"President Snow did the same thing, you know."
Boggs and I are seated on opposite sides of a small table, alone in a room aboard the hovercraft on our way to District 12. I was told the flight wouldn't be long, but it feels long when I'm alone in a room with another President whose motives I don't know yet.
Boggs raises an eyebrow at my statement. "Did what, launched a massive rescue operation at your request?"
That was almost a joke. Maybe he's not a robot after all. "No, manipulated circumstances so he could corner me on my own away from Haymitch and Peeta," I say.
Boggs considers this for a moment. "Do you usually let them speak for you?"
I shrug. "They're better at it."
"And yet you're the one who's enraptured the country," he says.
That statement makes me shift uncomfortably in my chair. "If I've done that, it was because of things I did, not because of what I said. If you want fancy speeches, you should have flown with Peeta."
"President Coin though the same thing," Boggs says.
"Well, then that's something we would have agreed on," I say. "Maybe she should have led with that instead of her plan to abandon everyone I know to fiery deaths."
Boggs actually cracks a small smile. "It sounds like you can speak for yourself just fine, Mockingjay."
It's the nickname that makes me snap. "If you want to show you're not as heartless as Coin, you could start by calling me by my name and not by a label that describes how you hope I'll be useful to you."
Boggs seems taken aback by my anger. "Thirteen is military. I'm used to calling people by their titles. I meant no offense."
"That's not a title," I say. "People call you Commander, but no one calls you 'Leader of Thirteen.' 'Good morning, Leader of Thirteen.' 'Lovely day we're having, Leader of Thirteen.' 'Please join me alone on that particular hovercraft, Leader of Thirteen.'"
Boggs winces. "Okay. I see your point. Mrs. Mellark."
That name still makes me think of the witch, but I'll take it over Mockingjay.
Boggs and I actually keep talking for a while after that. There's a stiffness and formality to him that is deeply off-putting to me, because no one in authority has ever done me any good except when they were violating the rules they were charged with enforcing. But something about the way he's trying to engage with me suggests that he would rather be friends than enemies. And he did let me off without punishment after I killed Coin, so maybe I should give him a chance.
We haven't even arrived in Twelve yet when the pilots call us up to the control room. Well, Boggs gets called. I tag along with him when he goes, and he doesn't stop me.
When we get to Control, they report that they've found a large heat signature in the woods below. "It looks like there's hundreds of people," one pilot says.
"It'll take forever to bring them up on that ladder," I say.
Boggs shakes his head. "These transports are made for mass evacuations. We'll land and open up the aft ramp."
I nod and start towards the back of the hovercraft when Boggs grabs my arm to stop me. My instincts from training kick in and I just hold myself back from smashing him in the nose. He must sense this, because he lets go quickly. "Maybe we should send some soldiers down first, to make sure it's safe," he says.
I shake my head. "This is why I'm here, remember? So that the first thing these folks see coming at them from a mysterious hovercraft isn't a squad of soldiers."
Boggs doesn't say anything, but he doesn't stop me. And once we've landed and the ramp is lowered, I'm the first one down.
I recognize the area once I'm outside. This is very near a stream where Gale and I used to fish, only about an hour's walk from the fence. The people seem to be gathered near the water, while the clearing the pilots landed in is a few hundred feet away. It's hard to see anyone on the ground – the dim morning light is overpowered by the harsh searchlights shining from the hovercraft, but these only create a labyrinth of shadows rather than penetrating the foliage. The people are taking advantage, keeping their distance and staying in the shadows as much as possible.
I take a few steps away from the hovercraft. "Hello?" I call out. "Are you from Twelve? It's all right, we're not from the Capitol. We're here to help."
"Stay back!" a voice calls out. "We're armed!"
It's haggard and strained, but I'd recognize that voice anywhere. "Gale!" I call out, beginning to jog away from the hovercraft. "Gale, it's Katniss!" Knowing Gale, I know exactly how he's armed, too. "Don't you dare shoot me with my father's bow, Gale!"
"Catnip?" he asks, as if he can't quite believe it.
"Katniss!" calls out another voice, and I break into a full run.
