Chapter Text
Katniss POV
Pulling into the station of a dead district felt something hauntingly familiar to a dream I’d had before. Only this time, I wasn’t waking up screaming.
Peeta and I hadn’t spoken since I told him ‘real’ on that train bed. He held me while we dozed in and out of sleep, occasionally getting up to meet out in the common space, but I couldn’t find the words to say. My thoughts were scattered, those shiny, fuzzy ones kept trying to pull at my brain, but I was starting to pick them out faster. It made me feel so small, though. Like I was trying to hide away from them.
Every now and then in that common space, I’d see Haymitch lift an eye at me in silent question. The night of conversation with him still sat heavy on me – Plutarch’s letter, his discussion about everything with Snow, the conversation about me being safe. I found myself curling further and further into Peeta’s arms, trying to just melt away from thinking about just how messed up everything still was. He doesn’t mind, and I think he doesn’t exactly realize what I’m trying to hide from.
When we finally managed to empty out of the train, Prim and I both froze. Haymitch was on Prim’s side and Peeta on mine, both preparing for what could go wrong. Snow hadn’t been able to mess with my memories of this, but Prim… this was her first time seeing it. I felt sick all over again and found myself hurling my measly breakfast over the side of the station. Peeta was quick to end up at my side, one hand holding my down hair back while his other ran the length of my arm.
“Shhh,” He hushed close to my ear, “We’ll take the long way.”
I nodded, gasping for breath still before pulling back to look at his with glassy eyes. He frowned sadly, cupping my cheek in one hand.
It wasn’t like we were even all alone; they had already sent people in the start cleaning up Twelve. The few hundred survivors of the bombing were mainly the ones who cared, but Paylor must have sent extra hands to help clean the place up. Any eyes we passed locked onto our sad group, and it only made the curling in my stomach worse.
True to what Prim had said, my mother made it back before us. She met us at the gate to Victor’s Village, that stupid tabby cat in her arms. I still hated it, even if the sight of it made things feel more normal. She hugged Prim and I separately, but I could tell the joy it brought her to see us back in each other’s vicinity. Haymitch and her started to try and move us all in, but I froze when Peeta tried to drag me forward.
“Kat?” Peeta’s words were soft, nothing more than a whisper of worry to me. I shook my head. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go home to my house; not when it could risk setting Prim off. I could see Prim recognize that too when she turned to look at me. We were scared of each other still. I wanted to throw up again.
Then there was my other issue. Yes, I loved Peeta, but I couldn’t make him deal with me. Not when I had said all but one word to him since I tried to take that night lock pill. I wasn’t even sure if we were nearly ready to live together.
Seemingly reading my frantic thoughts, Peeta took both my hands in his, “Katniss, let’s go home.”
I knew what he implied, though I couldn’t get rid of the guilt I felt over it. I looked to my mom one last time, something of a plead to not let Prim down right now, before letting Peeta lead me to his house. Haymitch followed us, and Peeta let him. When we stepped into the house, Peeta took my bags.
“Do you want me to set you up in the guest room, Kat?” He asked gently. I nodded, but we both knew I’d end up curled against him anyways, “Okay, stay with Haymitch for a bit, okay?”
Another numb nod, and my arms crossed over my chest. Peeta watched me for a moment before slipping up the stairs with our bags. I could feel Haymitch looking at me still, but I refused I acknowledge it until his sigh filled the space, “Sweetheart.”
I finally moved, slipping out of the entry way to go slip down onto the couch, curling up against the somewhat dusty cushions. Another sigh from Haymitch followed as he moved to stare at me from the back of the couch.
“Katniss, I’m not going to leave until you talk to either me or the boy, and something tells me you don’t want the three of us cuddled up on a bed together.” Haymitch sneered down at me, but I could hear that tint of concern on his words. I scowled up at him, though it was much more pathetic than my normal attempts to display my anger.
We could hear Peeta moving around upstairs, and I looked back at Haymitch, testing how serious he was. His gaze didn’t waver, and he raised an eye at me. I wanted to scowl or sneer at him again, but all that came up was my quivering lip as tears pricked at the corner of my eye. Haymitch’s expression softened and he rounded the couch to kneel in front of me.
“Oh, sweetheart,” He mumbled, shaking his head slightly. On hand reached out to wipe away the tears threatening to fall. Something of a breathy sob escaped me. I couldn’t do it. Nothing felt right, and even if everything was safe now, I couldn’t get off the ledge I had pushed myself onto before I shot Coin, “Katniss, you gotta talk – at least to Peeta. You know he’s the one with the right words to help you, sweetheart.”
