Chapter Text
It’s been ten days since the hovercraft brought me back to District 12, and every day I wake up feeling more numb than the one before.
How can I live here without Prim? She’s gone, and being in this house is a constant reminder of that. Just the thought of going into her room results in a visceral reaction. So I avoid it, but the ghost of her lurks in the hallways.
Missing her hurts. It's an ache that throbs deep in my bones.
I saw her in a dream last night, the first I've had of her that wasn't a blood-chilling nightmare. Instead of watching her die over and over, she was alive and well, and I'm not sure which is worse. In the dream, I woke up in my bed here in Victor’s Village and heard her singing softly in her bedroom. I tiptoed down the hall and could see her sitting in front of her vanity, brushing her beautiful blonde hair. The door was only open a crack, and I could barely see her face in the reflection of the mirror. I pushed the door open to get a better look, only for her to catch me spying. She smiled the most radiant smile, but when she turned to look at me, everything went white, and I woke up. It was cruel, really, that I might have had another moment with her.
My eyes still burn from the tears that I cried. I've just started sleeping in this bed again and I can't fathom getting out of it, but in this moment, my body longs for some physical comfort. I wish Peeta were here, not the hijacked version of him- I'm desperate for the boy I took for granted. The one whose arms used to be a place that I could escape to. I think back to the night before the Quarter Quell, how he held me and kept the nightmares away for the last time. I close my eyes tight to stop the tears that I feel welling up, as my hand automatically goes to my throat, remembering the bruises from the day I finally got him back. The day he tried to kill me.
When did I let my heart become so fragile? I didn't realize it had turned to glass...until it exploded. Now the tiny shards are embedded inside me, causing me never-ending pain. Was the rebellion worth it? If I had known the cost was losing Prim and Peeta, would I still have agreed to be the Mockingjay? In the midst of all the chaos, I could hold on to the fact that they both loved me. Now nothing is left to keep me anchored. What is the point in living like this? I'm utterly broken.
I stumble out of bed and walk by the bathroom mirror. I don't recognize the gaunt figure staring back at me, with hollow eyes, covered in burns and scars- a fire mutt. I haven’t attempted to do anything with myself; I'm still wearing the same clothes I left the Capitol in. Who cares? I don't. My legs shake a little, but I force myself to walk down the stairs and out the front door. The sun is out, but there is still a chill in the air that bites my cheeks. The dead grass crunches as it digs into my bare feet, but each step gives me more motivation; I'm suddenly on a mission. I cross the lawn and march up Haymitch’s porch, planting myself in front of his door. He never visits and he's supposed to be the one looking after me, to make sure I’m doing okay.
I knock. No answer.
“Haymitch!” I shout.
Still nothing.
“HAYMITCH!” I yell as loud as I can, my voice cracking from exhaustion.
I knock so hard that it hurts my knuckles. I'm debating if I should climb into his window when I hear a crash, the sound of glass shattering, and a series of grumbles as he comes toward the door. When it opens, I smell the reek of alcohol, and I start to regret my decision to come here.
“Wow, Sweetheart…look at you. You’ve seen better days,” he says gruffly.
I scowl and push past him. “I guess those days are behind us,” I hiss and then immediately start choking on the rancid smell of his house.
“What brings you here? You want to borrow a brush?” He says, chuckling to himself as if I needed a reminder that, along with my life, my hair is also a mess. Johanna looked good without hair. Maybe I’ll shave it all off?
I scowl at him for a moment, but I came here for a reason. I lower my head and shake away my annoyance, then take a deep breath. "It was stupid of me to come here...but I miss her. And I, I need someone...not someone, I need him. I miss him. Who he used to be…” Admitting it out loud cuts into me like a fresh wound, and I can barely choke out the words before I trail off into a stupor. I can feel Haymitch staring at me, as my bottom lip bobs up and down, and I fight to control it. I look up at him and shrug halfheartedly; the other half of my heart is too broken to participate. Without permission, tears flood my eyes. I try to blink them away, but lose the battle; the floodgates open. I slide down the wall, curl into a ball, and cry into my crossed arms.
I hear Haymitch walk over, and he awkwardly pats my back as I cry. I steal a glance at him. His eyes are fixed on me, with a look of deep remorse. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart,” he says, sounding genuine for once.
I find no comfort in his pat, but it does help to know that I’m not alone right now. I cry until I have no tears left and I feel numb again, then force myself to my feet and leave without looking back. He doesn't follow, but I know he's watching me as I cross the Village back to my house. I slam my door shut, and dust particles dance throughout the room in the glare of the sun beaming through the window. I drag myself back up the stairs to my room, pull the blankets over my head, and try to breathe. My body is begging to feel something other than pain. Buttercup comes and lies beside me; at least I have this flea-ridden cat to keep me company. But he reminds me of her, and alas, the shards embed deeper.
I must have dozed off because I find myself in another dream. I’m walking through District 12 before the bombs destroyed it. I’m wearing my father’s hunting jacket and have my game bag slung over my shoulder. The bakery is just ahead of me, and I can even smell the bread. It's another cruel dream. I'm at the back door, knocking, and pulling two squirrels out of my bag. The door opens, and he’s right in front of me, the old Peeta. His deep blue eyes stare at me and suck me into them like a void. I freeze, losing the ability to speak, and he grins at me. Right as he begins to say something, everything goes white, and I wake up. I can’t breathe. I sit up, gasping for air, grabbing my heart. I feel like it might actually explode. I would rather have a nightmare than these torturous glimpses of them.