"Prim! Prim!" I can just make out her outline as she breaks away from the crowd and runs out toward me, her two braids streaming behind her. We crash together with such force that we both fall down. "Oof! Careful, little duck!"
Prim lets out a huff, but she doesn't release her hold on me. "I'm so happy to see you right now that won't say anything about that old nickname." I let out a wet laugh.
Prim has helped me back up to my feet and we're both patting each other down checking for injuries when Gale arrives, accompanied by his cremate Thom who's carrying another one of my bows. There are burns on one side of Gale's face, and a makeshift sling hangs from his neck that he apparently slipped out of so he could fire the bow. Thom looks better, but he walks with a pronounced limp as they approach. They're both still tense, their hands still on the bows, and when I hear the footsteps behind me I understand why. "It's okay, they're here to help," I say.
It's only a moment later when Boggs and a handful of other soldiers arrive. "Mrs. Mellark? Are you okay? It looked like you were attacked."
I shake my head as I turn to face him, still holding Prim to my side. "I'm fine. This is my sister Prim, my friend Gale, and Gale's friend Thom." I turn to the others. "Guys, this is Commander Boggs. He's in charge of District 13."
Thom's eyes go as wide as saucers. Gale actually says, "District 13? You're kidding?"
"Nope, it's real. I just came from there," I say.
"Are you in charge of this group?" Boggs asks Gale.
Gale shrugs, then winces and holds his shoulder stiff. "It's nothing official, but I know the woods better than anyone else here, and I know the healers the best of anyone here, so people have been following me. The mayor didn't make it out, we don't think, so there's no one else to take charge."
"Is Madge…?" I ask. I clutch the mockingjay pin in my pocket.
Gale just shakes his head. "Haven't seen her."
Before I can continue my questioning, Boggs asks, "Do you know how many people are here?"
"Not enough," is Gale's answer. "Past that I don't know. At least a few hundred. It's everyone we could convince to run with us."
Boggs turns to one of the soldiers with him. "Let's get a rough count, we need to know…"
I tune him out. Instead I ask Prim, "Is Mom here? Is she okay?"
"She's fine," Prim says. "She's still helping the injured."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "What about Hazelle and the kids?" I ask, turning back to Gale.
"They came with me, they're all here" he says.
"Do you know what happened to the Mellarks?"
Gale hesitates before answering. Prim looks down at the ground. That's all the answer I need, really. The sense of relief I was feeling vanishes. "The town got hit first," Gale says, his voice somber. "By the time I saw it… Well, you know what happened to the Hob." I do know, I remember the loud rush of the fire that engulfed it, fueled by decades of coal dust embedded in every surface of that old warehouse. The whole district's covered with the stuff. Was covered. A new kind of horror begins to rise up inside me as I imagine what it must have been like, Capitol-engineered death raining from the sky and the ground covered in more fuel for the flames.
"I was barely able to skirt around it to get to the Victor's Village," Gale says. "We have a few merchants here who got lucky and weren't home when the bombing started, but as best we can tell nobody made it out of town."
Oh, Peeta. I take a breath and do my best to steady myself, because there's still work to do before what remains of Distrust 12 is safely back in Thirteen. And because it's up to me to be strong for Peeta.
Presently Boggs regains our attention. "My men are going to get a rough count of the people here to see how many of the transports we need for everyone. Our preliminary plan is to use three of the craft to move this group all in one trip, and leave only the one to continue scanning the area." I nod along with his plan. Knowing that the Capitol could renew their attack at any moment, I agree with him that I want the people safely away from here as soon as possible.
"Can you make sure Peeta's hovercraft is one of the ones to land here?" I ask Boggs. "I'll wait here and go back with them. I– I need to tell him about his family."
"They didn't make it out?" Boggs asks. I just shake my head.
Another of the soldiers steps forward. "I'm Soldier Nolan, I'm a field medic. Did I hear you say you have wounded?" he asks.
Prim steps forward to answer him, and I wasn't fully aware I was still holding on to her until I have to let her go. "Yes. I think everyone's hurt at least a little, but we have about thirty patients who need more serious treatment. My mother and I have been doing our best, but we don't have the supplies we need out here."
