A House United, Chapter 12

[shesasurvivor]

Rating:Explicit
Summary: Follow up to Blue on Grey. Katniss Everdeen has done the unspeakable with Union soldier Peeta Mellark. Now she's agreed to marry him. But first, they must make it through a proper courtship while surviving the trials of the Reconstruction Era South. Historical AU.
Warnings: Explicit sex, some violence, racial issues.
Follows Blue on Grey. Part of the A House United series.
AO3 - FFN



The wagon sways back and forth. It’s probably no worse than it usually is-and usually I find it hardly noticeable. But at every slight lurch I feel, it’s all I can do to keep from begging the driver to slow down, or hover over Peeta to ensure that he’s not bothered by it. The corpsman the Union Army sent with us has already shooed me away more than once, so I sit next to Prim and let her hold my hand.

For the last half hour, there’s only been an uncomfortable silence as he tended to Peeta’s wounds, grudgingly allowing Prim to assist. He didn’t want her to come along when she first showed up with us this morning, ready to climb in and go to Atlanta. He tried telling us that a girl wouldn’t be able to help a wounded soldier like Peeta. But at my insistence, offended on her behalf, and because Mama admitted she’d feel more comfortable if I had her along as an escort, the corpsman relented.

Now I keep my hand wrapped firmly in hers to prevent me from getting in the way again. Even if he’s not doing anything for the moment, I’m afraid if I go over now I’ll only wind up in his way shortly thereafter. It’s better if I stay here, safely anchored to Prim, watching the trees and occasional house as they go by.

“Katniss,” I hear Peeta call my name. I’m by his side in an instant.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, studying his expression for any possible sign of anguish. I’m relieved, but also a little thrown off when he actually smiles up at me.

“Nothing,” he says. “I just thought it was funny that you were still sitting over there even though he’s done.”

Now I frown at him, and move to get up and go back to my spot, but he grabs my wrist. “No, don’t go,” he says. So I settle down next to him. His hand slides down my wrist and slips into mine.

“We’re almost there,” I say.

“I know,” Peeta nods, his blue eyes looking straight up at nothing above him. He’s put up a great front, but under his brave exterior I think Peeta is pretty scared. And I’m not doing much better, to be honest. I think I only got about three hours of sleep last night, my mind was so tied up on taking this journey today. And what comes after it.

The wagon gives a lurch, and Peeta winces. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” I ask.

“No. I’m fine,” he says. “I don’t think I could sleep anyways. I’m too nervous.”

“Suit yourself,” I say.

We ride along in silence for some time. But Peeta’s pain only seems to get worse and worse. Eventually he does fall asleep, his head in my lap because he needed comfort and leverage. I let him stay there after he’s out, carefully keeping track of his expressions, counting every wince that crosses his face. I silently urge the horses to go faster, because I’m starting to feel desperate.

“We’re nearly there,” Haymitch says after a while, and nods at some scenery he must recognize as a telltale marker. Finally. If this journey lasts too much longer, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it.

Atlanta is a big city. I’ve been here once or twice before, but not often. And not since the war. Not since it was burned down. The evidence of the destruction is still apparent all around the city. And if we thought the presence of Union forces was heavy in our community, it’s nothing compared to here. In Atlanta, they’re on every street corner. They’re in all the businesses, and in charge of all the major operations going on in town.

I’m not going to lie -- it makes me nervous. Which in turn makes me feel guilty, because if anyone should feel open to the Union Army at this point, it should be me. At least, you would think loving and agreeing to marry a Yankee soldier would do that. But the sight of them all makes me nervous. I try to remind myself that we’re here under their guard.

Atlanta seems to be rebounding. Even despite the charred remains of buildings still around, you can find reconstruction underway. Even under Yankee rule, we Southerners have found a way to come back to life. Something about it gives me hope.

The hospital is in a large building near the center of town. It’s a busy place, even now -- though, from what I heard of the gossip during the war, it’s nothing compared to how it was then. But soldiers and civilians alike can be found inside its walls.

