A/N: Hello, readers. This story has been in the works for quite awhile, and I finally found the guts to start posting it on here. It would honestly really make my day if you could let me know what you think of it. This is my first Hunger Games fan fic, so I'm a little unsure of it. Thank you for reading and please review.
One: Birthday Massacre
A hurling fireball ricochets off a tree, grazing my shoulder, blackening the skin. From behind, the vicious snarl of mutts forces me to keep running, gasping for air in the smoke-filled forest. Somewhere, Gale calls my name. I have to reach him before it's too late. But I've been in this nightmare enough times to know I never will.
"Katniss! Katniss, run!"
Another fireball, this one right in the chest. I'm down before I can let out a scream of anguish. The pain that explodes through my skin is close to unbearable. It's like millions of needles prickling my chest, the heat of their touch going right to the core of my body.
"Katniss!"
His voice is too close. I jerk my head up to see Gale running towards me, alarm on his face. If only he knew I wasn't the target, he was.
"No, Gale!" I scream in panic. "Gale, run! Run!"
But he doesn't listen. He never listens.
The mutts rush past me, as if I'm invisible, their sights locked on Gale, thirsty for his blood. In an instance Gale's thrown on the ground, the force of the mutts' strength deadly and inexorable.
"Gale!"
He doesn't hear me. He won't hear me. His screaming is in itself deafening, echoing against trees, piercing my eardrums.
I watch, helpless, as the mutts tear at his body, ripping off limps, biting into flesh. Even when Gale goes silent, the mutts don't stop, as if their satisfaction will only come when Gale is unrecognizable. In pieces. Mutilated.
And when they're done with him, they'll come for me. That's how it always works out. Forcing me to go through the devastation of watching my friend die and then performing the merciless act on me.
I can see the mutts turning to me now. Their teeth bare, almost in a sinister smile. I struggle to get up from the ground, to wake up from this dream, but the mutts continue to advance towards me, blood dripping from their fur. Closer, closer, ready to destroy me…
"Katniss! Katniss, wake up!"
Opening my eyes, I take in a breath of life as if for the first time. Then another one and another, until my lungs are full of the air that seems to have escaped me. Greasy Sae looks down on me from where I lie in my bed, concern wrinkling her face. By the window, Buttercup hisses at me angrily.
It was just a nightmare. I'm still alive. But that only means one thing.
Gale is still missing.
xXx
It has been one year, two months, and seventeen days since the day the rebels fully gained control of the districts. Don't think I'm keeping track, I would give anything to forget about the rebellion and the Hunger Games completely. It's because of these things that I can't fall asleep without fearing for a repeated nightmare, the reason I wake up screaming as I watch people I love die right in front of me.
There's a calendar hung up in front of the Justice Building that counts the days. It's not strange to see people staring at it on their way to work or school, either in admiration or painful remembrance. Sometimes I, too, pause on my way to the woods, watching the second-hand click up time, forever taking us farther and farther from the Capital's grasp. But I know there will never be a day when we're released from the Capital completely. So many people have died. Every time I think of Prim, Snow and the Hunger Games are not far from my mind.
This morning, though, I try desperately not to think of any of that. Especially not my nightmare. I know today is supposed to be a special day- it's my day- and I'll spoil my mood if I let any negativity control my thoughts.
Instead, I force myself to pet Buttercup's head before going to my closet to pull out my hunting clothes. Buttercup complains in hisses, but I take it as a form of endearment. If he truly hated me then he wouldn't have chosen my room as his place of rest and leisure. And I'm the closest thing to Prim he has left.
Sliding on my leather boots, I glance at myself in the mirror tacked up on the wall. Blank, unnerving eyes, tight lips curved into a daring half-smile. It has taken several months to master this look, and what with the emotional breakdowns and horrifying dreams the Games have tortured me with, I'm almost proud of it. When people look at me, they don't automatically think I'm still suffering.
Greasy Sae is one of the few people who can see past the look. She has become a second motherly figure to me now that my mother is living and working at the Capital, and I confine in her when my nightmares become unbearable or my thoughts become consumed in memories of a not too distant past.
She usually listens to me when we're cooking together. It has become one of my favorite past times, aside from hunting. Greasy Sae knows an endless amount of quick, easy recipes. I like to watch her hands work in such precision, crafting pies and cuts of meat and stews. Just like Peeta expertly molds bread dough or decorates cakes. I don't have their touch of perfection, but I'm learning well enough.
When I arrive downstairs, Greasy Sae already has my breakfast on the table, along with a pastry which, as I look closer, has happy birthday written on it in frosting. I smile slightly, thinking that Peeta had actually remembered when my birthday was. Of course I shouldn't be surprised; it seemed like Peeta could recall any piece of information if it was important to him.