"We should move them first and get them to the Thirteen hospital," Nolan says to Boggs. Boggs nods his agreement, and Nolan turns back to Prim. "Can you show me your patients so I can evaluate their condition and get them prepped for transport?" Prim turns and gives me another quick hug before leading Nolan away.
"Do you know of any other groups of survivors?" Boggs asks Gale and Thom.
Gale shakes his head. "Anyone we encountered we brought with us. I have no idea how many others may be out there."
Boggs nods as he take that in. "Okay, search patterns remain unchanged," he tells one of the other soldiers. "You all have your orders." The remaining soldiers scatter, some back towards the hovercraft, some towards the people.
"Can you go keep an eye on things?" Gale asks Thom. "Make sure no one gets jumpy and tries attacking our rescuers?"
"Yeah, sure," Thom says, and limps away.
"I need to talk to the other hovercraft," Boggs says. "Are you okay out here?"
"I'll be fine," I tell him. "I'll wait here for Peeta." Boggs hesitates for another moment, but then he nods again and jogs off back to the hovercraft, and I'm left alone with Gale.
The silence between us is just threatening to become awkward when Gale breaks it. "So. District 13 exists, they have hovercraft and their own army, and you're practically the right hand of the guy in charge of it all." He stops and shakes his head. "And here I thought my night was eventful. A lot seems to have happened to you since I saw you on television yesterday."
"You have no idea," I say tiredly. Was that really just last night that I was having Caesar Flickerman touch my belly? "Six hours ago I was in bed in the Training Center."
"So what happened?" Gale asks.
I have no idea where to begin. "It's a long story."
Gale lets out a frustrated huff. "So give me the short version."
Right. The short version. "Well, apparently my stunt with the nightlock berries last year has inspired the whole country to revolt against the Capitol, or at least enough of it that District 13 is willing to break its separate armistice and try to take over the fight. They rescued a bunch of victors from the Training Center, evacuated us all to Thirteen, and now they want Peeta and me to appear in propaganda videos to rally people to the cause. And in retaliation, Snow did this to Twelve."
Gale takes a while to absorb this. Meanwhile, soldiers have begun moving people onto the hovercraft. I notice the injured being moved, person after person being carried past us on stretchers. My mother is accompanying them. She comes over to give me a hug and make sure I'm okay before boarding the hovercraft with her patients, and it occurs to me that hers is the first blond head I've seen since Prim left.
"You weren't exaggerating when you said nobody made it out of town, were you?" I say. "Everyone here is from the Seam."
"There's a few merchants here," Gale says. "But only a few." He lets out a long breath. "When the bombing started, I rounded up as many people as I could get to. Naturally they all came from our area of the Seam. We knocked down the fence and I sent everybody into the woods. Like I said, by the time I got to town it was just a mass of fire. I couldn't even try to get anyone out of there."
"I'm sure you did your best," I say. "Boggs and Coin both thought there was a chance there would be no survivors at all. Instead there's hundreds of people out here."
"Yeah, I guess," Gale says. I know he's more focused on the thousands who aren't here. We do tend to think alike.
Instead of dwelling on that, Gale changes the subject. "Coin, is that another of their commanders? Are you best friends with their whole leadership team?"
I take a deep breath. Gale and I have never been ones for sugar-coating the truth. "Coin was the president of Thirteen when we first got there. She reminded me too much of Snow. So I killed her. That's when Boggs took over."
Gale gapes at me. "You– You killed her?"
Now I'm feeling defensive. "She wasn't slick and manipulative like Snow, but she cared just as little about people. All she cared about were her plans for the war and how we'd be useful in them." I take a breath to steady myself. "People died to help us escape the Capitol. Good people gave themselves up to be captured and tortured in order to buy us the opportunity. And all I could think was, they didn't sacrifice themselves so that someone like her could take over."
I realize I should tell Gale about Darius and Lavinia, he's connected to both of them even if he didn't see them in the Capitol, but I don't think I can do it right now. Instead I add, "Plus she didn't want to send this rescue mission. That's what finally pushed me to act. I asked about saving the survivors of the bombing and she thought the idea was absurd. I'm not sorry she's gone."