There’s a knock on my door, but I refuse to move. I can’t seem to recover from seeing his perfect blue eyes, so clear and full of life.
The knocking gets louder, but like the phone that rings and rings, I ignore it. Then I hear my door open. Haymitch's voice carries through my house.
“Sweetheart! I need to talk to you!" He yells out. There's something about the tone of his voice that alarms me.
I throw the blankets off and stomp down the stairs, glaring at him the whole way down. He is smiling, excited even, which is odd.
“What do you want?” I snap at him.
“Well, well, don’t get all bent out of shape on me now. I have some news that might be worth your time." He doesn’t smile like this; he must be really drunk.
I stare at him, imploring him to tell me what brings him so much joy, but he stands there like an idiot with a smile on his face, and I envision myself walking over and smacking it right off of him. But he's all I have left, so I give in. “What is it?” I glare at him, wanting to get this over with so I can try to fall back into that dream and see those blue eyes again.
“I just got off the phone with Beetee, seems he’s discovered something in the Capitol that might give you exactly what you want.” His eyes light up with excitement.
“Oh? So he can bring my sister back from the dead and unscramble Peeta’s brain? Because I can't have what I want, Haymitch!” I yell at him. My body deflates, I'm so tired. I’m about to turn around and retreat to my room when he says something that I can’t even begin to fathom.
“You can go back in time.” He's so giddy that he's practically laughing.
“Huh?” I stammer out. I feel paralyzed. Is this a joke?
“You can go back in time,” he says, and this time he flashes me a big grin and waves his hands in front of him, like he’s solved the greatest puzzle, and he deserves a special prize.
“What?” I ask, completely dumbfounded. I must be dreaming again, this isn't real.
His smile drops, and he's lost all patience with me. “You can go back, Katniss!” He's shouting at me now, causing me to take a step back. He crosses the room and grabs my arms. Now his face is deadly serious. “You can get them back! Beetee found some quantum technology, dohickey, whateveramabob. Don’t ask me to explain it, I couldn’t if I tried. He said if you want, he can send you back in time! It’s dangerous, of course, but it might be worth a shot." The passion in his voice dissipates as he tries to gauge my reaction. "If you're up to it," he breathes out, and then he shrugs his shoulders as I stare at him blankly. I'm trying to process this information, as his annoyance with me grows.
Go back in time? To a life before the rebellion, before my world burned. Back to a living, breathing Prim? And a Peeta who hasn't been weaponized against me? Go back to a time before my heart was forever feeling like it's being slowly stabbed to death? Could it be possible? For the first time, I can feel something trying to break through the numbness I've grown accustomed to; it's a sliver of hope, and that's dangerous.
I look him straight in the eyes. “Are you serious?” I ask, hoping he won’t come back with a 'just kidding, gotcha!' response.
“Yes. I am. Only if you’re brave enough to go through with it, but there is something you must know." He pauses to take a deep breath. "You can never return to this time. I don’t know how time-travel works, but Beetee said it's impossible to bring you back here." He pauses again and then continues. "You could change things, Sweetheart. Knowing what you know now, maybe this could all turn out differently. It might be worth a try?” He pleads with me with his eyes.
I stand there. Like a statue, trying to let this sink in. I could go back. I could see Prim again. I could have another chance to show Peeta how I feel. I could save the lives of so many people. I could fix things. I would be an idiot not to try. Here, it feels like I'm dying a slow death. I've tried to end it, but failed at my attempts. The thought that has plagued me, over and over comes back to the front of my mind.
My name is Katniss Everdeen. Why am I not dead? I should be dead. It would be best for everyone if I were dead.
And I wouldn't mind being dead; the pain would stop. But what if I could change things? I could save Prim and protect Peeta. It would be worth a shot, right?
I don't know how long we've been standing here, but tears prick my eyes when I look up at Haymitch. I’ve made my decision. I would rather try than stay here without them.
“I’ll do it,” I say confidently.
He nods, and another smile spreads across his face. “I knew you would. I’ll tell Beetee. Be ready tomorrow, he said he can be here first thing in the morning.” He turns and walks toward the door.
It feels like my heart is beating out of my chest as I crawl up the stairs. I hear the door shut behind me. Every step I climb, I feel lighter. Is it really possible? Could I go back to the younger versions of them? Could I change the way it all played out? I pass by my bathroom mirror again, and for the first time, in a very long time, I see in my reflection the shadow of what could be a smile on my face. I decide to take a shower and brush my hair. I don’t know how time-travel works, but I don't want to show up looking like this. I take off the clothes I’ve had on since I left the Capitol and throw them in the trash. I step into the shower, letting the hot water wash over me, then scrub my tender skin raw. I don't even realize I'm crying until I get out of the shower, and the wet tears continue streaming down my cheeks.
This better not be some sick joke to get me out of bed. I will kill Haymitch if it is.
It takes me forever to get my hair looking halfway decent. I braid what I can and decide to eat what Greasy Sae made for me, then crawl back into my bed as my mind swarms with thoughts about going back. Tomorrow, everything is going to change.