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District 12.
The place I had called home for so many years. The place I had grown up, the place where I had watched my father die, the place where I had brought my family back from the brink of starvation. The place where I had met the first girl I thought I loved, the place I had watched her slip away from me. Shielding my eyes against the harsh sunlight, I saw no trace of the home I had once known. All that could be seen now was remnants of the lives once lived there, destroyed by the cruelty of those who had oppressed them for so long. Could life ever begin anew in a place that had seen so much death?
I stepped onto the train platform, turning to help my travelling companion down the steps. Companion. It seemed a strange name for this girl who had been called so many others - tribute, victor, mentor, rebel, prisoner, soldier - but seemed fitting in the current circumstances.
When I had moved to District 2 after the end of the war, Johanna Mason’s was the first familiar face I saw. I didn’t know what had caused her to move there, and I never asked. Everyone deserved a fresh start after everything- especially her. We had begun to talk out of some sense of… familiarity? Camaraderie? Habit? I don’t really know why… but I was glad we had.
Things had progressed quickly from there- I guess after you've lived through the hell that we had, you realized that life was short- no sense in hiding your feelings. Labels like ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ seemed so trivial following the war- I guess you could say we were ‘dating’, but I preferred to think of it as keeping each other company. Though we were a little more intimate than I supposed company should be.
Tomorrow marked exactly one year since the Capitol had fallen to the rebel forces- one year since the bombs fell, one year since Primrose Everdeen died. Whoever was in charge of this sort of thing in the Capitol had deemed in necessary to hold a ‘Memorial Week’ - all sorts of ceremonies were being held in the Capitol. All victors had been invited to attend, but Johanna declined the invitation. I understood- that place held enough bad memories to last a lifetime.
The media was finally being put to good use, too; all week they would be broadcasting pictures and names of everyone who had been lost, both to 75 years of Hunger Games and to the war that had ended them once and for all. This had all been announced about a month ago, and shortly after I was surprised to receive a letter from someone I wasn’t sure I would ever see again- Katniss Everdeen.
We had had brief correspondence for the last few months; she had told me that she didn’t blame me for Prim’s death, but I knew the memory was inextricably bound together with thoughts of me. I kept her updated on Johanna and I and our lives in Two, and she told me about the progress in District Twelve. We didn’t talk about Peeta much- I knew he was back there, and held some place in her life, but nothing past that. This I also understood- so much of their lives had been put on display, manipulated for some sick form of entertainment, they deserved to be able to keep things private.
Following the announcement, Katniss had sent me a letter informing me that she, Peeta, and Haymitch did not intend to travel to the Capitol, and she assumed Johanna would not want to either. If this was the case, would we like to pay a visit to District Twelve instead? She explained that the three of them agreed that this anniversary would be easier to face if they had other people around that had experienced the same things they had.
The invitation had surprised me- I didn’t know if Katniss would ever want to see me again after everything that had happened- but I supposed it was all a part of moving on. “I miss you Gale. I want my friend back.” was the last line in the letter, and I made up my mind to repair whatever shreds of the friendship we had once had that I could.
Johanna had seemed excited when I extended Katniss’ invitation to her, and so here we were. Standing at the train station, staring out at the remnants of a slowly rebuilding District Twelve. Reconstruction efforts here were moving at a snail’s pace compared to District Two, but I suppose that was to be expected. Progress had never come quickly to District Twelve.
“No welcome party?” said Johanna in mock offence.
“I guess not,” I replied, realizing no familiar faces stood to greet us. Strange- I was sure Katniss had said in her letter that they would come meet the train when we arrived. “I hope everything’s okay,” I mumbled, picking up the suitcase that lay beside me.
“You worry too much, Hawthorne,” Johanna said, picking up her own bag. “Brainless probably just forgot what day it was.” Johanna’s pet name for Katniss made me smile, and we began to walk towards the Everdeen’s old house in Victor’s Village.
“You’re probably right,” I replied, but I couldn’t shake the strange feeling that rested in my gut. We walked in a comfortable silence until we arrived on Katniss’ front porch. That was the nice thing about Johanna and me- neither of us felt the need to talk much unless it was necessary. We were okay just being together.
I gave three brisk knocks on the door and stepped back to stand beside Johanna. When no one appeared to answer after about 20 seconds, I knocked again, louder this time. Still no response.
“That’s strange…” I said, and tested the doorknob to see if it was locked; it wasn’t. I pushed the door open slowly, scanning the room for any sign of life. Opening it more widely, I could see Katniss’ hunting jacket and boots placed neatly by the door; she must be home.
