Living Again

Summary: After the killing and the war, they really were just two teenagers trying to find themselves, and fall back in love. Post-MJ, Pre-epilogue.

Chapter 1: Back in my life

I shuffle through the house that isn't a home, starting at the blank walls and empty rooms. Everything's dusty and cold, and I really can't stand it. I really never use these rooms anyways, I'm not quite sure what to do with them. Before the Quell, my mother and Prim cleaned the whole house weekly. Prim… I push the thought of her out of my mind. I still can't think about her yet.

Thirty rooms in this house—a mansion, really—and here they are wasting away. Just like me. Suddenly I'm angry. So much space and nothing to fill it with. It mirrors my days, which have so many hours, and nothing and no one to fill them with. No one worth the time because everyone I care about is dead or gone and lost. In a sudden rage, I stomp down to the basement, still wrapped in the blanket that hangs from my shoulders, and grab a toolkit and old, wooden boards that are lying around. I bolt every room in the house shut, except one bathroom, my bedroom, and the living room and kitchen, both which are door-less. There, it's more like my tiny three room shack from the Seam. Not exactly, but as close as I'll get.

Suddenly I'm exhausted and I slide down to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. The leftover boards and tools clatter to the ground and lay there forgotten until the sunlight streaming through the window dims and disappears. It's soon replaced by the artificial lights of the streetlamps lining the sidewalks of Victor's Village. I notice none of this though, as I've fallen into a fitful sleep. It's not until Greasy Sae gently shakes me awake that I realize it's dinner time.

My head is pounding and I awkwardly rub it through the blanket still on my shoulders. I haven't been comfortable in so long that the aches in my neck and back from my slumped nap on the floor don't even bother me. But this headache is actually quite distracting. Why? Oh, yeah. I forgot to take my pills this morning. And yesterday morning. My withdrawal symptoms intensify and I cave into my body's demands for my prescription drugs. How many am I supposed to take again? I shake my head and guess, popping several different pills in my mouth. As I wash them down with some water, Greasy Sae is setting up for dinner. She pulls out four bowls and begins ladling the soup into them.

"Katniss, can you bring over some spoons and a knife?"

I murmur a "yes" and bring over three spoons, one for me, Greasy Sae, and her granddaughter. She sets the table and I notice the extra bowl. Frowning, I ask why it's there. Greasy Sae just clucks her disapproval at me and says "I also asked for a knife. Katniss. Nevermind, I'll get it myself."

She grabs another spoon and knife, and as an afterthought brings a cutting board to the table as well. As I'm about to begin eating, she clucks her disapproval again. "Not until everyone is at the table, Katniss! No manners at all. Even Liles is waiting."

I look to her granddaughter and see that indeed, Liles is sitting in front of a bowl of steaming stew, her hands folded on the table, and swinging her legs under the table.

"Who else is coming? Haymitch?"

I hear the front door open and almost regret never locking the door. As I'm about the get up from the table, Peeta comes into view, holding a loaf of bread under his arm. The patchwork of skin on his face and neck are quite visible in the light of the kitchen, and I realize I haven't seen him since he planted the primroses outside my house over a week ago. The way he was bent over hid most of the scars from me. I look down to my arm and see that my skin looks no better. As I process these thoughts and my heart pounds ever faster in my chest, Peeta gives a small smile to Greasy Sae and Liles, and sets the loaf of bread on the cutting board. I can smell it from here, so it must be fresh. He also sets a small box down in front of Liles with another kind smile—one so reminiscent of the ones the old Peeta threw my way every time he looked at me.

Liles squealed in appreciation and squeaked "Tart! Tart!"

Greasy Sae gets up from the table and putters over to Liles, "Yes yes Liles. Tart. Now say thank you, and remember you don't get to eat it until after dinner!"

Liles pouts, but grins at Peeta and says "THANK! YOU!"

"You're very welcome, Liles."

Peeta picks up the knife from the table and I hate myself for it, but my breath catches in my throat. I can't help it, it's a reflex. All I can think of his him plunging that knife in my chest with that wild look in his eyes just like when he tried to choke me to death. The crazed grimace on his face. I hope no one notices. Peeta does. Hurt flashes through his eyes, and he guiltily sets down the knife. "Maybe you should serve the bread, Sae?"

Greasy Sae nods and slices thick slices of warm sourdough bread for us to dip into our stew. Dinner goes quietly, with no one speaking, and only the clink of silverware and the slurp of soup interrupting the silence. Even Liles seems to know something is wrong, and she behaves herself quite well this evening. When everyone's eaten their fill, Peeta thanks Greasy Sae for a delicious meal once again.

Once again? Does she cook for him too? I really have no idea what else Greasy Sae does during her day. I guess it's my fault for not asking or paying attention.

Greasy Sae laughs when she sees Liles ripping open the box and pulling out a beautifully decorated fruit tart. Peeta must have made it for her for dessert. "TART!" she squeals again, and she devours the treat in several seconds. Peeta says something to Greasy Sae that I don't hear, and a short while later she's leaving. "Come on, it's time to get home." Greasy Sae takes Liles' hand and leads her out. "I'll see you tomorrow Katniss. Peeta." Sae says as she leaves the house.

