A/N I know guys, two hunger game fics in one night, I have no answers for you. I don't really know what compelled me to write this. I've been too much in my everlark feels ever since I watched Mockingjay Part 2 a couple of weeks ago. I hope you enjoy xx


She remembers like it was yesterday.

She'd been teaching for two years prior and knew what the first day of school for children entailed. So she had extra tissue sitting on her wooden desk, special pencils, and a bright smile as she welcomed her fresh class of fifteen inside her classroom.

She was twenty-seven and her parents were horrified that she wasn't married yet. Her mother and father had insisted she do something more practical, more tradeworthy. And she had told them that just because she was merchant and her parents owned the shoe store in town meant nothing to her. She would do what she loved.

And she made sure that she looked bright. A genuine, white smile on her porcelain face, a bright blue dress, and a nametag sitting upon her breastbone reading Miss Sinclair - though she knew most of them could hardly read yet and she'd be patiently repeating her name for a good week or so. But she remembered every child that came through.

She especially remembered those two.

They'd been the last to come to class as the rest of the children excitedly put their lunches away in their cubbies or chatted with newfound friends.

The little seam girl with the red dress clutched her father's hand so tightly, the teacher could see the veins popping out against his olive skin, but her father had a steady smile as he led her to the door.

"Hello," Miss Sinclair had hummed, bending down to smile at the frightened girl. "What's your name?"

Her father lightheartedly chuckled when she hid into the back of his legs and pressed her face against them. "Her name is Katniss."

The blond woman joyfully gasped. "Like the plant?" At that, Katniss slowly ducked her head around her father's legs as he brought her back in front of him. "They're my favorite you know."

"Did you hear that, Kat?" He opened his eyes and raised his voice an octave. "Miss-" he took a quick peek at the nametag she wore. "Sinclair loves Katniss plants!"

At that, Katniss had apprehensively raised her thick eyebrows and turned to face the teacher; her red dress swishing at her scabbed knees as she played with her hands. "You do?" her high voice piped up.

Miss Sinclair grinned at the progress. "Sure I do!" She held out her hand. "Tell you what, Katniss, how about you let your daddy go and we keep talking?"

Katniss scrunched her forehead, glancing at her father. "Go ahead, sweetie. I'll be back soon," he reassured her, brushing back her black bangs. This was the moment of truth, it didn't often work with every child, but she had a feeling it would work with this one.

"Okay," Katniss huffed, taking her teacher's hand. Miss Sinclair took her light lunch bag and led her inside the classroom sharing an amused look with her father. He kissed her goodbye and was out the door.

Before she could second guess her decision, the teacher aimed on distracting the little girl until she found her place. And she did rather quick, drawing a picture with another girl who shared the same toothy smile.

The little blond boy was much easier.

He was practically skipping with his father in tow, she'd never seen a child so happy. Well, he did have a rather loving father. Most people in the district knew Aaron Mellark. Kind and giving, it was hard not to. However, it was the first time she'd actually met his youngest son.

"Good morning Eve," he'd said brightly when he caught up.

"Hello Aaron," she'd smiled and then focused on the child, bouncing - along with his curls. "And what's your name, honey?"

"Peeta!" He'd chirped and she bit her lip to keep from laughing at his joy.

"Are you excited?" And she was sure he was going to strain his neck by his fervent nodding. "Well, I'm excited that you're excited. We're going to have lots of fun today Peeta."

After saying the most dismissive goodbye she'd ever heard coming from a five year old, she had watched in amusement as he ran into the classroom.

As the day went on, he didn't notice her. Not at first. It was when Eve had gathered them on the carpet and asked which one of them knew the valley song and Katniss' hand shot up as she stood and sung the melody that his face went slack.

After that, he was silent, watching her do her classwork, count, laugh. And when she had asked him for a brown crayon to finish her tree, he had frozen, turning as red as a tomato until she, annoyed, grabbed it from him anyway.

Like before, they were the last to leave. And as the teacher busied herself, cleaning the room and smiling to herself in congratulations on a very good day, did she see Aaron point Katniss out to Peeta. She hadn't heard the conversation, and thought nothing of it.

Never could she have foreseen what was coming or what that conversation would mean in the years to come.


She had frozen when she learned of who was reaped that day, eleven years later.

She didn't have to attend the reaping because she had no children. She wasn't married. Her mother resented her for it but she was devoted to the children she taught and that was enough.

The Hunger Games was a disgusting thing for everyone in the districts. For parents. But especially for teachers. They nurtured children year after year, saw them grow and learn and excel. A lottery where children were robbed from that, robbed from life was enough to make Eve shudder every year. She never watched the games, but this year, she did.

She watched Katniss almost get her head bashed in by the tribute from District 2.

She watched as Peeta almost died in the cave.

