fuelforthefire | Checking in

Checking in - For Katniss

Two weeks have passed since the cornucopia arrived. It took a few days to get rid of it, too, the people I'd called unable to cut it down for scrap. They'd hauled it away eventually but even though I couldn't see it it was in no way forgotten. I'd taken the money they'd given me - more than I'd expected - and put it in an account in Prim's name. If anything happened to me, or to Katniss it would be there to help her.

Now all I had to make sure was that nothing happened to us.

I'd been following the plan we'd set out, that hadn't changed with Finnick's arrival. In fact, that was something I was okay with, his presence around Katniss and Prim's house a relief. We were acting like everything was normal, like the cornucopia hadn't affected us at all, even though it had. The funny thing was that in acting like friends, we were starting to actually figure out how to be friends. Something we'd started before those second games finally coming to fruition. If nothing else that made me happy.

But it was still all pretend. I couldn't sleep that night and had gotten up early, letting myself into the bakery before anyone else. It wasn't my shift but I got things started, the ovens throwing out heat that warmed the whole place and I worked on the designer breads that they offered. It made me smile sometimes, the things they put in bread. There was an artistry to it, and I missed it, spending most of my time with the extravagent cakes people ordered for their weddings and celebrations. There was something simpler that I was making too, a small batch of cheese buns, something I did from time to time. Never many for the shop, I'd leave some for the staff and take the rest home with me.

Today was no exception. I'd left after the rest of the staff arrived but when it was still dark out, the winter days short. I had a bag full of hot rolls and some hot chocolate that was just as fresh, and I was pretty sure that as early as it was Katniss would be awake and on her way back from checking her traps or whatever it was she did when she hunted in the mornings. The lights still off, I settled on the bench on the porch to wait. I knew it wouldn't be long.

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"You did?" I ask, my smile widening, a little surprised — though I'm sure I shouldn't be — and entirely genuine. In spite of how much we've been through together, I'm not actually all that used to being this comfortable around Peeta, this much, at least, not seeming like it's just pretend. Of course it would take the threat of the Capitol to bring us together, but if they have a plan here, that's a flaw in it. They've effectively made us a team, and we've always worked better that way than apart. "Well, you thought right. Come on in, let's get out of the cold."

"I thought you'd never ask." I say it with a smile, getting up carefully in case my leg decides to lock up in the cold. It doesn't, thankfully, and I sling the bag of buns over my shoulder and grab the tray with the hot chocolate. It's been surprising how easy this is, being friends. Probably easier than either of us thought. Being a team is what we do best though, especially when we have an enemy. "What did you get out there?"

"Couple of squirrels," I answer with a shrug, fishing the key out of my pocket so I can unlock the door, holding it open for him to step inside. His hands are a lot more full than mine are, and especially when he's gone through the trouble to bring all this out here, I'm not going to leave him one more thing to fumble with. "Not much, but not bad, either. I can still do something with them."

"My dad, he used to do this sort of fry thing. With mushrooms if he could get them. It was nice." I offer it up as a suggestion, one of the good memories that I have about my family, even knowing what happened to them in Twelve after our second games. It's one of the things I don't mind talking about.

"I could try. I've watched it enough."

"Okay," I say, nodding in agreement, a little surprised by how pleased I am at the suggestion. It's such a small thing, but I've found that it's the little things about home that I like thinking about the most, and that I enjoy letting carry over here. It'll look good to anyone watching, too, I think, though that's not really the point. That's the funny thing about all of this. If it weren't for how on guard I am all the time, and know he is, too, none of this normalcy would be pretended. "Let's give it a shot."

"You're on cleaning duty," I say with a laugh, handing over one of the hot chocolates. They're still warm enough to drink, though I'm sure Katniss would even if it was cold. The laugh is more real this time, every time it happens, and that's a good thing. Later, I want to talk to her, to plan what we can, and talk about what Finnick knows. But for now this is good enough.

I rummage in the fridge and the pantry, pulling out mushrooms, an onion and some garlic. "It's been nearly a year. Since I got here."

