The Hunger Games: Retold

Chapter 27

We travel from the Training Center to the station in a long, low car with blacked out windows. It's a quick trip, a weird interlude between being a victor, every move watched by the entire nation, and just being on a train with these three people who are part of both the world I'm leaving, and the one I'm returning to.

Effie is her usual, bright, chirpy self with just a hint of martyr. She's thrilled beyond belief to be the escort of the first ever double-victors, and I'm pretty sure the only reason she's escorting us home is to make sure she's caught on camera at the train station. A nice reminder to the Capitol of her involvement in the event.

Haymitch has returned to his prickly, slurry self, but without the dark edge. He doesn't radiate despair any longer. I wonder what he'll be like as a neighbor, now that we'll be in the Victors' Village together. I'm guessing recluse. We'll have to make sure and include him in plans, get him out in society for more than refilling his liquor cabinet.

I smile because the "we" was so automatic. Katniss is squeezed into the seat next me and I stroke my thumb over the hand I hold. She leans against me tiredly, head on my shoulder. Thinking of Haymitch as part of my life now is bizarre, but knowing that she is, too, is glorious. Effie is bubbling to Cinna and Portia as we approach the train station, Haymitch making an occasional snide contribution, and Katniss and I just sit quietly, ignored for once, fingers intertwined and reveling in the unbelievable fact that we're alive and on our way home. Together.

Our good-byes to Cinna and Portia are quick, but heartfelt. We'll see them again soon, for the tour, but leaving them behind feels like the official closing of this awful chapter of our lives. I feel it even more strongly as the train lunges forward into the dark of the tunnel and we emerge out the other side, leaving the blackness behind us. I smile at Katniss and she looks back at me with relief written clearly across her face.

Dinner is its usual magnificent affair, and Katniss and I indulge ourselves shamelessly, feeling like we've earned it. Haymitch and Effie battle like a fond married couple and Katniss and I are left to enjoy the ease of each other's company. I've built myself a vault of sorts in my mind, and inside I've locked all the terror and shame of the past few weeks. I'm mostly able to keep it closed, though it's harder at night, but if I don't look at it too directly I'm able to make it through the days with some semblance of normalcy. The incredible level of comfort I feel with Katniss is key to this delicate peace. She makes me feel whole and in balance, strong enough to move past what we lived through. With a shiver of gratitude, I reach over and rest my hand on her back, collecting the small smile she rewards me with.

After dinner we gather to watch the replay of the interview. We're silent as we watch and it feels like a ritual, a banishing. Caesar's oddly blue hair and the bright lights seem like something out of a dream we've woken from and we're leaving it behind. This is reinforced when Katniss rises and disappears for a little while, returning divested of all the Capitol finery and makeup. I feel a glow of happiness lighten my chest as I watch her, the familiar and loved girl from home. This is how I know her; dressed simply, her hair in a braid, her face bright and clear. She sits back down next to me and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

The train shushes into a station for refueling and I stand, a long, groaning stretch easing my sense of atrophy. Katniss is restless and skittish and I suggest a quick walk in the clean, quiet sunset. She agrees gratefully and we clamber down the steps. I pause next to the train, handing her down, and we look around at the vast, empty span around us. It's such a change from the claustrophobic, strident Capitol that I find myself breathing easier, letting out a pent up tension I hadn't realized I was carrying. Katniss reaches for the hand I'd dropped and I lift hers to my lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers.