Afterwards

I have already lost so much, but I think if I ever truly lost Peeta I would end up in much worse shape than my mother was after the explosion took my father from her. Somewhere deep down I know he is the one I can't live without, but I also fear this fact. I don't want to have anyone I can't live without.

Once restricted to district 12, Peeta and I were placed together into a different sort of arena, but we both knew we had to do what we have always done since that first train ride to the Capitol - make sure we survive. So when I say we grew closer, it was not the sort of growing closer that happens naturally just because you spend a lot of time with someone or even just enjoy their company a lot. It was a struggle.

Even so, I did enjoy Peeta's company a great deal. There was a certain amount of charm to him that could never be erased—under any amount of torture. Also, with my mother and Gale so distant my choices for companionship were usually limited to buttercup or Hamich. I don't know if either Hamich or that ugly cat ever realized how much alike they were. They both treated me with about the same amount of distaste, even after Hamich finally sobered up by joining some kind of club that threw drunks together in order to help each other stop drinking.

So Peeta and I grew closer deliberately in a calm, patient search to find ourselves again. In the process, we found each other, and everything reignited again—our passion, our need for each other, all our joy at being together. It all came together on that day we first made love. On that day I was no longer afraid of admitting I didn't have to survive on my own.

It was the day they commissioned a new building called a courthouse. It was constructed right on the same plot of land as the old Justice building, which was completely demolished shortly after the establishment of the new government—the United Districts of Panem. Justice buildings were the first structures to be brought down, followed closely by any hint of the barriers that used to keep the districts enclosed. Initially, this created a few unanticipated problems, especially in a district struggling to rebuild.

Packs of wild dogs and other animals often wandered into town. There were expensive losses in goats and other livestock, and eventually I found myself hunting again - not for food as much as to protect people from animals that became a danger. I still preferred my bow for the task, but I learned to become pretty proficient with a gun as well, especially if I was called on to take down a bear or big cat after a mauling.

Greasy Sae, District Twelve's first ever elected mayor, stops by to visit me that morning. She asks both Peeta and me to cut a big red ribbon together with a ridiculously large pair of scissors in a gesture designed to symbolically open the courthouse for business. I immediately began to politely decline as Greasy stands on my porch. I have no desire to be involved in anything political or symbolic anymore. Peeta talks over my words sharply, drowning out my, "I'm sorry." with "We'd be honored."

I turn to Peeta, who had come to the door slightly behind me and snarl. "What? No! Peeta you know how I feel about—"

"Excellent!" Greasy beams as if I had made no objection at all. "Please be there at eleven. We're gonna do this thing at noon but we need to do a practice run first. See you two there!"

Ugh. I hate this behavior from Greasy even more than Peeta's sudden acceptance of the political request. Peeta and I are not married. In fact, marriage is somewhat of a taboo subject for anyone to bring up with me, but people always go around treating us like we are married anyway, despite the fact that Peeta and I don't even live in the same house.

Not technically. It only took us a week or so for us to remember that the nightmares were far less severe for us both when we slept curled up next to each other. It took us about another week to give up the fight and just sleep together. Although I gave in, I made him come to my house to spend the night every time. Peeta really only went to his house to paint after that, but this was often enough for me to declare him as living separately from me.

What really makes me mad was the presumptuousness of it all. Under the Capitol, Peeta and I were expected to marry for our survival. For a time, we were even publically engaged. Marriage was one of those few free choices we had and even that was being taken from me. Now, even though everyone in all the districts has more freedom than we'd ever dreamed just two years before, this constant expectation of marriage felt very nearly as constricting as those terrible days on the Victory Tour.

I am angry enough at Greasy's attitude that I almost forget to be angry with Peeta.

Almost.

