Between Hunger Games & Catching Fire, Spoilers Evident

[real_or_notreal]

He'd started out on her front steps and meant to sit there until she came home.

First Mrs. Everdeen spotted him and invited him in. She'd left him alone when he'd brushed her off well-meaning enough saying he would rather wait there.

Then Prim had come home from school, asking him what he was doing after looking for the missing basket of bread or cookies he always had. She'd accepted it when he'd said he was waiting for Katniss with a long second of staring at him.

Peeta never came by, even with bread or cookies, when Katniss was home.







He'd thought they'd both leave him alone until half an hour passed, with still no Katniss, and Prim reappeared. Her tiny hands tucked into her little brand new Capitol coat, hood up, and sat down next to him. Little effusive face, commenting on how it was silly he was going to sit there, with the snow piling in his hair, when no one knew how long it might be.

Somewhere between Prim's asking, as no one ever actually said no to Prim Everdeen and that he was here to talk about Rue, he ended up in inside. Tensely sitting at the end of a couch in the sitting room, with a pot of tea brought to him between patients who appeared.

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[whowasonfire]

When Katniss arrives home, carrying a bundle of goods from the Hob, Prim meets her at the door.

That happened a lot when Katniss first got home; Prim and their mother couldn't seem to hover enough, to remind themselves that Katniss was home and alive and theirs again, and at first she couldn't get enough of them, either.

(That's still half true; Katniss will never be able to get enough of her little sister.)

But recently she's needed more breathing space, and they've begun to believe again that the Capitol won't whisk her away when they're not looking, and a semblance of the dynamic of before had come back. So Prim meeting her at the door is becoming more unusual again, and she asks right away,

"Is everything okay?"

"Peeta's here," Prim says. "He wants to talk to you."

Katniss stares at her. "Did he say why?"

Prim shakes her head. "He doesn't look angry," she offers.

Not in front of you, Katniss thinks. No one looks angry in front of Prim if they can help it.

"Okay, well. I'd better go see him, then." Katniss takes off her jacket and gives the bundle to Prim, and goes to the sitting room. She takes a breath to steel herself, then steps inside.

"Peeta," she says, pleased to hear her voice would out reasonably steady. Milliways, she decides. He must be here about Milliways. That's the only thing that's changed recently enough that he would be willing to talk to her.

No matter how much she wants it to be something else. (Already the boy with the bread is slipping away.)

[real_or_notreal]

Even if he told himself sitting there, waiting, it'd be better, he'd be prepared. She walks in, saying his name, and it's really all a lie. It's a splash of ice water disrupting even the patiently impatient waiting and complicatedly important reason he's there.

Katniss. Saying his name.
Still a little pink from the cold.
With her braid and piercing dark eyes.

Digging up instant anger, and that ache that refused to leave him.

His fingers tightened without him realizing it, around the tea cup he hasn't been actually drinking much from, and it comes out far too blank, trying to reign all of that back. It's going to be hard enough on her already, even without his want to be.

"You should close the door."

[whowasonfire]

She sees the way he stiffens up as she says his name, and she bites her lip. It's not a surprise, and she knows it won't change any time soon, but she'd still hoped for a few seconds - well. Never mind. She knows better.

She closes the door, but stays standing near it - more, she has to admit, for her own comfort than his.

"What's going on?" Her voice remains cool and circumspect, more or less matching his.

[real_or_notreal]

He almost feels bad before her question is even out, about his anger and his own issues. He knows where this will go. If he wanted to hurt her, and there are times he truly does, this is not something he ever would have used against her. Ever.

They can be this way. Wary. Distant. Icy. Formal. Pretending, if nothing else. But it's going to crack in a second. He's going to crack it with what he says. Because it's too personal. To hide. To lie. And there is no lead-up that would be good enough.

He took a breath, his thumb rubbing his cup. "Rue is in Milliways."

[whowasonfire]

That doesn't make any sense.

She doesn't understand a single word in that sentence.

