Chapter 22. Farewell.

Summer had finally arrived in District 12.

For Katniss and her group of friends, the cloudless, sweltering days that announced the end of school seemed to go by faster than ever before.

She was almost done sorting herbs and vegetables in Peeta's greenhouse one afternoon when Rye popped his head in.

"See you tomorrow, Katniss!" he called out as he waved a hand.

Katniss waved back. "See you tomorrow."

Across the yard, Peeta and Rye hopped up the steps and joked on their way to the house. Their laughter trailed behind.

Katniss clenched her jaw. Lately, their light, carefree banter rubbed her the wrong way.

Peeta walked into the greenhouse a few minutes later. His face was still flushed. A light sheen of perspiration covered his arms. Leaning casually against the doorframe, he asked, "So, what's up?"

Usually, just a quick glimpse of Peeta's damp waves and tanned shoulders gleaming under the midday sun was enough to leave her gasping for air and clutching any nearby furniture for balance. Today, the sight rankled her.

"Not much," she said, lifting an empty wood planter and carrying it to the back of the room.

"Hey!" Peeta rushed to catch up with her. His hand reached for her shoulder. "I can do that."

Katniss turned so quickly the end of her braid hit her chin. "Fine," she huffed, pushing the planter into his arms.

Peeta carried the planter the rest of the way and dropped it on top of a worktable. He looked around; Katniss had already finished clearing everything up. His smile faltered. Why was she in such a hurry to leave?

Trying to keep his anxiety from seeping into his voice, he asked, "Katniss, is something wrong?"

"No," she mumbled. Her hands moved swiftly as she packed the dried herbs she was going to take home.

With slow, cautious steps, Peeta walked over to her and stopped to watch her work.

Katniss slipped the herbs into her bag and began clearing her workspace.

Peeta waited, patiently following the quick rise and fall of her shoulders. Even though she wasn't talking, her short breaths betrayed her. He'd been around her long enough to know she was agitated.

Peeta reached out and touched her wrist, gently stopping her motions. "Talk to me," he asked.

Katniss let out a deep breath. Her eyes shone with anger when she finally admitted, "I don't like it."

"What don't you like?"

She shook her head, fighting to keep her words to herself.

"Please, Katniss," he pleaded, "I need to know. Is this something I can fix?"

In a flash, her annoyance turned to sorrow. Katniss hunched forward and covered her face with her hands.

Peeta closed the short distance between them, immediately pulling her into his arms.

Like a rag doll, Katniss went limp against his chest. Holding her tighter, he whispered, "I got you" into her hair.

Katniss nodded, keeping her cheek firmly over his heart.

"Please, talk to me," Peeta asked again.

"It's stupid," she grumbled.

"I don't care. Tell me, anyway."

With a shuddering sigh, Katniss admitted, "It's just that… I hate that you're going back."

Peeta froze.

It was at times like these —when Katniss showed her vulnerable side— that his heart got the better of him. How could he train, and run drills, and focus on the Game when this brave, smart, beautiful girl was holding on to him like he was something precious?

Fighting back the tears he was dangerously close to spilling, he said, "I hate it too."

"I'm sorry." Katniss pulled away, leaving his arms empty and cold. "You were having such a good day, and…" She shook her head. "I shouldn't be laying this on you."

"Don't worry." He reached for her shoulder. His hand lingered there, drawing soft circles over her arm. "Will you come sit with me for a bit?"

Always eager to have some time alone with Peeta, Katniss hastily wiped her face with her hands and followed him out onto the back porch.

With a soft grunt, Peeta sat down on the top step. She sat right next to him.

It had been a long day of practicing headlocks and takedowns. His whole body ached but, sitting there —in the garden where they had spent so many happy hours— Peeta began to relax. His troubles and exhaustion seemed to melt away whenever Katniss was by his side.

As he looked up into the clear blue sky, his mind wandered. Without even thinking, he asked, "Do you remember your first day of school?"

Katniss laughed at the question. At seventeen, her first day of school seemed as distant as another planet. It certainly felt like a part of someone else's life. Still, a few blurry memories flashed back into her mind.

"I remember my father taking me to school," she admitted. "Feeling important as we walked through the Seam —almost like I was a grownup going off to work, or something."

