A/C: I really couldn't stop myself from writing this fanfiction. I saw Peeta in Jack, and Katniss in Rose. I want to stay canon with the characters' personalities, but there will be changes. This isn't really a story for Katniss & Gale shippers, this is purely Everlark. I suggest Everthrone shippers not to read this :P

I'm keeping this fic T for now, but I might raise it to M. I will be sure to place a disclaimer if there's a mature-rated chapter.

In case I forget, all property belongs to its rightful owners. I do not own The Hunger Games or the Titanic.

- Present -

Katniss Mellark is now 101 years old.

She focusses her vision on her wrinkly, pale hands. They shake without any concious effort. She then peers over to the mirror in front of her, observing her dull, white hair knotted into a limp bun. She gingerly touches her thin, dry lips. But as she sets herself onto her bed, she can't help but to notice her silver eyes. The eyes that haven't changed after all these years.

That was something he would certainly say, she thought with a ghost of a smile.

She stretches out her legs, but then a pang of pain rushes up her leg. Her bones hurt. She hates complaining about her arthritis to her caregiver, especially since she is so sweet and kind. She honestly doesn't want to become into a burden on these people. Not that she already is.

But they won't have the burden any longer. She's dying. She knows she is, despite her doctor constantly insisting her health is fine. However, she is getting those dreams more frequently. Not the bad ones, but the good ones. The ones that make her smile when she wakes up. And when she tells this to her doctors and the people at the elderly home, they tell her to stop being so pessimistic. But what they don't understand is that she doesn't mind. She lived a long life, full of adventure and action. And she fulfilled her promise already - except the "marrying another man and having tons of children" part - so she can't wait until she can meet him again. She wants him to know that she always waited for him. That she missed him for every second of her life. There were times she wanted to take one too many of her cholesterol pills, or to step onto the street while traffic was raging on, but she stayed strong. She had to keep his last dying wish. So she did.

Peeta Mellark was a man like no other. A man who shaped her into who she is today. A man who her heart belongs to. A man who she loves.

And she met him on the Titanic.

- 83 years ago -

KPOV

"Mother, I can't marry him," I blurt. I bite my lip, focussing my gaze onto my shoes. I really shouldn't have brought this up since we are metres away from our means of moving to America. There is no backing out now. But this conversation was a long time coming, and it is one necessary to make. I can't live my life with a lie. And I can't live with Gale Hawthorne. My mother, of all people, should know that. She certainly cannot force her to marry a man I don't love. Or can she?

Mother whips her head to face me. Her hair is styled strategically to frame her face, and she is wearing one of the only exquisite hats she owns. It honestly makes my blood boil of how haughty and insensitive Mother has become since Father and Prim died. It seems their deaths took no toll on her life at all. On top of that, it is only recently that she has become part of the upper-class circle. But the way my mother is acting it's as if she has belonged from the very beginning. "Katniss, I thought I already made it clear that the wedding is already happening. We have already sent out all the invitations! Imagine what a mockery we will become if we cancel the wedding," she says with a scowl. She turns her back to me, and calls one of the servants to load our luggage. Then, she grasps onto my arm and pulls me to her side. "Gale Hawthorne is a fine, handsome boy. You will learn to love him."

I wriggle away from her grasp, placing a few feet distance between us. I avoid her gaze, and instead focus my attention on the massive ship in front of us. The Titanic. The designer stated that God himself couldn't sink it. It was built with strong, sturdy metals and machinery. The interior is supposedly the most splendid in the world of ships. And apparently there's a pool in it as well.

Prim would have loved to be here. She would have been at awe of the sight.

We enter the ship upon presenting our tickets. It is splendid indeed. The carpets are rich and lush, a deep colour of maroon sprawled beneath us. The chandelier above us is grand and luminous. I was too engrossed at the view that I didn't notice Gale behind me. "My, my Katniss. Aren't you looking lovely today?" His voice startles me, and I immediately blush a tomato red. I shake my head vigorously and stalk ahead of him, currently not in the mood of making pleasantries. What ceases to amaze me is he does not realize that I am not like other girls in the upper class. I do not giggle or melt over silly compliments. I do not fantasize of an abundance of dresses, shoes, and jewellery. I am not polite or shy. And I am certainly not a perfect match for Gale Hawthorne. Sure, he is handsome and tall. He is wealthy. He also knows how to initiate a conversation and always seems to say the right thing. He is basically everything Mother would love to have as a son-in-law. Hell, I'd think she would marry him if he were a couple decades older.

But I don't care if he's handsome, likeable, or rich. I don't love him.

PPOV

I slam my cards down, and I allow a maniacal smile creep onto my lips. "You son of a bitch, we're going to America!" Finnick jumps from his seat, engulfing me into his arms. We laugh hysterically, bouncing around and about in the bar. The tattooed, bald men throw the tickets in the air, murmuring obscenities underneath their breaths as they stomp away from us. We catch them, hooting gleefully as we imagine our lives in America.

Then suddenly, one of bartenders behind the counter yells, "You boys gotta hurry if you wanna make it in time. Five minutes before the ship leaves!"

Finnick and I exchange looks, and we start out the door. We sprint past the road, across the side-walk. We shuffle through the bodies on the dock, and forge up the ramp leading to the ship. As promoted, the Titanic is masterfully built. It's a large vessel, probably carrying thousands and thousands. I wonder if it is as magnificent on the inside as it is on the outside. There's only one way to figure out.

Shoving the tickets into the security guard's face, we scurry into the third-class portion of the ship. There's bodies pressing on us from every side, loud screams and crying from tired parents and children, but I can't complain. We are on the greatest ship in the entire world. "Hey Peet, let's go to the deck!" Finnick says. I follow him along, and we are soon entranced by the wonderful view of the sea. The intoxicating smell of the seawater surrounds us, and the sun warms the crowns of our heads. I hurry over to the railings, and wave at the crowd beneath us. Of course I'm not waving at anyone particular, I have no family members or friends awaiting me, but I cannot miss out on the fun. Then soon, the horn blares and the ship jerks forward. Finnick and I cheer as we head off into an abyss of clear ocean blue.

I climb over one of the rails, and spread out my arms. "I'm the king of the world!" I scream on the top of my lungs. The cool air surrounds my entire body, and I feel like I'm flying. Finnick laughs, joining along. We spend a good five minutes laughing and screaming, until I feel someone tap on my shoulder. I remove myself from the railings, and I tug Finnick down also.

"Excuse me sir, but you are causing a disturbance for the other passengers," one of the workers says condescendingly. He scans our appearance, and I swear he lifts his nose at us. My heart nearly plummets as I watch the snooty man walk away, but then my eyes flit over to someone off into the distance.

It's hard not to notice. Her eyes are an enchanting silver. Her dark, raven hair falls effortlessly down her shoulders. And the dress she is wearing hugs her in all the right places. And in all honestly, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Sure, I've met pretty girls. Fooled around with some. But no one quite captivates me quite like this girl. And I have no chance with her. She is holding hands with a tall, good-looking older guy, perhaps her husband or lover. And even if she were single, she would never love me. She is obviously upper-class, based on her luxurious outfit, whereas I can barely get by. It was merely by luck that I'm even on this ship in the first place. She certainly wouldn't have any interest in me. However, I cannot help to think that she actually looked at me.

Finnick, his green eyes full of playfulness and mischievousness, jabs me in the arm. "Forget about it, boy," he says with a laugh, shaking his head disapprovingly. "He'd beat your ass if you keep looking at her in that way." I allow my eyes find the floor, and I try to forget about the girl with the silver eyes.

KPOV

Gale was talking about our wedding arrangements, but I cannot say that I was paying any attention. Instead, I was bewitched by a particular boy. He was wearing faded brown pants, with a loose, white button-down shirt. It was clear to see that he is not exactly in our social standings. But when I looked into his eyes, the ones as blue and clear as the ocean, I knew he would be on my mind more than I would like.

It's wrong. I'm supposed to honour my husband, remain obedient to him. I shouldn't be ogling other men, especially in his very presence. It doesn't matter if we're just engaged, it's not right. So when the boy removes his gaze, so do I. "Katniss, are you feeling alright?" Gale asks in what seems to be fake concern. His eyebrows knit together exaggeratedly, and his frown is too deep.

"Feeling fine. Just a bit tired," I say quietly, looking away from him.

Gale nods. "Well, it has been quite an eventful day. How about I take you back to your quarters? I'll see you at supper."

I nod. We return back to the hall, and we find my mother and Gale's parents in the lounge. They are sipping on what seems to be tea, and probably chatting about politics or weddings. I try to avoid speaking with the adults by taking the other hall, but then Mother calls. "Katniss! Come meet Mr. Heavensbee!"

I scowl. I spin on my heel, and I stalk towards the adults. It's hard to force a smile on my face when I would like nothing else but to escape. "Katniss, this is Mr. Plutarch Heavensbee. He is the individual who designed this astounding ship," Mother explains with a too wide of a smile.

"Mr. Heavesnbee. Quite an honour," I say, taking a dip of my head.

The old, bellied man with greasy hair gives me a smile. Mother turns her back to me, and explains, "Katniss will be marrying the Hawthorne's eldest."

Heavensbee nods as he gives me a look. "Richard's son? Yes, fine boy."

I try to hide my cringe by plastering a fake grin. "Gale, indeed," Mother says. "It would be a pleasure if you and the wife could attend their wedding. It will be taking place this April, in a nice Maryland banquet hall. I will be sure to send the details very soon."

"Ah, I wouldn't miss it," he says as he takes a glance at his watch. "Oh, look at the time. It was nice meeting you, Katniss." Heavensbee then lifts my arm, and brings my hand to his lips. He places a light kiss, and I have to swallow a lump in my throat to prevent myself from choking. The man then leaves, and I am left with Mother and her other acquaintances.

My heart thumps against my chest. I blink back the tears, and bite down my lip to prevent my mouth betraying me. It's like I'm screaming in a crowded room and no one is paying attention to me. Everyone seems to have their own plans for me, but I have no say in them. Mother continues to ignore me to speak with another lady, but I cannot wait any longer. So I tug on Mother's sleeve, trying to divert her attention to me. "I need to speak with you, Mother," I say quietly. My voice is thick, and I hope I don't sound as pathetic as I think I do.

Mother nervously laughs as the rest of the group quiets down. "The girl is a bit sick. I'll come back soon after settling her in," she explains to the rest of the women. They give her a nod of the head, agreeing to take me to my room. I give small smiles to everyone, bidding quiet goodbyes.

Once the door closes, I do not hold back. "Mother, please listen to me!" I yell.

Mother looks at me, and sets herself on top of the bed. "Okay, you have my attention."

"I can't marry Gale," I say. "I don't love him. No, forget about love, I cannot tolerate him. He's rude, arrogant, and insincere. I cannot bear to live my entire life with him, and you have no right to force this upon me!"

My chest is heaving, and I'm at the verge of tears. Mother gets up from the bed, and her eyes are full of anger. "This marriage is not only about you, but about all of us. You have the responsibility of persevering your Father's name, because of course you are the last of his kindred. Do you not have any respect for your father? Your mother? This marriage will help us improve our status and family name. Why can't you understand that this is our only chance for a better future?"

I shake my head vigorously. "Father wouldn't have wanted this. He would hate you for making me marry this man."

Mother takes my arms roughly, and shakes me. "This is very selfish of you, Katniss! I cannot-"

I pull away from her grasp and scream, "You are being selfish! How could you move on so easily when Prim and Father died only two months ago? Why did you change once you got all that inheritance and insurance money? It has always been about you! Your reputation! Your wealth!" Then suddenly, an open palm strikes my cheek. The impact sends me to my knees, and I feel fresh, salty tears run down my face. The hot, sizzling sensation throbs my cheek, which is certainly red by now. I am left alone when I hear the door slam shut.

I can't do this any more. My kind, good-natured father is dead. Sweet, gentle Prim died along with him. And now Mother is forcing me to marry Gale. Of course, I will be insanely wealthy, but will my entire life just be attending parties in nice dresses and faking smiles? Surely, Gale doesn't love me. I won't receive any moral or emotional support from him, let alone love or care. I never was one who craved emotional attachment, but I am loyal to those I care about. And I like honesty and genuity. But he probably has his own agenda for the marriage. And I certainly don't love him. I mean, how could do I? No amount of money or expensive jewellery could have change that. Not even my mother's emotional manipulation. I am simply a piece in my mother's games, and I cannot be used by her any longer.

But there's no way out. There's not a lot of opportunities for a young women like me in this world. I don't have much education, I am not enrolled in any college or university. I can't get a job. I don't have any family or friends I could live with. The only way I can survive in this world is by allowing myself to be controlled by my mother. If I choose to disobey her, she will disown me. Marrying Gale is no longer an option.

I don't want to live this kind of life. I just want to be with Prim and Father, wherever they may be.

The racking sobs raw my throat, and I am struggling to breathe. I get up from the floor, and I drag myself out of the suite. My feet lead me up the stairs, finding themselves at the deck. I stare out in the ocean, smelling the crisp and salty air and relishing the feeling of the wind gushing against my face. It is quiet, and the sun is setting. There are only a few people around, but they are on the opposite end of the ship. I wouldn't mind dying out here. My bare feet step across the deck, until I'm at the edge of the railings. I lean over, staring into the ocean. I wonder how deep it is. So I toss one of my legs over the railings, steadying myself with my hands, and then my other leg joins it. Soon I'm at the other end of the railing, and I sense death waiting at its corner. Closing my eyes, I imagine Father's and Prim's faces. They are smiling, and I swear they are beckoning me to jump.

"Don't do it!" someone yells. I snap my head to the side, and I see the blonde boy watching me with a concerned expression on his face. It's the same boy with the crystal blue eyes, I saw staring at me a few hours ago. The loud noise of the waves splashing make it difficult to decipher his words, but I still manage to hear, "Please, come back!"

"Leave me alone!" I scream. "Mind your own business!" My hair is flying wildly, and it sprawls against my face. I almost toss it back over my shoulder, but then I remember the situation I am in.

Do I really want to jump?

The boy comes closer, and takes my arm. "I can't let that happen, Miss."

Tears pool my eyes, and I try to blink them away. "Leave me alone," I repeat, my voice now hoarse.

"If you jump, I jump," he says. He grasps onto my arm tightly, refusing to let go.

I shake my head. "Don't be stupid. You will die. Leave me be, for God's sake!" I avoid his gaze, and I stare off into the ocean. The moon now appears in the horizon, bright and full. Its reflection shines in the water, and I cannot help to think what a wonderful place to die.

His voice snaps me back to reality. "I'm a pretty good swimmer," he says loudly, competing the wind's and the wave's noises. "And it's awfully cold down there. I wouldn't want to experience a frost bite, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to either."

I look at him incredulously. "Take my hand," he insists, locking his blue eyes with my own. And once again, his gaze has entranced me.

I don't know what comes over me, but I take it. He pulls me over the railings, and I fall right on top of him. I notice how firm and muscular his body is, along with his broad shoulders. But then a laugh bubbles from his chest, so I sheepishly lift myself from him. I murmur an apology, and I begin to leave with my face burning. This is what I might consider as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Oh, how pathetic must he think I am? Poor little damsel in distress. She is constantly surrounding by riches and fortune, while other people are struggling to get by. Did she break a nail? Drop tea on her new dress? Paper-cut? He must think very lowly of me, considering what hardships he must endure. But then, he suddenly calls me. "Wait!"

I turn my head. He stands shyly, peering over to me. "I'm Peeta. What's your name?"

"Katniss."

A/C: First chapter! Woo hoo! Please review, favourite and follow! I hope you're enjoying it so far.