"It has, hasn't it?" I ask, a little stunned by that thought. Some days it's hard to believe, how much time has passed since we've been here. I used to be so grateful for it. I guess I still am, for Peeta and Prim's sake, but it's not the same as it once was. At least now we know, though, if not what's going on, then that something is, and we're dealing with it.

I sip the hot chocolate he's handed me, enjoying the lingering warmth of the cup in my hands even more than the taste of it. "I think I can live with cleaning duty."

The squirrels were the hardest thing to take care of, so what I start on first. This is the part I used to help my father with, and I find myself smiling as I work. It's likely the first time Katniss has seen me do this, and that's strangely pleasing too. "I landed rather ungracefully in the snow, if I remember correctly. Not the first time you've had to pull me off my butt off the ice."

The victory tour had been the last time, and while that's not the best memory we share, but there were moments - brief, brief moments - where I could almost convince myself it wasn't a game we were playing. "You say that before you've seen all the mess I can make in the kitchen."

"It's not like I could just leave you there," I say, but it's light, almost teasing. Really, that's just what we do — we look out or each other, save each other. I've done more for him than pulling him out of the snow before. The same goes for him. "I could always clean up as you go. Keep you from making too much of a mess in the first place."

"Prim never would have let you live it down." As if I'm another of her menagerie. I'm sure that in some ways I almost am, and I don't mind. I think she looks out for us as much as Katniss looks out for her.

"Pretty smart. Don't let it get ahead of you." I set the oil to heating in a pan, chopping everything until small chunks. "Who knows. Maybe we'll be the next culinary team. Start a restaurant. Forest to the plate."

"We could do it, I bet," I say, and for a moment — not long, but enough to count — I forget to worry. In that span of time, it actually seems plausible, the kind of future I've never really let myself consider, that we certainly would never have had back in Panem. I smile over at him as I speak, having moved to stand beside him, ready to put whatever's left away when he finishes with them. "I could hunt for the meat. You could do any baking, and make it all look nice, and we'd both cook. Finnick could get us fish, Prim could greet everyone."

It's always great to see her smile, and I grin in return, glancing up at her from the stove. It's the sort of thing that will never come to pass, not with the Capitol looming over us, but being able to even consider it and forget that threat for a little while is worth more than anything else. "We should do it. What would we call it?"

"Oh, I don't know," I say. That's about as far as my imagination will carry me, nothing more concrete than the hypothetical we've discussed. It's a nice one, though. That will never be our lives, but it's kind of comforting to think, however fleetingly, that it could be. "What's a good name for a restaurant?"

I shrug, trying to think of something that might work; something that won't be an immediate reminder of home. I can't, though, and the only thing that I can think of seems like a fitting name. "Sae's," I say at last, hoping it's not too much.

For a moment, I go still, my smile fading some. It's not as unsettling a thought of home as it could be, though, and for that, I can be grateful. At least she's someone who lived. I consider telling him as much, but that, I think, would be much worse. Mentioning that she made it out of District 12 when the Capitol bombed it when none of Peeta's family did is too callous even for me. "She'd like that," I say after a long few seconds. "Though I don't know how well we could recreate any of her concoctions."

"You'd have to catch a lot more squirrel. Maybe some wild dogs," I say, trying to keep everything light. It's cooking well, and I offer her a shy smile. "You want to get out plates?"

"Sure," I say with a nod, holding his gaze for a moment before I go to do exactly that, reaching into a cupboard for a couple of plates. "I haven't seen as much in the way of wild dogs here. Squirrels, there are plenty of. I guess they're pretty universal."

"That's probably a good thing. Especially living out here. I might have to learn to shoot to come over. We both know my aim is crappy," I joke. It's not half-bad, but it's nothing compared to Katniss, or even what Finnick could do. "I'd probably shoot off my other foot."

"You probably would," I agree, a wry joke, though it's entirely true. We've both got our strengths. Hunting wouldn't be his. That's the last thing we need right now, anyway, for something to happen to him, even just some silly accident. "We'll leave the shooting to me."

"It's for the best," I say with a sigh, putting on as if it bothers me. My smile will give me away, I can't hide it. The morning is too nice. "You should wake up Prim and Finnick. There's plenty of food."

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Checking in - For Katniss

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