Peeta is unloaded by several soldiers. He’s still conscious, but almost delirious from the pain. My prayers that he fall asleep and not have to endure it have not been answered. Then again, maybe that’s a good thing. He could not wake up if he were to fall asleep, and then where would we be? My stomach is upset even thinking about it.

Inside the hospital, we’re told a Dr. Aurelius will be over shortly. In the meantime, a nurse comes over to tend to Peeta. Her hair is up inside her nurse’s cap, but you can tell it’s brown from the way it sticks out from underneath. Her eyes immediately land on Peeta’s form when she comes near us. “Mr. Mellark?” she asks, searching the group for an answer.

“That’s right,” I nod.

The nurse looks me up and down. “Are you his wife?”

“Fiancée,” I respond. She gives me a skeptical look, one that makes me feel uneasy. I decide that I don’t like this nurse, whoever she is.

She doesn’t ask any further questions; just walks over to Peeta and immediately pulls the bandages back to get a look at it. Peeta stirs at her touch, and his eyes flutter open. They meet with hers, and widen in surprise.

“Johanna?” he mumbles in confusion.

The nurse fights back a grin. “Just stay still, kid. I’ll take care of you,” she tells him. Peeta obeys, but all the while studies her like he’s trying to figure something out. Or at least, he does as long as he can. After a minute, he slips back into unconsciousness.

When Johanna is done with the bandage, she turns back to face us.

“The doctor will be here shortly,” she says.

That’s a relief. But it turns out that’s not the primary concern weighing on my mind. “Do you two know each other?” I blurt out.

The nurse doesn’t even bother to fight back her grin this time. “We’ve met once or twice during the war,” she says.

“How?” I know I’m overstepping my boundaries, and asking her this question is prying into business that’s not my own -- I really should wait until Peeta has recovered some and ask him then. But I’m so unsettled by whoever she is, that I can’t stop the question from slipping out now.

“You’ll have to ask that fiancé of yours,” she says. Then she walks off before I can press any further. I turn to Haymitch, hoping that he might give me guidance. Haymitch seems almost amused.

“What does she mean?” I ask him, because it’s obvious he knows.

Haymitch smirks when he looks at me, but his tone is surprisingly soft. “You probably don’t want to know, Sweetheart,” he says. Something turns in the pit of my stomach; in the back of my mind, I feel as though something has been confirmed. But I don’t have any time to figure out what, because right then Dr. Aurelius walks up.

Dr. Aurelius doesn’t even bother with the formalities. He just walks over to Peeta and looks at the wound on his leg that Johanna left unbandaged and open for all to see. He nods at another man. “Take him to surgery,” he says. The man begins to move Peeta, but I stop him.

“Wait!” I say. I know we’re under a time constraint, but I didn’t realize he’d be going under the saw this soon. The bespectacled man stands back and looks at me curiously, but I ignore him as I rush over to Peeta’s side and take his hand in mine.

“Peeta?” I ask. He doesn’t answer. “Peeta,” I say again, even though I know he still won’t respond, but it’s all right. I lean over and brush a kiss onto his forehead, gently stroking a few wisps of his blond hair back and out of his eyes. At this feeling, he actually does open his eyes again. It’s clear he’s having a hard time focusing on me; it almost seems as though the sight of that nurse before, followed by the sight of me now has him doubly confused.

“Katniss?” he asks, his eyes crinkling together.

“It’s me,” I say, and smile down at him even as I feel my eyes begin to water. “They’re going to take you in for surgery now, Peeta,” I explain. Then I look up at Dr. Aurelius. “Will you have any way to keep the pain at bay?” I ask, frowning at him, willing him to say yes. Because if he tells me no, I’m fairly certain I’ll lose it right here, in front of everyone.

“Oh, yes,” he says, looking at me almost in surprise. “Anesthesia has been much easier to keep in supply since the war ended. He’ll be put under immediately.”