She closed her eyes and savored the brief spark of joy lighting her heart. Those small moments with her father had been precious to her, even then. Sadly, his absence had left a void so dark —and so deep— that she usually walked away from the happy memories just to avoid the reality of his loss. But sitting on that stoop, feeling Peeta's warmth so close to her, she found the strength she needed to push herself a little further.

"I also remember stopping off at the bakery." Katniss looked up. Peeta was staring off into the horizon, probably chasing a memory of his own. The smile on his lips told her he was listening, though. "And getting my very first sugar cookie."

His bright, blue eyes found hers. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm."

Peeta had seen plenty of Seam families stopping by the bakery through the years. Many worn-out miners with tired eyes and proud smiles rewarded their children after their first day of school with a special treat. But he had no recollection of Katniss's visit.

What would have happened, he wondered if I had seen her then; before the world —and my mother— taught me that I wasn't supposed to fraternize with a miner's daughter. Would I have spoken to her?

Unaware of Peeta's inner turmoil, Katniss reached out to grab his arm. "Delly was there, too."

Peeta's eyebrows shot up to his forehead. "Delly?"

"Yeah, she wouldn't stop talking! I thought her tongue was gonna fall off from so much use!"

Peeta laughed, a musical, joyful sound that warmed Katniss's heart. "She's always been a bit of a talker. I guess she was extra anxious that day. Trying to make a good impression, you know? Meeting new people. It's never easy."

Katniss nodded. She knew what Peeta meant. It had never occurred to her that he might have had trouble meeting people, but there was a tightness in his voice that made her think that she had read him wrong.

Leaning closer, she bumped her shoulder against his. "And you?"

Peeta stalled. He didn't quite know what had driven him to start this conversation. It was a topic he had spent months carefully avoiding, but...

The reaping was less than a week away, and the thought that he might be leaving District 12 for good was making him reckless. Too late to back down now, he thought.

Looking straight into Katniss's eyes, he said, "I remember you."

Katniss perked up. "Me?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Why?"

Why? That was a long story; Katniss didn't need to know every detail. So, Peeta decided to go for the shorter version. "Remember the music assembly?"

Katniss scrunched up her nose. "Not really. What was so special about it?"

"Well, we went into the class, and the teacher sat us in a circle and asked who knew the valley song. Remember that?"

Katniss shrugged. Music assemblies had been a regular occurrence in pre-school. The teacher asking whether they knew a song didn't seem like something worth remembering.

Hoping his next words wouldn't scare her off, Peeta covered Katniss's hand with one of his. "She had hardly finished asking when your hand shot right up in the air. I had never seen anyone so eager!" His heart pounded madly in his chest, making him dizzy, but he pressed on, "So, she stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us, and… I swear every bird outside the window fell silent."

"Oh, please!" Katniss rolled her eyes. Even as she laughed, her cheeks turned dark as cherries.

"No, it happened," Peeta insisted, tightening his grip on her hand. "Katniss, you have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard. It's like time stands still whenever you sing."

Katniss shook her head. Her laughter was gone. Her hand turned limp under his. "I don't sing anymore."

"I know." Peeta looked away. "Not since your dad, right? He had a beautiful voice, too."

Katniss's eyes filled with tears. Peeta was right; singing was something she had shared with her father. It had hurt too much to keep on doing it after his death, so she'd stopped. It wasn't something she thought about much, or at all, really. She couldn't believe Peeta —of all people— had noticed. "How can you remember that?"

Because I watched you. he wanted to scream. Every day. I was so hung up on you and the idea of true love, that I couldn't bring myself to think about anyone else for long. And because I cared so much that my heart broke when you stopped.

But the words weren't right, not then, not for them. So, Peeta bit down his declarations and said, "Growing up, there weren't many beautiful things in my life, but your voice always brought me joy. It was one of the few things that brightened my days. I treasured it."

Katniss sighed, too overwhelmed to say anything or even feel the tears running down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." Peeta reached out to wipe her tears away. "I shouldn't have said anything. You must still miss him and—,"

Katniss grabbed his wrist. Slowly, she pressed his open palm to her face and took a deep breath. It felt so good, his warmth, the hints of cinnamon and freshly cut grass clinging to his skin, that she wanted to drown in him, to block the world away and forget about the pain and loss she saw in her future.

