The days fall into a pattern. In the mornings I hunt and have breakfast with Peeta. He doesn't miss breakfast again, although at first we don't talk as much as before.
After, when he goes to the bakery, I cook for the recovery workers and serve them lunch. The day after I first served them meat all their wives and children showed up to work too, asking to help in any way they could. Of course we knew they just needed to eat some meat. Peeta had to tell them it was not a safe place for the children, and eventually convinced the women to leave too. But from that day on we try to assure the food is enough for their families as well. We can easily afford it.
Every day after lunch I work in the rubble of the bakery with Peeta and the men. The tasks are being performed slowly, and we suspect this is a job the men want to prolong for as long as possible.
I speak to Johanna on the phone every evening now. I chat with Annie sometimes, when she's not too tired - which is rare - and even say some words to Finny, who answers me with loud cries from the depth of his lungs.
Peeta generally cooks dinner and we dine with Haymitch. Then we plan the next day's meals together. We decide to hire two of the worker's wives to cook and deliver the food to the men and their families. Some of these families plant food, so the women use it too to make soup. With joined efforts, it's the first time any of us really has a balanced diet while living in district Twelve.
I decide to call Dr. Aurelius. He's pleasantly surprised to hear my voice. We talk at length about Peeta, Primrose, Finny, Haymitch, my mother, Gale, my terrible memories, my terrifying nightmares, Coin, Snow, my inability to see the good in people and even the kiss I shared with Peeta some days ago. He assigns me a homework which consists in writing fragments of my memories. Some kind of game in which I write down every act of kindness I've seen someone do. I think it's childish but I'll do it anyway. When he hangs up, I see I kept him busy for over four hours. At some point, I think I heard his secretary ask if he wanted to cancel the other appointments. He said yes. The perks of being the Mockingjay.
It's getting late and I'm not sure if I should still go to the bakery site, because this is generally the time of the day I leave the rubble, but I think Peeta and the workers may be wondering where I am and I have given them no explanation for my absence.
I walk to town and decide I'll just say hello and walk Peeta back to the Victor's Village.
Before the bakery comes into view, I can feel something is off. There is too much noise and a greater number of people than is usual. Karl, the youngest worker, a boy who's about a year younger than me, comes running in my direction.
"Mrs. Mellark! Mrs. Mellark!" The boy shouts.
"Mrs. Mellark? Have you found her?" I ask, upset at the prospect of Peeta being without me when they find his mother.
Karl looks confused.
"I mean you, ma'am."
Of course. I'm Mrs. Mellark now.
"Please come, Mr. Mellark had an accident!" He doesn't wait for me. I can't move for the seconds it takes me to let the idea sink in. What kind of accident? Is he alive? I feel like I can't breathe. But then I run anyway, and the men move to let me pass.
"I don't know what happened to him," Ronald, another worker, explains. "He was okay. All of a sudden he started talking nonsense and getting aggressive to a passerby. When we tried to stop him he punched two of us. He looked like a mad man."
"Where is he now?" I ask.
"He fell into a hole during the fit, ma'am. He's buried."
This can't be real. We try to remove the debris as fast as we can from the place where they say Peeta fell, but he doesn't seem to answer our calls. Finally, after some time, we see blond waves under the dust and we work around him, careful to make sure the surrounding debris doesn't fall down on him.
He is dripping some blood, but overall the wounds don't seem dangerous. His blue eyes are open and he seems dazed, albeit calm and collected, while he watches the men try to find a way to release him.
When he looks up and sees me he loses his cool and gets restless, trying to get up. Then he winces and just stares at me in angst.
"Peeta, can you hear me?" I ask, getting down as much as I can and giving him my hand. I'm almost upside down, my legs supporting the weight of my body. "Stop," I say, "Don't move yet."
He closes his eyes and nods in confusion before focusing his worried sight on me again. I know he thinks I am disappointed.
"I promise I'm not going anywhere," I say, "Take this and don't lose it."