I don’t even bother to respond. I just turn back to Peeta, and tighten my hold on his hand. He stares deliriously up at me with those blue eyes of his. “I’m so sorry, Peeta,” I whisper to him, and try not to do something stupid like cry. Because this whole thing is my fault. He wouldn’t be in this situation now if it weren’t for me.

Peeta mumbles something incomprehensible and his eyes close again, but I do feel him give a gentle squeeze of my hand as he does. I don’t know if he’s unconscious again or if the pain of the whole thing is simply too much for him to bear at the moment. I don’t let go of his hand, and continue smoothing back his hair until the hospital workers move to lift him, telling me he must be taken, now, before things get any worse. They have to pry me away from him; it’s Prim who finally coaxes me off. Before I let go, though, I give him one last kiss, and tell him I love him. Then I watch as they carry him away, into a room across the way and close the door behind them with a loud clang.

Misery weighs down on me. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the next few hours while I wait for the surgery to be finished, and to hear when he’s recovered enough to wake. I may not be as practiced in medicine as Mama or my sister, but I do know enough to know all the things that could possibly go wrong. And most of them lead to death.

“What do we do now?” I mutter to Prim and Haymitch, even though I’m not really listening for their answer. I see Prim helplessly look to Haymitch for guidance.

“There’s a hotel nearby,” Haymitch says. “We could have a meal while we wait.”

“That sounds good,” Prim agrees. “What do you think, Katniss?”

“Sure,” I nod, though it really doesn’t matter to me what we do. I’m not going to be anywhere but in the operating room with Peeta in my mind, anyways. Prim takes my hand and leads me out, and for a while I follow. As soon as we’re outside again, however, I stop in my tracks.

“I can’t,” I say. “I can’t go. I... I have to stay here.”

Prim gives Haymitch another helpless glance before she looks at me, concerned. “Katniss...” she begins.

“No! I need to be here, in case... “ I can’t finish my thought. “You go on without me.”

“Katniss,” Prim says again, the slightest hint of pleading creeping into her voice. “We can’t leave you here alone... “

“Let her stay,” Haymitch says, resting a hand on her arm.

“But-” Prim starts, but Haymitch silences her.

“She’ll be all right here,” he tells her. “People might think it’s improper, but nothing will happen. Too many people around. And besides, she’s waiting for her fiancé.”

Prim looks unconvinced, but nods anyway. “All right,” she says. “But... take care, Katniss.”

“All right,” I nod as well. Haymitch and Prim take off down the street, disappearing into the crowd completely.

I’m alone. I have no idea what I’ll do now--not that it matters. I don’t need a plan. I just need to find a place to huddle out of the way around here until Peeta comes out of surgery. Then I can sit by his side while he recovers, and wait for him to wake up. Because he will wake up. He has to wake up.

Where to go in the meantime, however, is another question. At first I just wander about the hospital aimlessly, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Down long hallways, weaving in and out of the traffic from nurses, patients, doctors, and whoever else is found in a city hospital such as this one. I avoid eye contact with anyone, especially those in blue Union uniforms. If fear doesn’t make me want to avoid them, the reminder of Peeta does.

I don’t know how much time has passed by. It could be minutes; it could be hours. I’m staring out the window, not really taking in the bustle out on the streets in the rest of the world, when I hear footsteps walk up behind me. Turning, I see it’s the same dark-haired nurse from before. The one that Peeta called Johanna.

“Your fiancé is out of surgery.” She emphasizes the “fiancé” in a way I don’t care for. Then, without another word, she turns again and walks away.

“Wait,” I call out after her, because even though the last thing I want is further conversation with her, I have so many questions I need answered. She halts and looks coolly back at me, waiting for me to continue.

“Um… where is he?”

Johanna rolls her eyes and turns back, setting off in her original direction and leaving me feeling dumbfounded and a little foolish. I’m just starting to ask myself what to do, when she glances back over her shoulder. “Are you coming or not?” she asks. Somewhat reluctantly, I start after her.

