Chapter Text
“You’re back,” I said.
He had been crouched down in front of my house, but jumped up and spun around at my words like he was surprised to see me. Like he wasn’t the one who showed up out of the blue. He had dirt up to his elbows and his hair was glowing gold in the morning light. He looked better, stronger, less like the frail, broken man I left underground and more like the one that was steady by my side on the victory tour, the one that danced with me at parties, and held me through my nightmares. I was struck for the hundredth time at how broad his shoulders were. I wanted to run into his arms, but I didn’t know if I could. I didn’t know how he would react. I didn’t know which Peeta was staring at me.
“What are you doing?” I asked because it was all I could think to say. It was a dumb question. It was obvious what he was doing. He was planting… something.
“I found these by the woods. It’s primrose.”
Primrose. It was my Peeta.
I dropped my bow and ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck. He stiffened for a moment and a wave of fear passed over me. Was I wrong? Was he going to attack me? They wouldn’t have let him come back if he were dangerous? Would they? But then the plant slipped from his fingers and his strong arms wrapped hesitantly around me. Never in my life have I felt safer than I did in Peeta’s arms, and the familiar feeling came back to me all at once. I wanted to stay there forever, surrounded by his warmth and his smell.
Eventually, I pulled back so I could look him in the eyes as I said, “I missed you.” I needed him to know what I meant, even if I couldn’t say any of it. I needed him to understand that I saw that he was the man I missed. The one I left in the arena. He smiled at me in response. It made my eyes sting with tears, so I looked away quickly.
He took my hand in his and squeezed it gently, “I missed you too, Katniss,” then he dropped my hand and stepped back. “Let me finish up planting these. I’ll stop home and get cleaned up. Then I can come over to your house and we can make some lunch.” I got a funny feeling in my stomach when he gestured to the house next door, his house. If I didn’t know better, I would have called the feeling disappointment.
“I’ve got a whole box of letters and gifts for you from your friends,” he continued. I scrunched up my brow at ‘friends.’ What friends did I have? Peeta must have read my mind because he said, “Finnick, Annie, Effie, and others… You don’t have to reply to any of them. And you don’t even have to open them all today. I’ll just bring them over.” I must have still looked lost because he added, “Go on inside. I’ll see you soon.”
I picked up my bow and climbed my front steps. I was in a haze, trying to process Peeta being back and trying not to think too hard about what it meant for the future. I kicked off my boots, shed my jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, then went upstairs to my room. I paused for a moment to watch Peeta through the window as he placed a primrose shrub in the hole he had dug and used his hands to push the dirt over its roots, then crossed the room to my closet, feeling the need to change out of my filthy hunting clothes. I pulled on a pair of gray leggings and a soft, green long-sleeved shirt that covered the scars dotting my skin and I was about to go back downstairs when I stopped to grab thick wool socks. It was strange to go without shoes, but unlike my old house in the Seam, the floors in the Victor’s Village weren’t covered in splinters that snagged my socks or stabbed up into the soles of my feet.
Downstairs, I sat on the counter in the kitchen to wait. It was my favorite place to sit these days. If I angled myself carefully, I could see both the front and back doors. I sat there idly fiddling with the necklace I had taken to wearing recently. Not the locket Peeta had given me, but a necklace Cinna had made for the victory tour. It was a small orange stone, about the size of marble. I liked it because it reminded me of so many things. Of Cinna, because he made it for me. Of Peeta, because of the color. But also, of the night I first wore it.
I don’t remember which district we were in; they all blur together now, but I remembered being in a formal gown. It was after dinner, and we were having a small party in the governor’s mansion, dancing and drinking. Peeta had been spinning me around all night and pressing little kisses all over me, my forehead, my hands, and yes, my lips. A slower song played, probably the last one of the night, and he pulled me in tight to his chest. We were both a little tipsy, so when he leaned down and whispered, ‘Do you ever wish this were real?’ I said ‘yes’ without any hesitation and without stopping to determine if he meant the parties, the laughs, or the kisses. It didn’t matter, the answer was the same.
Peeta found me ten minutes later, still sitting on the counter and staring at nothing. He knocked once at the back door, then walked in carrying a large box under one arm. Neither of us said anything at first. My eyes followed his every move as he kicked off his shoes at the door and walked into the kitchen, sliding the box onto the counter in front of me.
“You don’t need to open any of it now,” he reminded me. “We can go through it all later, after we’ve eaten.” He stood in the middle of the kitchen with his hands on his hips. It was nice to see him comfortable, taking up space again, instead of shrinking into corners. “Should we make a stew? I assume you’ve got plenty of meat.” He started opening up cupboards and pulling things out. I just watched. “You have an incredibly well-stocked kitchen.”
I knew he wasn’t expecting a reply, but I gave him one anyway. “People send me things. I think it’s to make themselves feel better. Like, ‘Sorry, you had to sacrifice almost everything you care about, have this jar of honey to make up for it.’” Peeta laughed. I wasn’t trying to be funny.
“Have you considered that maybe it’s not pity, but gratitude? Maybe it’s ‘Thank you for saving all our lives. Take this jar of honey, it’s all I have left to give.’” He sounded exactly like the shrink. I scowled at him, but I didn’t mean it. He laughed again. “Maybe you don’t fully appreciate the honey because it’s not drizzled over fresh baked rolls, still warm from the oven.” That did sound heavenly.
“Are you offering to bake for me?”
“Of course I am, Katniss.” The thought of him baking for me made me want to cry again. It was so normal. Peeta and I had never had the opportunity for normal before. “If I’m baking, you take over this stew.” I took out a large pot and put it on the stove. I scowled at the knob as I turned the stove on. I was still not quite used to the electric one rather than the old coal burning oven we had in the Seam and I didn’t trust it.
“I don’t know if you’ll have all the ingredients you need. Haymitch takes half my food. I guess nobody is grateful for him,” I said as I started tossing things into the pot.
All Peeta said was, “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Does he know you’re back? Haymitch, I mean.”
“He knew I’d be back today, but I haven’t seen him yet.” I started to get angry. After everything, they were still keeping things from me. Peeta must have sensed the tension rising in me because he said, “Relax, Katniss. I only knew they were letting me come home yesterday and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I wanted to be able to look you in the eyes.” It made sense, but I didn’t want to admit it. “Besides, they told me you haven’t been answering the phone for anyone.”
“You keep saying ‘they.’ Who’s ‘they’?” I was worried the new government was just as controlling as the one I had dismantled.
“My doctors. They wanted to make sure that I wasn’t a threat to myself or to… anyone else before I came back.” I noticed the pause before the word ‘anyone’, like he almost said ‘you’ instead. “They would have let me come home a month ago if someone came with to supervise me, but I knew you wouldn’t want a stranger here.” He took a step back from what he was doing and wiped his palms on his pants, leaving handprints of flour.
“Katniss, you have to understand. I’m better. I’m much better, but I’m not fixed. I may never be fixed. I still have the occasional ‘fits’ as the doctors call them, but I can control them. I can calm myself back down. It is hard to know what triggers them though.” He took a step towards me. He lifted his hand like he was going to reach out to me, but he must have changed his mind because he dropped it back to his side. “Katniss, if there’s ever a time I feel myself losing control of a fit, I need you to keep yourself safe. If I tell you to run, I need you to run. Don’t try to help me. I’ll be okay.” I nodded. It was all I could do.
Peeta turned back to his dough. I left my stew to simmer and lifted myself up to sit on the other side of the kitchen from Peeta. I sat cross-legged on the cold, stone countertop and watched as he spread flour on the counter, then pulled the dough out of the bowl and started to knead it. I was mesmerized by the way the muscles of his back flexed with every movement. He looked so strong and solid. It was soothing to watch. He divided the dough into even sized spheres and lined them up in a pan, before sliding them into the oven. I kept watching him as he took the dishes to the sink to wash them. Then he took two bowls out of the cupboard by my head and ladled the stew into them. He placed one of the bowls and a spoon into my hands in my lap. He took the other bowl and began to eat while leaning against the counter across from me.
With Peeta facing me, I felt shy and kept my eyes trained down on the stew in my hands. It dawned on me that this was probably a really awkward situation. Neither of us knew where we stood. A few months ago, he tried to kill me. A few months before that, we were engaged. And none of it had been real.
We ate in silence until the oven dinged. Peeta pulled the pan of rolls out of the oven and drizzled honey over them. He picked up a roll, ripped off a piece, and blew on it to cool it down. He took a hesitant step towards me and said, “Close your eyes.” His voice was low. This was a game we had played before. At the grand party in the Capital at the end of our victory tour, Peeta and I had taken turns feeding each other all the lavish food.
I closed my eyes and parted my lips slightly. Peeta stepped toward me again and held the piece of roll in front of my mouth. I could feel the heat of it on my lips. I breathed in slowly, basking in the warm scent of honey. I took the bite into my mouth and let it melt on my tongue. Peeta’s thumb brushed my lip just barely before he pulled his hand away. I couldn’t help but let a moan escape. It was the best thing I had eaten in a really long time. Recently, food hadn’t had much flavor for me, it was just something necessary to fuel my body. But this… this tasted amazing. This tasted like home.