(Or, judging by the way she starts to turn pale, maybe she does.)

". . . What?"

[real_or_notreal]

And it breaks and reforms, that anger, watching her face.

Against a wave of wanting to get up, to go toward her. Even delirious, he remember her face when she told him about what happened with Rue. The way he felt about the choice she'd made, both for the days before hand and after she'd died.

Even when he stays exactly where he is. On the couch. With a cup of tea. A whole room away. "I found her last night." There's a small frown, before adding. "In the snow, but still the arena outfit....and the flowers."

[whowasonfire]

As his words begin to sink in, to sort themselves out and find meaning in her head, Katniss reaches behind her for the doorknob. Not to leave, but to steady herself.

The dead can come to Milliways. She knows that. She's had a nightmare or two about that, Glimmer covered in slime and Cato with his face chewed off.

But she hasn't let herself think about -



"The flowers," she says, faintly.

(More than a piece in their Games.)

[real_or_notreal]

Peeta had set down his tea and risen from his seat before he'd realized it. It was her stumble back that sent him up, but it was his uncertain footing that caused him to hesitate while making sure he was balanced. She might not want him anywhere near her either.

Even his anger doesn't want her to look like this. Not really. Not if he has to see it tear into her. Suddenly lost and shocked, the edge of a pain shoved so far down because no one else could understand it.

"I made sure she got food and room there."

[whowasonfire]

She notices his movement, but doesn't really register it. Her gaze is frozen ahead, somewhere between him and the floor.

Rue.

She blinks against sudden tears, her body reacting ahead of her mind.

"Is - is she okay?" she manages.

What a stupid question. Of course she's not okay. She's dead.

[real_or_notreal]

"She's--" It's hard to pick a word really. Tiny. Wary. Bright. So young. The same. Except. And Peeta's voice is becoming softer, in spite of anything he wasn't going to do or be here. Because those were all lies, too.

He crossed most of what was left of the room, leaving her still a bubble of personal space at the door she clung to. "--confused. Even before Milliways, she remembers everything."

[whowasonfire]

Katniss swallows as he steps closer, and suddenly, more than ever, she wants it to be like it was before. On the chariot, clinging to his hand; in the cave, wrapped up together in the sleeping bag. Drawing on his strength when her own threatens to desert her.

But it's not like that now, because of her, and just because he's closer doesn't mean he wants to touch her, so she clutches the doorknob harder instead.

This time, his words make sense immediately, in all their horrific implications. Everything.

The net. The spear.

She doesn't speak.

[real_or_notreal]

She doesn't have to. He doesn't need words to know what's going on in there. Why he had to come tell her. First and foremost. Even if she tries to be resolute, to hold herself to that flat plane of the door, the horror is there. In her eyes, tearing up and trying not to cry, somewhere so very far away.

And never far enough away. Events he only knows of, was told of. Memories she's had to live with; is reliving now. It's not fair. None of it is. None of their world is. Nor Milliways, but they can't even be surprised at that now, can they? After all they've been through.

It's going to hurt so much more in about ten or twenty minutes if he does what he's thinking of, than it already does watching her face now. But when is that new. What horror hadn't he been willing to go through at her side, or for her.

He can be angry later. And hurt. He probably really will be. But, not at her, at himself. But it will be that. Later. Not now. Not when he's taking careful steps to cross the last few feet, looking at her with quiet, tired eyes that won't cover up the drastic complications, and holds his hand out for her to come closer anyway.

They don't get choices. They never have. Only to live through it.

[whowasonfire]

Katniss reaches for his hand without even having to think about it, clutching it tightly the way she had Rue's, in the arena. (Like a lifeline, like it was her dying instead of Rue. Like she could make it stop if she held on hard enough.)

From there, barrier broken - however temporary that might be - it's the most natural thing in the world to step into his arms and bury her face against his shoulder.

Because regardless of whatever else there might be between them, keeping them apart, they have two things in common that no one else does. No one in District Twelve, no one even in Panem. They are both victors, and they have both been to Milliways. Peeta is the only one who can understand what she's feeling right now, and if he's offering support, all she can do is take it.