“How is he?” I ask when I catch up to her.

“Well, he just had his leg amputated.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I realize that,” I say back, hearing the harsh notes in my voice. “I mean, other than that. How is he?”

“Just great,” Johanna says sarcastically.

I frown at her. “Is he at least awake?” Or is that too much to tell me as well, whatever her problem with me is?

“He was awake earlier. He might be now. Or he might have fallen asleep.”

I nod, but say nothing more since it’s obvious I won’t get any clear answers from her. We walk in silence for some time, and I realize I don’t even recognize where we are. My mind must have been in a fog the whole time I was waiting.

At last, the room widens into an ocean of cots, half of them full of soldiers. I have the feeling that this is nothing, and that during the war these beds must have been filled completely. The rumors going around certainly supported that theory.

Peeta is at the far end of the room. I follow Johanna, carefully picking my way through the maze of cots, patients and other obstacles, all while trying to keep up with her quick pace. Since she has more experience, she makes it seem so effortless. But getting through to the other side takes more maneuvering than it seems. When we do reach the other side, Peeta is asleep. Or at least, he has his eyes closed. Forgetting Johanna, and myself, I rush forward immediately.

There’s a blanket covering him, so I can’t see the amputation myself; just the ghostly empty flat spot where his leg should be. It’s probably for the better that I can’t see it. Memories of me running out the back door as Mama and, later, Prim, tended to wounded people bubble up without invitation. Even now that I think about it, my stomach threatens to upheave its contents. Instead, I force my eyes up to Peeta’s face. I search for his hand and take it in one of mine, while the other gently strokes the hair out of his eyes.

His eyes flutter open at my touch, the soft blue of them clouded with a haze of anguish. But he still manages a smile at the sight of me. “Katniss,” he mouths.

“Hello,” I say, returning his smile and just managing to fight off tears. “The surgery is over.”

“So it is,” he says, his voice hoarse. Then he screws his eyes shut as a fresh new wave of pain washes over him, and he squeezes my hand tightly. “Peeta?” I ask, feeling frantic. I look around, but we seem to be alone. The nearest patient is several cots away. Johanna has disappeared completely.

“I’m all right,” he says faintly. But it’s clear how much pain he’s in. I don’t want to upset him further, though, so I try to comfort him the best I can. “Are you sure?” I ask, feeling helpless. He nods, but doesn’t say anything. Glancing around, I find a chair and pull it over. Taking his hand in mine again, I settle in for the remainder of the day. Peeta goes in and out of consciousness, only able to stay awake for so long before the pain becomes too much to handle and he goes back to sleep. The nurse Johanna comes by to check on him, then leaves again without further comment.

“Who is she?” It slips out of my mouth without permission, because somehow I just know this isn’t an appropriate question for now. That whatever explanation Peeta has for her identity would be better held off until he’s had more time to recover.

“My friend in the war,” he mumbles, slipping away into sleep again.

“Your friend?” I ask. That seems like an odd explanation somehow… Why would she have been his friend only during the war?

“Yes. Helped me. Taught me.” It’s hard for him to formulate sentences, but my curiosity is piqued and I need to know. So I ask anyways.

“Taught you what?”

Peeta manages to get one final word out. “‘Ooker.”

‘Ooker? What on Earth could that mean? My mind turns it over in my mind until finally something clicks. Not ‘ooker, but… oh. Oh.

Hooker.

The realization makes me feel as though I’ve been struck in the stomach. But when you think about it… his friend during the war, who taught him… it makes sense. Johanna is the one who taught him all those moves he’s used with me.

I look over at him now, snoring peacefully, and drop his hand. Maybe it’s unfair, but the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And knowing Johanna and I have both been with Peeta in the same way makes me more than a little uncomfortable. I look around my area now, but thankfully she’s nowhere in sight.

Now I’m at a loss over what to do. I don’t really want to stay here right now. But a part of me still feels awful leaving Peeta here alone. Then again, he is asleep. He wouldn’t notice. And besides, he has Johanna here to look after him. Again.

