An Unfinished Battle (The Hunger Games FanFiction)

Chapter 12

I jog aimlessly into the dark night until I reach the town square. I stop dead in my tracks, my heavy breaths sending vapor out into the crisp air.

I skim the area to check for any sign of Peeta. My eyes drift over all the small shops. All of the orginal shops were destroyed by the bombing after The Quell. Since the rebellion, District 12 has been completly rehabiltated. The town's shops are no longer dinky shacks, but sturdy, gleaming stores.   To my dismay, there doesn't seem to be any sign of anyone around, it is late and all the store owners and workers have gone home to their families. 

Leaves from the newly planted seedlings decorate the lawn of the little square crunch under my feet as I make my way over to Peeta's bakery.

When we first moved back to 12, things between Peeta and I were quite and awkward. We lived separately, we both needed time alone to mourn our losses. But soon, the greiving became too much, the woe overtook our lives and we were nothing but living lumps of sadness. We remained a piece of the O.C.'s cruel games. We needed soemthing to consume our time, but we couldn't go to each other, everthing was too cold. Even in company of one another, we were drowning in an uncomfortable loneliness. So, Peeta opened up another bakery and when he was bored, sad, or lonely he'd go there. As for me, I hunted. For a good year or so The bakery and the woods were our only source of comfort. Bt soon, we found each other, and that was all we needed.

-

Hope fluttered inside my stomach as the wooden porch creaked as if yielding that it couldn't support my weight. I pushed open the door and the smell of fresh pasteries filled the air. I stepped in and the little bell on the door jingled as it closed behind me.

The front room was dark, but the air was warm. The chairs were upside down on top of the tables, as they had been since Peeta had closed the shop two days before we left for District 4. The floor seemed to be swept, there didn't seem to be a speck of dust in sight. I slowly creep from the front of the shop to the counter,examining the room. I touch my fingertips to the refrigerated  glass and admire all the lovely cakes and cookies, just as Prim and I used to do. Peeta truly is a talented baker. Oh, where is my baker boy?

Just then I hear rattling of pots and pans coming from the back kitchen. I look up from the pastries inclosed in the glass counter and find myself in the doorway of the kitchen. I exhale a sigh of relief.

Peeta stands at a counter, his face content, but concentrated on a clump of cookie dough that lies in a heap of flour. His strong, masculine hands knead the dough, and for a minute it's hard to beileve that those hands were once forced to kill, once forced to wrap around my neck...

I stand in the doorway and just watch Peeta, he looks so peaceful. I do not want to disturb him. He continues to knead the dough and when he finishes he turns around to wash his hands. He must see me because he jumps and his eyes look like they might pop right out of his head. "My God Katniss," he says bringing a hand up to his chest as if to slow down his heartbeat from the adrenaline rush, "You scared me! How long have you been there?"

I laugh, and shake my head, "Only a few minutes."

"Wow," Peeta says, I didn't even hear you come in," he rinses his hands in the sink and then dries them on his apron."Did you and your mom work things out?"

I nod my head "Yeah, we did." I say

"Then what brings you here?" He questions taking a few steps toward me.

I think about the real reason I came here, remembering the phone call with Annie, but I decide not to tell him that. I want to spend this moment together without any worries. "No reason," I say, "I guess I just wanted to spend a few minutes alone with you since we have guests at the house."

He takes more steps towards me and I fold into his chest. He wraps his hands around my waist and rests his chin on the top of my head. "You wanna help me finish these cookies?" he asks.

"Sure," I smile, giving him one last squeeze.

-

And so, we make cookies. Peeta separates the dough into two separate pieces, one for me and one for him. We then take smaller chunks out of the dough and roll them into little  balls and set them on a cookie sheet pan and repeat the ball-rolling process many times.

Neither of us say much, just happy enjoying the quite company of one another.

Finally, as we put the final tray of cookies into the huge industrial sized oven, I yawn. "Man this has been a long day" I say, "I'm exhausted."

"I second that," Peeta says, yawning in response to my yawn. He laughs, "God Katniss, why are your yawns so contagious?" he asks as we make our way out of the kitchen, past the counter, and into the  front room.

"I guess I'm just that irrestistble," I say. I imitate gagging sounds, "Oh my gosh, I'm making myself sick! Why did I just say that?"

Peeta grabs me a chair of one of the tables, and then one for himself. "You are irresistible," Peeta says, motioning for me to sit down. 

We sit down and I prop an elbow up on the table and rest my head on the palm of my hand. Peeta does the same, and we just sit there, staring into each other's sleepy eyes.

Moments past before anyone says anything. "I love you," he finally whispers.

The moon light shines in through the huge glass window in the front of the bakery and reflects off Peeta's dark eyes. "I love you too." I whisper back.

Peeta cracks another smile that causes my heart to skip a beat, "Why are we whispering?" He whispers again.

"I don't know," I whisper back.

This time he doesn't need to say anything back, his head comes off his hand and his eyes drift from mine, to my lips, and back to my eyes again. He leans in, closer and closer and closer, until through parted lips we breathe the same air, and soon, no air. Because our lips are touching.

His lips, so soft and sweet against my own remind me that I have no reason to be afraid of anything. Whatever battles lie ahead of us, we can fight together, and I am ready.

I am ready to win this battle.