It's strange to think about. I'm important to Peeta. Peeta is important to me. I'm not sure how it would feel like if Peeta suddenly disappeared from my life. Who would be there to hold me when my dreams become so vivid and terrifying I'm afraid to sleep? Who would teach me to bake? Who would draw me pictures? Who would be my friend now that Gale is gone?
Gale. I can't think of him. I can't think of him!
I bit down hard on the pastry, ripping it with my teeth aggressively, as if this will destroy my thoughts of Gale.
"What, are you upset you're another year older?"
Greasy Sae appears in the doorway, her usual smirk-like smile curving her lips.
"No." I think a moment, determining how I feel about this. "I'm glad. It means I'm not dead." I speak the obvious.
"Many people can't say that," Greasy Sae agrees. "What are you going to do today to celebrate?"
"I'm going hunting. Besides that, I'm not sure. I'm sure Peeta will want to do something."
"He came over to drop off the pastry. He said to stop by the Justice Building; he has a surprise for you."
My forehead wrinkles. "He knows I don't like surprises," I say.
"Katniss, he's a baker," Greasy Sae says, laughing. "I'm sure you can guess what his surprise is."
I start to smile again at the thought of Peeta baking me a cake. Before the Games, any bakery goods from the Mellarks was too much of a luxury to even think about.
Pushing up from the table, I collect my bow and sheath of arrows waiting for me by the door. The familiar feel of my bow resting in my palm instantly comforts me. I turn back to give Greasy Sae a welcoming look for the food.
"Any requests?" I ask.
"I haven't made wild dog stew in a while," she says with a wink.
xXx
It only takes one look around District 12 to know our district is thriving.
Of course there is a lot still needed to be done, buildings to be built, stores to be reopened, the town square to be decorated in all the lively colors representing the rebels' victory. But the people here are happier. You can see it in their faces, hear it in their laughter.
Some of the faces are not from here. Since the districts are not isolated from each other as they were before, it has become fairly easy to visit or move to other districts. The same goes for trade. Our district's market place is now flowing with a diverse assortment of goods and materials from all across Panem. When the market gets in a big shipment of goods, Peeta and I spend the day looking for unique or interesting things to buy.
Once Peeta surprised me with a trinket from District 1. It was heart-shaped with three tiny, sparkling diamonds inside. It had to have cost him at least two weeks profit at his bakery. I never told him I'd take his pearl- the belonging he brought to the Games with him- over the diamonds any day, but the thought of Peeta going to such lengths to buy this for me meant a lot.
As I walk, I dig into my pocket and clutch onto the trinket. It rests right beside the pearl and my Mockingjay pin. I'd like to think I keep these things with me because of how important they are, but really they help to keep me sane. To help me remember who I am.
I only let go when I reach the Justice Building. Peeta is waiting for me outside. He pulls me into a strong hug, my face pressing against his neck, the smell of flour on my nose.
"Happy birthday, Katniss." Pulling away, he gives me a quick but gentle kiss on the lips. "How are you feeling?"
The way Peeta is smiling at me right now, I can't feel anything but happiness. Leaning in for a more elaborate kiss, I'm interrupted at the sound of a door getting shoved open.
"I ask you to do one thing, one measly thing, and instead I find you-" Haymitch stops when he sees me. "Oh, it's you. Someone mentioned it was your birthday, sweetheart. I guess that explains the cake sitting in my office."
"Haymitch!" Peeta says angrily. "You weren't supposed to mention that!"
"And you were supposed to send those papers to the Capital, and did you do that, huh?"
"I was getting to that," Peeta mutters, clearly annoyed. Turning back to me, his face softens into a sheepish grin. He gestures to the Justice Building. "Well, do you want to see your cake?"
Walking inside, I can't rid the thought of when I was here only a few years ago, after volunteering to take Prim's place as a tribute, willingly giving myself up into the merciless Capital fun they call the Hunger Games. As we walk past the small hallway of rooms used for tributes saying their last farewells, I do not dare to glance into it. Then, Prim, my mother, and Gale had said goodbye to me, but now it feels like I was saying goodbye to them. All three of them are gone from my life now.
I lean in closer to Peeta and he snakes his hand around my waist, keeping me safe against him. I know he has memories of the Games too. Maybe it's even worse for him, after being enslaved by Snow and given high doses of tracker jacker venom to cloud his mind. Maybe he, too, has dreams so vivid it's like he's replaying the past. But Peeta never lets these emotions take over him, something I admire him for.
Stopping in front of Haymitch's office, Peeta turns to me. When his lips touch mine, I conform myself into his body, my heart racing under the touch of his hands. The cake Peeta baked me isn't my present, this is my present. The warmth, the desire that spreads through my body. Peeta's breath in my face, the feeling of his lips as he mouths the words I love you. Even when we're done kissing, out of breath, smiling, we hold on to each other tightly. This will never get old, I think. I can't live without loving Peeta.
