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They say it is a side affect of the hijacking. Yet another, she thinks bitterly, scraping a full plate of food into the bin before tossing it carelessly into the sink.
It seems as times that they will never be free of the Capitol, not truly.
He has barely eaten in three days, barely left the confines of their bedroom and hasn't ventured outside once. She hasn't hunted in three days either, too afraid to leave him alone in the house. She's been calling the bakery instead to check up, apologising over and over for Peeta's absence and hers. They understand completely, even if she does just say 'he's ill'. Everyone knows it has been coming for a while.
She supposes it is not a complete lie either. Depression is an illness too she was told by Dr. Aurelius once.
She climbs the stairs quietly as always, a little frightened to enter the bedroom though she does so anyway. She doesn't like seeing him like this; it makes her feel terrible about all the times she has been like this, when he was the one scraping food into the bin and biting his finger nails with nerves.
He is facing the window when she enters, summer sunlight dancing off his golden hair. She rounds the bed to her side, laying down to face him and running a hand over his cheek.
"Katniss?" he questions, voice hoarse from the little speaking and much crying he has done, he knows it is her but his new situation has left him a little unsure of everything he once knew.
"Yes?" she replies, hand still smoothing over his hair again and again; he relaxes into the touch and smiles, just ever so slightly.
She can feel a tear run down her cheek, his unseeing eyes never knowing her grief.
*
He had woken one morning in a panic while she was in bathroom washing up. He'd called out for, grabbing fistfuls of bed sheets and panting heavily as she ducked quickly back into the room. His vision was blurring, he'd said. She'd held up fingers in front of his eyes and he could see them but had a little difficulty reading from the book on his nightstand. She had reassured him it was probably nothing but inside she was panicking to no end.
Apparently it had been happening for a little while; just episodes of it when his vision would falter, periods of blurriness or mild pain in his eyes. He said sometimes he merely just waited a few seconds or minutes and it would get better. Lately though it had been taking longer to correct itself and now, it wasn't getting better at all.
It was only a few days later they were told. Another side effect of Peeta's torture at the hands of the Capitol they were positive. He'd had his vision tested before both sets of Games and it had been fine yet in District 13 when they observed him, it was a little less so. The doctor had used a lot of clinical, complicated terms that they didn't understand. In the end all her words meant one thing only. Peeta was going blind. She estimated only months before he would be completely blind given the rate it had been deteriorating already.
"Ok," He'd replied, his mouth and eyes determined as they had before the games, his hand clutched tightly in her own.
*
He'd set about his life then with a new found determination. The night after seeing the doctor he knelt in front of her, taking both her hands in his and asked him to marry her. He wanted to see her in her wedding dress he'd said. She agreed, smiling at him, the tears on her cheeks matching his own as he pulled her into his embrace.
They were wed a few weeks later in front of only a handful of people; the tailor made her a simple white dress and her mother pinned her hair up, putting wild flowers through the plaited bun. Peeta had told she looked beautiful when he saw her. And again as they fed each other the toasted bread. And again that night as they made love, watching her all the time as she fell apart in his arms.
He grew insatiable. They had already been bad as it was. It had taken them nearly a year after he'd returned to District 12 to stumble upon the joy that was sex and the hunger hadn't seem to leave them. The prospect of never seeing her in throes of passion again seemed to ignite a fire in him she had yet to experience. Previously, most of their passion had been confined to only their home but this was not to be the case any more. She'd visited Peeta at work one day and had found herself on her back on top of a sack of flour in the storage room with her husband tugging off her trousers impatiently. Another time he'd joined her in the woods one morning to help her hunt; they returned with no game that day after Peeta had fucked her on her hands and knees on the forest floor. The highlight however had been once when they'd been out on the porch late at night, her skirt tugged up where she sat on the loveseat and Peeta's head between her legs when suddenly a door creaked open and Haymitch had shouted abuse loudly across at them.
"Shut up, you're just old and bitter," Peeta had replied jokingly.
"Enjoy it while you're young boy," he'd shouted back before returning inside.
It was difficult to remember they were still young. Only 25 with a husband who was going blind. They tried their very best not to dwell on it; she wanted Peeta to enjoy every day of sight he had left and if that meant being embarrased by Haymitch the odd time, she would.
And so it continued. They embraced many sunrises and sunsets. They enjoyed days at the lake and walks in the meadow. They cherished mornings, afternoons and nights filled with making love; Peeta watching her all the time.
It was 4 months to the day since he'd visited the doctor that Peeta Mellark woke up to darkness.
*
It took him a week to finally leave the bedroom after it happened and she was glad to see it. She and Peeta began attending meetings twice a week with a doctor in the clinic where they would provide him with advice on the changes that would need to be made in his life.
He had a cane now to ensure he could venture out by himself though he was told to make sure someone was with him at all times until he grew accustomed to it. The first time he walked to the bakery by himself Katniss shook with nerves as he left despite his reassuring words that he would be fine. She watched him from the window as he walked slowly but steadily until she could see him no more. And then she slipped on her boots and followed quietly behind him the entire way until he had safely reached the bakery. She was so ashamed of her betrayal she ran home and cried in the bathroom and swore to herself to never do it again. She knew what her independence meant to her and she would not deprive Peeta of it.
