Out Of The Dark

Katniss And Peeta (and Haymitch)

It takes everything I have to ignore it as I down a glass of water.

For some reason I expect there to be some fancy clothes delivered to me, but there isn't. Instead, I throw on a shirt that's not stained, black trousers, a blue tie that I'd forgotten I had and a blue blazer. Looking in the mirror, the blue looks a little weird with the black.

Well, I guess I'm just going to have to get some more clothes. Ones that aren't too big, too small or have red marks on them from wine.

I go back down and see the bottles- I mean, I've always noticed they were there, but now is the first time I've properly seen them, and it strikes something in my blood. No matter how much I feel like I need the spirit's fire in my veins, a new fire takes over, and I throw my arms so the next thing I know is that two dozen glass bottles smash to the floor, alcohol mixing and filling the air with its smell. I start to gag at it, grab a broom and try to sweep away the fragments of glass. A shard catches my ankle and I curse wildly as it digs in.

◇◇◇

I stride to the place in the middle of the meadow, where yellow flowers reflect the sun's light in a beautiful array of their own. Rows of chairs sit in a small clearing next to a Willow tree, a clear line where the fence used to be.

"Haymitch, what happened?" Asks the voice of Hazelle Hawthorne behind me. 

I turn to her and smile, "Nothing, I'm fine."

"There's blood on your shoes," she replies, looking concerned.

I look down as if I didn't know that it was there. "So there is. Oh well, where were you planning to sit?"

"Are you sure you're okay," Hazelle insists, "I mean, if it's bleeding..."

"Trust me, I'm fine," I smile. "Come on, we should get good seats or something, probably."

Hazelle nods and goes to get dragged away by a small child that I assume is the one called Posy.

I sigh and take a seat next to Prim, who is wearing a simple blouse and skirt, somehow striking memories of the reaping where she was called out. "Hey, Haymitch," she says.

"Hi," I reply.

"Your shoes-"

"Have blood on them, I know. Well, it could be wine, it's probably..."

"From the cut on your ankle?" Prim inquires.

"Which, in turn, is from shattered wine bottles, so who knows?"

She shakes her head, "Okay then."

I don't know when exactly Peeta walks to the front of the rows of chairs, but he does, and it takes me a while to realise that he does. At some point I just register that he's there, tall and bold.

◇◇◇

Peeta's POV

The suit somehow slides over my arms when I put it on, something suits and shirts never used to do without being at least a little tight.

I can work back to how I was, I think. The bakery's going to be finished soon, so that might take my mind away from all the dark thoughts that slip through the gaps and help me go back to a normal life.

The jacket is just plain grey, but I do have to sweep a little ash and dust of the shoulders. At this I turn my head away, trying to remember the people who have been taken whilst still trying to forget the pain.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the ash, the dust and the shadows they cast in the air, falling softly to the ground as they probably did when the Capitol rained the firebombs down.