One look at Peeta and he becomes the object of all my fury once again. I think he should know better as I storm off into the kitchen, but he follows me anyway. This only makes me even more irritated at him, but I am determined to find something to keep me busy so that I don't throttle him. Hunting is still one of my favorite ways to unwind, but I have to go much farther than I used to in order to catch any game, and I rarely hunt for my own gain anymore unless I am just absolutely craving a meal out of something wild and unprocessed.

After they took down the fences, our district began to expand. People cut down sections of the old forest to farm and make use of all the wood. There was a lumber mill now, and our district could sell much more than just coal. Free trade between the other districts meant that a whole new economy became possible. The old hob became a true central marketplace with goods I had never even seen before, even during my time in the Capitol.

There was a toy store, the candy store grew, a new fuel that we had never had access to before called gasoline powered machines that could cut your grass, plow your field, or even run personal electric generators. My favorite new product being sold in the district was a cold and tasty treat called ice cream. In the days of the Capitol, there would have been no way to keep such a strange delicacy cold, mostly because we would never have had enough electric power. The Capitol had controlled all electric power and the only power plants in existence were in the Capitol itself and in district two.

Once we were allowed to build our own power plant, which was really just a dam on a nearby river, our little town and the Victor's village had electricity almost all the time. My kitchen now had a large eclectically powered box called a refrigerator. The thing's only job was to keep food cold, and yet I treasured it. I could now have ice cream any time I wanted. Chocolate was my favorite. The stuff was probably the second best way to calm me down, and knowing this I went straight for the refrigerator.

I'm thinking about how the last time I saw Hamich he told me in confidence that all this free trade and abundance of electrical power would have never have happened if I had not killed President Coin. There were many who recognized this already, and the real reason for my confinement was to appease Coin's many supporters from District Thirteen.

Hamich became a senator once he sobered up—someone who would represent District Twelve in the new government. Each district got two that were chosen by their own people, and together these 24 people would sit around and argue and vote on laws and policy. Those first elections felt strange to witness. The great power of having a say in who my leaders were was not lost on me, especially when I was informed by an official that because of my detainment in the district I was not allowed vote. I was surprised Hamitch even wanted to be involved, but I told him he would have had my vote if they'd let me.

Hamitch learned things working in the new government. The representatives from Thirteen told him in a social conversation that Coin had planned a very different kind of Republic. She would have called it the People's Republic of Panem. "Republic" was just an arbitrary word to her, where her vision was to force everyone to share all resources equally, especially the capitol city, which had gorged itself on the labors of the districts for so long. Hamitch said this type of government was actually something called communism, and from the perspective of the people in the districts would not have seemed greatly different from Snow's old iron fist regime, with Coin still in complete power.

Her support from the more militant member of District Thirteen would have made her unstoppable, and most people in the new government recognized this, especially the first elected president of the UDP—Reggie Hayfield. Hamitch said President Hayfield desperately wanted to meet me, but I had declined every invitation. I had had enough of presidents.

"You're going to have ice cream now?" Peeta asks from behind me in a tone that suggests I am crazy. "It's only nine in the morning. You just had breakfast."

"Shut up!" I snap. "I'm mad at you. How dare you drag me into this—this circus!"

I pull a carton of chocolate from the freezer and frowned as I pulled the lid. There is not much left. I slap the freezer door shut angrily and clutch the carton in my hand as I search for a spoon. Peeta tries to sooth me as I yank open a drawer.

"Katniss, this could be important for the moral of the district. I'll do all the talking. All you have to do is stand there and look pretty."

This is the wrong thing to say to me. I grab a spoon and spin on Peeta, advancing with the utensil aimed at his throat like it was a knife.

"Pretty? You think this is about me being afraid to talk? Or don't you mean you want me to stand there on display while I get to look at how sorry everyone is for me or how much they hate me!"

Peeta puts his arms up in a gesture of surrender and backs away. "Katniss, they don't hate—"

"You of all people should understand, Mr. —'I don't want to be a piece in their games.'"

