Thank you javistg and xerxia31 for hosting this amazing fic exchange :) It's always been a great opportunity to start wirting different things ! I still remember the first fic I posted for the exchange :)
Thank you for the prompt, 567inpanem, I hope you're not disappointed in what I wrote. (I've never watched Seinfeld ;) )
And again thank you to xerxia31 for betaing this story so well. Your help made this story much better.
I'm dying. I can feel it. Life leaves my body, finger by toe. My heart will soon stop, and I'll finally join him. These last two years have been too difficult, too sad. Too empty.
I know they're gathered downstairs. I can hear them all. Children, grandchildren. I'm glad I've met them. I'm happy we made them.
The cold is taking more and more space inside of me. I'm not strong enough anymore.
I don't want to fight it.
Maybe, in death, I'll hold his hand again. Maybe we'll sit in the Meadow, watch our family live and laugh. Maybe he'll whisper in my ear, like he used to when we were younger.
Or maybe we'll just look at each other.
The cold is going to take me away …. I turn my head, and I see him looking at me, from the old armchair near the bed.
He extends his hand, I think he wants me to come with him ..
I take his hand. The cold is everywhere.
I'm dying.
I never thought there would be something scarier than giving birth. Or surviving a war and two Hunger Games.
But there's something even worse than suffering.
It's seeing someone you love deeply in pain.
Peeta holds my hand the whole time. I can see the distress in his eyes - so much like when I gave birth to Charlotte and Aiden. This time, though, it's different.
Because it's our little princess who is delivering, bringing her own child into this world.
Our little daughter, who once was a carefree kid, laughing and playing in the Meadow. Who grew up to be the kindest of big sisters, caring so much for others that her becoming a doctor was as natural as breathing.
And now, after a few years in a happy union, she's about to give birth.
And we're freaking out.
Not because we're becoming grandparents.
But because she's going to become a mother.
I exchange a look with Peeta, which says it all. We're in this together. Always.
We only break eye contact when we hear the waiting room door open.
Our son-in-law, eyes sparkling in what would have been a ridiculous outfit if we weren't too distracted to notice it (pink scrubs never look good on men) enters, announcing that the baby is here.
A girl, named Lily.
I start crying at the news.
He dies on a beautiful summer day.
For years, summers meant death and dread for him. Now, they mean afternoons spent in his backyard or ours, watching Charlotte and Aiden play with the animals we have. Our little farm, expanding with each passing year, along with his neverending flock of geese. Why he had so much, he never said.
He lived a tough life, full of tears, full of pain, full of loneliness.
We hope he had a happy ending, full of laughter, full of joy, with his adopted family.
Charlotte cries for days over the loss of her Grandpa.
Of course, Peeta agrees before I can say anything.
Just like every other time.
How I find myself with a cat, chicken, rabbits and a goat is beyond me.
But they make the children happy. Which makes Peeta happy.
Seeing my loved ones happy makes me happy too.
Hearing Haymitch complain about them is a bonus.
Having two kids makes everything different.
Only one thing still amazes me.
Love can't be divided.
It multiplies.
Charlotte comes into the world screaming.
It took me a long time to agree to having a child, but I finally caved. Our world has changed, to something I never dreamt of.
I never dreamt of having children before, but if the world can change, so can I.
Charlotte has my hair, and what I hope will be her father's eyes.
I'm happy I brought her into our lives. I feel at peace.
Haymitch has even quit drinking. I think he's found his peace, too.
-
It's a quiet morning and I'm feeling lazy. Peeta is asleep next to me, his arm resting on my belly.
He's protective, my Peeta. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to wake up yet.
I just want to bathe in his warmth.
I turn on my side, feel his hand slide to my back. I find my place on his chest.
I close my eyes.
I'm happy.
-
It's always harder on the anniversary of her death.
The first years, it felt like I was dying inside.
Today marks the tenth anniversary. Prim would be 24. She would be married. She would be worrying about her children's first reaping.
No mother will ever again have to worry about her children being sent to death.
Ever.
It helps with the pain. Time soothes all wounds, Peeta says.
He's right.
I still have bad days, but they are few and far between.
Maybe, in the end, it was worth it?
The first day is hard on Peeta. Opening a bakery that bears his family name in view of everybody, in front of the cameras, reminds him too much of what he has lost. What he'll never have again.
His family.
His parents and brothers.
I try to be as supportive as I can, even helping with the front counter. It's like people have come from all over the country to be part of the opening. But after a few minutes of people asking me more about our life as a couple rather than about bread, I let the staff we've hired manage the sales.
I can feel it's a tough day for Peeta, I can feel it in my bones.
I find him sitting on the steps of the back door, his gaze lost in the sky.
I know he misses them.
I know I'm nothing like they ever were to him.
I just know they are his past, when I can be his future.
I hug him.
We watch the sunset, watch the birds fly by.
We wait until he's ready. Until the tears are dried.
Then we go home, hand in hand.
-
It happens because it's where all the kissing and exploring leads us. It's not a date we've chosen, it's no particular day, it's nothing out of the ordinary.
Our hands wander a little more than usual. Mine like to trace his muscles, the firm lines that reappeared when he started making bread again. Lifting sacks of flour did his body good.
HeI can hear soft moans softly as my fingers linger on his chest, under his shirt. It's like he's as sensitive to my touch as I am when his hands are on me.
I don't know why today I feel bolder than usual. my mouth wants to taste his, or linger on his jaw, feel his pulse under my lips when they find his neck. Over and over again.
I thought I knew what hunger was until I hear his moans - they do something to me, break all the barriers.
They set me free.
He sets me free.
We find ourselves more adventurous than ever. Clothes are thrown away, hands wander again and again, touches become more intimate… until we're finally one.
It's short, it's rushed.
But we have a lot of time to practice.
So we practice.
He's back.
He came back.
I don't know why.
He's back.
Yesterday, he planted primroses around my house.
Primroses.
He made her come back.
Even when she couldn't.
She's everywhere now.
In every flower that will bloom.
In every whisper of the leaves.
She's back here.
With me.
He brought her back.
He brought me back.
My boy with the bread.
He saved me.
Again.
-
I hate the sun. It's scorching.
Even through the windows.
I haven't been outside in days.
Or weeks.
It's not important.
I just want to die.
Everyone left me.
Finnick died for me. He should have lived.
Mother - she couldn't even look me in the eye. She's in Four, I think.
I don't care.
Not anymore.
Gale- I can't even think about him.
Prim. My sweet little sister. She wasn't supposed to die.
Or maybe she was. Maybe it was her destiny all along.
Peeta - they keep him in the Capitol. I guess he'll never come back to me.
I'm nothing but scars and pain.
I'm worthless.
-
It's true, what they say.
When you die, you see your whole life passing in front of your eyes.
Mine has been so long… I was supposed to die at sixteen.
I never expected to survive the Hunger Games, much less a second one. Or a war.
I never thought I'd be one to believe in love.
Yet, I did.
For every loss, every pain I felt, happiness came my way. First with my boy with the bread, so many years ago. Then with my fellow tribute. Or the man I loved with all my heart. The one who held my hand when our children were born. The man who shared my life, through everything.
He was my past. He became my present.
Now we have all of eternity.
Together.
Always.