"I do," she whispered, "I think about him every day. Sometimes I wonder what he would think, what he would say if he could see me now."

"I think he would be proud."

Overwhelmed by the certainty in Peeta's voice, Katniss didn't argue. Instead, she leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his shoulder and whispered, "Thank you."

XXXXX

"No. No. No. No," Haymitch said, forcefully shaking his head for emphasis. "I'm sorry, Kid, but there's NO way."

"Come on, Haymitch, please!" Peeta pleaded. "You know how quiet Katniss is! You'll hardly notice her. She could come for a few hours a week, clean your house, and leave you alone."

"Yeah, I'm sure she could," Haymitch grumbled, "but why does she have to work here? What about the bakery? Can't you find a place for her there?"

Peeta shook his head. He was trying to help Katniss, not subject her to a life of misery working for his mother. "The bakery is not an option."

Haymitch leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me something, Boy, why are you so bent on finding a new job for her all of a sudden?"

Peeta's eyes hardened. He couldn't believe his mentor was forcing him to spell this out. "I don't know if you've noticed but, the reaping is right around the corner, and… Well, Katniss can be reckless sometimes. I'm afraid that she might end up doing something dangerous if she feels cornered."

Haymitch lifted a challenging eyebrow. "Dangerous? Something stupid, you mean."

"Call it what you will." Peeta raised his hands in defeat. He knew this was a long shot, he understood why Haymitch didn't want to make any promises, but he was running out of options.

If he was dragged out to the Quarter Quell and he died, Katniss would be left to fend for herself. Again. He knew she was more than capable of making it on her own, but the world was changing, and no one knew what the future had in store for them. After spending the last few months with her, he couldn't just walk away without at least trying to help.

Pulling his shoulders back, Peeta stared his mentor down. "This is the thing: I can't answer for my actions if something happens to her, Haymitch. I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

Haymitch nodded. He had known all along that Peeta's little gardener could get them into trouble. The boy was undoubtedly besotted, and —now that he had spent some time with her— he knew that the girl was no better. The stars in her eyes betrayed the scowl she insisted on plastering on her face.

"You know," Peeta said, giving the conversation one last shot, "I've never asked you for anything. All these months, I've just kept quiet and followed your instructions. I can't even remember the last time you gave me an update on our allies' plans, but you asked me to trust you, and I do. It's just… I'm putting my whole life in your hands, Haymitch. Why can't you just give me this?"

Haymitch let out a long breath. He knew a lost fight when he saw one. Still, he played one last card. "And what am I supposed to do about Hazelle, huh? You two were so concerned about finding her a job before, and now… What? You want me to kick her out?"

Peeta smiled. This, he could answer. "Hazelle will be fine. She can go back to washing clothes, and she's got Gale. You know he's working for the mayor now, he can probably get something for her there too. But Katniss is all alone. Her mother has her patients, and Prim has Lady, but the woods are out of limits and without the greenhouse… I don't think they'll have enough. She really needs this."

Haymitch tilted his head to the side and studied Peeta's face. "Suppose I say yes. What makes you think she'll do it? She didn't want to before."

Peeta laughed, remembering Katniss's first visit to his mentor's house. "Don't worry about that. I'll talk to her."

Haymitch rubbed his forehead. With one last grunt, he said, "Fine. If I come home after the Quarter Quell, I'll take on Katniss as a part-time housekeeper, and I'll hire her full-time once she graduates. Satisfied?"

Peeta's shoulders dropped as he finally relaxed into the couch where he had been sitting. "Thank you, Haymitch."

XXXXX

"Please, Katniss!" Peeta insisted.

"No!" Katniss said, forcefully shaking her head for emphasis. "I'm sorry, Peeta, but there's NO way."

Peeta pinched the bridge of his nose, clenching his jaw in frustration. He knew what he was offering was odd. He had even expected some resistance from Katniss's part. But he hadn't imagined talking to her would be harder than talking to Haymitch.