*
There were many, many rough times that brought out a side to Peeta she rarely saw. Once, in the beginning, he accidentally forgot a step at the top of the stairs and tripped, falling onto his knees. He screamed and swore then smashed the table lamp. Another time he kept doing up his shirt buttons wrong and got so frustrated he ripped the thing. She told him he was being silly and that she distinctly remembered a lot of times he'd done up his shirt wrong before he lost his sight because she had been the one to fix it for him. He'd smiled then, laughed a little and kissed her. She slapped him jokingly on the shoulder for destroying a good shirt.
The worst had been the baking. It took a long time for them to develop a system and organizing the ingredients a certain way for him to master the art again. She watched him anxiously at first, never knowing if he was doing it correctly or not but nervous all the same. She watched as he smashed plates and bowls, shouting and cursing and sobbing out his frustrations. She would comfort him each time, whispering words in his ear and stroking his hair until his breathing slowed and he seemed a little more at peace. The entire time there would be tears in her eyes too, bitter, angry tears at the unfairness of it all. He would never know though. She would be strong for him until he was strong again too.
Concerning for a while was their lack of sex life. She understood at first, he was down and depressed and so somber that she did not entertain the idea of intimacy beyond holding him and soothing him.
As time passed however and Peeta grew more confident by the day, he did not seem anymore interested in sex. She had thought of it a lot in the months before he turned blind and worried as to what might happen. She knew how visual he had been with making love before; watching her as she came, intent on seeing her face in throes of her orgasm, those times when she'd worn a skirt or a dress that showed off her cleavage or had ridden up to give a glimpse of her underwear that had ended with her legs wrapped around his hips as he pumped inside of her.
Was that the problem now? She tended not think so. They'd kissed a few times, little kisses that grew into passionate kisses and that seemed to be heading somewhere before Peeta pulled away, flushing as he did so. Before he did though she'd feel it, that hardness in his trousers that made her pulse with need. She let it go though, content with touching herself in the shower to the memories of her husband's tongue on her clit for now.
Until one night he'd climbed into bed in only his boxers, hair and skin still damp from the shower he'd taken to cool himself off. She kissed him, softly at first before slanting her mouth slightly and sliding her tongue into his mouth. She felt a triumphant feeling burst inside her belly before she could feel him start to falter and pull away and she decided she would not let him.
"Peeta why won't you touch me?" it came out louder than she intended and she blushed furiously at her desperation. His face was red too and he swallowed loudly. She did not say anything, waiting patiently for his reply.
"I just," he started, his voice nervous and hands twitching nervously until she took one and held it. "I was scared that you didn't want me anymore. Why would you possibly want me? A cripple first and now blind as well." He laughed bitterly and her heart sank. "I don't want you doing it out of sympathy." Her sadness turned quickly to misplaced anger.
"What?" she spat, "Sympathy? Really?" His head was turned in her direction, eyes somewhere about her shoulder. She took his face and tilted in gently, he would have been looking into her eyes if he could.
She thought of all the things she could say to reassure him, confessions of love, of how handsome he was still and how being blind or missing a leg didn't matter to her, how he was still her Peeta and always would be. They were all true but she said none of them. Instead she leaned over, took a deep breath and pressed her mouth close to his ear.
"I caught a glimpse of you in the shower yesterday morning and it made me so horny I spent all morning fucking myself with my fingers, pretending it was you."
She was on her back before she could take another breath and he was kissing her like he hadn't in months, hard and hot and desperate. Her nightdress and his underwear were on the floor within minutes and his head was between her legs, breathing on her over and over again until she was begging him to do what she wanted. When he finally pressed his tongue to her clit it didn't take very long at all for her to come, her body convulsing as she grasped his hair hard and cried out his name into the night.
He was reaching into the drawer for a condom when he said something she didn't hear. He found them quickly. They'd always kept the condoms in the exact same place before; it broke the mood having to spend time searching around.
"What?" she gasped, still panting from her orgasm as he handed her the packet. He wanted to make sure she put it on correctly.
"What did you think about yesterday morning?" he finished with a groan, her hand rolling it onto his dick.
She lay back down, pulling him with her until he was settled between her legs. She could feel him poised against her entrance enticingly, rolling his hips a little so it brushed against her and made her shudder, still sensitive.
"I thought about the time that Haymitch caught on us on the porch," she whispered.
He grinned and reached down, pushing inside her all at once to the hilt. They both groaned, Peeta's face screwed up in pleasure.
"He went back inside, and you...," he was thrusting gently, eyes closed and listening to her every word. He was picturing her, she knew without asking, remembering the look of her when they'd done this many times before. "...you pulled my skirt back up and started to lick me out again."
He grunted softly in the back of his throat, reaching down to push one of her thighs up so it was pressed almost to her chest. She gasped, the new angle feeling deeper and even better than before. She could barely think of the words now.