I put my pearl in the palm of his hand. He nods in understanding and clutches it. I try to stand aside so that the weight of my body over the ruins doesn't endanger him. Almost one hour later, enough debris has been removed so that we can actually get close to him. I sit by his side, collect my pearl and wash his face.
"You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" He says with a pained grin, clutching my hand now, "We've done this before."
"Very funny," I say. "What do you feel?"
"I don't know, it hurts really bad."
"Take him off!" Someone says.
"Don't touch him yet," I urge. "Where's Thom?"
"He's coming with a stretcher, Ma'am."
I hold Peeta's hand and brush my lips against his. He closes his eyes.
"I had a flashback, Katniss," he laments sadly, clutching my hand as if he were afraid of my reaction.
"I know. Do you want to tell me about it?"
"I was wondering why you didn't come all afternoon. You always come," he says, putting special emphasis on always. "Then I saw Gale walking around and I – I thought - "
"Gale?!" I ask.
"It was Rory Hawthorne," says Thom, coming behind me. "Hazelle and her youngest children came back just yesterday."
Peeta nods in shame. I had no idea the Hawthornes were back. I register that I must pay them a visit soon. I know their old house in the Seam is still standing, just like mine. I feel good for their return; they used to be my neighbours and the closest thing we had to a family, but it makes me wonder why they didn't send me word of their arrival.
Thom and a young man whose name I don't know work quickly, trying not to move Peeta's body too much while bandaging his wounds. Then he is finally removed and the men cheer him, even the two with a broken nose.
"You don't need to hate Gale because of - " I start, softly.
"I don't hate him," says Peeta, "Quite the opposite. I've come to think of him as a friend."
It doesn't make any sense to me and I offer no comment to that. The men put Peeta in the dead people's cart and I climb over too to hold his hand.
"Gale isn't here, Peeta," I tell him after the ride home starts.
"I heard it's Rory. I couldn't tell the difference," he says, blushing beet red.
"Don't worry about it now," I say.
"I'm so stupid. I'm ashamed of myself," He looks to the other side, avoiding my gaze.
"You know it's not your fault," I reply.
"Yeah, but still. I just want to crawl into a hole and disappear," he murmurs the last part mostly to himself.
I don't answer at first. After some seconds, we both snort at what he just said. "So you accomplished something today," I say. He giggles and the mood is lifted.
Once we get to Victor's Village, Thom asks "To which one of your houses?"
"Mine," I reply.
They try several movements in Peeta's body and ask him how each one of them feels. He can move his hands and foot, but is too sore to move the rest of his body.
"He will take some days to recover now. At least he doesn't seem to have broken bones," the young man tells me. "He should take a bath."
I know they're right. Peeta is gray from dust. They wait while I fill the tub and check the temperature. Then they ask me if I need help to undress him. I can't find words to reply to that.
"It's okay," says Peeta. "I can be bathed with my clothes on."
"You're filthy," says Thom. "You need a real bath."
They undress him anyway, as I pretend to be busy in another room.
"Mrs. Mellark!" They call. "We've just put him in the tub."
"Will you bathe him?" I ask.
"He's your husband, better you than us," the young man says, urging me into the bathroom.
"We'll wait outside," says Thom, shooting me an apologetic look as he closes the door.
I take a glimpse of him in the tub, but try not to focus on it. He's waiting. I stay close to the door and fidget, trying not to look. I wash my hands. I look for an extra toothbrush that he may need tonight. I move the fake leg twice in the room. Suddenly, Peeta's laughter fills the space.
"This is awkward," he says. "Can you give me a cloth to cover myself?"
With unspoken relief, I grab a small towel from the cupboard and allow him to cover the parts of himself he doesn't want me to see. The towel gets soaked as he clutches it over his crotch.
"I thought you didn't care if I saw you naked," I tease, trying to make my discomfort go unnoticed while I start washing his body, scrubbing circles with my bare hands because Buttercup has recently decided to claim the sponge as a toy. I realize his body is fully grown now, more developed than it was in the cave two years ago, and feel the effect of that on me.
"In this situation I do," he says, beet red for a moment.
