Just a little one-shot I did recently when I felt I needed something Everlark-positive in the middle of my multi-chapter stories =)
When the five year anniversary of the fall of the Capitol Regime draws near I get a special offer courtesy of President Paylor. She will lift my confinement to District 12 and allow me to travel freely in the country under the condition that my first trip is to the Capitol to film an interview for a memorial program. To my own surprise I find it difficult to decide how to respond. I've been okay with staying in Twelve where we can live in something resembling peace and quiet and it's always been home to me. The desire to travel around the districts as a tourist is completely absent in Peeta and myself, both of us feeling like we did that already on the Victory Tour and we don't need to be reminded. Having the confinement lifted as a reward for doing an interview, the exact kind of thing I've been avoiding these past five years, seems like gaining an awful little for something I'm not interested in doing.
But the more I think about it the more I begin to have second thoughts. I can't deny that it would be nice to be able to visit my mother and see how she lives nowadays. I would like to see where Annie lives with hers and Finnick's son. I would like to visit Johanna Mason and see the woods of Seven which she can't seem to shut up about. There's even a small part of me that's interested in seeing what the Capitol looks like now.
Doing an interview doesn't seem so bad. Not when it's just the one interview and it's part of a larger program, meaning all focus is not on me as the Mockingjay. Plutarch has explained to me in detail over the phone how he imagines the memorial program and it seems like a respectful mix of honouring those who made sacrifices and shining a light on what has become better over the years. Plutarch wants me, Peeta and Haymitch to do a short interview each and he makes no mentioning of a star-crossed lovers segment. Nobody outside District 12 has really seen Peeta or me since the war ended, other than in the odd paparazzi shot here or there, and I wonder sometimes what they think of the two of us now. When we were last in the public eye Peeta was still suffering severely from the effects of hijacking and was seen on television throwing a member of our own squad into a pod whilst trying to kill me. I was the one who went even crazier and murdered President Coin instead of President Snow. Some people must think we're broken, insane shells of human beings and I find myself wanting to show them how wrong they are. That we are quite happy and fairly adjusted, all things considered. That the star-crossed lovers were fake but Katniss and Peeta are for real.
So I talk it over with Peeta and then agree to the offer on the table. To my own surprise I find myself feeling just a little bit excited about the prospect of leaving the district and even of the chance to get to speak in public strictly from my own heart and mind, with nobody pulling the strings or telling me what to say or do.
"Sit here, Katniss" a young cameraman instructs me. He spent the first thirty minutes of our acquaintance calling me Miss Everdeen, then the following forty-five calling me Mrs. Mellark before I finally convinced him I was most comfortable being called Katniss. "Right here, on the rock."
Obeying orders I take a seat on a large, moss-clad rock in the middle of the beautiful garden we are in. It's a hospital garden, laid out right next to the building where the tributes used to be prepared for the Games. It was decided to be fitting that that particular building be made into a children's hospital after the war, though it's still in the process of being remade. To me it sounds like a horrifying place to treat sick and wounded children but I see the reasoning behind it. The garden has been planted as a place for sick children and their families to get some air, tranquillity and sunlight.
Today the garden has been closed off for the interviews with the former victors. Surprisingly they were able to gather all of us, except for Enobaria. Plutarch wants all of us to be here at once, one person at a time being interviewed while the others interact with each other in the background. He speaks for almost five minutes about the imagery of seeing the other victors behind whomever is speaking, even if they are out of focus. He's also making sure to film everything the bigger group does, in case something noteworthy or heart-warming takes place. Johanna suggested that Peeta and I could, in her words, "practice procreation" under the shade of a tree or something to help boost the ratings. I choose to believe she was joking.
The interviews are being done in order of victory. Even though the interview segments themselves are meant to be short it takes quite a while to set everything up for each one since they want each of us in a different place of the garden, and they film more material than they plan to use. It is already well past lunch by the time I sit down to shoot my bit as the second-to-last person of the day.
