way.
"Why not?" I jump when she speaks, she's moved, silently, and is standing just behind where I perch on my stool, looking over my shoulder. My heart starts pounding; from being startled, or from her proximity, I'm not sure. Her breath catches as she takes in the painting I'm working on, which is of my cell in the Capitol dungeons; filthy and bloody and bathed in the acid green light that I remember illuminating everything down there. She leans even closer, her face right next to mine. I close my eyes tightly, her closeness is almost overwhelming. "Oh Peeta," she murmurs, and lays a gentle hand on my arm. I flinch, unintentionally, and she pulls it back.
My eyes remain shut as I listen to the blood rushing in my ears, to my own laboured breaths as they gradually slow. It's so quiet for so long that I chance opening my eyes, expecting that she'll have slipped away as silently as she came, but she hasn't, she's perched on the edge of my bed, watching me, her silver eyes glowing in the moonlight. "Hi," she says softly.
"Why are you here?" My voice sounds cold and I hate myself even more. She's unperturbed.
"Because you're here." She says it so matter-of-factly that I have to fight the urge to smile. Katniss doesn't do prose or flowery words, she's always straightforward when she manages to actually say what she's thinking, which admittedly isn't often. "You didn't come for dinner," she murmurs softly.
"You shouldn't be here," I say again. "It's not safe. You're not safe here."
"I've never been safer anywhere else than I am with you Peeta." Again there's no hint of melodrama, she's simply stating things as she sees them. It pulls at my heart.
"I hurt you," I start but she cuts me off.
"That wasn't you." Her tone is firm. I look at her, intending to begin all of the arguments about why she should stay away from me that I've been playing in my head since I came home this morning, but her silver eyes meet mine and I feel like I'm drowning in them. "Come here," she says, holding out her hands. I try to resist, but when she softly adds "please," my resolve crumbles, it always does around her. I move over to the bed, sitting beside her but not touching her, my eyes downcast. She turns to face me, taking my hand in hers.
"Peeta," her voice is so soft, barely above a whisper. "If you were going to hurt me, you would have, you're much bigger and stronger than I am, but you didn't." I make a noise of protest but she cuts me off, "No, these," she flexes her wrists slightly, "These are nothing, I bruise myself worse than this every day just climbing trees. You had a flashback, I can't imagine how terrible and frightening it was for you, but you fought it Peeta, you fought it so hard, you kept me safe and you came back to me." Her hands squeeze mine. "I'm not going to stay away from you Peeta. We're a team, and I want to help you, the way you help me. If you'll let me?"
"Katniss, I'm afraid I'll really hurt you."
"I'm not." I look back into her eyes and they're clear and earnest. "I'm not afraid of you Peeta. I've seen you fight off the flashbacks. I know you'll never hurt me." I shake my head sadly.
"I don't… I can't…" I sigh loudly, "Katniss, it's too much of a risk. What if I can't control it next time?"
"What if there's never a next time Peeta?" She's just not backing down. "If our situations were reversed, if Snow had hijacked me instead of you, you'd be with me, every step of the way, helping, I know you would. Like I should have been all along. I wasn't there for you Peeta, when you needed me, and I'm not going to make that mistake again." Her hand reaches up and ghosts along my eyebrow, now regrown after being singed off in the explosions that ended the war. She smiles softly to herself. "Your eyebrows have grown back," she says quietly. Her smile fades and her expression becomes wistful. "Peeta, I'm not good with words, not like you." I want to protest that she's doing just fine but I say nothing, letting her gather her thoughts to continue. "I… I did so many things wrong, so many things that hurt you. But you came back. And I feel like I'm being given another chance. To do better this time."
I'm breathless at her confession. I don't really know what she wants from me, or wants for us, but this little slice of her feels like a precious gift. And even though I'm desperately in love with her, have loved her most of my life, this small bit of trust and intimacy she's offering is enough. I nod at her, and she wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. I bury my nose in her hair, inhaling deeply and fighting back the tears that burn my throat. When she pulls away she scoots across the bed and flips down the covers. Following her lead I climb into bed and she presses her back snugly against my chest, pulling my arms around her and entwining her fingers with mine. I drift to sleep with the thought that maybe – just maybe – we could make something of this, given enough time and patience. It's a happy thought.