Katniss crossed her arms over her chest and swallowed thickly. "Look, I know you're trying to help, but you're not responsible for me. I'm perfectly capable—,"

"I know!" he interrupted. "I know you can watch over your family on your own. You've been doing it for years!" Reeling his anger in, he gave her a pointed look. "All I'm saying is that Prim and your mother need you and that you shouldn't refuse an offer to help. We all need a hand every once in a while, you know?"

The words hung in the air as he waited for them to sink in. It was a cheap shot, reminding her of the difficulties of the past, but time was running out, and he was growing desperate.

When Katniss's eyes widened, he saw it, just for a second: a flash of hurt. The fleeting memory of a small girl —soaked through and huddled for shelter under an apple tree— and the two burnt loaves that came flying through the air to land at her feet.

Katniss shook her head.

"Please, Katniss," he pleaded again, his voice choking up on the tears he was holding.

Katniss closed her eyes. Her arms fell limply by her side. She wasn't happy, but she couldn't refuse him any longer. "How will I ever repay you for everything you've done for me?" she grumbled under her breath.

"You don't have to," he rushed to reassure her. "We're friends, remember?" Katniss rolled her eyes at this but, before she could argue any further, he insisted, "Please. Things are changing and… I can't leave without knowing you'll be safe."

Peeta bit his lip. If he had learned anything in the past year, it was that Katniss could be proud and stubborn, but protecting those she cared about always came first. He hoped she would understand he was the same.

Katniss looked up, her eyes full of tears. There was no more fight left in them. "Fine," she agreed, her voice cracking on the one-syllable word. "If you can't make it back… I'll work for Haymitch."

In three quick steps, Peeta reached her side and did what he'd wanted to do all along: wrap his arms around her and hold her close.

Brushing his lips over the top of her hair, he whispered, "Thank you."

XXXXX

The bakery's back door closed shut with a soft thud.

Keeping his chin up, Peeta walked down the steps, crossed the backyard, and went out onto the narrow street that ran behind the merchant homes.

He had always liked walking there in the summertime. The cool shade of the squat buildings provided a welcome respite from the sweltering midday heat.

He was halfway down the street when the echo of his footsteps began to mingle with the familiar murmur of busy workshops and shopfronts.

Peeta stopped short. Bright spots, suspended in the air like fireflies, danced before his eyes.

He glanced around. The street was blissfully empty.

With one sharp gasp, the young victor leaned against the wall of the carpenter's house, clinging to the exposed brick of the façade for balance. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, letting all the air out of his lungs in one long, slow exhale.

He repeated the motion. In. Out. In. Out.

The pounding in his ears eased. His temples stopped throbbing.

When Peeta opened his eyes again, the bright spots were gone.

Relieved, he ran a hand through his hair —wreaking havoc on the golden waves he had so carefully styled that morning. It doesn't matter anymore, he thought, too heartsick to care.

Saying goodbye to his family had been awful and weird.

He had foolishly imagined that doing it in the familiar setting of the bakery —without the fear of a Peacekeeper cutting in— would make things easier. He had been wrong.

His father had hugged him —which wasn't unusual— but then, he had pinched his cheek and wished him good luck. Good luck! Like he was a child going away on an excursion, not a man who was possibly being sent to face some of the scariest warriors the country had ever known.

His brothers came up next.

After his dad —who was awkward and removed— they had almost seemed cheerful.

Bran —his quiet, sensible brother Bran— had punched Peeta's arm and jokingly complained about finally having to learn how to frost properly. And Rye —who was just a prankster anyway— had happily followed his brother's lead.

Peeta understood it was just a defense mechanism—a way to cover up the fear they felt. He knew his brothers loved him. Their eagerness to help him in the past few weeks spoke more loudly than any words ever would. Still, he wished they hadn't been so afraid of being vulnerable.

Although, with their mother hovering around, who could blame them?

Mrs. Mellark had gone last. After woodenly rubbing Peeta's back, she had said, "I'll see you at the Justice Building tomorrow."

He hadn't expected much from her, to be honest. But the fact that she was acting as though his name had already been pulled out of the reaping bowl and there was nothing anyone could do to about it, still stung.

Maybe she's right, Peeta thought bitterly as he pushed himself away from the wall. Maybe there isn't.

Odds, after all, were a strange thing.