Haymitch appears and we have to break apart. Peeta shows me my cake and it's as beautiful and artistic as I imagined it being. It's in the shape of a bow, an arrow slung into place and ready to fire.
"I was going to add more details… about what happened." Peeta looks uncomfortable as he says this. "But I thought maybe you wouldn't want to remember that." In a rush, he adds, "I know it's kind of plain."
"No, Peeta, I love it." I flash him a sincere smile. "Thank you."
"Anything for you," he answers softly, a warm glow coming back into his eyes as he looks at me.
"Well, are we going to eat it or just stare at it?" Haymitch asks bluntly.
As we eat, Haymitch fills us in on all the government business throughout the districts and the Capital. District 12 hasn't elected a mayor or government official to run the city, so for now Haymitch is taking over that role, and Peeta and I help where we can. At first I was concerned with Haymitch having so much power over the decisions of our district, but I'm finding him to be a very gifted political figure. He has the right intentions and he is in never-ending contact with the Capital, making us always informed and up-to-date with what's going on.
"Everything's pretty peaceful. Except for that hovercraft sighting in District 3, but that's still up for question."
"What hovercraft sighting in District 3?" Peeta asks. "Do you mean it wasn't our hovercraft?"
"The man who saw it claims it didn't look like the ones the Capital uses." Haymitch shrugs and dips a piece of cake into his wine glass. "But then where could the hovercraft have come from?"
"Homemade invention?" Peeta suggests.
"Just because we're free from Snow's grasp doesn't mean rules and laws don't still apply. And one of those rules is the construction of a hovercraft; you can't do it."
"Is there another city or group of people nearby?" I ask but already know the answer. In school, we were taught that the land surrounding the districts was too abused by past civilizations to support life.
"No, no. Like I said, it's still up for question. I'm sure the man just made a mistake. It's nothing to worry your little heads about."
"You're right," Peeta says, clearly ready to dismiss the subject. "So, Katniss, what do you usually do to celebrate your birthday?"
"Nothing much. Prim used to sing me happy birthday. My mother attempted to make a cake a few times, but those never turned out well." I shake my head a little. "Really, I don't need to celebrate. It's just a day."
"Yeah, but it's still your day. Tell you what, you go hunt and when you come back I'll have something planned for us to do, okay?"
I can tell by Peeta's face that he's already thinking. I nod and lean in for one more kiss when Haymitch isn't looking before heading out to the woods.
xXx
Since it is now legal to roam outside the fence that surrounds the district, it's not unlikely to come across an amateur hunter trying to get fresh meat for his family. Because of this, I have to be very careful choosing where and when I hunt. Luckily, I've found an area about a quarter of a mile from the fence that's untouched and filled with game.
The first thing I do is check my snares and come clean with two rabbits. There is no stream or lake nearby, so I can't fish, and I spend the rest of my time resetting traps and trying to shoot down larger animals with my bow.
My eyes have just locked onto a deer some fifty feet ahead when I hear a noise. It's not an animal. It's coming from the sky. A bird? No, no bird can be that loud.
Whatever it is, it scares the deer. I curse softly, knowing I had just the shot to kill it.
The noise comes back again, louder this time. Looking up, I squint my eyes against the sunlight to see a hovercraft come into view. It's low, narrowly missing the tops of trees, and it looks like it doesn't know where it's going from its choppy movements. But what startles me the most is the looks of it. I have seen enough Capital hovercrafts to know their designs. And this one does not look like one at all.
A shiver runs up my body. Is this the kind of hovercraft the man in District 3 saw? Where did it come from? Why is it traveling through the districts?
I flatten my body against a tree, not daring to stand out in the open. I don't know if this hovercraft is friend or foe, and I don't want to take my chances. With my bow still strung, I at least have something to defend myself with if I am attacked.
The hovercraft encircles around the area before hovering directly above me. Curiously, I look up and see a figure pressing his body against the large window that takes up nearly one side of the craft. I swear he's looking at me, but I should be shielded enough by trees to stay hidden.
He has black hair, from what I can see, and grey eyes. Grey eyes. Seam eyes.
I walk out into the open without thinking of the consequences. Yes, Seam eyes. District 12 eyes. Gale eyes.
"Gale!" I scream, suddenly overcome with emotion. I jump up, waving my arms, knocking my bow from my hand. I am defenseless. "Gale! Gale!"
The boy's reacting. He's hitting the window, he's waving. It's Gale!
Why is he in a strange hovercraft? Where has he been for the past year? Is he in danger? Is he captured?
The hovercraft starts moving again and on instinct I follow it. Jumping over logs, avoiding trees, I run until I am out of breath, exhausted. Falling to my knees, I am too weak to yell out his name, too tired to stand when the hovercraft once again glides into my view.
Forcing my head up, I do not have time to understand what happens next. A loud, deafening booming sound explodes in my ear and my sight fills with fire before everything goes dark.