Hello there, I am completely new to the Hunger Games fanfic section – this is my second attempt at writing fanfiction ever, so I hope you enjoy it! And warning: English is not my native language, so some mistakes may occur, for which I apologize in advance. Feel free to correct me & give me some suggestions of how to improve my writing & the story.
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games universe and its characters are intellectual property of Suzanne Collins.
Just because I am telling you this story, doesn't mean it has a happy ending. It only means I am alive, but do I really live? Or I simply found something worth existing for. I don't know. I guess I've never truly lived – in between trying to save my family from famine and fighting a war for liberation, I've never had the time to...live. And now that I am alive, I am not sure I really want to be.
I slowly open my eyes – it is a cool spring morning outside and the scent of freshly brewed coffee awakens my senses. The morning reminder of a new day, with new challenges to face. I lazily spread my arms into the big bed and stretch my muscles, breathing in as much air as I can. Before I get up and start with the basic routine of my day, I have to remind myself who am I and why am I here in a first place. It helps to keep me sane.
My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am twenty-two years old. I survived hunger, poverty, the Hunger Games and Panem's most oppressive regime. I helped overthrow the government. My sister is dead, Peeta is dead and my mother is gone. I have to keep on living.
"I have to keep on living..." I signed in a low voice. These are the words that make sense to me now. A reminder that life might hold more than just pain for me.
I slowly crawled out of bed and put on a robe over my naked and disfigured body. After washing my face and teeth with warm water I made my way down to the kitchen, where the scent of coffee had filled the entire room.
"Good morning, sweetheart." Haymitch greets me, while screening through the newspaper. He was reading the print media these days. We didn't have such things few years ago – the information that we received about the current state of affairs was rarely televised and always manipulative and false. I guess he enjoyed some of the new liberties the government had installed – the freedom of speech and information was one of them. As for me, I just didn't care. When a bird has been living in a cage all her life, she has forgotten how to fly – it doesn't make any difference that the cage is now open. Besides, the flames of the war destroyed my wings long time ago.
"Good morning." I replied with a half smile. I still rarely smiled – the sensation of laughter is long gone too. Only a distant memory from the past.
I made my way around Haymitch and poured myself a cup of coffee. He was observing each of my movements with concerned eyes. There was always concern in his gaze, ever since we came back to District Twelve. Four years had passed since then, and even after everything we've been through together, he still worries about me.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a quiet and calculated voice.
"Yes." I replied, putting neither meaning nor emotion into my response.
He cautiously got off the chair and made his way around me, gently locking his strong arms around my waist. When I didn't respond to his touch, he bend down and trailed a path of soft kisses from my ear all the way down to my neck. This time I closed my eyes at the sensation and put my cup of coffee on the counter. A quiet moan escaped my lips, and I felt his smirk against my skin. He knew how to extract a response from me. He knew me, better than I knew myself.
"Why don't you get something to eat and then we can have a walk?" Haymitch reminded me. It was his idea – I don't know, I guess it was a way to make me leave the house every once in a while. When the weather was good – like in spring, summer and early autumn we would go out for long walks in the woods. In winter I refused to go out, using the cold and snow as an excuse.
"Okay." I said and turned to face him. We gazed at each other for a while, before our lips met in what started out as a gentle and soft kiss, but deepened into a passionate and lustful struggle. I tangled my fingers in his hair and gently moaned his name, without even being conscious about it. Haymitch had pinned me against the kitchen counter with no intention of letting me go any time soon, so I just melted into his touch and let him take me as far as his desire wanted to go.
When we eventually parted, he looked deep into my eyes and caressed my face for a while. Sometimes, we could stay for hours, kissing and whispering gently to one another. It was a strange relationship we were engaged in – life of few words, no desires to build a future together, we just wanted to exist in the present. We were isolated from the outside world – living in his house at the Victor's Village, away from the public eyes. Nobody wanted to live here. I guess despite the luxurious interior of the houses, the memories of what they stood for were too much for people. Apparently not for us.
After the war was officially over, the government had granted the surviving victors with generous annual income – I guess we were all way too damaged to be engaged in any kind of work and social interaction. Besides there was so few of us left, that the money we received were not of any burden to the budget. Haymitch and I once discussed this and he concluded that it is not only our inability to adapt to the fast changes of the country, but that people didn't really want to be around us. We were the only reminder, aside from the memorials build throughout the districts, of the horrors of Snow's reign. Of a history that people chose to forget.
Soon we realized that unlike the rest of the country we can't really forget or move on. Our scars were much deeper and harder to heal, because we were victors. The only reason why we are alive, is because we once killed. The only way to survive the Games was to become part of them, and being part of them was to be a murderer.. And that never goes away. The faces of the people you killed never leave you to rest.