I try to ignore his shy stare as I work. His eyes travel between my hands and my face and it scares and excites me. I wash the dry blood away, scrub his face and hair, ears and neck, chest and collarbone, arms, legs and back. I take extra care whenever I find a scar, trying not to scrub it too hard and then caressing it with a finger. It always elicits low sounds and a shy smile from him. It also makes him look down for a while. Whenever I don't know the origin of a scar, I ask its story.
His body is so dirty the water turns dark. I have to pour the dirty water and finish washing him with the shower. In the end, after I rinse him, he's shaking from cold.
I cover him with a towel and rub it over his hair and body to help him dry up. He smells like soap. Then I call the two men to help me get him out of the tub. Haymitch is with them outside of the bathroom when I open the door. His eyes sparkle in amusement at the sight of us.
"Just don't," I tell him before he has a chance to speak. But he knows he doesn't need to say anything.
They put him on my bed which, of course, I didn't make, and I cover him with the sheets and covers so that he doesn't feel cold. I realize I have nothing for him to dress, so I decide to go to his house.
I ask Haymitch to keep an eye on Peeta and follow Thom and the young man outside. The young man repeatedly praises Primrose. The mention of her name affects me, but it's Peeta who needs me right now. I learn that the man's name is Jon and that he received medical training in Thirteen at the same time of my military training, so he and Prim spent a lot of time together. Jon is the closest we have to a healer in district right now, I take note.
"He doesn't seem to have broken bones, although we don't have the resources to be sure," says Jon. "But it was a big fall. I would pay special attention to him for the first twenty four hours. As far as we know he could be bleeding internally."
"What do you mean?" I gasp. "Is his life at risk?"
"Hopefully not, but I wouldn't want to give you false hope."
"What are the signs to look for?"
"Confusion... Vomiting... Seizures... Not seeming able to wake up. But let him sleep anyway, it makes no difference."
"What should I do if it happens?" I ask, although I fear many years as a healer's daughter have provided me with the answer to this.
"Give him comfort. We have no resources to do anything else," he says with a shrug.
I gasp.
After they leave I go to Peeta's house in order to retrieve some clothes and underwear for him. I grab some possessions I think he might need for the next days and also sheets and pencils.
On my way out, I see some paintings. They are amazingly good. His father with the cookies, Lady licking Prim's cheek, Finnick, Boggs, Rue, Portia with Cinna. Me in every possible way. Cato. Gale. People he killed as well.
I go back home and find Haymitch and Peeta bantering. I somehow convince Haymitch to get Peeta dressed while I prepare some tea and a light meal. I go back to the room and spoon feed him before I have a quick shower. Haymitch leaves after that.
"My leg?" Peeta asks as I open the window.
"It's right beside your place in bed, but you won't need it. I still have to clean it up," I reply. He sighs.
"So I get to sleep here tonight?" He asks, I nod.
"I like what you did today," he says seriously. "We are man and wife, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."
I chuckle and offer him my hand, which he holds and caresses intently with his thumb.
"I'm so tired," he says. "Will you sing to me, Katniss?"
"Of course," I say, and sing the Meadow Song as a lullaby.
By the time the song ends, Peeta is sleeping peacefully. I tuck him under the covers and lie down next to him.
I start to get concerned. What if he never wakes up again? I know many stories of miners who used to come to our home to be seen by my mother, some of them in better shape than Peeta. They walked away seemingly unscathed and they died some hours later.
This isn't good. His heart has already stopped some times before. Could it take another blow? The first time, he was saved by the medical team. The second, Finnick restarted his heart. Now who does he have? Me. I'm worthless.
I start weeping under my breath as I see his perfect face slightly tilted on the pillow, the corners of his mouth curling up, his chest slowly moving up and down as he snores lightly. There was nothing particularly special about this day, no fond memory to depart with, no proper goodbyes. If Peeta dies tonight, I'll never get to tell him the words he deserves to hear. He will never know how much he matters. His family line will die with him. I will have no reason to survive anymore.
This realization makes me gasp in a sob. The sound makes Peeta wake up in a bout of fear and try to reach me, but he winces at the movement.
