Pairings: Peeta Mellark x Katniss Everdeen
Timeline: Post-Epilogue
Warnings: Mild, disturbing scenes
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
Authors Note: I couldn't get this out of my head. Also, their children will be referred to as the girl and the boy, as I can't bring myself to name them without growing an attachment to these fictional names of fictional characters. If Suzanne Collins ever tells us their names, then I might change it. Anyways, enjoy.
.X.
The boy returns home late; Peeta is still out at the bakery. I don't bother to look up, knowing he'll speak to me if he has something to say. Lately when he comes home, he retires to his room and stays there until the girl brings him dinner.
I don't question it. All children need their space or at least that's what I tell myself. Peeta agrees, but I can see he worries.
"Mom," says the boy, wiping his feet on the mat. I turn to him, leaving the girl's hair in mid-braid. She huffs.
"What is it?" I ask. He flops to the floor in front of me, digging through his bag.
He mutters about homework; still looking. I wait patiently. This has garnered the girl's attention. Finally the boy tosses aside a book and pulls out an object wrapped in cloth. "I was out exploring in the woods and I found this."
I reach forward to unwrap the fabric with trembling fingers. The boy watches with a morbid fascination. The girl shrieks in terror and shrinks back against her chair. It's a fox foot.
"Where did you find this?" I demand. I have to cover it quickly for fear of my lunch resurfacing. Memories I've forced away prod at the corners of my mind.
The boy grins, "I told you. In the woods. And let me tell you, Mom, I couldn't believe it. How often do you find that in the woods?"
For a terrible moment, I don't recognize my son. His features are that of a stranger. He reminds me of the Careers. I thrust away the paw and the slight quiver in my stomach is enough to make me burst into tears.
My children stare at me in shock but I can't even see them. The games are back. Tormented faces of those I've killed. Tears on a girl's face I couldn't save. Rage in the eyes of a hijacked baker. A sound of a maniac laughing. Fingers around my throat.
The girl leaves. Leaves to find Peeta or Haymitch, the only two people in the world that could soothe me at this time. The boy stays, pulling out the paw to gaze at. I can't find the strength to cover it up and throw it away. All I find myself doing to protect my children is cry.
I'm not sure how long I just sit and cry, but it's long enough for Peeta to burst through the door. He sees it instantly, I know he does. Peeta crosses the room, barking at the boy to get rid of it. He's ignored.
Peeta draws me into his arms as if to protect me. It's too late. The damage is done. My worst fear has been confirmed. The boy must know now; yet I fear his fascination stemmed from the womb.
"Go to your room," snaps Peeta, "and leave that dammed thing here." The boy clambers off. Peeta's warm smell wraps around me. His chest is blocking the view. I cannot thank him enough for that.
"Oh, Peeta," I sob, "it's happening. I can't protect him anymore. Is it my fault? Should we have told him sooner about the games and the rebellion? He's so enthralled by it; I don't know what we should do." I love them so much, the boy and the girl, and I've failed them.
Peeta runs his hand over my head, "We've done our best, Katniss. We would have had to tell them sooner or later. I'm sorry." His words do the opposite of what he originally intended. A guilty feeling sweeps through me. After a day of working he has to come home to this ordeal?
"I'm sorry," I say brokenly, "it's not every day you come home and see that on the table." Peeta says nothing, opting to kiss my forehead.
"Rest, Katniss. I'll get rid of it," Peeta tells me firmly. Part of me wants to disagree that I'm fine. Though the rational part of me, the part that knows I'll cry harder if I see it again, forces me to agree. With the help of Peeta, I stand.
I catch of glimpse of it again before he obscures my vision. There's blood on our table. My throat catches and I have to bite down on my tongue to keep the tears at bay. Coopery liquid flows down my throat.
He leaves me in our bedroom and I curl up on the bed. I can hear Peeta moving about down the hall to dispose of it.
The door opens. It's the boy. "Mom… I'm sorry," he chokes out. I roll over and hold out my arms to him. We'll cry together. He hurries to me, squeezing me in his grip. His thin arms cling to me like he's afraid I'll fly away. I've been through worse.
We seem to be apologising a lot this evening. I shush him, kissing his cheek. His flaxen hair brushes against my chin.
"It's okay," I tell him. I'm calm. Calm. Very Calm. "Don't worry about it."
"Then why are you so upset?" he murmurs.
I have to remind myself he's still a child and doesn't understand. It makes me resent myself. "Memories of horrific events," I say. He needs to know. "Your father and I will tell you, I promise. But please, for tonight, don't speak about it again. Don't go looking for it again either."
The boy is quiet and I think he gets it. I think this until he speaks. He speaks and I have to muffle my sobs against the crown of his head.
"I won't bring hands home again, Mom. I swear. Besides, it was just a game, Mom."
.X.
Was Katniss in character or did I totally butcher her? Or did I make her cry too much? Ah well… If you don't get it, feel free to message me and hopefully I can explain. Ask as many questions as you want and I'll try to reply. Anyways, thanks for reading!
~Emerald~