Gale is quiet for a long moment. "You know, when you told me you were dealing directly with President Snow, I couldn't even imagine it. And now here you are, not just dealing with presidents, but killing and replacing them." He shakes his head in amazement. "Whatever happened to that girl in the woods who was too shy to tell me her name properly?"
"Far too much," is my reply. "They can make me their figurehead if they want. I'll even do it willingly, if it helps get rid of Snow. But I'm no one's puppet anymore."
Prim passes by again, she stops to hug me again before following the last of the injured onto the hovercraft. I don't realize just how many people have been moved on board already until the ramp closes and the hovercraft takes off. Being left on the ground like this does make me feel vulnerable, even when I know there are more transports on their way and other craft patrolling overhead.
It's only a few minutes later when another hovercraft lands. They don't bother sending the victor out first this time, but soon enough Haymitch comes ambling over. "All good, sweetheart?"
Haymitch and I don't speak to each other in platitudes. "Pretty much no one made it out of town."
Haymitch lets out a curse. He actually looks genuinely sad. "You're gonna tell the boy?"
I nod. "I asked Boggs to send his hovercraft."
"You get any read on him on the flight over?" Haymitch asks.
"He seems like he wants to be friends," I say. "Whether he's for real or a snake in the grass like Coin and Snow…" I shrug.
Haymitch nods his understanding. We both know only time and experience will tell us Boggs's true character.
Neither Haymitch or Gale make any move to leave as I watch more and more people herded past us to the hovercraft by Thirteen soldiers. It's about ten minutes later when the second transport leaves, and the third quickly takes its place. Peeta is one of the first ones down the ramp once it opens. I meet him part-way and wrap him in a tight embrace. How on earth am I going to tell him about his family?
Gale and Haymitch maintain a respectful distance, close enough to offer support but not close enough to intrude. Peeta tries to end our hug, but I won't let him go. I won't be able to do this if I have to see his face. "Katniss, what's wrong?" he asks. "What's happened? Is your–"
"No, Peeta," I cut him off, "Mom and Prim are fine, but–" I choke down a breath. "The bombing, they hit the town first, and it went up like a tinderbox. Almost nobody made it out. There's no word on your family, we– It looks like they didn't make it. I'm so sorry, Peeta."
Peeta doesn't say anything, just rests his head on my shoulder and holds onto me. I can feel the dampness of his tears on my shirt, but all I can do is stroke his back and cry with him. For once even Haymitch has the decency to hold his tongue. Right now, there's nothing to say.
…..
It turns out there are just under 800 survivors in the group Gale led away from District Twelve. The third hovercraft is under-filled compared to the first two, which means Peeta and I can easily find a place off by ourselves to grieve privately. All in all I'd rather have been crammed in with more people, though.
We're hardly the only ones mourning, of course. Ninety percent of District Twelve just died, everybody lost somebody. I've gotten off particularly well, in fact, with my whole family and all of my "cousins" making it out. But even I have lost so many people. Madge, my only real friend in school, who gave me my mockingjay pin that's become the symbol of the rebellion. Mayor Undersee, who bought my strawberries, who performed my marriage. Rooba the butcher, who always dealt with me fairly, who stepped aside to let me buy Prim's goat. Digger Malone, a great barrel-chested man who sold spices in the Hob and always paid well for badger meat. Delly Cartwright, the shoemaker's daughter and Peeta's oldest friend, a girl so outgoing and friendly that she even talked to me on occasion. Addie Mondail, a tanner who would buy pelts most others wouldn't look at. Borall, the florist in town, who used to let Prim look at the exotic flowers from the Capitol and even occasionally gave her ones that had started to wilt. All gone.
And of course, my most reliable customer in town, the kind baker with an appetite for squirrels. I think of all the people Peeta would have known in Twelve – his family, his neighbors, all his friends from town. Almost no one made it out of the town. Peeta's lost everyone. Everyone but me. And though he moves effortlessly between steely determination and grim smiles on his face as Plutarch films us visiting the refugee center where the Twelve survivors are waiting until they can be assigned to residential compartments, I can see the dead look in his eyes. He's hurting, but he can't show it because now he and I are the faces of this rebellion, and the faces of the rebellion can't break down in wracking sobs in public. I can't help but think of how much stronger Peeta is than I am; if Prim died I'd be an inconsolable wreck, even with Peeta there to hold me.