"And then just when I was about to come you stopped and dragged me up before I could say anything," she managed as he started to thrust a little faster, "and you pulled me in the front door and closed it. And you lifted me up, pressed me against it and slid inside me." She gasped as his hand left her leg to reach down to her clit and stroke it slowly. "You fucked me so hard it rattled in the frame, louder than any of the noises either we were making. That's what I thought about." Just as she finished the last word he groaned and reached for both her legs, pressing them up and fucking hard down into her. She cried out and reached between her legs to where his hand had been before. She could feel the bed moving and hear it creaking loudly. He hadn't fucked her like this since the day she had fantasized about; they hadn't lasted long then and she doubted they would now. It was only a few minutes before his thrusts became erratic and his pants and groans louder, she came just before he did, his whole body seizing up as he cried out above her, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her legs.
They lay afterwards on the sheets, soaked with sweat and reeking of sex with content smiles on their faces.
*
It was a turning point. Peeta had very few bad days after that. He learned the joys of having sex with no vision, how his other senses increased in a way Katniss could not experience. They did try a few particularly fun times though to replicate it, blindfolding her as they fucked. The blind leading the blind, he joked after the first attempt and they'd laughed.
It healed everything she found, the laughter and their love. Peeta knew her better now, she felt, than he ever had before. Those months before he lost his sight he'd spent studying her, memorizing every curve of her body, every patch of her skin and her face and committing it to memory so he would always be able to see her. He told her often she was the prettiest woman he knew but the few times over the years when she was required to dress up; weddings, the summer festival or the winter market, he would tell her how exceptionally beautiful she looked that day.
"How do you know that?" she'd ask every time and he would simply smile and kiss her before whispering, "I just do."
"You're a little lucky you know, not having to see me," she said one night, she was looking at a scar on her leg she'd got that day from cutting herself on a tree in the woods. "You won't have to see me when I get older, and uglier. I'll always be 25 to you."
"You'll always be beautiful to me."
*
The day she found out she was pregnant was a joyous one, terrifying but joyous. After a long time together they had finally decided to start trying half a year ago and not it had happened she couldn't help but feel a little sadness creep into her joy. She thought of how Peeta, though he would relish fatherhood, would never get to see their children. She knew he thought of it too. They tried their best not to dwell on it.
It was he who told her he could feel the swell in her tummy before anyone had really noticed, even Katniss herself. She glanced in the mirror and sure enough there it was, a slight tiny bump where there hadn't been before.
"I'm right aren't I?" he asked in response to her silence as she continued to stare in the mirror, a cocky grin on his face.
"Yes," she admitted and threw a pillow at him. He laughed.
On the day their daughter was born he clutched her hand and stroked her hair in the many painful hours before their little girl's soft cries filled the room. He cried when she'd handed her to him and pressed his face to her head, closing his eyes and breathing in her glorious scent. Katniss cried then too, tears that were nothing to do with the pains of labour or exhaustion.
"What does she look like Katniss? Don't say beautiful, I already know that," he managed through his tears. She told him about her dark messy hair and bright blue eyes that were looking up at him then and he grinned and kissed their daughter on the head.
His reaction to their son's birth was much the same three years later.
"He has my eyes Peeta but he's bald, not a single hair on his head," she'd narrated, smiling as her son latched on her breast to feed.
The young nurse told them there were a few little golden tufts at the back of his head if they looked closely, so light it almost couldn't be seen against his skin. "He's going to be a handsome blonde like his dad." Peeta had grinned cockily and Katniss rolled her eyes.
"You just rolled your eyes at me didn't you?" He asked. She laughed; he had gotten to know her far too well indeed.
**
Peeta's sight never returned. They made trips to the doctors of course every once in a while for check ups but they had long given up on the hopes of new treatments. It no longer mattered to them as much as it once did. For a girl who had never been good with words, Katniss became a master of them as she described a lifetime of memories to her husband. She told him about the cake that Ava had made for them at school and the art homework that earned Bran his very first A grade. She described how lovely Ava looked in the new dress her mother had sent from District 4 and told him just how dirty his son looked the day he came home from school after having a mud wrestling contest with his friends.
At night, she described to him entirely different things, in between their restrained moans and gasps as they made love. One such night they lay side by side afterwards, bed sheets pushed to the floor and sweat cooling on their skin. He turned towards her then, lifting his hands to trail them all over her skin.
She looked very different now from the woman she had once been. She had stretch marks across her belly from where she had bore her children, her breasts were a little larger and her hips too; there was weight on her body from pregnancy that had never quite shifted. She was still slender though not as thin as she had once been not too mention she had a few more scars from her various expeditions to the woods. A few years ago she had cut her hair so that it fell just to her shoulders; she had kept it the same ever since. (There were a few grey hairs in among her roots too, though she didn't want to tell Peeta about those just yet.) Her face looked more weary, as did his, telling lines from all the years of sorrow they had endured, though equally from the many happy times as well. But Peeta knew all this of course. He had watched her change throughout the years in his own, her body had transformed beneath his hands and he felt the many expressions that had graced her face.
"You look beautiful," he whispered and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She had no reason to doubt him anymore; he could see her better than anyone ever had or ever would.
"So do you," she whispered and kissed him back.