"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be."
― Douglas Adams, The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul
Five small fingers ran across her forearm, deftly turning the limb over the pudgy hand explored the underside. The ugly, jagged scar once an angry red tear across her skin was now white and with every winter it faded more. It was the same with all of her scars – they had become dulled, muted. Rather than being an alien mark branding her body and soul they were a part of her, assimilated by her conscious.
"How did you get it?"
Her daughter's voice was clear and strong. In her eyes Katniss could see it, so much there that belonged to a long gone healer and a long dead a miner. Every inflection of her voice reminded her of Prim, every smile she gave mirrored those of her grandfather.
"A long time ago." Katniss replied steadily, her eyes flickering towards the door wondering when Peeta would appear.
"That's not what I asked." The brunette girl sighed, clearly disappointed.
"Why do you want to know so much?" Katnisss replied, her hand drifting to her daughter's hair, brushing it off her perfect face.
"Because it's part of you. Who you are." The girl creased her forehead momentarily, "Because if I want to know who I am and where I'm going I have to know what came before me, where I came from."
Katniss was momentarily taken aback, the words, she knew, were not her daughter's but it didn't mean they were any less true or that her child didn't believe them.
"Shouldn't you be doing your homework? Not bothering you mother, she has work to do you know..."
Peeta's baritone held warmth and humour that drifted over them like a well-loved blanket. Katniss felt a weight that she always seemed to carry whenever she spent a prolonged amount of time from her husband lift.
"What kind of work Daddy? And besides I've done my homework."
"Oh you know, she should be sitting me down by the fire, rubbing my feet, getting dinner ready. I've had a long day you know, bread just doesn't bake itself." Peeta replied smugly as he sunk into an armchair.
Katniss rolled her eyes, swiping at her husband, his laughing eyes meeting hers and for a moment it's all she can do from pulling him into a tight embrace.
"Oh that's a fine message to be teaching our daughter."
Peeta smiled warmly, "You know I'm only joking Madge, whilst your mother does do those things..." Peeta paused as he waved his foot tantalisingly in Katniss' direction. "She does so much more, and I for one, am very grateful."
"You should be," Katniss replied, before lurching forwards and placing a kiss on his lips. "And I am grateful for all that you've done for me."
The words resonate between them and only them. The other individual in the room is too concerned about their very public display of affection.
"Ew! Cut it out!" Madge cried from her position on the floor, in her book her parents were only allowed to hug in public, a polite peck on the cheek was just about acceptable.
"Would you rather your parents not love each other?" Peeta asked suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically serious.
"No," Madge replied quickly. "But you don't have to be so obvious about it!"
Katniss rolled her eyes, but it seemed for a moment she could put off the awkward questions, the horrible truth would be buried once again.
"Don't think I've forgotten," Madge piped up suddenly. She was extremely perceptive, the moments her parents seem to retreat into a world that she could never quite reach. It was like a kiss she could never obtain, a secret that was plain to see but never within her grasp.
"Forgotten what?" Peeta questioned, his curiosity piqued.
"Madge asked about something," Katniss replied vaguely.
"Not just anything," the girl replied stoutly. Quickly running towards her mother she reached out for the scar.
Peeta frowned momentarily, the skin scrunching across his face and for once you could see the pain that he bore. Pain that he didn't want to unburden onto his children.
"I know about the Hunger Games, I know what they made people do." Madge offered, her arms crossed her chest, so desperate to be treated as an adult. It seemed without war and famine, children still thwarted their parents' wishes and grew older before their eyes.
Katniss tried to speak but the words, as they so often did, tangle, her thoughts so clear in her head tumble out a mess.
"Madge," Peeta spoke softly and not for the first time Katniss was grateful for his ability to articulate his thoughts so wonderfully. "You know what they made people do, but that's not the same as knowing what we did, what was done to us. Imagine if someone tried to hurt your mother, how would you feel?"
"Angry, upset... Scared." Madge answered quietly, her grey eyes downcast.
"Right, and what we have to tell you, it'll make you feel all of those things. And we will tell you, I promise, but your mother and I want to spare you from that, for a little while."
"But the other kids at school know and Ms Monroe said that we had to know about our past, so we wouldn't repeat it." Madge suddenly returned, imbued with a spirit so bright that Peeta could only smile, she was her mother's daughter.
"And Ms Monroe is right, but remember, it doesn't matter if the other kids know."
"But..." Madge was about to protest but quickly relented. "I guess."
Peeta smiled warmly, "That's my girl." Quickly pulling out two sweets from his pocket, he presented them to his daughter "Go and give one to your brother."
"We can't hide it forever," Katniss whispered as her daughter flew from the room.
"No," Peeta agreed, wrapping his arms around his wife.
"She'll want to know it all, the whole bloody truth." Katniss responded, pressing her lips against Peeta's neck, relishing his warmth.
"And we'll tell her, but not today. Not yet."
"Aren't we just censoring history?" Katniss mused.
"No," Peeta countered quickly. "She knows about the Games, she knows we were involved. But the details of it all? She can wait a little longer, she can have a childhood we never did."
Katniss nodded, pressing her lips against Peeta's. Each kiss like the last but still exciting, still with the promise of something wonderful.
A/N: So I saw the movie Friday and quickly devoured the books. And of course, second generation kids just makes me itch to write fanfic. My first foray into the fandom, please be nice and let me know what you think!