Finally in the afternoon, physically exhausted and emotionally wrecked, we're able to go back to our compartment for a few hours before dinner. We sit together on the little couch across from the bed. Peeta's eyes still look dead, and now that we're off camera his face matches. I'm not sure if I can give Peeta the help he needs. I'm not good with emotions or comforting words, and Peeta needs help with both right now. He needs his own Peeta.
Unfortunately all he has is me.
"Peeta–" I begin before he cuts me off.
"I'm fine," he says.
"No you're not," I say, taking his hand and running my other across his back. "It's okay, it's just us now. Whatever you're feeling, you can let it out."
Peeta sighs. "The truth is, I'm not really feeling anything right now. It's like I'm numb inside. I should feel sad, or angry, or regretful, but instead I just feel nothing."
The idea of Peeta, sweet, gentle, loving, compassionate Peeta not feeling anything kind of scares me a little. I don't have anything to say so I just keep holding him. After a few more minutes he turns to me and says, "You should get some sleep before dinner. You've got to be exhausted."
I nod a little and look up at him. "Come to bed with me? We're both exhausted."
Peeta looks like he wants to refuse, but he nods his assent. Once we're in bed, Peeta wraps himself around me and pulls me against his body, and I wish more than anything that I could offer him the sense of comfort that he's giving me right now. Instead, I take one of his hands in mine and bring it to my lips to kiss it, and offer the only comforting words I'm capable of. "I love you, Peeta."
He lets out a long breath, like he's been holding it in for days. "I love you, Katniss."
I let exhaustion claim me.
…..
I don't know how much time has passed when I wake up, but I can tell from his breathing that Peeta is already awake. I'm still holding his hand, so I kiss it again. Then I decide that's not enough and roll over so I can see his face. "Were you able to sleep?" I ask.
"A little," he says, his voice small and sad compared to the emotionless monotone of earlier. The dead look in his eyes has gone, replaced with a vacant expression I can only describe as lost. Peeta looks lost, and I know it's up to me to find him.
I've never been good with words, but I've always done whatever I need to for people I love, and what Peeta needs right now is to mourn his family. "Your father was such a kind man," I begin, choosing to accentuate the positive. "He's the one I think had the most in common with you. He was a kind, sweet man. He always had a smile for Prim whenever she sold him cheese, he'd always let her look at the fancy cakes even though it was obvious we were never going to buy anything. Whenever Gale and I would trade with him, he always treated us fairly. Plenty of merchants would trade with us while making it clear that they still found our existence distasteful, but he always dealt with us fairly, always treated us with respect. And every once in a while he'd slip me something extra for Prim when she was with me." I smile at the memory. "At first it made me angry, him giving me more than we agreed to. I thought he was doing it to patronize me, or because he felt sorry for me. I was too proud to accept anyone's charity, or pity. But eventually I figured out that he was just being kind."
I can see tears welling in Peeta's eyes. I take it as progress. I pull him closer to me and guide his head down onto my shoulder. Now I speak softly directly into his ear as he cries against my shirt. "Your brothers I'll remember because out of everybody, they seemed the most unfazed by everything that happened to us. By the Games, by the whole 'star-crossed lovers' thing. I never really knew them well before, but I'd see them in the bakery sometimes when I was there to trade or when I brought Prim, and the way they acted then was pretty much the same as it was after the Games. And I always felt that the way they treated me after the Games was the same way they would have treated me if you and I had just met at school or something. As quiet as Barlee was, as goofy as Rye could be, they made everything feel more normal because they still acted normal."
Now I'm at the hard part. What do I say about his evil witch of a mother? "I don't really know what to say about your mother," I begin, deciding that straight honesty is my best option. "I don't know if I ever could have gotten along with her. She didn't like me and I could never forgive her for how she treated you. But I'm still sorry she's not here, because I know you loved her. Even though you deserved so much better than her, I'm still so sorry that you've lost your mother."
