Survivor's Remorse

(XX)Propo Party

"Peeta they said if you came to breakfast tomorrow, they'd let you back into the kitchens to bake on Friday", Finnick offered, neck craned backwards so the back rested against the blanket on Peeta's bed, cerulean locking with annoyed almond.
"You're omitting again Finnick" Peeta sighed, taking the rope from Finnick's hands to practice the sheet bend knot he'd taught him on Monday. "What else?"
"You've gotta record your propo too"
"Goody", Peeta rolled his eyes and leaned back on the bed, staring at hard at the rope as he twisted it in his fingers.

What he would give to tie that knot right around Snow's neck, dangling like the perfect, psychopathic dictating chandelier that he was from the ceiling. Give him the same ending he gave after you both had managed to force them to keep their word to keep you both alive.

"Haymitch convinced them to let you go into the field for it. They're going to 10 today to help out with the refugees stuck there. They think seeing you in person would do wonders for the morale there. Show people that you're still alive, fighting to bring them the peace we've all been begging for since the Hunger Games started"
"Nice one. They should let you do it"
"It's the truth Peeta, besides, I wouldn't have as big an impact as you would. People's attention spans are a lot shorter than you'd think"
"More than I care to" Peeta spat, knowing just how easily the Capitol grew bored from his time in the games. In order to 'spice it up' they'd relentlessly hounded you, the Gamemakers throwing you curve balls and death traps they hadn't seen anything close to in decades.
"Exactly. Strike while the irons hot Peeta. It always leaves a mark"

Peeta was quiet for a while, mulling this over before the realization dawned on him.

"You said sending me out, not us"
"Coin doesn't think I'm stable enough" Finnick crossed his eyes and tapped at his temple playfully.
"You're doing shit loads better than I am"
"You've really picked up her vocab haven't you?"
"It makes me feel good. Feel closer to her", he trailed off, not wanting to think about you too long in fear of setting off another of his newly acquired black out attacks. "I just..."
"Yeah?"
"I wish I knew what the first one meant for her. Did Snow see it? Is she being punished for it? They've just been so fuckin quiet about the other Victors I cant-"
"You can and you will just like you did before"
"Fine"

**

1 Week Later

What Peeta hadn't expected was for the soft dulcet tones of your voice to filter through the entire cafeteria. It made him drop the tray he'd been holding, darting over to the screen in the middle of the room, fingers tracing the edge of the hanging monitor. His heart had never beat so wildly in his chest before. Not when he'd first felt your lips against his. Not when he heard you scream for him in that cave. Not when you first said 'I love you'. Not when you'd been reaped again. Or when he'd heard you scream for him the last night you two saw each other.

"I'm sure you've seen the radicals out there, using Peeta to speak for them recently? So, how can you say Peeta hadn't been in on the planning for the revolt plotted by the other Victors? Maybe he just kept you in the dark?"

A hiss leaves your clenched teeth, nails digging into the arms of the chair, clearly restraining yourself from lashing out at him. This little act of defiance gives Peeta hope. You were still in there. You were still fighting in the little ways, even with the clear signs of imprisonment the Capitol tried and failed to hide from those who knew you. It was in the small things, like the flawless makeup dusting your sculpted cheeks, that shaped them further so they didn't look as thin from the weight loss. The strange overly conservative floor-length, long sleeved dress that covered your neck as well. You'd never wear something so constricting. They were hiding whatever bruises they may have caused from the public.