Peeta retreated back to his side of the kitchen. I ate three of the rolls.
Eventually, my eyes drifted to the cardboard box next to me. It held bundles of envelopes and smaller packages. Peeta noticed me peering into the box and took my bowl out of my hands, placing it in the sink with his. I was scared to reach in. It felt fragile, like with one touch, it would all dissolve… or explode. Peeta chose for me. He pulled out a thick envelope with green tinged paper that was wrapped in twine rather than sealed and placed it carefully in my hands.
“Here, start with this one,” he said, “something happy.”
I knew before I even looked closely who it was from. The twine was tied in a complex, but beautiful knot. Finnick. The knot slipped away easily when I pulled the tail end. The twine fell to the ground, and the envelope opened. It was filled with photos and two letters, one from Finnick and Annie each. I read them aloud to Peeta. They had moved back to Four, to a little house by the water. They were comfortable and ridiculously happy, and Annie had given birth to a baby boy about a month before.
I picked up the photos, four in total. One showed Finnick and a very pregnant Annie on the front stoop of their new house, laughing with their arms around each other. The next photo was of the two of them holding a newborn, all wrapped up in blankets. The third was of a baby taking a bath in the sink, his tiny fist clenched around a little plastic trident. And the last, a close up of Finnick and the baby with their matching bright green eyes.
It was terrifying to think that Finnick had almost died, that the baby had almost grown up without a father. And yes, he will grow up in a new world, a world without the Hunger Games, but who knows what that new world will look like? That was the scariest part of all this, the uncertainty.
Next, there was a handful of letters from Effie. She updated me on all the trends forming in the post-war Capital. Apparently, bright colors were out and monochromatic neutrals were the pinnacle of style. Between her silly fashion commentary, she told me about how she was working with people whose homes were destroyed. She also said that she planned to visit soon, with no reference to when that may be. Also from Effie was a package containing a thin gold bracelet with a butterfly on it and a dark green suede jacket. They were beautiful. I made a mental note to call and thank her later, or at least ask Peeta to call and thank her for me.
I set aside the stack of letters from my mom. I needed to read those alone later, when I could cry freely.
I was perusing the rest of the letters, seeing who sent them, when Haymitch barged in through the back door.
“You’re back,” he said to Peeta, “Oh, and you made food.” Although his words were cold, he pulled Peeta into a hug. “Good to see you, kid.”
Haymitch was still dabbling with sobriety. It sure as hell didn’t help his manners, but it did seem to make him a more human-like person. “How you doing, sweetheart?” He sounded sarcastic, but he maintained eye contact until I answered with a half-smile and a shrug.
“Any news worth hearing?” Haymitch asked with a mouthful of stew that he was eating out of the pot.
“Finnick and Annie are settled in Four with their new baby. Effie is helping refugees while simultaneously updating my wardrobe.” Haymitch only grunted in response.
“And, Katniss, I know you’re not ready to open your mom’s letters yet, but I can tell you that she is still in the Capital, training new medics. And Gale didn’t write. He’s in District Two.”
A million emotions rushed through me before I could squash them back down. I hadn’t even thought about Gale since I got home, since his bomb killed my sister. All of my pain and anger around Prim’s death were still very fresh. And then there was the guilt of cutting the person who was once my best friend out of my life completely. And then the feeling of betrayal and more anger for thinking for even a second that Gale deserved a place in my life. Fuck, I was a mess.
I felt my breathing start to get ragged. I needed space, some time, without feeling like my every move was being watched.
“Haymitch, why don’t you take Peeta over to see your geese?” He gave me a look like he knew exactly what I was doing, but he nodded and led Peeta out the door. “I’ll catch up later.” The geese were part of Haymitch’s attempt to stay sober. I think someone told him it helped to have something to stay sober for, something you were responsible for other than yourself. I don’t know how the geese were any different from the dozens of children’s lives he had been responsible for over the years, but it seemed like it was helping so far. It also helped that no one would give him booze.
I slipped the jacket Effie sent me over my shoulders. It was surprisingly warm for how thin it was. I stepped out onto the back porch. There were two chairs out there on either side of a small table. I used to sit in them with my mother last summer whenever we had a moment to ourselves. Now I sat alone. I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible, like maybe if I could make my whole body fit in this chair, the world and its messes would just pass me by.
I pushed all thoughts of Prim and Gale to the farthest corners of my mind. I didn’t know what to do anymore, how to act, who to be. I had so much anger and nowhere to put it all. I sat there for a while until even Effie’s jacket couldn’t keep me warm. I was going to go inside and find something to keep me busy, but then I got this itch, this ache. Like I needed to find Peeta. Like he had been away from me for too long.