[real_or_notreal]

And she fits perfectly, the way she always did, making him nearly bite down on his own tongue, when one arm slips around her shoulders, with his hand resting gently on her hair, to hold her close.

Like he could somehow try to shield her for all of this. The world. Or himself from the fact none of the examples and comparisons are real. They were all lies. And still she, it, this feels small and perfect and, painfully, entirely, beside the point, when she's shaking and trying to hold on.

He tried to shove it away, or just to ignore it, since none of it ever went far enough away for him, opening his eyes. Staring at the door behind her, before glancing down at her hair. His voice dropping to a quiet whisper.

"She'll want to see you."

[whowasonfire]

Her first selfish thought: No. I can't.

She's never felt guilty about not getting to Rue in time to save her. In any other situation, the guilt would eat her alive, but in the Games, it's different. If she'd been faster, if she'd decided to go looking five minutes sooner, yes, she could have saved Rue. But for how long? Alliances in the arena end. They have to. Sometimes even the honorable allies, the ones who never intended on betrayal, are cornered, by the Gamemakers or by circumstance, into killing each other.

And none of the deaths in the arena are the fault of the tributes. It's the Capitol that's to blame.

So she doesn't feel guilty about Rue, and she doesn't think Rue would blame her.

But the thought of seeing Rue terrifies her anyway.

Her arms tighten a little around Peeta.

[real_or_notreal]

He closes his eyes back anyway, tucking his cheek against the top of her head and wrapping his other arm around her finally. If he was going to hate himself later, it might as well be wholesale.

He doesn't know why it needs to be said, but he follows it with. "I told her I was sorry." Talking for himself, or talking for her, or simply because there's been so much silence. Or because she is the only one who would understand.

Sorry that he (they) outlived her. That he never had a chance to be anywhere near her to stop it. That he was glad he hadn't ever come any closer to having to kill her himself. That he'd chosen Katniss, before himself.

That she was a tiny bird, not so unlike Prim whom he hadn't even been able to say no to only the better part of an hour ago. That even a month later he wouldn't change what he'd chosen or how or who.

[whowasonfire]

She does understand, all of Peeta's reasons and a few of her own.

It isn't fair of her, to put herself before Rue. Rue is the one who died. She should have whatever she wants to have.

But Katniss doesn't have to be fair right now, and in all honesty, being fair has never been one of her strong points anyway.

(Just ask Peeta.)

She nods against Peeta's shoulder.

[real_or_notreal]

"She's not angry." He just keeps going.

Maybe it's part of keeping himself from the thinnest walls entirely giving in. To Rue, or Katniss, or how broken all of this is. Because he can't let himself fall into her. There's only so much he can give and take, and he's knows he's already dangerously over the line now.

Holding her. Allowing her whatever it is she needs.

"You would have loved to see the first time she got inside the backdoor of Milliways. Like all the wariness and waiting to be attacked vanished for this tiny instant of overpowering awe that filled up her whole face."

[whowasonfire]

Katniss thinks of the young mockingjay she'd passed, walking away from Rue for the last time, and how it had sung Rue's song. The song that meant Rue was safe.

"Good and safe," she says softly, imagining the scene Peeta is describing. Milliways isn't perfect, but it's better than Panem. And she can't think of anything that isn't better than the arena.

And even death can only happen once.

[real_or_notreal]

He has to tell himself pretty instantly, she isn't talking about him. Her voice so close and small. Because they aren't. Because that would be a bad ground to touch. Especially with the touching.



Rue and Milliways. Rue and Milliways.

"Do you think it is?" Milliways.

[whowasonfire]

"No worse than anywhere else." Her voice is muffled against his shoulder, she realizes. She takes a deep breath, trying to pull herself together, and tilts her head back to look up at him.



Oh.

She'd forgotten, somehow (made herself forget), how they fit together when they stand like this.