After all the weeks of training and sweating, all that Peeta knew for a fact was that, for the second time in his life, he would be facing a terrifying unknown.

Even if Effie didn't call his name, he still had to be carted off the Capitol. And, who knew what awaited him there?

Haymitch had been particularly secretive of late, but Peeta hadn't forgotten the rebels and their plans. He knew they were up to something, and the fact that they hadn't approached him yet, was starting to make him anxious.

Haymitch —who seemed almost wise now that he was sober— had told him not to worry. He said it wasn't safe to relay information through the usual channels and that they would receive their instructions once they reached the Capitol.

Peeta knew his mentor was keeping things from him. He didn't believe all rebel communications had stopped —not for a second. But, despite all the secretiveness, he trusted Haymitch, and he knew there was no point in trying to get more information out of him. After 25 years of keeping secrets, the man was as tightlipped as they came.

Besides, the logic part of Peeta's brain always reminded him, our allies probably need the results of the reaping to figure out what their next move will be. There will be a lot of scrambling in those first few hours. I just need to stay alert.

Sometimes, that pigheaded part of him that somehow managed to remain hopeful pushed him to believe that, even if he was reaped, he might never reach the arena.

Whenever he allowed himself to dream, he pictured some hooded strangers sneaking in through secret corridors to lead him out of the training center and into safety.

His heart raced when he imagined reaching District 13 —or some other safe place from where he could help the rebels- and finally toppling President Snow's regime.

Peeta shook his head. He had no time for ridiculous pipe dreams. The clock was ticking, and there was something else he needed to do before he could go home.

He wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye and picked up his pace. The streets were mostly deserted these days, but he didn't want any random passers-by to see him crying.

XXXXX

Katniss was about to get dinner started when there was a knock on the door. Mumbling a curse under her breath, she slammed the kitchen cabinet shut and went to answer.

Her annoyance turned to joy as soon as she saw Peeta standing on her doorstep.

He looked good.

He was wearing soft linen trousers, and a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. They were the kind of clothes he usually wore on parcel days or interviews, elegant, yet modest; tailored to fit him perfectly. They were meant to make him look like a victor, and they did.

The only thing that was off was his hair. The blond strands were a gloriously tousled mess.

"Hey, Katniss!" Peeta smiled, his eyes were guarded. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure!" She was alone -her mother was out with a patient, and Prim was at Penny's—so, she pointed to the side of the house, and suggested, "It's too hot to be inside, why don't we go over there?"

Peeta took a small step back —so that Katniss could come out of her house— and gestured for her to lead the way.

Together, they went around the side of the building and reached the little pen Gale, and Rory had built for Lady. There was a small wooden bench inside where Prim usually sat when she needed to clean or feed her goat.

"Hey, Lady," Katniss cooed as she slipped into the pen.

The goat turned to look at her and bleated, but made no attempt to move from her cool place by the wall.

Katniss sat down on the bench and patted the empty space next to her, inviting Peeta to join her.

Peeta closed the gate behind him and sat down.

It was a tight fit, there was barely enough space for both of them there, but they weren't uncomfortable. The pen was in the shade, and a refreshing breeze blew through.

Pressing his back against the wall, Peeta let out a long breath.

Over the last few days, he had arranged all the practical matters with Katniss. He had given her as many plants from the greenhouse as he could and had made sure that she had a job waiting for her -in case that things remained the same and he couldn't come back from the Game.

Now, he was here with one last request. "So," he started, "tomorrow."

Wary of where the conversation was going, Katniss straightened up and nodded for him to continue.

"I don't think you should go to the Justice Building."

Her mouth dropped open, but no words came out.

The edges of her vision began to fade and blur as her entire world shifted.

Dizzy, she reached for Peeta's hand and wrapped her slender fingers around his wrist to feel his steady pulse. Peeta mirrored her movements. The soothing warmth of his fingers on her skin kept her grounded.

"One of two things is going to happen tomorrow," Peeta said, holding onto her as he tried to remember the words he had practiced over and over in the last few days. "Maybe I'll get reaped, maybe I won't. Either way, I'll end up in the Justice Building."

The Justice Building. Katniss pressed her lips together. Even the thought of Peeta being back there on his own made her nauseous.

