This story is based around all three of the hunger games trilogy, if you have not read all three of the books then some of the references may not make sense to you.
To all the old and existing Hunger Games fans, this is my first Hunger Games fanfiction and would love to know what you think. Enjoy.

He stares down at me, his blue eyes crashing like waves on the gray rocks upon a shore – similar to those seen on television in district 4 - the rocks which are my very own eyes. The pure sincerity in them grind guilt deeper into my heart as though being forced into the games have made me as maniacal and conniving as the people of the Capitol who root each year for genocide within the Hunger Games, targeting us for something which happened 74 years ago, so that we may never forget it. By showing love to Peeta that comes from instinct to survive instead of from deep within my heart makes me a coward and a crook. I can no longer recognise myself as the sixteen year old who entered the games not so long ago.

I can see it on the expression on his face that he can see that my eyes are troublesome and hold a depth of wonders which I am sorting through. He cocks an eyebrow at me as though asking the secret which I bare and I simply shrug and smile, placing a soft kiss upon his lips. This kiss was real, not for the cameras, not for the sponsors but for me, to show myself that I am not their pawn in a game of chess; that I have control of when, where and how. He smiles back at me, his face dirty and the pain still congealed on it, hidden in his expressions as the gaping wound in his leg radiates pain through his body, though he tries to hide it from me, I can see it there, deep within his eyes. I place my head upon his chest and close my eyes, I escape into the darkness.

I awake to find myself in an orchard, that I recognise as district 11. I feel vulnerable underneath these tall overpowering trees;, that is until i hear them, the mockingjays. They sing softly the four note tune that escaped Rues lips in the arena, telling the workers in the orchard that another work day is over. I look around frantically to seek the source of this sound, and that i when i see her, gliding through the trees so gracefully, her body a hazy white colour like a ghost, Rue. I follow her with no prevail as she disappears from the trees, my heart racing and the blood pumping in my chest as I try to find her. I see the flicker of her white being in the corner of my eye and I hear the four note tune again and I follow it. I follow it to a memorial, the names of all those tributes that died in the Hunger Games during its 75 year rein. Four names from the bottom of the list I see her name, the year that she competed in the games and how old she was when she fell another victim of the heinous crimes simply referred to as 'The Hunger Games'. That is when I hear footstep behind me, I stop for a second, lost in the moment then I turn around slowly.

She looks the same as she did in the games, though a whispy white aura surrounds her, she smiles at me and whisles the four note tune - made so familiar in my dreams and nightmares - mockingjays gather around and I fall to my knees as they recite her beautiful melody.
"Sing to me." She requests, her smile making her way to her eyes that illuminate brightly.
"But," I resist, taking her hand in my own and pull her onto my lap. "This can't be happening," I utter nearly speechlessly.
"Sing to me, Katniss. The way you sing that makes the birds stop and listen," she utters as she makes herself comfortable on my lap, "The singing that I miss so much."
I close my eyes and I begin to slowly sing,

Deep in the meadow, under the willow
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
And when again they open, the sun will rise.

Sure enough the birds stop singing; I stare down at Rue who is looking back at me with her deep brown eyes. I close my eyes and am about to start on the second verse when a familiar voice starts singing away.

Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings
them true
Here is a place where I love you.

I slowly peel my eyes open, fearing what I am about to see but the fears ebb away as my eyes catch the glance of the man who was renowned for making the mockingjay's stop singing, my father. Rue has moved to her feet and I quickly follow. He stands metres from me and then he opens his arms, I run to them, as though I am an eleven year old girl once again. His face is clean shaven and I can smell the pine on his clothes as though he has been hunting in the woods. I bury my head deep within his chest and inhale his mucky stench and I close my eyes, visualising being in the woods next to the lake, bow aimed and ready, him teaching me to hunt.

I slowly begin to release him from my grasp but not entirely, not readying myself to let him go again. When I pull my head back I can see that we are in the meadow of district 12 covered in snow, yet the cold associated with this usual weather has not effect on me. Across from where we stand is the fence which divides the woods from the district, the woods that I once used as my playground; catching and selling game to the people of the seam. I stare back at my father then realise that I have completely forgotten about Rue, to my surprise she is still stood next to me with a huge smile beaming upon her face.
"There is someone who wants to see you." She says turning her head towards the entrance that divides the meadow from the seam.