"What's going on, Katniss?" He asks with a concerned frown.
"I don't want you to die," I say between sobs.
He smiles.
"Come here, it's just a nightmare. I'm safe."
I shake my head and his arms wrap around me even if it elicits a pained flinch from him.
"Katniss, we're home now," he says, "I'm safe and sound in your bed. Nothing bad can happen to me."
I don't want to lose this chance. So I approach his face and kiss him on the mouth. I start to feel the sensation that overtook me on the beach, the warmth spreading in waves through my body. It doesn't feel wrong. He is reciprocating.
After a long time of kissing, Peeta tries to pull back and gets serious.
"You love me. Real or not real?" He asks, a mix of hope and fear in his voice.
I smile and tell him, "Real."
He looks really happy after this. We kiss some more and then he goes back to sleep.
I know there's still one person who can help me. I run downstairs and call my mother. She picks up the phone after a while.
"Katniss, is that you?"
"Please, help me. Peeta had a big fall and Jon told me he could be bleeding internally. What can I do?"
"Are you caring for Peeta? Are the two of you alone? Isn't it dangerous?" She asks.
"Not anymore. What can I do to help him?"
"You can't do much, you don't have the means, Katniss. Katniss, I – I need to go now, okay? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
She hangs up and I dial Johanna's number. She must be expecting my call by now, like every other night.
"Jo, Peeta had an accident and he's staying with me tonight."
"What? What kind of accident? Does he have broken bones?"
"I don't think so, but I can't chat with you tonight and maybe not in the next few days."
"I shouldn't forgive you for bailing out on me, but that's for a good cause. Enjoy Lover Boy," I hear the smirk in her voice.
I rush to the room. Peeta is still breathing and looks like he is in the middle of a happy dream. I just can hope he survives. My night is plagued by tears but this time I can manage not to wake him up with my gasps. Still, I have dark rings under my eyes when he looks at me the next morning.
"You didn't sleep," Peeta says.
"I'm all right," I say. I'm exhausted, but relieved.
He is confused about last night. He wants to know if I really said I love him. I confirm it and he's as happy as when he heard it for the first time. We then kiss, talk and laugh a bit.
Fortunately, Haymitch knows he's needed and comes upstairs to take Peeta from the bed to the bathroom and then back to bed. I'm not prepared to help Peeta in the toilet. I realize our mentor isn't drunk; he doesn't drink whenever he knows Peeta needs him. I think he sees him as his son.
After that, we are in bed again. I don't go hunting. Peeta regrets not being able to bake. In truth, he is the only living person in the district who knows how to bake good bread, but I remind him people will manage to survive without it for a couple of days.
"I love you, Katniss," he says unexpectedly more than once, as if his mind is still stuck in the moment I told him the same thing.
I tell him about my conversation with Dr. Aurelius. Peeta is really glad I took that step. I talk about the writing homework he gave me; he says he has the same homework, but with paintings.
Suddenly I have an idea.
"Peeta," I start, "Do you remember the plant book we made together?"
"Yeah," he smiles, "I wasn't quite sure if it was real."
"It was. I remember I spent most of that time admiring your looks."
He chokes, "Are you for real?"
Delly arrives at this moment to have lunch with us and doesn't take the hint we want to be alone. But after, I tell him my idea of starting a book about our games as a form of joint therapy and rememberance. He loves it and says he already has many drawings.
By the late afternoon, when 24 hours have passed since the accident, I go to the bakery site to see how things have progressed and to let the men rest assured Peeta is well. They have been able to collect some family possessions, but not people.
Peeta starts to get the illusion that maybe there was no one at the bakery when it was bombed. We start to think there's a small chance the family had been imprisoned somewhere by the Snow regimen. It's possible, though unlikely. But our hopes are crushed when two days later Peeta's sister-in-law, his older brother's wife, is found in the old sitting room, and the next day it's Mrs. Mellark's – Peeta's mother - turn. The two of them were just a couple of meters apart.
By this time Peeta is already able to sit and move lightly. He recoils each time I bring him bad news. He doesn't want me to see him cry, so he tucks himself under the covers, puts his pillow over his head and cries quietly for some minutes. After, he calls me and our bodies stay intertwined until the next morning.
