Spoilers: Major spoilers for the Hunger Games, the first movie (or first book, if that's your preference. As far as I know, this fic works with either. :) )
Disclaimer: Katniss and Peeta aren't mine, I'm just borrowing them. I'll return them in good condition. Um…maybe.
A/N: This is a sad, rather dark fic, but it just insisted on being written. I've wanted to write an AU like this for quite a while and it finally cooperated. Be warned, though, it does contain major character death.
As always, I thank my Lord Jesus Christ for his incredible mercy and grace and his many blessings. I would be utterly lost without him.
I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think! :)
Harbinger
Panem is stirring.
Coriolanus Snow can feel it.
Katniss Everdeen has struck a nerve. The boy as well. Together, they have demonstrated love. Compassion. Even heroism. Like hope, such things are valuable in small doses. Necessary, even. But, too much…too much will upset the precious balance he has worked so hard to achieve. And the scales are tipping with every minute the Games devote to the "star-crossed lovers" from District Twelve.
Miss Everdeen shouts the boy's name when the rule change is made, her voice ringing with hope and expectation, and that decides it. He must end this and quickly. She nearly broke when the little girl from Eleven died in her arms. Losing the boy as well might just be enough to break her entirely.
It must be done. The girl cannot be allowed to win.
Seneca Crane rushes to his side the moment he appears in Game Headquarters.
"President Snow, to what do we owe the honor-"
He doesn't have time for pleasantries. "Peeta Mellark will die."
The Gamemaker stares at him for a moment, his jaw falling open in surprise. "Sir, with all due respect, the rule-change was made with them in mind. The audience loves them! The ratings have never been so high."
"That's your concern, not mine. The boy will die."
"But, we thought a feast might-"
"There will be no feast," he insists, his voice ringing with finality.
Seneca Crane swallows hard and quickly nods. "Of course, President Snow."
Katniss has lost track of how many times she's kissed Peeta now.
She doesn't know why she keeps trying - it hasn't gotten them what they need.
Soup. Some pain pills. (Not morphling - maybe that's too expensive this late in the Game. She's not sure.) Clean bandages. Some rubbing alcohol. More food, a whole picnic basket full this time.
Just no medicine.
The food is nice, but it will only last for a few days, and no matter how much she cajoles and pleads and kisses, Peeta just can't seem to eat more than a few bites of anything. She gave him the last pain pill a few hours ago, the rubbing alcohol is too late to do any real good, and the clean, white bandages are already stained through with red.
He feels like a furnace when she lies down next to him. The heat would be welcome in the cold air of the cave if she didn't know what it meant.
Fever. Infection. Blood poisoning.
Those angry red lines on his thigh have only gotten worse. If she had to guess, she'd say that they extend all the way down his leg now, but she hasn't been able to find the courage to check.
It wouldn't change anything anyway, because there's nothing she can do to stop them.
Peeta's gotten quieter. He's having more trouble keeping his eyes open, too. He still manages to smile at her, though, and he watches her as she moves around the cave.
She knows he's trying to make her feel better, but somehow, that only makes her feel worse.
She can hardly make him eat anything today. Not that he was eating much before, but even those few bites he managed yesterday would be an improvement. A few swallows of broth and a couple sips of water are all he's been able to keep down.
"Peeta, come on," she tries again. "You've got to keep your strength up."
Peeta sighs. "It won't help, Katniss, you know that."
"No, I don't. You can still beat this!"
She knows, even as she says it, that it's a lie.
"Katniss-" he starts.
She cuts off whatever he was going to say by capturing his mouth with her own.
It's a long kiss, and it tastes like sickness and the broth he'd had earlier. When she pulls back, she waits to hear the tell-tale chiming of a parachute.
It never comes.
"It's not so bad, you know," Peeta says.
His voice is getting weaker, quiet and strained, like he has to work hard to get the words out at all.
Katniss tries to ignore it, the same way she ignores the fact that he's not moving much anymore, not even to shift around on the hard floor of the cave, probably because his body just can't spare the energy.
"What's not so bad?"
"This. Dying this way. Not when you're here."
Katniss spins around to face him, glaring fiercely. "Don't say that! You're not dying!"
Peeta gives her a sad look, his blue eyes full of truths she doesn't want to hear. It only makes her angrier. She tugs off her jacket roughly and lays it over Peeta's torso, tucking it under his chin and around his shoulders.
"You're wrong, Peeta," she insists. "You'll be fine."
Peeta doesn't answer her, but he doesn't have to.
His eyes say it all.
Peeta started trembling a few hours ago.
He's not cold. If anything, he's even hotter than he was before. But it's like every muscle in his body has seized up and he just can't seem to stop shaking.
It makes it uncomfortable to lay next to him, but Katniss does anyway, her hands clutching his shirt, her head pressed into his shoulder and her legs pressed into his uninjured thigh.
"K-Katniss?" he asks, so softly she has to strain to hear him.
"Yeah?"
"Could you…could you sing? Please?"
She feels her throat close up and something twists in her chest.
She knows why he's asking, and she wants to say no, like her refusal will somehow stop this.
But it won't, will it?
Swallowing hard, Katniss opens her mouth and the first unsteady notes of the Valley Song fill the cave.
Night has fallen outside, and Peeta is barely conscious. Katniss has to beg and plead with him just to see the smallest slit of blue and even then, his eyes always slip closed again. His breathing is bad too, and when she presses her fingertips to his neck, his pulse hums, fluttering like the wings of a bird.
It's fast, too fast.
She curls up beside him the way she had earlier, resting her head on his shoulder, and a few tears escape to roll down her cheeks. She wipes them away, stubbornly blinking them back.
Peeta's features still seem a little blurry to her when she's done, but she studies them anyway, trying to commit them to memory.
The boy with the bread. Her boy with the bread.
The rest of Panem certainly thinks of him as hers, at least.
Katniss isn't really sure that he is, though, or if he could be, but she wants to find out, and she knows she won't have that chance. It's not fair. It's not fair and it hurts, the idea that she'll lose Peeta before she ever really got to have him.
This time, when the tears come, she doesn't bother fighting them.
She can't get Peeta to wake up at all now. She's tried shouting. Shaking him. She even tried some cold water from the river.
No matter what she does, he doesn't move.
He's still breathing, though, she can see it…the barely discernable rise and fall of his chest.
She tries telling herself that its steady. Even. That he's just deeply asleep.
Maybe it's even a sign that he's getting better.
But she knows it's not, and something inside her cracks and breaks, leaving brittle fragments behind.
She flinches when she hears the cannon boom.
It's for Peeta, she knows it is, even if she can't make herself touch his throat again to check his pulse. But his chest isn't moving anymore and his face is lax and gray, like all the color has been leeched from it.
It's not long before the hovercraft appears outside of the cave, waiting to take away his body, but she tangles her fingers in Peeta's shirt once more, tears spilling down her cheeks.
She's not going to let him go.
Never, she thinks, her hands curling a little tighter.
She's never letting him go. They'll have to kill her first.
...A few hours later, they do.
Fin
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know what you think.
Take care and God bless!
Ani-maniac494 :)