Author's note: This is my first fanfic. This is literally the first time I've even attempted it. Constructive criticism welcomed and appreciated, but please be nice! I'll also take ideas or requests for other fanfics (I love The Hunger Games, Spring Awakening, Law and Order: SVU and House M.D). Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy it! I know it's a little short, but the scene itself would have been short, since they are only allowed a few minutes with the tributes. I may decide to include more of his point of view during the games or when Katniss and Peeta return based on whether anyone wants me to continue or not.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Hunger Games and its characters belong to Suzanne Collins. Except uh, I'll take the chocolate chip cookies... I'll just take those with me *shoves cookies in mouth and runs away*
"I shouldn't have come..." is all that is in my mind. The two peacekeepers in the room stay stone- faced as I fidget nervously with the bundle in my hands. After the reaping I had run to the bakery, searching the kitchen for a treat to bring, an item that would justify my visit to her. I had passed by the delicately frosted cookies of Peeta's in favor of a few chocolate chip. No, I would hide Peeta's last beautiful dessert creations and cherish them. His mother will surely try to sell them now ("Buy a real tribute's handiwork!" the shop sign will say tomorrow). Now, as I sit here in the waiting room I am doubting my decision to come. Perhaps I should leave. What connection do I have to this child anyways? My mind wills my legs to stand, to leave this room. But, no. I am drawn here by my love of her mother and the joyful personality of her sister.
Every day this fiery girl brought me squirrels and every day I noted the subtle features of her mother, but seeing her faced with the Games they are more heartbreaking to me now. "Her mother..."I suck in a sharp breath. Her pain must be greater than most in her situation. She won't just be losing a child, but their primary caregiver. Perhaps I'll sneak them bread the days that my wife goes to town to purchase baking supplies.
Katniss has got her father's bravery, though. The intensity, determination and love for her sister that were thick in her voice when she volunteered had hit me in the heart. She's going to win. I knew in that moment. She loves Prim, really who doesn't? She's a marvelous child with a glowing smile, the spitting image of her mother as a youngster. Her empathy is beyond her years, though, which makes her more than just a cute little girl. How will little Prim get through this? After a number of pain staking moments I'm led into a small room with plush furniture, still clutching the paper wrapped cookies. If she's surprised by my appearance she doesn't show it, instead she stares at me unblinking. I almost feel her grey eyes piercing my heart. I see her mother in her face and I want to cry. Instead, I sit on a leather armchair and fold my hands over the wrapped cookies.
I want to tell her how I know she'll win, how I love my son, how much I want to commend her bravery, how thankful I am that sweet little Prim will continue to come see me at my bakery thanks to her. Instead, all of the words I want to say have disappeared, leaving us painfully silent. After a while the peacekeepers return. "Time's up!" they say sharply. Almost forgetting her gift, I hand her the cookies at the last moment. She looks strangely ill, then. Like a wounded animal at a hunter's mercy. I try to get her to see all the words in my eyes, but the peacekeepers turn me around with each of their hands on my shoulders and force me from the room. Back outside the room I allow myself a few trickles of tears. The realization that my son will die crushes my soul, but my mind is tunneled on Katniss Everdeen and her family. I never got to tell her all of the things I wanted to.
Yet somehow I know I'll see this girl again soon to tell her all of those words myself...