My interviewer today is a man named Ares Falco, a man I recognize from various TV programs and whom I've always liked since he seems very thorough, friendly and like he takes the material he's working with seriously and treats it with respect. Mostly he hosts programs on history, talking about the time periods that came long before Panem. I'm glad they asked him to do the interviews instead of getting Caesar Flickerman, or somebody like him.
"Just relax and make yourself comfortable" says Ares, sitting down in a fold chair opposite me. "We're going to start by just chatting for a minute or two so they can check the audio. Then I'll move on to asking you some questions. If any question feels too private or too difficult or you just don't want to answer it then let me know and we will move on. Does this seem alright to you?"
"Yes" I nod, feeling nervous and a touch odd as someone comes up and tilts my face in a different direction to see if the lighting is better like that.
"Good. So, are you having a good day so far?"
"It's been nice" I say with a nod. "The weather is lovely."
We chat about the weather for a few minutes and I begin to relax a little, feeling like I'm in safe hands with him. He doesn't mention anything to me about his personal feelings about the Games or the war, which I appreciate. Since we arrived here many people have come up to us and wanted to tell us what they think and feel about it all and to say that I, or Peeta, or sometimes Haymitch, is their all-time favourite victor. The fact that Ares doesn't makes me respect him. He's not here to be able to say he's interviewed the Mockingjay. He's just here to do a job.
"Okay, it's time to start the actual interview now" he says when he gets the good-to-go sign from the sound people.
"Okay" I nod.
He proceeds to ask me about my life nowadays, about what things are like in District 12 and how I feel being back in the Capitol. He never so much as mentions all the juicy details of my past public life like the Hunger Games and my role as the Mockingjay. All he seems interested in is the person I am today and even then he doesn't dig deeper into my personal life than I am comfortable with.
I know he's got three special questions which he will save until the end. He's asked all of the other victors those questions and for some of us those answers will be the only thing they air on TV. Before he begins with those questions he pauses and tells me that they are coming, so that I can be prepared.
"Looking back now, was it worth it?"
The question actually brings a small smile to my face because it seems so obvious at first what the answer is. Then I begin to think about it and the smile fades.
"It's a difficult question" I answer. "I… I don't know if I can answer it. It seems so obvious that the answer should be yes but when I think of my sister, and my friends who died, and the nightmares I still have…" I turn my face away and Ares gives me a moment to gather my composure. When he speaks again he's moved on to the next question, apparently deeming my answer complete and acceptable.
"What have you learned in the five years that have gone by?"
"I have learned a lot" I say. "Most of all I think I've learned that life can go on again. That even with all the tragedies and the deaths and the despair there can still be happiness. There can still be good things. I guess I've learned to trust to hope, which I was never very good at before."
"And finally, Katniss… What do you want for the future? For you."
I smile slightly again. Behind me I can hear the faint sounds of the others talking and one of the voices that really stands out belongs to Annie's son, four and half years old. I can hear him saying something and Peeta's laughter following it. The smile on my face grows warmer, wider.
"I want to grow old with him" I say. "With Peeta. That's really the whole all. To have a normal life away from the cameras and the attention. You know, the kind of life people have always been supposed to have, free of Hunger Games and oppression. Just Peeta and I going through our lives from day to day and getting to reach my old age with him still there beside me." I turn my head and see Peeta on the ground playing with Annie's boy, both of them laughing, and my heart fills with how wonderful he is. Then I do something I normally would never do. I open my heart to Ares and the camera, just a little bit, and dress in words some of the feelings that are such an essential part of me now. "Look at him. The best man in the world has married me and given his life to me." A goofy grin spreads across my face. "I get to be the one who makes him happy. I just want to enjoy that and be thankful for that and live my life with him. To live in normality, like any other person who is in love."
There's a pause where Ares seems to wait to see if I will say anything else, but I am done. Some people could probably monologue for hours about the person they are in love with but that is not me. My feelings are too private and my ability to put them into words is far too lacking to ever do them justice. What I've just said is enough, the rest of the world doesn't need to know more than that. Peeta knows it all, and that's what counts.
Six weeks later I'm sitting on the couch at home, flipping through the channels. The rain is pouring down outside and since we don't need fresh meat I saw no reason to leave the house. Peeta would have stayed home also but Buttercup has been in a fight recently and came home with a big wound on his ear that has begun to smell and spew puss and last night we decided it was time we took him to the veterinarian. I asked if Peeta could do it by himself, since any profession that deals with healing or handing out drugs reminds me far too much of my mother and sister and I'm not entirely comfortable with it. Peeta agreed, so long as I took the job of shoving Buttercup into the transportation cage we bought for him for cases of emergency. My arms and hands are full of scratch marks but after putting up a valiant struggle Buttercup finally ended up in the cage, hissing and spitting at me and then meowing sorrowfully at Peeta. He knows which one to direct anger at and which one responds better to pleads of sympathy. Not that it did him any good today.
They've been gone for an hour and a half so I'm expecting them home soon. Once they get here we'll make lunch and then perhaps work on the plant book or read out loud to each other. Peeta doesn't bake on the days when I stay at home, not unless he's got a specific order to complete.
As I flip through the channels I can't seem to find anything that catches my interest. Then suddenly I catch a glimpse of myself and I go back a few channels to find it, having pressed the channel button a bit too eagerly before. It's the memorial documentary, I realize. We never bothered to see it and declined the offer to have a copy sent to us. I know it's been shown on reruns once or twice in the short time that has passed since it originally aired but this is the first time I've caught any of it.
When I find the right channel the clip playing is Peeta answering the first of Ares' three big questions. I allow myself a brief moment of appreciating how nice he looks on camera, his blonde curls catching the sunlight and his eyes almost ridiculously blue thanks to the way they've dressed him and done his makeup. It's been a long while since I last saw him dolled up this way.
"Was it worth it…?" Peeta muses, slouching forward a bit where he sits on a bench in the garden, the out-of-focus shapes of Beetee and Haymitch talking to each other in the background. "I think… Looking at it from a larger perspective of course it was worth it. We all know that. We have brighter futures and freedom and the beginnings of real equality and above all there are no more Hunger Games. For us as a species it's been a huge victory and something that's truly good. But for those of us who made the sacrifices…" He looks down and shakes his head a little before returning his captivating eyes to meet with Ares' off-screen. "I don't think it was worth it for us. My whole family was murdered. The things they did to me, the things they forced me to do… All of us have similar stories, something that was taken away which we can never have back. So the answer is both yes and no."
The program continues with other clips but I find myself sitting there thinking about what he just said. How his answer to the question was everything I wanted to say in mine but couldn't figure out. I wonder if maybe the only person in this whole program who can make people understand what it was all about and is all about today is Peeta.
I'm lost in thoughts about this until he comes back on screen and my attention goes back to him. They just showed Johanna answering the question of what she wants for her own future and now it's Peeta's turn. His reply is intercut with my own on a few places, and also with Annie's at one point, which makes it a touch tricky to follow but I suddenly remember that they sent us copies of our own interviews for approval before they aired. I jump to my feet and spend the next few minutes searching for the tape with growing frustration. When I finally find it, hidden away in a box full of various junk we've been sent from the Capitol over the years, I eagerly put it in the player and select Peeta's interview, skipping ahead to get to that one question and answer.
"I want to bake" he says. "I want to paint. I want to live and breathe and be myself and not who anybody else tries to make me be. And I want to do it all with Katniss nearby. I want to do all the things I enjoy doing and I want to watch her do the things she enjoys and most of all I want to do the things we enjoy together. I've done enough big and important and noteworthy things in my life. I don't have to do anything else like that. Sorry if it's not the most inspiring answer but I don't know what else to tell you." He shrugs and smiles. "I want to live an ordinary life with the most extraordinary woman I know."
You can hear the mumblings of the camera crew after that and Ares Falco thanking Peeta and telling him they're done. Peeta smiles crookedly and then turns his head and looks at something off-screen. I sit there on the couch feeling a tug in my heart and an unexpected warmth flowing through me. Watching Peeta and hearing his answer to the question has touched my heart in a way that overcomes me every now and then, usually when I remember how close I came to losing him and his love forever and how his feelings for me are a gift and nothing to take for granted. Usually when that feeling comes over me we are making love and I seem to be stricken out of nowhere by the thought of how easily Snow could have prevented me from ever having this. It's almost always followed by thoughts of how blessed I feel to have his love and how I would be lost without it.
Before I can get too wrapped up in myself and in this feeling I hear the front door opening and the bellowing meow of a very unhappy cat. Quickly, as if I've been doing something shameful or forbidden, I reach for the remote and turn the tape and the television off. I hear Peeta talking to the cat and then Buttercup makes a noise followed by him racing into the sitting room, wet as a rag and looking so miserable and indignant that it makes me laugh. He stops in front of the fireplace and complains loudly when he notices that there's no fire going. Taking pity on him I get up and walk over there, shoving him aside so that I can get a fire going.
"Poor old ugly wet cat" I say.
"They had to shave him a bit to get access to the wound" says Peeta behind me. "I promised him you wouldn't make fun of him for that."
I look over my shoulder to get a glimpse of him while I work on starting the fire. His curls are wet and he shakes his head a bit, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. My eyes then go to the cat, who does indeed have a bald spot right by his ear. The rest of Buttercup is as soaking wet as Peeta's hair.
"Still raining, huh?" I say.
"Yeah, and our furry companion wouldn't hold still in the cage so it tipped back and forth while I was carrying it" answers Peeta. "Consequently he's now as wet as my hair."
The fire starts to cackle and I put more firewood on it before backing away, allowing Buttercup room to sit close to it and get warm. He furiously licks his wet coat and makes grumbling noises all the while.
"But his ear is all better now?" I ask.
"Yep. Should be fine."
He walks over to me and playfully buries his face in my neck, shaking his head again so I'm splashed with his wet hair. I yelp and give him a shove but his laughter along with what I saw in the interview makes it impossible for me to be mad at him. Instead I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me.
"Uh oh" he says. "Retaliation time?"
"Thank you for taking the cat to the vet" I say, giving him a kiss. "And for everything else you do."
"My pleasure" he smiles. He plants a kiss on my lips and then walks out of my arms, grabbing his shirt to pull it over his head. His mind is clearly on how he got cold in the rain and poor Buttercup's ear but removing his clothes only makes the hunger inside me rise even more. "I'm going to go upstairs and change."
"How about I draw you a bath?" I suggest.
"Yeah?" His eyebrows are raised in questioning but he looks happy at the offer.
"Yeah" I say. I walk closer to him and run my finger across his chest with a smirk. "Anything to get you to take your clothes off."
He laughs, still apparently thinking we're just jesting with each other but following me eagerly up the stairs. I draw a bath for him while he tells me the details of the trip to the vet and then he finishes taking his clothes off. While he sinks into the water I hang his wet garments up to dry and then I take my own clothes off and join him in the tub, sitting down opposite him. For the moment my arousal has dimmed just a touch and right now I feel I just want emotional closeness with him. Physical closeness will follow once we are out of the tub. There's less water to dry up from the floor if we hold off on sex until the bath is over, plus I like the idea of drying him off in a very slow and deliberate manner.
"Having a good day?" asks Peeta with a smile, sensing my frame of mind even if he doesn't see the full depth of it just yet.
"Yeah" I say. "You know, I've been thinking about those interviews in the garden."
"What about them?"
"Specifically, the final question… What we want to do with our lives…"
"And?"
"And I just want to continue to love you. That's pretty much all I want. Everything else that happens is just a bonus."
He smiles warmly at me, takes my foot in his hand and lifts it to his mouth. He places a kiss on the tip of each toe and I try not to recoil when it tickles.
"I wouldn't mind it if you love me for the rest of your life" he says casually. "So okay. I'll allow it."
Making a face I splash some water at him and he laughs, the sound bringing that feeling to my heart again. I know tonight I might have a terrible nightmare or tomorrow I might be overcome with the guilt and the loss and all the other burdens I live with but today none of that can steal the focus. Today the only thing that I will be able to think of and focus on is the man in the tub with me, and of how there are no doubt countless other days like this in our future.