A/N: Here, the mine collapse in D12 takes place in the early spring rather than in the winter, for it is easier to plan out the fic this way. Also, Annie won the 69th Hunger Games in this story as well, which will become clear later.
Katniss POV
"Today in Panem History, you will be learning about how District 12 was created by the Capitol ninety years ago. Please open your packet to page C-"and that's when the alarms went off...
It was the third to last class of the day, and I was starting to get anxious. My father had decided to take me hunting once again this afternoon, and the weather was wonderful. I had just been learning how to step quietly, pick the fresh fruit growing around the lake, and fish. One opportunity I hadn't gotten, however, was to practice with a real bow (or any weapon, really). I had been daydreaming about how good it would feel to have a bow in my hands and a sheath of arrows on my back. I've carried my father's bow while he took the game bag, but it just wasn't the same. All of those thoughts flew out of my mind once the alarms started to blare. At first, I was so stunned I simply froze in the midst of bustling students. I was like a wounded animal who was so shocked at the arrow it couldn't act. I snapped out of it. The fates of those animals were never pleasant. Quickly, I ran into the hallway. Little Prim was doing exactly as she should be doing when I finally reached her classroom. Sitting on the edge of her wooden school chair with the back broken off, she anxiously waited for me to collect her. The obnoxious ringing of the alarm kept on going as she and I took off towards the school entrance. I could only form one conscious thought, one that constantly was reminding me that this could be all for nothing, that my father could be long dead. Mine explosions always resulted in fatalities, no matter how 'small' they were. One minute, you're hacking away at a seam of coal, the next: either dead or close to it.
That was three hours ago. Now, Prim, my mother and I were waiting anxiously at the rope that held back the families. At one point, nearly all of the people from the Seam were crowded at this rope. Now, the desperate few are left, waiting for a miracle to happen. Prim notices Rory Hawthorne and his family amongst the group. His older brother Gale died last year after the flu swept through the district. Nearly two-hundred people died, and there would've been more without Haymitch going around and donating food and medicine he'd snuck from his house in the Victor's Village. Now it's possible that he will become the 'man of the house' at the tender age of seven. The thought infuriates me.
Smoke rises up from the collapsed area and gradually thickens and spreads. Wonderful. At least if my father died in the explosion, it would be nearly painless, not to mention quick. Burning to death, however, isn't as forgiving.
There are still thirty families left when the Peacekeepers announce that this is the last elevator to bring up the miners. By now it has started to rain lightly, and the feeling of spring soon disappears as the temperature drops to forty-five degrees Fahrenheit. I cross my fingers on each hand and pray for my father and Mr. Hawthorne. Seconds later, the elevator vomits up five sooty miners. My father is among them.
"Lillian!" He chokes out, and before he can say anything else, breaks out into a coughing fit. My mother is too emotional to speak. A feeling of relief, joy, and fear washes over me. My father may be alive, but as I try to reach out and hug him, he backs away before I could wrap my arms around his waist, like I always do when he gets home from work. The reason why soon becomes clear. He has long burns up the back of his legs and torso. Parts of his hair are singed away, and the back of his mining clothes are gone. Disorientated, he greatly accepts the stretcher and lies down on his stomach. Three Peacekeepers, Darius, Purnia, and Levi slowly take the stretcher and walk down the beaten path to the Seam. Prim runs up with my mother to prepare the table for medical uses, and I shuffle along in the back, watching my once capable father being carried towards our house. _
"Katniss, please take Prim and go to bed. It is very late, and your father needs to rest," Mother commands quietly. I nod, too tired to argue. My father is currently lying on the kitchen table, out cold on sleep syrup. Thin strips of bandages and clean clothing cover the burns. As my mother sits in a chair stroking his hair back, I wonder how she could've afforded to fall in love with a man from the Seam. Surely, she could have had a wealthier man from town, as she's a townie herself. He and her children would be as safe as you could get; not having to face starvation, the mines, and most likely, the Hunger Games. Town kids never take tesserae, even if they could afford the extra help. This is just one way the Capitol has split the district. Everything in town seems so much more desirable than anything in the Seam. Just take today as an example. You don't willingly choose to have your spouse nearly die in a mine accident when you could avoid it. But it's futile to think like that now, for we are powerless to stop any of this, to make marrying into the Seam less of a symbol of social destruction and more of a symbol of equality. Of course, we are powerless to stop just about anything.