Out Of The Dark

Gold

Happy Birthday Tessa Gray (28/1/2021)

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Date: 8th Feb

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Peeta's POV

When I wake they tell me about what happened.

The Capitol broadcast, I mean. Nobody really talks about what I did yesterday. I thought maybe I was going to be okay. Clearly not.

People are packing and someone forces a can of something on me. I eat it when they are all insistent about my health. It's weird- two years ago, in twelve, we would've jumped at any food opportunity considering how scarce it was. But here, in the circumstances we're all in, it seems a lot less important.

What I want is to have a normal life, and I thought finally I could have that. 

There's a multitude of people I want to talk to, but I decide to talk to Finnick. I find him in a small room upstairs, packing.

"Hey," I say, "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday, I thought I... I thought I was fine," I say.

Finnick gives me a look that makes me think he's going to say something hostile, and I wouldn't blame him. Then he sighs and says, "Peeta, stop. It's not your fault. Please, get that in their head. This is Snow's fault. Anyone that blames you is an idiot. Okay?" He smiles. "And you aren't an idiot. So don't believe it's your fault."

"Um... well, thanks. But... nobody's telling me, so..." I don't know what I want to know. I'm not sure what happened. My brain is going round and around. Then something hits me in the face. "Did I hurt anyone?"

He shakes his head and sighs again. "No. You didn't. Peeta, we... we can deal with it. It's not like it was when you were first... you know. Oh, I'm... I'm sorry, I know it's hard, I just..." He sits down on the bed, and it visibly goes down. "How do I deal with it all Peeta? I..."

I think he was going to finish his sentence, but Cressida comes in. "Oh, if you want to call back to the Capitol now's the time. They're probably going to realise we aren't dead later so... you may not get another chance, the way things have been going. And still no news on the new soldier."

Finnick nods. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."

Cressida nods. "Your welcome."

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He hands the phone to me finally.

"Thanks Finnick," I whisper, taking it from him. "Hello," I say down the phone.

I hear Haymitch's voice. "Peeta? Oh god, you're okay."

"Yeah, why?"

"I was told about the um... episode the  other day."

"Oh... yeah, I thought I was going to get better. Maybe not."

"Of course you're getting better. If you're okay now, then... look, we always knew this could affect your whole life. And maybe it will. But based on what has happened altogether- these episodes- we think that they will probably happen still, but become less and less frequent. Maybe one day, they'll go. You aren't getting worse, you're staying on the same track, getting better. Even if it doesn't seem like it." There's a pause as I take this in. "What was that thing you were going to tell me? I know you said you were going to wait but, you know, I might not survive this."

"Oh, it, uh... doesn't matter," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant. "It, uh... I don't think it matters anymore."

"Peeta, what are you saying? That your feelings for her have gone again?"

"No," I cut him off quickly. "Just that, I don't think- if this is going to keep affecting me- that it would be a good idea. What I was planning."

"Peeta, you're going to have to explain."

"I can't. And there's no point talking about this. There's no point discussing love when I could die at any point. There's no reason that it's important. Okay?"

I can hear him sigh at the end of the line, and even though it's the slightest of noises, it just piles up the static energy I can feel in my arms. I want to let it out. To hit something. "Okay," he says. "Well, before you go, I'd like to say that Willow is still okay. Anyway, I hope I see you again."

"Right back to you," I say, despite the destructive energy that races through my veins. It takes most of what I have to not shove the phone into the next person's hand.

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I find her next to the window, staring out. You can see the sky from here, even though it's mostly hidden behind the tall buildings of the Capitol. The gold light of the sunrise makes the bright sickly colours of the Capitol houses darker and less important. The gold shines through the window and turns her hair lighter, softer. It warms her expression.

In that instant is when I'm flung back to that day on the roof. I thought I was going to die then as well; I promised that I was going to die, to save her. 

Her hair was golden then as well, as I made knots in it. 

I don't understand how my life was better when I knew of the impending doom of my second games and the possible death of my unborn child.

And now, whatever I was going to say, I can't say it. I can' disturb her 

She should have some peace before we leave again.