My spoon is quivering now just under his chin, my breath coming in short heated bursts through my nose as I stare him down, daring him to continue to try to persuade me. He looks genuinely hurt by my comment for a moment, and then his eyes drift downward, trying to see the metal weapon I threaten him with.

"Are you going to finish me off with that?" says Peeta, grinning. "Because it's probably not the most efficient way."

I give an exasperated snort and turn away, which is really designed to cover the laugh that is brewing in my chest, because I need him to continue understanding that I am seriously angry.

"Why would you think they hate you?" He presses.

I place my hands on the kitchen counter next to the ice cream carton and stare out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the town springing up below through the haze of a damp and foggy morning. My breathing is more relaxed now, and despite my best efforts to keep raging I can only mutter my words as I think about the people in that town.

"Haven't you seen the way they look at me, Peeta? They give you the same look you know. Either full of pity for me being this poor girl who went insane from overused and trauma, or full of hate—for the traitor that killed their beloved Coin. You at least they never hate."

Peeta steps closer to me again. "Katniss, you may have earned a few enemies that day but you're still their mocking jay. They even used your pin design for the national flag. This isn't like that singing show Plutarch wanted you on, this is different, a chance to let them see the old you."

It was true they had used the design of the pin for the national banner. The flag was navy blue with a mocking jay surrounded in a brass circle, just like on the pin. An arrow clutched in the bird's feet and tongues of orange flames spewing from the ring made the symbol even more symbolic. Perfectly spaced at the tip of thirteen tongues of flame was a white star, each representing one of the thirteen districts.

"Didn't Hamitch tell you—"

Peeta lays a hand on my shoulder, as he says this, but he was not quite welcome to do so, especially since his words reignite my anger. It's not fair really, because Peeta doesn't know why I am really angry. He doesn't understand that I didn't kill Coin for the benefit of anyone except me. I feel tears well in my eyes a little as I scream at him.

"I don't care what Hamitch says about the stupid senators!"

I swat Petta's hand off me and elbow him hard enough in the ribs to send him stumbling backward to the kitchen table. He reaches out a hand to steady himself, but instead of finding the sturdy flat surface of the table it slams into a breakfast dish. Both dish and Peeta crash to the floor.

He leaps to his feet, and his eyes are so full of fury I realize with terror that I may have awakened something within him—that the instinct to kill me implanted by Snow and the Capitol had taken over under the threat of violence from me. I brace myself for the worst, but as Peeta approaches me he examines his cut hand, and I can see his mind working—trying to remember.

"This has happened before," he says carefully. "Real or not real?"

I swallow, and take a step backwards, still wondering if I should make a break for the exit.

"Real," I say. "I pushed you after our interviews before the first games. I was mad that you professed a crush for me without warning me."

"Yeah," says Peeta slowly. "I remember. There used to be this other memory, where you attacked me before the games on purpose to weaken my chances. It used to be a shiny memory, but now it just feels like—like a bad dream. In fact, I've been meaning to tell you, all the bad memories are fading like dreams. . ."

This makes me smile. "That's good. We both have lots of bad dreams that need to fade away."

I find a cloth and wet it with one of the jugs of water I keep on hand for cooking.

"You're bleeding. Let me see that."

"It's just one little cut," says Peeta. "Not nearly as bad as the last time."

Regardless I still wipe down the wound and fetch a first aid kit leftover from when my mother was still living here. I talk to her in the phone maybe once a week, but I have not seen her since returning to district twelve. I try to force how much I actually miss her from my mind and concentrate on patching Peeta up.

"I'm sorry, Peeta. " I say as I begin bandaging his knuckles "Why do you put up with my abuse?"

He just sighs and says, "Katniss, when are you going to learn the effect you have on people?"

Before I can protest, before I can start another argument on how much I hate it when he says that, and before I can even finish wrapping the bandage. He kisses me. The warmth of his lips, and the light touch of his fingers on my cheek saps all the defiant energy from me. I'm not even mad that I know his kiss has convinced me to come cut the stupid ribbon. I just never tell him so.