Two figures begin to materialise out of the snow, turning from the white of the snow to the opacity of water, then their features start to form. The figure on the left is of a medium build man, he has large biceps and carries a trident. The figure on the right is of a small, old woman carrying a fishing rod, I know who they are. The water turns into flesh and to my delight, Finnick and Mags walk towards me with great beaming smiles. Immediately a twang of sadness hits my heart, of the thought of Finnick never being able to meet his son.
"It's okay," I hear him say, "I watch over them both."

With these few words the prong of sadness almost immediately lifts from my heart as I hug both Finnick and Mags in a timeless embrace, their faces unchanged by the hands of time unlike my own. We exchange barely any words, though words are pointless in the time which they have been taken from me and we just stand silently in each others company. Pulling me from the state of near comatosis Rue pulls gently onto my sleeve, staring up at me with her deep brown eyes.
"Sing for me, Katniss," she almost pleads, "Finish the song."
I get Rue to sit on the meadow ground, the grass acting almost like a cushion as I sit down, Finnick, Mags and my father follow and sit on the ground with us. I place Rue's head upon my lap and behind to stoke her hair as she closes her eye.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.

The meadow is in silence, I stare down at my lap where Rue should be but as I look down she is not, though no panic springs to mind. I peer across where Finnick, Mags and my father sat down, they are not there either. For a split second I hear the distinct mewing of Buttercup, not the mewing he spouted after Prim's death where he tried to protect me from the darkness until his very end, but more the mewing he sounded right up until Prim's name was read from the reaping bowl, the day that I volunteered which ultimately changed my life and everyone else's life forever.

I stare around at the entrance to the meadow that separates the seam and that where I see her running towards me in the outfit she wore for the reaping day when her name was pulled out. I fall to my knees and open up my arms as she collides into me, Prim. We fall to the ground with her on top of me and we hold each other tight, I push her gently off me and get to my knees, leaning over and tickling her. Her laughter rattles through my ears, the thought that I would never get to listen to it again makes me smile and tickle harder. I ease my tickling hands and offer Prim a hand to help her up and she accept.
"Better tuck in that tail little duck." I smile, tucking in her shirt into the skirt like I did on the day of the reaping.
"Quack!" She replies.
"Quack!" I reply back.
Buttercup saunters up towards me and meows, I helplessly meow back as I place my hand upon his head and begin to pet him. I look over at Prim who has a massive smile on her face, her eyes averted over to the entrance of the meadow where people wait for her: My father, Finnick, Mags, Rue, Cinna, Boggs, Soldier Jackson, Castor, Leeg One, Leeg Two, Cressida, Homes, everyone who died for the cause of the mockingjay, including the 90% of the district 12 population that died in the firebombing at the beginning of the war, Peeta's parents fronting the crowd, Madge, her mayor father and her mother with her twin sister ,who died in the Games, beside them. I begin to walk over to join them when my father steps forward.

"It is not your time to join us yet, Katniss," He smiles, his voice echoes across the meadow. "Lay down on the grass, sweetheart."
I do as he says, lying down on a soft patch of moss and I reluctantly close my eyes. The crowd of people begin to chant together.

Here it's safe, here its warm
Here the daisies guard you from harm

Their voices begin to fade as the last of the verse pass their lips.

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings
them true
Here is the place where I love you.

Rues four note melody welcomes me as I wake up, Peeta staring down at me as I lay in his arms.

"Bad dream?" He asks kissing my forehead.
"No, exactly the opposite," I smile, recollecting the dream. "I think I can finally let them go," I retort, "Knowing that they are in a better place, together."
I stare out of the window, a mockingjay has perched itself out on the ledge, whistling Rue's four note melody. "Good and safe." I whisper into the wind.

I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I love writing it. I don't know whether this fanfiction for Hunger Games is the only one I will write, however; if I receive good feedback I may be tempted to ntinu.