I nodded, though from the frown on his face he knew that wasn’t a real yes, just something to appease him so I could wallow alone again. It didn’t work though, and Peeta was back with us a few minutes later, his own face twisting into something of deep worry when he landed on me. My stomach did a flip again. How selfish was I to tell him I loved him then act like this? I should’ve never let him find that stupid night lock—
“Hey,” He took Haymitch’s place kneeling in front of me, a soft smile trying to mask his worry, “We should get some food and water in you after you tossed everything back up.”
One of his hands started to run up and down my arm, something just gentle and soothing, but it somehow only made me feel worse. My face twisted up as I tried to quell my flipping stomach, and Peeta’s mouth pressed further into a line.
“Okay, okay. We can wait on that for a while,” He soothed, flashing an anxious glance at Haymitch. Our mentor hadn’t gone far, standing off to the side now with eyes trained on me.
“Why don’t you and the girl go get comfortable for a while. It’s been quite the trip and I’m sure you’ll sleep better here than you did on that train.” He offered carefully, his tone implying this was more of a direction than a suggestion. Peeta nodded slowly, turning his attention back to me.
“Do you want to walk?” I should nod and get up on my own, but I couldn’t find the will to get up, so I shook my head. Peeta mustered a small, sad smile before pulling me into his arms to carry. I let my head rest in the crook of his neck, hiding my face from the eyes I knew were watching me. Peeta was tense as he started to move us up the stairs; I guessed that was probably my fault as well.
He hauled me to his guest room where my things were neatly laid out. I frowned a bit against Peeta’s skin. Why’d he pick this room? I didn’t have to will or time to ask before he was gently easing me down onto the covers. He stood beside me for a moment before brushing back the loose locks of hair from my face.
“You got to say something, Kat.” He begged, kneeling down to be at my eye level. A flair of indignation flew through me; I technically had said something. I thought that would’ve been everything he’d have wanted to hear. He seemed to read my thoughts, continuing, “More than a word.”
My frown deepened. Why should I? Nothing good would come out. Isn’t that what he thought of me?
Wait. I paused and shut my eyes. Peeta wouldn’t think that. That’s wrong. I felt Peeta’s hands still in my hair, “You’re having trouble with some memory, real or not real?”
That stupid game. As much as I hated it, it worked. Shutting my eyes tighter, I fought to find my voice and croak out, “real.”
“Katniss, what is it?” His voice was low and soft, trying to keep me present.
“You think nothing good comes out of my mouth, real or not real?” I managed, peaking an eye open, for some reason expecting him to reel back away from me.
“Not real,” his hand found my cheek, “Not even close to real. You’re rough around the edges, but that’s exactly what I love about you.”
That settled something in my chest. It was stupid to even have needed to ask that, but I fell back into the silence with that cleared. Peeta didn’t seem to appreciate it, his hand still gently clearing the tangled from my head.
“You don’t want to talk right now, real or not real?” Peeta asked slowly, and I flashed him a glare. That wasn’t a fair way to use the game.
“Real.” I kept his gaze, wondering if he’d push it any. To no surprise, he did.
“It has something to do with Snow and Coin, doesn’t it?” I didn’t reply, but my gaze drifted away from him, giving him all the answers he needed, “Can you at least promise we’ll talk about it later?”
I couldn’t promise that and he knew it with me. I just weakly flicked my gaze back up to him and waited for him to come to terms with the fact I wasn’t talking more than I had to. He held it, that disappointed tilt of his head queuing me in that he wasn’t going to push me, but he wasn’t happy, “Real or not real, you want me to leave you alone?”
I thought this was kind of a stupid question after my confession on the train, “Not real.”
I finally got a little smile from him as he crossed to the other side of the bed. I turned around to face him as he lay down beside me, shimmying closer to me so I could tuck myself in his arms. I loved how, even in these clothes, he smelled faintly of warm bread. Maybe I was just playing tricks on myself, but he always had this warm scent to him. I buried my face further in his chest, my hands curling into his shirt as his arms pulled me close.
“We’re going to figure it out, Katniss,” He whispered into my hair, “In time, we’ll figure it out. We have the rest of our lives to heal.”
He meant it to be reassuring, I know, but something about the idea of the rest of my life being spent in guilt for everyone that died so I could live, for every life that was cost so my sour, sorry self could find peace, sounded haunting. Peeta didn’t need to be bothered with it; he already had to deal with me. I wanted to put him at some ease, so I mustered up my nerves, my throat worked around words as I tried to form them.
“I love you.” It came out as nothing more than a whisper. I can tell Peeta sees through it, even if I do really mean it. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, gentle but lingering.
“You know I’ll always love you too – no matter what.” He assured me before placing another, shorter kiss. I shut my eyes; maybe if I closed them tight enough, I could ignore how miserably worried he sounded when he said those words.