[It's too dark with her tear filled eyes. Hard to see even a few feet in front of her. And when she slams the door behind her, the little light she had been utilizing is gone. Memory guides her to the light switch even as she calls again:]
Peeta? Rue?
[Because there's been no response. And when the light flickers on to see a still Peeta on the couch. He hadn't responded to her. Why hadn't he responded? Her stomach flops. It feels as if her heart has sunk to her gut, something almost as bad as a physical hurt. She stops a few feet from him. Her pack and bow drop to the ground.
[He looks up at her. He hasn't done much all morning, not since going in to wake up Rue. Not since finding absolutely nothing there, not even the music box he'd given her, the one she'd taken so much joy in.]
Rue's gone.
[It's spoken quietly, hoarsely, although his face is still.]
[Rue's gone. The two words echo in her head. Ring loudly, too loudly. From the way he says it, she's not dead. Not injured in whatever disaster had ripped through town while she had been gone. Not taken by the Malnosso.
Gone. Gone for good. And never coming back. Little Rue, who had deserved this second chance more than any of them. The girl she had failed once again.
It's hard to find her voice. When she does manage it, manages to open her mouth to get words out, they're still barely a whisper.] How long?
[How can he end that sentence? It's redundant. It's too painful for both of them, but especially for Katniss. Does this mean he failed her? She sees the young girl as a sort of substitute Prim, and Prim is also dead and gone. What now?]
[It hurts. It hurts to stand, to breathe. To be alive and aware in this very moment. The bombs in the square are exploding again. Taking Prim from her, turning her into a fire mutt.
Knees buckle and she knows she can't stand much longer. There's space on the couch. Space next to Peeta. She slips in there and doesn't hesitate to rest her head against his shoulder. At least he's still here. At least she didn't lose him, too.]
Gone. [She blinks back the tears.] Gone back to wherever the dead go.
[It's an embrace she falls into easily, scooting closer on the couch. It doesn't make the pain go away, but it helps. Reassures her, at least, that she's not alone. She has Peeta. The boy with the bread. The boy who would die for her.
In that moment, she now knows that Gale was probably right. If she ever had to chose between the two, it would come down to survival just as much as it would love. Because somehow, in the midst of the Games and the uprising, the two had become something intertwined for her. In so many ways, she's come to rely on Peeta for her own survival, her own sanity, in ways she never had Gale. It's a bit of a startling realization, one that causes her to nearly miss the boy's response.
Rue could come back. But right now, she's more worried that he would go away, too. And it's important. Important to know every detail she can wrangle to prevent Peeta from ever being taken, too.] Were there any signs? Did you see them? The droids or the Malnosso? Whatever took her?
[She doesn't blame him. Not like she still blames Gale. Still thinks of him and thinks of those bombs. Of Prim. But she can sit here right now. Hide herself against Peeta's familiar, comforting body and not think of anything but how grateful she is that he's still here.
At least they didn't take him, too.]
It's not your fault. [She tilts her head just enough to meet his eyes.] I should have been here, Peeta. I should've been here to protect both of you.
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The lights are not on. He's sitting in the dark until the lights turn on. Even then, he doesn't move.]
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Peeta? Rue?
[Because there's been no response. And when the light flickers on to see a still Peeta on the couch. He hadn't responded to her. Why hadn't he responded? Her stomach flops. It feels as if her heart has sunk to her gut, something almost as bad as a physical hurt. She stops a few feet from him. Her pack and bow drop to the ground.
In a small voice,] Peeta?
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Rue's gone.
[It's spoken quietly, hoarsely, although his face is still.]
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Gone. Gone for good. And never coming back. Little Rue, who had deserved this second chance more than any of them. The girl she had failed once again.
It's hard to find her voice. When she does manage it, manages to open her mouth to get words out, they're still barely a whisper.] How long?
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[How can he end that sentence? It's redundant. It's too painful for both of them, but especially for Katniss. Does this mean he failed her? She sees the young girl as a sort of substitute Prim, and Prim is also dead and gone. What now?]
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Knees buckle and she knows she can't stand much longer. There's space on the couch. Space next to Peeta. She slips in there and doesn't hesitate to rest her head against his shoulder. At least he's still here. At least she didn't lose him, too.]
Gone. [She blinks back the tears.] Gone back to wherever the dead go.
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She could come back.
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In that moment, she now knows that Gale was probably right. If she ever had to chose between the two, it would come down to survival just as much as it would love. Because somehow, in the midst of the Games and the uprising, the two had become something intertwined for her. In so many ways, she's come to rely on Peeta for her own survival, her own sanity, in ways she never had Gale. It's a bit of a startling realization, one that causes her to nearly miss the boy's response.
Rue could come back. But right now, she's more worried that he would go away, too. And it's important. Important to know every detail she can wrangle to prevent Peeta from ever being taken, too.] Were there any signs? Did you see them? The droids or the Malnosso? Whatever took her?
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[He's sorry, because if he'd been there, maybe he could have done something. It's completely irrational, maybe, but he'd been right there.]
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At least they didn't take him, too.]
It's not your fault. [She tilts her head just enough to meet his eyes.] I should have been here, Peeta. I should've been here to protect both of you.