“Katniss?” I called into the still quiet of the house. No answer. I stepped inside, motioning Johanna to do the same, and moved into the kitchen. There were signs of living - dirty dishes in the sink, pots and pans strewn about - which I took as a good thing. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.
The relative quiet of the house was suddenly broken as a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air. “Katniss!” I shouted, though I quickly registered that the noise had not come from her - the voice was much deeper, more like-
“Peeta!” yelled an agonized voice that I recognized. My ears also registered the sound of breaking glass, and I flashed back to a vision of the blonde boy with his fingers around Katniss’ throat. I took the stairs two at a time, intent on protecting her from the mutt that I knew Peeta could become with almost no warning.
I reached the bedroom door and was about to fling it open when I heard a sound I had not been expecting - crying. This was no gentle, quiet crying either- these were loud, ugly, choking sobs. I pushed the door open just far enough to get a glimpse at what was happening- Johanna put her face next to mine to do the same.
Both of them faced away from the door, Peeta kneeling with his forehead pressed against the wall and Katniss crouched behind him. On the other side of the room, I saw the remnants of the broken mirror that must have caused the racket I had heard earlier. A river of red streamed down Peeta’s forearm, stemming from the palm of his hand. In it, he clutched a jagged shard of glass, pressing it further and further into his hand. His whole body shook, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his hair becoming damp with sweat.
“Peeta, Peeta…” Katniss repeated his name like a mantra, rubbing her hands gently across his back and shoulders, up to his neck, running her slender fingers through his hair. “It’s not real, sweetheart,” she soothed, “It’s not real… you’re safe, I’m safe, everything’s going to be okay…” She pressed kisses to his neck, his temple, the skin behind his ear, as his tense body began to relax.
Katniss managed to slip her body between his and the wall, taking a hold of the hand that still clutched the piece of glass tightly. “It’s okay, it’s okay…” she repeated over and over, turning his hand over and gently uncurling his fingers so that the offending shard could clearly be seen.
“Oh, Peeta,” she sighed, grabbing a white t-shirt that had been discarded nearby. In one swift motion, she pulled out the glass and pressed the t-shirt to the place it had occupied as a fresh river of red blood flowed from the cut. The action caused a tremor to run through the boy’s body, and Katniss leaned forward, whispering soft reassurances in his ear. She wrapped the fabric around the cut several times, securing it in a tight knot, and then turned her attention to Peeta, who still pressed his eyes shut tightly. Her hands ghosted over his flushed cheeks, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles on his cheekbones.
“It’s not real… look at me Peeta,” she demanded in a gentle yet firm voice, and the boy obliged, his blue eyes flooding with tears as he did so. As the water overflowed onto his cheeks, a sob escaped from his chest and Katniss pulled his head in close to rest in the hollow below her chin. He melted into her, hands grabbing the fabric in the front of her shirt and clinging for dear life. She wrapped her arms around him and cradled him close, rocking them both slowly back and forth as she mumbled soothing nonsense in his ear.
“Kat-niss,” he choked out, pushing his face in closer to her neck, body still shaking. As sobs continued to rip from his throat, a few tears slipped from beneath her dark eyelashes to mingle with his.
“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. We both are.”
I knew it was wrong, to watch them like this, in such a private moment, but I just couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away. I had briefly seen Katniss after the war had ended, after the bombs fell that killed her sister… I knew how broken she had been, how hard it had been for her to just find the will to live. But Peeta… last I had seen of him, he had just barely been able to hold back his hatred for her long enough to save her life once again. His time spent in the Capitol’s prisons had filled him with such unspeakable rage toward the girl who was once on fire, I was surprised he could even stand being in the same room as her.
But what I saw today was nothing of the lifeless girl and the angry man from a year ago. What I saw was a strong, caring woman, pushing aside her own grief to help the only one who had truly lived through the same horrors she had. What I saw was a broken, grieving boy who had had everything taken from him - his family, his home, his sanity - but had managed to pull through with the help of the girl he once proclaimed to love. The transformation was nothing I could have ever imagined.
I felt Johanna’s warm hand cover mine in its place on the doorknob, quietly pulling the door shut. “We really shouldn’t be watching this,” she whispered, and I nodded in guilty affirmation. She took my hand in hers and we walked together down the stairs, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Johanna took the kettle that sat on the stove, filled in with water, and put it on to boil. We sat quietly, both contemplating what we had just seen.
After a few minutes, Katniss emerged from the stairwell and jumped when she saw us sitting in her kitchen. “Gale? Johanna? What…” her eyes suddenly lit with realization. “I’m so sorry, I forgot it was today… I was going to meet you at the train station but…” she trailed off and gestured upstairs.
