A/N: It's a new fandom for Kensley-Jackson :) For those hoping I'd update my Chuck/Blair WIP...I'm sad to say that I'm on hiatus from that fandom until further notice. I love my OTP and always, always will. But I can't stand what the writers have done to our show and couple and I need to be away from it for a while before I have the desire to write for it again.
But until then, there's my new fav couple, Katniss & Peeta! I'm hoping my readers are into this pairing and that I can also meet new readers in this fandom as well. I've been blown away by the passion I've seen in Katniss/Peeta fiction so far and am really excited to start this journey with you all!
Rating: M for future chapters. The setting is post-Mockingjay, pre-Epilogue. Just another girl's take on how they found their way back to each other! Reviews/feedback of any kind is always welcome!
I don't know what came over me. It just sort of happened.
That's all a lie, of course. I've known this moment was inevitable, since long before my world fell apart. Not the first time when I was reaped. Not the second time either. Truly, the world as I knew it had not actually ceased to exist until I saw my baby sister burned alive in front of my eyes.
That's when I knew I'd never be happy again.
They all left me- it felt like it happened one by one but really it was a single swoop of abandonment from my loved ones. My mother sent to District Four. Gale was off to District Two, although I wouldn't find that out till later. I never asked Haymitch, the only one to make it back to Twelve with me, what happened to Peeta- but I pieced it together all on my own. He went back to the Capitol, taken from me yet again by them, but this time - I could only hope - to be healed and not further damaged.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't resent him more than the others. It's not fair, of course- after all, I'm the reason he was kidnapped and tortured in the first place, and yet it's his absence that makes me ache the most. Not because I loved him the most, but because he's the only person who has suffered the same as me these past two years.
My soul-mate from the unluck of the draw.
I both crave his company and loathe the very thought of it. Because I know he's out there alive somewhere in a place without me. And even though my every thought should be consumed with only the images of those who I couldn't save...my brain won't let me stop thinking about the boy with the bread and if I'd ever see him again.
I tried to force myself to not fantasize about reuniting with him, would that day ever come. I should have learned my lesson the last time when I mistook his attempt to take my life for a comforting hug. But still, I thought about it always.
That being said, I still can't get over my shock when I do finally see him, after all that time, suddenly in front of me. Flushed in the face, arms dirtied by soil...but his eyes. There was nothing coarse about them, nothing harsh. They were just as boundless and calm as they always were.
There was an exchange of words, I remember, but I'll be damned if I can think about whether or not I spoke. I remember falling to the ground in my bedroom. I broke things, I bathed, and then I vomited it.
I vomited because after I purged my room of awful memories, I forced myself to comprehend what had transpired just before.
Peeta was released from the Capitol and first thing he did was trudge through the forrest that he hates, dig up bushes for my dead sister, and plant them in my yard. Not only did he come back to Twelve and back to me, but his first act as a free man was to pay tribute to the person I loved most in this world in an attempt to ease my misery.
He was, in every sense of the word, a savior. And yet, I couldn't even bring myself to speak with him.
But that wasn't what made me sick.
I realized in that moment, as hard as a notion it was to comprehend, that him showing up at my house that day was a sign that I might actually survive this body-numbing misery. And part of me didn't want it- didn't want to think it was even possible for me to deserve it.
But then that night at dinner, when I sat down to poke around the food Greasy Sae had prepared for me, I noticed something new at the center of the table. A freshly picked dandelion resting in a glass of water.
And I knew I was a goner.