After breakfast, I went up into our room and picked up some clothes from the walk-in closet. The irony is that Haymitch is the one who insists on keeping some order in the house – I guess my apathy towards the household had eventually drove him to take on the lead. Pants, long-sleeved blouse, a scarf and boots. There is no vanity left in me – now that I think of it, there never was any to begin with. I carefully braid my hair and go downstairs, where Haymitch is waiting for me. It is early noon when we leave, and on the way out of the Victor's Village we pass by Peeta's home. Empty and cold, as the one I used to inhabit before moving in with Haymitch.
"Come on, sweetheart." Haymitch gently encouraged me to walk. "Let's keep moving."
We never went to the town. Well, I never went to the town, Haymitch sometimes went there to buy some essentials. The district seems to be expanding every year. More and more people came back throughout the years, some of them started their own families. Haymitch told me that there is a factory that specializes in making medicines. There were schools and even a university for those who had the ambition to pursue a career in some field. There was even a modern hospital, named after my sister – she would've liked working there. Only if she were alive.
I had no interest in the way the country was moving forward. The progress of Panem was not going to bring back those who lost their lives in the war. It was not going to make my nightmares and panic attacks go away. It is a selfish way of thinking, I know, but as much as I tried to be happy about the positive changes, there was nobody with whom I could celebrate them. Because everyone I ever loved is either dead or gone. Except for Haymitch.
We walked for hours within the silence of the woods I once knew so well. Enjoying the warmth of the sun, after a cold winter. The birds were singing and everything was blooming back to life. The walk cleared my head and made me feel a bit better. It wasn't until the first spring rain hit the ground that we decided to make our way back to the house. As we increased the speed of our walking, the rain started to pour and a thunder broke, which made me jump. Haymitch firmly grabbed my hand, knowing what was going through my mind. The storm in the arena of the Quarter Quell. One of my many, many triggers.
When we eventually reached back our house, we were all wet. Haymitch immediately went to light up the fireplace, so we can warm up. I picked up two towels from the first floor bathroom and started to dry myself with one of them.
"I think we should stay near the fire today. It's not that warm yet." Haymitch suggested and I agreed. He disappeared for a while and came back with several fluffy blankets and few pillows that he carefully laid on the floor in front of the fire. I shivered, because no matter how much I tried to dry myself, my clothes were soaked.
Haymitch noticed my discomfort and approached me with few quick steps.
"Are you cold?" he asked gently.
"Yes." I replied in yet another shiver. He removed his wet shirt, revealing his upper body – despite the long years of conscious abuse, he had somehow managed to stay very fit. He was standing so close to me, that I could see his muscles contract as he carefully removed my wet blouse and gently ran his palms over my cold arms.
"You should get dry first." he suggested. I exhaled in anticipation.
"Yes, I should." I managed to reply. His hands slowly moved to my pants and he carefully unbuttoned them, his gaze not leaving mine. Then he kneeled down in front of me and removed the last piece of wet clothing. I placed the tip of my fingers on his shoulder, careful not to lose balance, while I was stepping out of my pants. Once I was left in my underwear, I expected him to stand up on his feet, but instead I felt his gentle touch along my legs. I closed my eyes at the sensation and only opened them, when I realized that his lips were placing soft kisses on my disfigured torso. I immediately pulled back and covered myself with my arms. He had seen me naked hundreds of times so far, and yet I still couldn't feel comfortable knowing how hideous I look. He firmly grabbed my waist, still kneeling on the floor, and looked at me.
"Don't." he said in a quiet voice. "You are beautiful."
I shivered. Not from cold this time, but from the thought that he considered my damaged figure beautiful. Haymitch finally stood up and gently directed me towards the improvised bed in front of the fireplace. We laid there and the gentle touches were quickly accompanied by passionate kisses and soon, it wasn't cold that I was feeling, but fire. My body shivered from the ecstasy of his lovemaking and the scent of sweat filled the room. Soon our moans subsided into heavy breathing and after some time passed it was only the cracking of burning wood could be heard in the otherwise silent house. I was lying on his chest, tracing small circles on them, while his hands were wrapped around me in a protective manner.
"What are you thinking about?" Haymitch finally broke the silence.
I didn't answer immediately. It took me some time to collect my chaotic thoughts.
"About the past." I finally answered. I could feel Haymitch tensing underneath me.
"What about it?" he asked.
"How we ended up from there to here. How we came back to District Twelve, how you saved my life and made me realize that I love you." I realized my previous answer was lacking specificity, so I elaborated this time.
He didn't say anything. He just kissed my forehead gently and continued to caress the length of my arms.
"Thank you." I said before drifting away in my sleep.
So, I decided to go backwards on this one – first let's have a glimpse at Haymitch & Katniss's life right now and then see how they got there. I hope you like the story – please read & review!