Peeta looks at me and offers an uncomfortable smile. I can tell he hasn't forgotten my panicked response to him holding the bread knife earlier this evening.

"Look I'm really sorr—"

"Maybe we should start cleani—"

We both begin to say. Awkward laugh. Awkward silence. Peeta breaks it.

"Maybe we should clean up? Since you set the table it's only fitting that I help you put the dishes away."

I bite my lip. "Um, yeah. That would be nice. Thank you."

We both begin to bring the dishes to the sink, stutter stepping when we get in each others way and trying to act as natural as possible. But things weren't natural. Peeta's not back and I'm still broken and Prim's still dead and Gale's still gone. Nothing's natural and nothing's normal and honestly, I don't know where I fit in anymore.

The bowls slip from my hand and crash on the floor.

"Fuck!"

Peeta rushes over. "Katniss, are you alright?" I curse and bend down to pick up the pieces, slicing my hand in the process. I'm useless. I can't even clean up after myself. Greasy Sae usually does it. I guess Peeta told her he would take care of them tonight, not taking into account how everything I ever touch, breaks.

I grind out an "I'm fine" and wipe my hand on my clothes. God I really am useless. Everything, anything at all that could inconvenience anyone, fail anyone, I manage to do. I failed Prim. I failed Gale. I guess he failed me as well. Everyone. I was supposed to take care of my family after my father died. I failed him too. Suddenly I'm crying and I'm on the floor surrounded by bones from the stew and broken glass. And I'm crying. Again.

Peeta puts his hand on my shoulder but I shy away from it, sobbing even harder. And here I am failing Peeta again, not protecting him or taking care of him the way I should. But hurting him and rejecting him just as I always have.

"Katniss."

I don't respond.

"Katniss why don't you go to bed."

I still don't respond.

He makes shushing noises to me and cleans the mess up, throwing out the broken bowls and mopping up the mess I made. The rest of the cutlery and dishes are resting in a sink full of soapy water, waiting to be washed. Peeta crouches next to me again and I feel his cool fingers brushing hair away from my forehead. I flinch, but raise my head to look at his face. His patchwork of broken pieces, just the same as mine. I see part of the old Peeta shining out at me, offering his hand to help me up. Reluctantly, I take it.

Peeta pulls me to my feet and straightens the blanket around my shoulders. I'd forgotten I was still wearing it. Suddenly I'm self-conscious about my appearance. I haven't showered in ages, and I haven't been putting the cream on my skin to keep my grafts healthy. I must look a mess. I tighten my hold on the blanket, and Peeta's eyes crinkle in a real smile. "You'll be starting a new fashion trend with this look, Katniss. Capes will be back in. Everyone will be rushing to the stores to buy them."

I breathe a small laugh, which widens Peeta's smile.

"Let's get you to bed," he whispers.

When he tries to bring me upstairs to my bedroom, I resist. Maybe I'm not comfortable with him yet, but I don't want to put more space between us. I know he'll probably stay and finish up the dishes, and I know he'll also insist I go rest. I give a compromise.

"Maybe I can just go sit on the couch in the living room? I just don't…"

He gives me a questioning look.

I just don't want to be alone.

I don't finish my statement, but he seems to understand. So he leads me to the living room and I sit on the couch. There, I fall asleep to the sound of him quietly humming under his breath and scrubbing the dishes.

Then the nightmare hits me. I'm being torn apart by the lizard mutts, but every one of them has the eyes of a person I've killed. Cinna. Finnick. Boggs. Prim. So many more. And as I scream and kick, I fall off the couch and start awake. Peeta comes rushing in, his hands soapy and wet, and pushes the hair away from my face, rubs the tears off of my cheeks.

"They were all there! Cinna and Prim!" I'm sobbing and gasping for breath. "And the sewer and all the deaths!" I'm coughing now, choking on my own breath. "And I was alone and so scared and I'm alone because everyone keeps dying." And the hand on my back is soothing and strong, and Peeta's blue eyes are sad and understanding. And I keep crying, even as he leads me upstairs to my bathroom, where he hands me my toothbrush and facewash and helps me clean up.

It's almost comical watching me try to brush my teeth and cry simultaneously. I can see the suppressed smile on Peeta's face and I look at myself in the mirror. Even I have to admit, it's pretty ridiculous. And suddenly I'm smiling around my toothbrush, laughing and gasping and choking, but this time it's from the toothpaste I'm inhaling from the laughter that wracks my body. I really look ridiculous.

I rinse and turn to Peeta, who already has his hand held out. With a little hesitation, I take his hand for the second time today and follow him into my bedroom. He makes me change into new pajamas, turning around while I change to preserve what little modesty I have left. As he tucks me in and is about ready to leave, I grab at his hands and hold on tight. He gives me a questioning look.

"Katniss?"

"I just…"

I still don't want to be alone.

But this time I say it.

"Peeta I just…I still…I don't want to be alone."

He understands. So he gives my hands a little squeeze to reassure me, and goes into the bathroom to rub some toothpaste across his teeth. He comes back into the room and sits in the squishy loveseat not far from my bed. His eyes flicker towards me and he offers up a small smile.

"Good night, Katniss."

I'm relieved he's staying. Relieved and confused. But for right now, I'm so tired. So so tired. And for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.

"Good night, Peeta."