Full Circle
Before I begin, I would like to thank you, yes you, for reading this! I haven't written a fanfic in a while, and I have never done a one-shot before. I am currently obsessed with The Hunger Games as a whole and I wanted to write something (oh, and for the record, I do not own these books or characters, Ms. Collins does). Please enjoy, and review if you would like!
Katniss Everdeen looked down on the boy in her bed. It was a morning tradition, waking up and looking to her right to stare at the boy. It had been many years since he could really be called a boy, but to her, in these moments of sleep, he would always be a boy to her. His breathing was labored, and she knew that there wouldn't be much time left.
She got out of bed to start morning routines. She would make breakfast, make tea with no sugar for the boy who could no longer get out of the bed without great assistance. "How many years have we lived here in this house?" she wondered to herself, as there was no one there to hear her. It had been 40 years since the children have lived with her, moved on to their lives and their own families across the United Territories of Panem. No longer did the homes go by districts and numbers. Now they all had names, every home a phone. Most of those who truly remember the old days are gone, taken by old age, or sickness.
Sickness. She would remember the day she heard the news. Peeta had a cough that wouldn't go away, but he always refused to slow down or see a Doctor. Truth be told, they were both afraid to see Doctors; too many bad memories. Katniss finally urged him once he got so bad he could barely breathe. The Doctor whose name she could no longer remember told her that what he had was untreatable, and it was only a matter of time. She refused to believe it, refused to accept that after all this time, it was a cough that would split them up. Of course, it was more than a cough, but it wasn't going to stop her.
She looked down at her hands, which were aged and now caused pain doing simple things. How different it was from the hand that could shoot a squirrel straight through the eye. She finished her simple breakfast and brought up Peeta's toast and tea. She watched him sleep for a little longer, knowing that once again, time was not on her side.
She thought about the many years they had. First meeting when he saved her life with the bread, to the Games, oh the Games. He risked his life so many times to save hers. She remembered when her feelings became less confusing and she knew she loved this boy more than herself. The beach, where he gave her a locket as a request to allow him to sacrifice himself for her. She couldn't let him then, because to lose him would be to lose herself. Wincing, she remembered when she did lose him to the Capitol. They took him away, his mind and his memories and how much she hurt when she had him back only for him to think she was a mutt. The one thing the Capitol couldn't take was his heart, and his heart had always belonged to the Girl on Fire. Over time, together they healed and came back together. "It has always been real," she whispered to him.
He woke gently and looked on her face. She offered him his breakfast, but he shook his head, but allowed her to help him with the tea. She knew why he was holding on, why he wouldn't allow the comfort to wash over him. She wouldn't let him go. She didn't know how, but now she did. She sang to him gently while they watched each other. She sang him "The Hanging Tree", a song she knew he would recognize:
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run,
So we'd both be free.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight
In the hanging tree.
As he laid there, she started talking, just saying all the things that she may have said before, but it was vital that he heard them now. "Peeta, it was always you. You have always been there, saving me, from the beginning, even when you were too shy to approach me. I should have known the minute I volunteered as Tribute that your name would be called because you and I have always been fated. You saved me not only in the Games, or from the Capitol, but from myself. You refused to give up on me, even when you weren't sure of who I was. I love you, Peeta Mellark. I will always love you. We have always been real. You gave me a life, and hope. You stood by me and showed me a new world, where we could be parents and not fear. You are my dandelion in the spring."
He smiled at the girl he loved, a smile she knew so well. She knew he would know what it meant, that it was okay for him to finally think of himself. She kissed his forehead and went back to lay by his side. She had been preparing for this moment, knowing what she would do. She heard a whisper, so soft she couldn't make it out. She knew how hard it was for him to talk, so it must be something very important. She leaned in closer and asked him to try to say it again, once more, for her.
"Stay with me?" he asked softly.
"Always." She answered in return.
After a few hours, she noticed his breathing became shallower, his eyes spending more time closed than open. He opened them once more, moved his head to his left to look upon the face he loved so well. "Kat, I'm sorry." He whispered.
"It's okay, love. Just rest." Tears sprung in her eyes, panic starting to overtake her. She couldn't panic now; she had been selfish enough in the past, and this time it was for him. For the Boy with the Bread, the Man with her Heart.
"I can't leave you." He said slowly.
"You won't leave me. You'll just be setting up for the next time we meet. In this lifetime, next lifetime, forever, we will be together." She whispered back. "Always."
She kissed his lips, so softly. He gave her a soft kiss back and closed his eyes.
They did not open again.
She allowed herself a tear, a single tear, before she got out of the bed. She knew she would be returning. She took out the book they had worked on so many years ago, and continued to work on as people they loved passed. She flipped through reading the names and reading what they wrote. Johanna, Effie, Annie, her mother, Gale, Haymitch. She turned to a page that was doodled before, a page showing a boy with an apron. Her hands painfully wrapped around a pen and wrote next to the picture, all the things that defined him. Memories overflowed in her brain, a lifetime of them. She smiled as she realized how lucky she was that this boy loved her and how much she loved him back.
After filling in the pages and closing the book for the last time, she placed it on the table in their room. She placed it next to an empty bottle that once help white liquor, next to a wire, some bandages, a piece of the strongest wood, a sugar cube. She had a vase of primroses and wildflowers together sitting there, surrounded by these objects. She got dressed and went out in the town, walking towards the old fence. Now there was not a fence blocking people, but a road, and she easily found the spot she needed in the woods. There sat a bush with dark berries, a bush she herself tended to and made sure it survived. It was the symbol that started it all, more so than her Mockingjay pin. She put some in a basket and made the walk back home.
Once back in her house, she went back to the room where her beloved was. She took off her Mockingjay pin, leaving it on the table with the other objects. She took the basket with the berries, and thought about the first time they were together with them. She knew even then that she would not be able to be without him. He was her rock, her sanity, her savior. He was the one who calmed her, brought her back from the brink of insanity many times. Haymitch may have had his drinking, the morphling victors had their morphling, and everyone had a talent and a way to deal after the games, except for her. Her calming force was Peeta.
She went into the bed with him, and brushed the hair from his eyes. She kissed him again, softly, though she knew this was the one time he would not return the kiss. She took his hand and put a few of the berries in, and closed her hand around it. She curled up with him, and placed the berries in her mouth; this time not as an act of defiance, but an act of love. "Always." She whispered again as she closed her eyes.
Are you, are you
coming the tree
wear a necklace of rope
As you stand by me
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight
In the hanging tree.