Peeta has been quiet thus far, but now the first sob wrenches itself from his throat, sounding like it's fighting to escape imprisonment. He sobs into my shoulder, and all I can do is hug him tighter. I murmur into his ear, things like "I'm here," and "I love you," and "We'll be okay." It occurs to me that despite everything that's happened to us that forced us to assume adult responsibilities, we're still just a couple of kids. If it wasn't for the Games we wouldn't even be out of school yet. Peeta is a seventeen-year-old kid who just lost his entire family. And all I can do is hug him tighter still.
Eventually he begins to calm a bit. The sobs subside back to normal tears. His grip on me loosens a bit, and I back away to see his eyes are puffy and glistening but tears are no longer streaming down his face. I grab a corner of the blanket and wipe the moisture from his cheeks. "Katniss," he says, still a bit out of breath, "thank you so much for that. That was, that was so beautiful–" He cuts himself off and kisses me with such ferocity that I'm taken aback and it takes me a moment to remember to kiss back. But I do, with equal ferocity, because I know he needs this right now, and I will always give him anything it's in my power to give. Finally he breaks the kiss and hugs me so tightly I can barely breathe. "Thank you so much. Thank you so much for being here."
"I'll always be here for you, Peeta," I say, hugging him just as tightly. "Always."
"I need you so badly, Katniss," he says. He sounds almost broken, and hearing it almost breaks me. If I could hug him any tighter I would. "I need you here with me. You're all I have left."
"I'm not going anywhere," I try to reassure him. "I love you, and I'll always be with you."
After a while, I pull away from Peeta enough to look him in the eyes. I hold his head with both my hands and press our foreheads together so he can't turn away. There's something else I think he needs to hear right now. "Peeta, I need you to listen to me. I know it feels like you've lost everything, believe me I know how that feels."
"You don't–" Peeta begins before his breath catches on another sob. He tries to shake his head but I don't let him. "You don't–"
"I do," I cut him off. "I know what it felt like when I was eleven and I lost both of my parents." I take a deep breath before continuing, my own tears now flowing freely. "I know what it felt like when I was sitting in the rain waiting to die. I know what it feels like to lose all hope." Peeta doesn't try to respond again, he just looks at me now, tear-filled eyes staring into tear-filled eyes. "I know you feel like you've lost everything, but it's not true, Peeta. You haven't lost everything. You haven't lost your family." I gently tug Peeta's arms away from where they're wrapped around me, and I place his hands on my swollen belly, covering his large hands with my small ones. This is hardly the first time Peeta has felt my stomach since I've been pregnant, but this moment feels so raw and intimate that my breath catches for a moment before I can continue speaking. "You still have a wife, who loves you more than anything in this world. And you still have a child, our child, a child that's part you and part me. You, me, and our child, we're a family, Peeta. We're your family, we're the Mellark family, and we're right here with you. You haven't lost us."
Peeta stares at our hands joined together on my pregnant stomach for a long time, and then his arms are crushing us together again, our quiet tears the only sound in our little compartment. Eventually Peeta chokes out, "I love you, Katniss. I love you so much."
"I love you, Peeta," I respond. "Just as much."
We stay like that for a long time, sometimes crying and sometimes not, hanging onto each other and feeling each other's presence, until the sound of the door opening interrupts us. I look up to see Haymitch walk into our room and sit down on the little couch. Figuring my stare is greeting enough, I don't bother to say anything. I just keep hugging Peeta.
"Almost time for dinner," Haymitch says eventually. "Wanted to make sure you two were awake. And clothed."
"How much time do we have?" I ask, ignoring the jibe.
"'Bout twenty minutes. No rush." He pauses for just a moment. "How're you holding up, lover boy?"
Peeta snorts at the nickname, but doesn't make any move to change our position. "Not that great," he says, his voice still unsteady.
