Children of the Mockingjay
By narniagirl11
The scenery flies past quickly as the train races towards the Capitol. Peeta sits beside me, our hands intertwined. Across from us sit two empty chairs that should have been filled by Haymitch and Effie Trinket. Haymitch chose to stay home from this excursion. His health has been steadily declining. Peeta claims that it's from his years of drinking. Effie will be joining us once we reach the Capitol.
A noise draw me from my contemplating and I turn to watch as my children scramble from their seats and press their faces against the window glass as they try to catch their first glimpse of the Capitol. They have never been here before, and Peeta and I haven't ever said much about it. There are too many harmful memories. I turn away from the window. If it weren't for this special ceremony celebrating the 20th anniversary of the rebellion and the collapse of the Capitol as we knew it, I would never have come back.
"Look," Peeta whispers and I don't want to. But it's not the Capitol he wants me to see. It's our children. They are both nearly grown now – the girl is seventeen and the boy a year younger. I watch as my son lifts his hand to wave as we speed past the crowds of people traveling towards the same place we are.
"He looks like you," I tell Peeta and he smiles. It's true. The boy has his father's fair hair and bright eyes. Peeta thinks that he has my nose, but that's silly. He looks nothing like me. On the other hand, my daughter is very much like me. Her dark hair and facial shape are mirrors of my own. Even her fiery temper comes from me. But then her eyes! Her eyes are just like Peeta's, even more so than her brother's. All three sets of those eyes are fixed on me now.
"Mama, we're here," my daughter says.
"Yes, thank you," I say as I stand up. Through the window I can see the crowd cheering; cheering, but not in the way they did when Peeta and I answered for the 74th Hunger Games. I clutch Peeta's hand as he leads me to the door.
"Smile," he says as the doors open.
I put on a smile and even manage to wave a couple times to the crowd. But though the cameras snap, much of the attention focuses on the two behind us. My children follow us, holding their heads high, but their eyes roam everywhere, soaking in the sights.
The paparazzi parts as Effie hurries to join us. She greets Peeta and I with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then she hobbles forward in her heels to take the hands of my children. She smiles widely.
"You look just like your parents!" she exclaims and throws us a winning smile over her shoulder. She slides in between the boy and girl and leads them past us towards the waiting car. "And what are your names, darlings?" she asks.
"Finn Mellark, and this is my sister, May," the boy answers in his firm way.
Effie smiles. She recognizes the names; Finn in honor of Finnick Odair, and May in honor of Maysilee Donner, one of the District 12 tributes and my mother's friend. Both were tributes in the Games. Maysilee was killed in the Second Quarter Quell. Finnick won the 65th Hunger Games and he also survived the Third Quarter Quell, only to be killed by mutts in the Capitol.
Peeta had wanted to name our daughter Primrose after my beloved sister, but I don't think I could have borne the constant reminder of her death. So I suggested the name Maysilee instead to honor the fallen tribute's memory and that of Madge, her niece and my friend.
Effie ushers us all into the car and we are whisked away.
I move my hands in front of me, smoothing the burgundy fabric in the skirt of my dress. It is rough to my touch. It's nothing like the wondrous gowns that Cinna designed. I have changed since then, in spirit and in body, and my mockingjay suit no longer fits. It hangs in my closet, faded by time and use. For this occasion I have simply chosen a dark dress. Nothing fancy.
I fidget, watch the great doors in front of me. I'm in Snow's mansion. Paylor claimed it when she became president so the mansion is pretty much the same condition as it was twenty years ago. Improvements and changes have been made here and there, but it is still familiar. I stare at the doors leading outside, remembering back to the day that I killed Coin. I lose myself in my memories and don't really notice when footsteps approach me from behind.
"Hey Catnip."
I jump, the voice taking me by complete surprise. It's him. I'm not sure why I'm surprised it's him because I knew that he would be here. Perhaps it's because of the friendly tone in his voice and the teasing nickname. We certainly weren't friends when we last parted.
"Hey Gale," I answer quietly, hoping my voice doesn't tremble as I turn around.
"It's been a long time since we spoke," he mentions.
"Yeah." I look down at my feet, avoiding his gaze. We stand there awkwardly, neither of us knowing what to say next. I look back up, studying him. He's dress smartly in a dark brown suit, his hair combed over. At first glance, his face looks the same, but he is older. There are creases in his face that weren't there before.
"So, shouldn't Peeta be with us?" Gale asks. "After all, he was part of our mission."
I shake my head. "They didn't consider him to be important enough to the war to honor him. He says that he doesn't mind."
Gale smiles a bit. I turn back towards the doorway, wondering if I'll spot Peeta in the crowd. I want to know where he is in case something happens. After 20 years, I'm still nervous about trusting the safety of the Capitol. I don't fully trust Gale anymore either.
Gale. He's talking again.
He clears his throat. "Katniss, I-I, uh," he stammers, trying to find the right words. "I just want to say that I'm- that I'm, um, well, sorry for what happened here all those years ago, and I'd really like to be friends again."
I bite my lip. Friends? Part of me doeswant to be friends again. His invitation sounds so easy. Just pretend it never happened. But I can't. I can't forgive him. If he hadn't designed those bombs then Prim would probably still be here! I can't let that fact slide so easily. No. We can't be friends. Never again.
But he's waiting for an answer.
"I-I'll think about it," I falter. Thankfully I'm saved from having to say anything else by the appearance of President Paylor and the others who have been deemed "heroes of the war."
Paylors greets us and pushes open the doors. I find myself part of a line, moving through the doors, through the crowd that is being held back. A long platform has been erected in the center of the square and we step on to it, arranging ourselves carefully. Gale slips into a place next to me. I take a step away, distancing us. I look out at the crowd, searching, as Paylor begins to speak. I spot Finn and May and Peeta. They are close to me, just beyond the edge of the platform, in a small, roped-off section which appears to be for the families of the honored heroes.
My eyes wander the crowd as I tune out Paylor's speech. A man in front captures my gaze. He's fidgeting with something in his coat. I can't see what it is until it catches a ray of sunlight.
Beside me, I see Gale suddenly tense.
It's a gun.
A small pistol.
Before I can blink, the gun is leveled, cocked, and the trigger pulled. It fires, echoing with hatred in the silence of the crowd's shock and horror. I have no chance to do anything before—
Author's note: Well, this is my very first Hunger Games fanfic. Let me know what you think of it! Do you want more?