“Does that happen a lot?” I asked before I could stop myself. Katniss sighed heavily and sat down in the chair across from mine, rubbing her eyes. The bags underneath them were unmistakable; I knew she hadn’t been getting much sleep lately.
“It was getting better,” she said in a strained voice, “he was getting better… it’s just been a bad week, I guess.” The kettle started to whistle and Johanna rose to turn the stove off. I didn’t want to upset Katniss with any more questions, but I couldn’t seem to quell my curiosity.
“Is he still…” I trailed off, searching for the right word, “violent?” At this, Katniss’ head snapped up, anger filling her eyes.
“He would never hurt me,” she hissed, “not if he had a choice in the matter. What happened in Thirteen… that wasn’t him. Snow made him do that.” I held up my hands in a mock surrender.
“I just… I worry about you, Catnip,” I said, the once familiar nickname tasting strange on my tongue. Johanna pushed a steaming mug of tea in front of each of us, and I welcomed the distraction. “I know he would never hurt you… before.” Before. What a heavy word. Before what exactly? Before the two of them had been forced into an arena to fight for their lives- twice? Before he had been captured, tortured, hijacked, rescued? Before he had lost his whole family, and she her sister?
“He doesn’t… they don’t…” she stammered, trying to find the right words. “These episodes… they aren’t about him trying to attack me, thinking I’m a mutt. He just gets… confused sometimes.” I nodded, trying to understand what she meant.
“Remember the game we would play during training, and in the Capitol? Real or not real?” I gave a nod. “It’s like that. Sometimes he just can’t sort through the memories. Tell which ones are actually his, and which ones they gave him. These images they put in his mind,” she shook her head, eyes filling with tears, “they’re awful. My real memories are bad enough- but these hijacked ones- I don’t know how he handles it sometimes.” She wiped at a tear that trailed down her cheek and took a sip of tea before continuing.
“He just gets scared,” she whispered, “so I try to help him. Try to bring my Peeta back to me.” I hid a grin behind my mug at the endearing term she had used. Katniss had never been one to say things like that- Peeta obviously brought something out in her that I never could.
I gazed over at Johanna, realizing the same could be said of her and I. We brought out the best in one another; something that could not be said of me and Katniss. Katniss and I- we both had enough fire of our own. All those year, I had mistaken survival, dependence, need, for love. We had given each other the will to survive, but not the will to truly live.
“It had been happening less and less,” Katniss continues, pulling me out of my thoughts, “or the episodes wouldn’t be as bad- wouldn’t drain him as much. But these last few days… he’s been having flashbacks every day, terrible nightmares every time he tries to sleep. It must be from all this memorial stuff…”
Katniss stood up suddenly, and Johanna and I both turned to look at what had caused the action. There, on the bottom stair, stood Peeta, looking tired and confused. “What-” he started, but recognition suddenly dawned in his eyes. “I forgot,” he said quietly, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his bandaged hand.
“What are you doing up?” Katniss asked in a scolding voice, moving to his side. His attention turned from Johanna and I to the woman standing beside him.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted with a yawn, “I was having…” he trailed off, glancing at Johanna and me with a guarded look in his eyes.
“Nightmares?” Katniss finished in a whisper and he gave a defeated nod.
“They won’t stop,” he whispered, just loud enough for us to hear, “I can’t make them stop…” his voice cracked and he dropped his gaze to the floor. Katniss wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he nuzzled his face into her neck, hiding from the world around him. She whispered soft assurances in his ear, and he moved his hands around her, gripping the back of her shirt tightly.
I felt like we were intruding on another private moment, and turned my attention back to the steaming mug in my hands as Johanna did the same. After a moment or two, I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and turned to see Peeta climbing them. “I’ll be up in a minute,” Katniss called softly after him. “Sorry about all this,” she said with a guilty look in her eye. “I’m going to go try and help him sleep… it is alright if I leave you two alone until morning?”
“We’ll try to behave, but no promises,” said Johanna teasingly, and Katniss gave a tired smile. She directed us to the bedroom we would be using and told us to help ourselves to whatever food we could find. She pulled a mug from the cupboard and poured another cup of tea. We watched as she took a small vial out of a drawer and added a few drops to the hot liquid.
“Sleep syrup,” she explained when she saw us watching. “Hopefully it calms him down. He really needs to sleep,” she murmured, not really directing the statement at us. Grabbing the mug in both hands, she apologized again and moved to go upstairs.
“Oh, Gale,” she said, turning back to face me, “I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow morning. We’ve got some hunting to do,” she finished with a grin, giving a final wave before disappearing into the stairwell.
“You’re on,” I called after her, shaking my head in disbelief. Perhaps the girl on fire hadn’t been completely extinguished after all.