"My mother didn't speak to me after the Games," he tells me, "I humiliated her when I talked about my father and your mother."
I nod. I understand her. "I'm so sorry. Thank you for telling me anyway," I say, "I would have wanted to die knowing your story."
"I don't think so. You didn't love me back then."
"Of course I did. Why do you think you're alive?" I say.
He gives me a hopeful smile.
"Was she as tough as she seemed?" I ask.
"Life toughened her up," says Peeta, "She was a good painter and a wonderful singer. But she almost never sang because she didn't want my dad to remember –"
"To remember why he lost my mother," I complete. He nods.
"I think she would be happy today," says Peeta, "They had just filed for divorce when they died".
"Really?" I ask in surprise. Divorce wasn't a socially acceptable thing back then, at least in district Twelve.
"Someone told them that as a victor's parents they wouldn't be so affected by the stigma," he explains, "You know, my mother didn't beat my brothers as badly as she beat me. She could even be nice to them. I think I just am too similar to my father. Once she had loved him but then she hated him. And I was her last chance of having a girl."
"And your father?"
"We were great friends. But he didn't exactly stand up for me. He felt too guilty for being a neglectful husband and he let my mother get away with everything."
It's so sad to think about what this wonderful boy had to endure so far.
Now that we've established we are in love and in a committed relationship, I find no reason to hold back my feelings. I kiss him everywhere I can reach: mouth, ears, jaw and some more. Mostly small pecks, as I'm too inexperienced to know what else to do and I don't want to show it.
Also because I'm afraid of doing something that leads to pregnancy.
We become a little too relaxed during these resting days. Peeta is usually bare-chested now and sometimes stays in his underwear after a shower. My modesty is also not the same it used to be and I find myself getting dressed in front of him, not thinking twice about it.
Haymitch must notice this shift in behaviour, because he comes one morning with a box in his hands and a compromised look on his face. His hair is in front of his eyes as if he's trying to hide himself and he grunts something I can't understand.
"What did you say, Haymitch?" I ask.
"I think I wouldn't be a good mentor if I didn't give you this." He places a box of condoms on the bedside table next to Peeta.
"Oh," I choke in realization, feeling the need to explain myself. "No, there's no need. We don't do that."
"It's okay, Katniss," says Peeta, "We appreciate it, Haymitch. Thank you."
"Do you have questions? Do you know how to use them?" Haymitch asks with an expression that shows he just wants us to send him away and not ask anything.
"Thankfully, I had two older brothers," says Peeta.
I don't even mention that I'm the daughter of a healer. Of course I know how condoms work.
Haymitch grunts something and leaves the house. Peeta doesn't flinch. He talks about other stuff, like the bakery, the incoming train, Thom and Delly's baby, Greasy Sae, the worker's meals. I reply but I can barely look at him knowing that he is probably thinking about the same thing I am. I can't believe he doesn't feel embarrassed in the least. Even Haymitch is embarrassed.
I get dressed and braid my hair. The train is set to arrive soon and I want to order some meat for the workers and ourselves. I haven't gone hunting for most days this week, and in those days I actually went I was so flighty I scared off my game.
Peeta, more capable of movement now but not entirely recovered, leans back in bed before I leave.
"It's okay, Katniss," he says, "It doesn't mean we'll do it now. Only when you're ready."
He knows I know what he means.
I go to the station, see who arrives, order the meat and see what's up for sale. I buy milk and goat cheese. I even buy bread from the Capitol. Peeta will be horrified but he needs the carbs. And the worker's wives need ingredients to cook varied meals.
As I'm leaving, very proud of my purchases, the mailman runs after me. "Mrs. Mellark, wait!" He pants. There's a letter for Peeta.
We receive dozens of fan mail per month but we never read those letters. I don't even find the energy to read my personal letters, so I'd like to have those all thrown away. Peeta, however, believes we should save all the fan mail and find a way to answer because we inspire hope and freedom in many people. So far we haven't done anything about it.