Thankfully, my question is answered for me when Prim and Haymitch show up. Prim immediately gives me a hug, then asks how Peeta is doing, peering down at him as if she were the one who had performed the surgery herself. Which wouldn’t be such a radical idea, had Prim been born a boy. She’d be a natural as a doctor.

She chatters lightheartedly for a little bit, telling me everything they did while Peeta was under saw. Evidently, Haymitch has friends here in town, and he and Prim called on them. What’s more, in the name of hospitality, they have opened up their home for us to stay in while we’re here in Atlanta. We won’t be staying in the hotel after all. Which is a relief in a way, because I have no idea how we were going to afford to pay for the rooms, what with the heavy taxes on the land and all.

All the while Prim chats, Haymitch watches me silently. He can tell that something is up, but doesn’t ask what it is. But when Johanna comes by again, and he sees the way I’m glaring at her, things seem to fall into place for him.

“Shall we go get supper?” he asks during a lull in the conversation after Johanna leaves.

Both Prim and I hesitate; Prim looks back to me for guidance. Not that I have any. “I… should we leave him alone?” I ask cautiously.

“You’re gonna have to,” he answers. “Can’t stay here all night. The hospital won’t let you.”

That’s true, and something I hadn’t taken into consideration before. No, I suppose I wouldn’t be allowed to stay here overnight. The hospital isn’t as over-ridden with wounded patients as it was during the war, but they still need the room. And besides, it wouldn’t be proper for me to be alone, and I know Haymitch isn’t interested in staying here with me overnight. So I nod, grateful to have a reason to leave. “All right, then.”

Before we leave, though, I do turn back to Peeta and tell him we’re leaving. I even brush my lips against his forehead, though it isn’t much of a kiss. “Should we let someone know?” I ask, turning back to Haymitch.

“Might want to let that nurse of his know,” he says. Ignoring the look of amusement in his eyes, I nod and go to find her. When I do, she’s on the other side of the hospital, tending to another soldier.

“Something else I can do for you?” she asks sarcastically. I bite back all the things I want to say to her. “We’re leaving for the night,” I say instead. “Would you mind letting Mr. Mellark know when he wakes?”

“Of course,” she offers a sweet smile that I don’t buy for a minute. “Have a good night, Miss Everdeen.”

“Thank you,” I say stiffly back. “You too.” Then I hurry back to where Haymitch and Prim are waiting. Haymitch walks us back to his friends’ house, a considerable journey from the hospital on foot. But since we have no other way to get there, it’ll have to do.

Stepping out onto the busy streets of Atlanta is like entering another world entirely. Where the hospital is quiet and full of those recovering, the city around it is abuzz with a different kind of mending. Much of it is still in ruins from when Sherman’s troops set it on fire. It’s a haunting site. But scattered all around are the skeletons of rebirth. Dark- and light-skinned men alike assist with the construction, which sort of surprises me, to see them working side by side, but these days surviving requires the previously unthinkable.

The other big change, of course, is the presence of Yankees. Blue coats are everywhere. I know I should be used to it by now, but what’s become just another piece of clothing when Peeta wears it still takes on an ominous feel when I see them like this. I tell myself not to be afraid, because after all, I will soon take one for a husband. I put on the most neutral face I can manage. And it works, for the most part. Maybe it’s because we’re accompanied by a man, or maybe, I think, it’s because they’re not such monsters after all that they leave us alone, sans the occasional smile and polite nod of the head. But every time I begin to ease up, I catch sight of a particularly charred building, or a starving family badly in need of food, and the contents of my stomach threaten to empty all over again. One soldier that smiles at me even sings a little song that takes me aback.

Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea
While we were marching through Georgia.

I can only stare in disgust, while the soldier chuckles in amusement over my expression. Then Prim comes to my rescue. “Katniss!” she calls for me over her shoulder, having noticed how I’ve fallen behind. I give the Yankee another glare for good measure, then hurry to catch up.