But most importantly, she watched with a shaking hand on her mouth, as Peeta told Katniss about their first day of school. About how their teacher had proposed the song and Peeta had fell in love and been in love ever since. About how his father had pointed Katniss out all those years ago.

Eve sat in her home with tears running down her face. She had been there for all of that and she hadn't known how much of an impact it would have.

They returned home a couple of months later.


The first wave of bombings came when she was home sick in bed. A substitute took over the class; she needed a day for herself. She knew what the others didn't; that this sickness that had appraised her was really a child. She was pregnant out of wedlock and her parents had disowned her for it, but at thirty eight, those words did nothing but grown an even more bitter seed in her heart towards them.

It was one night of lust and misunderstanding but she planned to keep it. Possibly move to a new district; start fresh.

She had felt the eerie silence before the ground shook and bright, red, flames erupted near a house minutes away from her.

It had taken her a moment to fully understand what was happening, and a moment to run from her little home in town and into the street.

It was complete chaos. Seam folk and merchants alike were running wildly, screaming, sobbing. There was blood. Lots of blood. The air was thick with black smoke even though it was day time, and she froze.

The school.

The children.

Her mind was blank as her feet carried her towards them. It was like a game, every obstacle that could deter her did but she went around it, coughing like mad when she stumbled upon the remnants of what was Mellark Bakery. She kept going and when the building was in sight, the steady growing sound of a whistle filled the air and someone threw her back onto the stone before the school was blown to bits.

She was shaking as she tried to stand, her ears ringing, but she fell back onto her knees. The children the children the children was a mantra running wildly through her brain. Macy had her presentation today. It was Jack's turn to feed the class bunny. The children the children the children.

"We have to move!" A surly voice barked, rough hands moving her back and she was limp in his arms from shock. "You have to leave it, we have to go!" She weakly turned her head to the tall and dark seam man behind a large crowd of remaining people.

He was right. There was nothing left. Ashes. Dust. Nothing. So she put one foot in front of the other until she was in the woods, hiding in the brush of the trees, until she stopped hearing the hum of the hovercraft. Until bombs ceased. Until when nightfall, they were saved.

A week later, she sat in a District 13 bathroom in her assigned compartment, sobbing. A pool of blood soaking through her grey pants. Screaming in pain of the baby she was losing. Of the children, the innocent lives the Capitol had taken once again.


It was the first day.

Eve busily straightened the cubbies and set out the coloring books. She checked that there were extra tissues on her desk as if it hadn't been almost twenty years ago that she was teaching again.

Thom had insisted on a school for the new District. It was the first building rebuilt but it was months before they could reopen. He'd remembered her, remembered that she had returned to her home just as he did and asked her if she could resume the familiar position. She wasn't young anymore, and more white hair cascaded along her back than blond. Her eyes crinkle when she smiled and it she moved around a bit slower. But nevertheless, here she was

When she had first entered the doors, she had to leave again, fisted her hand in her mouth as the familiar sting washed over her like it did all those years ago. She saw the ghosts of the students that should have grown up, should have married, should have been happy but didn't. It helped that her classroom wasn't in the same area it was before. It helped that it was much more colorful than anything District 12 would have ever been able to afford in the past.

The children came in one by one and she greeted the parents, leading the nervous kids into the room to play with toys or the various other activities she had set out for them. And later, it was almost time for the class to begin but she was missing one so she waited.

Sure enough, she heard them come in and turned around when - she saw them. He was older now, big and stocky, but his face was still kind. His curls still bounced. And she was darker. Tired. Eve could see her father in her. She could see both their fathers in them.

They recognized her and he smiled, crouching in front of their daughter.

"Willow," he had said. "Miss Sinclair was my teacher when I was your age."

The little girl, with his eyes and her thick, dark eyebrows crinkled her nose. "Really?

"Yes, dear," Eve's voice was older, softer. It cracked when she spoke. "A very long time ago."

Willow's eyes lit up and she grabbed her mother's knee, looking up at her. "She asked you to sing the valley song!"

Katniss brushed her daughter's black bangs back along her forehead - Eve felt a pang - and then looked at her teacher. "She did," she looked Eve, nodded at her once. Thank you it seemed to say. "She brought daddy and I together."

The song. The berries. The love, the love, the love. She had brought them love. She had brought them together. Eve smiled, a watery smile. Because that is all she had ever wanted to do. Bring love to such a dark place.

She had been sure to teach the Valley Song that day in class.

And after, when the children had waved her goodbye. When the books and toys and supplies were put away. When the last of the chairs were pushed in. She looked around the empty classroom and sighed. An elated, content, sad sigh. She apologized to the ghosts of the children that she couldn't save. Forgave the parents who didn't accept her. And let it go. But she held on to the memory because it was the first day. And her heart was full.


A/N There it is, full circle. Thanks for reading :)