"Yeah, it's to be expected," Haymitch says. "Lemme give you a piece of advice, from someone with experience. You don't look like you need it right now, but sometimes you get stubborn ideas in your head so I'm gonna give it to you anyway: Don't go trying to handle this all on your own. You can't. Don't be some kinda damn martyr who tries to take it all on themselves. You lean on sweetheart here and let her take care of you for a while. Don't get any stupid ideas like you're being a burden or you're asking too much of her. You know damn well you'd do it for her. You let her help you through this. Otherwise you're gonna wind up a bitter old drunk like me."
Haymitch only lets that sit for a few moments before he stands again. "I'll see you at dinner. Fifteen minutes." And then he's out the door and gone.
After another minute I let go of Peeta enough to look him in the face. "You know, that may be the greatest piece of advice he's ever given us."
"Better than 'Stay alive'?" Peeta asks, and my heart soars to see the hints of a smile on his face.
"This is more specific," I say. "And definitely easier to do." I give him one more squeeze and a soft kiss before letting go of him. "Come on, let's get dressed."
…..
Dinner, it turns out, is held in a communal dining hall that we have to ask for directions to. It's also one of the stranger experiences I've had in my life, and given my life that's really saying something. Mom and Prim sit with us. So do Gale and his family. But so do several of the other victors who escaped with us. People who belong in Twelve and people who belong in the Capitol, all sharing a table and commiserating over the sliminess of our stew. It's like two entirely separate parts of my life suddenly being dumped into one of Peeta's mixing bowls.
Finnick Odair tries flirting with Hazelle Hawthorne, because Finnick Odair tries flirting with everyone. Before Hazelle can decide how to respond, 70th Games victor Annie Cresta tells Finnick to knock it off, and he does. Annie is a shy, quiet woman who can get Finnick to drop his public façade, and it turns out she and Peeta became friends after they met during mentor gatherings this week. I take an immediate liking to her.
Johanna Mason observes my family for less than two minutes before declaring, "These two are way too normal to be related to you, brainless. Who are they really?"
Amazingly, everyone seems to get along. By the end of the meal we're the only ones left in the dining hall, and I'm sure we're breaking some kind of rule by still being here but no one has the nerve to ask us to leave, not when our group includes several victors and the woman who killed the President the night before. We're all so relieved to be there, to be alive, to be with each other. I never let go of Peeta's hand once throughout the entire meal, and by the end of the night his smile finally reaches his eyes.
When we get back to our quarters afterwards, Peeta and I go straight to bed. We're still exhausted from the events of the past two days, but I don't fall asleep for a while. Peeta's breathing is so calm that I think he's asleep until he says my name.
"Katniss?"
"Peeta?"
"I just wanted to say thank you. For today."
"You don't have to thank me, Peeta–"
"No, seriously. You've been such a help, such a support today, and I want you to know that. I don't know how I could have gotten through the day without you."
I'm glad that my fumbling attempts at comfort have helped him, but I'm more worried by the fact that he feels the need to thank me for it. "Peeta, I don't know how I could get through any day without you."
For a moment I'm worried that I've only trivialized his sentiment, but Peeta lets out a short chuckle. "Still…" he begins, but I don't let him say any more.
I roll over so I can look him in the eye as I speak. "Peeta, I know I'm not good at this emotional stuff, but I'm here for you. If you need someone to cry with, or someone to hold onto you until the nightmares go away, or just someone to be in the room with you while you figure out how you're feeling. I'm here for you. Always. Because I love you. And you never have to thank me for that."
Peeta pulls us back together and drops his head onto my shoulder. I'm not sure if he's about to cry or will just go to sleep, but after a few minutes he asks, "So if I don't thank you, who should I thank for you loving me?"
I can't help but smile at the playful question. "I guess, whoever made you into the lovable man you are."
It isn't until the words are out of my mouth that I realize who exactly I'm accidentally referring to. The people who had the biggest influence on Peeta growing up. The people who helped him become the person I can't imagine living without.
His father. His two older brothers. And, in some way, even his mother.
"Thank you," Peeta says into the quiet room.
…..
Next chapter: Acclimating to District 13, the war begins in earnest, and fun with propos!
Preview quote from Chapter 29:
"You're not exactly one to keep up on current events, are you?"