"If I'm there as a mentor," Peeta continued, "I won't be allowed any visitors, and if I'm there as a tribute, I won't have any privacy." With his free hand, he tucked a few flyaway strands behind her ear. "I don't want them to see you.

"I'm sure they already know about your visits to Victors' Village, they've probably seen you come and go, but I've scrambled all our conversations. So, they don't have much to go on. We need to keep it that way."

Numb, Katniss nodded again. An avalanche of notions and thoughts crossed through her mind, but the words she needed so badly escaped her.

No word seemed good enough to express her gratitude or the joy Peeta had brought into her life. How could she even begin to explain the pain she felt whenever she thought about him not being there anymore?

Maybe there are no words, she realized.

As tears welled in her eyes, Katniss pulled Peeta's hand onto her lap and tenderly cradled it in both of hers.

Thank you , she thought as she rubbed soft circles on his skin, for being so generous; so thoughtful; so kind; for being the best friend I could have asked for.

When she looked up, she found Peeta looking intently at her, following every one of her movements.

Letting go of his hand, she reached for his face.

As her delicate fingers traced his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his lips, her mind ran free, gently reminding her of how he had inspired her and how she believed in him.

I would follow you to the ends of the earth , her heart whispered, I would do anything to protect you, to keep you safe.

Peeta covered her hand with his. Slowly, he leaned into her touch, pressed his lips to her palm.

A soft whimper, pained as the cry of a wounded fawn, escaped her.

She wanted to scream! To tell him that her heart was no longer hers; that he had stolen it, and it was now breaking in a way she had never expected. She had never wanted any part of this!

But she didn't say any of it. She couldn't. Not because she was useless with words but because Peeta was about to go off into battle. It was a fight he didn't want -a conflict he hadn't asked for-, but he was still going to see it through.

Yes, Peeta was taking all her life and her hope away with him. A future without him sounded as bleak as the coldest winter. Still, as much as it hurt, her broken heart was her own foolish business.

What Peeta needed right now was her strength, her support, not her pain.

Letting go of all words and thoughts, Katniss leaned forward.

The small distance between them disappeared.

Katniss's eyelids fluttered closed as their lips met for a soft, sweet kiss.

Her entire being tingled with joy at the pressure of Peeta's lips on hers. It was her first kiss, and it was everything she had always feared: closeness, tenderness, elation.

Trembling, Peeta brought his hands to her cheeks. Holding her face just a hairsbreadth away from his, he whispered, "I'm coming back." A promise. A vow he sealed with a soft kiss.

"You're coming back," Katniss echoed, reaching over his shoulder to dig her fingers into the short hair at his nape.

"Always," Peeta answered before kissing her again.

Their eyes closed shut, and they stood still, trying to hold on to the moment. Breathing each other's air, hearing each other's heartbeats.

Katniss's hand travelled down his chest. With Peeta's heart beating at a steady pace under her palm, she asked, "Tell me what you hope for."

Peeta pulled her into his arms and, for a split second, wished that they could just stay there, hidden from the world, trapped in a dream land where Hunger Games and reapings didn't exist. A place where he could be free to live, and love, and grow old with Katniss by his side.

Pushing his thoughts away, he said, "I hope I won't get reaped tomorrow, but I know I probably will. President Snow hasn't gone to all this trouble just to keep me in the sidelines."

Peeta shook his head, this wasn't the time for negativity. Reality would knock on his door soon enough, this was his last chance to dream.

He tried again, "I hope the allies stick to their word. I hope you'll be safe." Hooking a finger under her chin, he lifted her face. "More than anything, I hope I'll get to see you again."

"You will," she said, straightening up so they could be eye to eye once more.

"Promise me, at the first sign of trouble, you'll take Prim and your mom, you'll go find Gale, and you'll go to the woods."

Katniss nodded.

"Promise me again," he asked, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"I'll stay safe. " Katniss pulled away, gray eyes glistening with tears and determination. "Now, you."

"I'll come back. I promise, Katniss, I won't give up."

"You won't give up," she repeated slowly, clutching a fistful of his shirt in her small hand.

Peeta shook his head. This time, his voice didn't falter. "I won't. No matter what happens tomorrow, we will find each other again."