[real_or_notreal]

And then she's staring at him, face upturned and her gray eyes a little less horrified and a little more surprised at something, focused. Peeta has to quash down the first impulse. Hard.

Because it would be so easy. Too easy. And it isn't. It isn't.
His words were careful, quiet. "Better than where she came from."


Anything was better than the Arena.
They couldn't touch her now if Katniss was right.

[whowasonfire]

She can see the look in his eyes, too, and it's a sharp reminder:

This is also unfair of her. And she's been unfair to Peeta enough to last a lifetime.

Carefully, she disentangles herself and steps back.

[real_or_notreal]

And that is that, isn't it?





The sharp slash through the center of his chest, winter setting back in without ever fully leaving, when he can watch the exact seconds playing across her face where desperation makes way for realization.

Where she catches up to where the rest of the room, as he tried to control his expression, probably none too well, letting her slip free without a fight. The flicker of guilt and responsibility on her face is probably worse than the pulling away.



Peeta looked down, annoyed at both of their reaction, that sharpness and inability to ignore it or fight it, as he was digging into a breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. There's almost an out of breath edge to his tone, like the air just won't come into his lungs yet.

He held it out, only touching one side now.
Official. Specific. "It's where you can find her."

[whowasonfire]

This should be as simple as not feeling guilt about Rue: it's all on the Capitol. They cornered her into doing what she had to do. It's not her fault that Peeta wasn't just playing.

But

("It was all for the Games. How you acted."

"Not all of it."

"Then how much?"

She still doesn't know.)

it's not that simple.

"Thank you," she says, her voice again mirroring his. She takes the paper, not touching him. Her arm brushes the doorknob as she withdraws her hand, reminding her that she's still standing in front of the door.

She steps aside, so he can leave when he chooses.

[real_or_notreal]

It never is. Because there are never any choices.


He knew. He knew when he chose, that it would hurt. That he'd hate it. Her. Himself. And the room that felt colder and bigger with her suddenly trying her best not to be in his space, after being inside of his arms, clutching him like she might drown without him.

There's a second he tries to find something to say -- about Milliways and not knowing how to trust it completely, or this thing between them eating any chance of being friends to dust and still needing each other, or considering offering to teach Prim to make the tiny cakes she so loves, or the horribly huge houses or the endless horror and confusion -- except.



She pulled away, her tone suddenly vague and confused, and she's watching him, like she might suddenly run away if she could, like she always was going to. When it came down to anything that wasn't Rue. And he can't.

Force her to stay and say anything when she looks like that.
Not hate her a little for not being someone he thought she was.



Peeta nodded, as he zipping up his coat, "Of course, Katniss." As though here were any other way. Never noticing he finally said her name. Even in that tired tone, that meant there was nothing else he could have logically or rightfully done with that information.

Because all that was left was to leave her to own life now. One that he had never really had been a part of, and still wasn't. To do the one thing there was required of him left: to walk out the sitting room door, pretending he didn't feel the few inches between them in passing or spot Prim, hovering at the end of the opposite hallway, and leave their house.

[whowasonfire]

Katniss half-turns to watch him leave, then changes her mind. She listens instead. When she hears the front door close, she closes the sitting room door and makes her way to the sofa, where she sits, pulling her knees up against her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

Her mind is a jumble of Rue and Peeta and I'm sorry and not my fault, and she doesn't know what to think. She tucks the paper carefully into a pocket and rests her cheek on her knee.

After a little while, a minute or maybe an hour, the door opens. She looks up, but it's just Prim, looking at her with concern. She must have seen Peeta's face as he left.

Katniss opens her mouth to say something before she remembers - this isn't something she can tell Prim, not without her little sister thinking them both crazy. Prim worries about her enough as it is.

So all she says is,

"It's okay. I'm okay, Rue."

It's not the first time she's done that - the similarity between the two younger girls was what first drew Katniss to Rue, even before the arena - but this time she doesn't notice the mistake.

(Prim does, but she doesn't say anything.)