When we won the Games Haymitch told us the strategy he uses to sort the mail that's important from the fan mail. First, everything that comes from the government is a priority. Then there's a code he only gives the people whose mail he actually reads – he asks them to draw a symbol. In his case, the symbol is a pentagon. Other letters are not a priority and the post office is very aware of this. Peeta and I use this strategy too, but our symbol is a dandelion.
There's a dandelion designed in the corner of the envelope, which means this is a letter he wants to receive. It comes from the Capitol. The recipient is Peeta Mellark. The sender is Lana Smallwood.
So this is her. The girl he sent the letter to on the day we got married. My heart contorts at the idea of this girl sending mail to Peeta. In the last weeks I have come to think that there has been no other love interest and it was all a product of my imagination. Apparently it's not. And, although I'm sure he has already broken up with her, because he clearly loves me, she is still trying to get in touch with him. Even if he doesn't care about her anymore, it's hard to know her name.
I'm frightened, to be honest. I've done nothing but hurt Peeta for two years now. If I'm realistic, I don't deserve him and he should realize that soon. But I hope that day is not today.
People try to talk to me but I just smile tightly and mutter "Tomorrow".
When I get home I'm still considering burning the letter in the stove. But it's not fair; Peeta has the right to read whatever was sent to him.
"Katniss?" Peeta asks tentatively from the room, "Is that you?"
"One minute," I shout.
He's sitting on the bed when I come in, frowning at me, "Is everything all right?" He asks.
I look at the bedside table where earlier this morning had been the condom box. The box isn't there anymore; he must have hidden it in a drawer to avoid me further embarrassment.
"There's a letter for you," I notify straight-faced, placing the letter on the table. I don't want to hand it to him, it hurts; but he gets it in a second anyway.
"Katniss, it's her! It's her!" He exclaims in excitement.
"Of course it's her," I reply. I had expected him to feel shame and maybe – maybe – reject the letter. But he's excited about it. I want to hurt him badly. Peeta should know better than to make me mad. Yet he's smiling and trembling like a child while he reads it.
"Katniss, I don't even know what to do," he chuckles nervously. "She seems so eager, but I don't know – Read it."
I take the letter stupidly, blushing and shivering.
Dear Peeta,
First of all, congratulations! You're missed by everyone here at the Mental Health Facility, but we were all thrilled to hear you are finally married to Katniss Everdeen now. You're Dr. Aurelius pride and joy for the battles you've overcome.
As for me, I must say I accept the marriage proposal to Mr. Abernathy. When I showed your letter to the others, they asked if he was that drunk victor who made the dive down the stage. I was scared and embarrassed of being related to him then, but then I remembered his heroic efforts during the rebellion and how you always spoke of him with nothing but admiration, which prevented me from caring about what everyone else says. He is obviously a brave human being with good principles. I believe he is an amazing man and all I want to do is make him happy.
I believe he will behave in a gentlemanly and respectful manner towards me. I strongly dislike men who drink to the point of oblivion.
Since you left, I've been discharged from internment although I still have frequent appointments with Dr. Aurelius. He tells me he can treat me by phone like he does with Katniss and yourself. No one will give me a job anywhere and I can't afford to pay rent, so they let me stay here as a janitor and I usually sleep in a cupboard.
Of course I don't mind you asking my age. I'm 35; I hope that's not a problem for Mr. Abernathy.
I very much hope your beloved Katniss will like me. Don't forget to tell her I was Rue's maid when you were at the Training Center. I was also Lavinia's roommate for a while. The communication between us will be challenging but we already have some things in common.
Please, tell me when I can go. I'm ready. I hope I don't disappoint any of you.
Your devoted friend,
Lana Smallwood
"Oh," I say in relief, feeling good again, "Is this Haymitch's future wife?"
"Yeah. Do you think I made a mistake? She clearly states she dislikes men who drink -"
"I don't know. We can try it anyway. I just don't understand one thing. Why does she say the communication will be challenging? Is it because I have no social skills?
Peeta smiles. "Because, Katniss – Lana is an Avox."