AN: post-Mockingjay; after Katniss and Peeta are married and have kids.Sorry, I wrote this as a real quickie.
It is still dark the first time.
A rusty scream pierces through the air, snapping me out of my dream, and I scramble to sit up. A million thoughts run through my head. Fear starts to pound throughout me, scared of the disturbing noise. What has happened? Has something happened to my family?
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can make out my brother stirring in the darkness, blearily trying to come to as I am. He clamps his hands over his ears and begins to cry, whimper almost. I crawl out of the bed, anxious. I pad my way to my parents' bedroom at the very beginning of the hallway, shivering. I press against the door, wanting to hear.
The screaming has subsided to choked sobs, and I can hear my father.
"Geez, Katniss, you can't get me some rest. It's going to be a big, big day tomorrow." My father sings in a weird accent. His voice softens and becomes gentle, "Tell me what you happened."
I push against the door. "What happened?" My eyes are wide, examining their room. Their bed is a lot bigger than mine and my brother's. Moonlight leaks in from the tiny slip in beyond the curtain, just enough to illuminate the bed room, and the figures of my mother and father. I feel the fabric of my nightdress being pulled, and I see my teary-eyed brother, terrified beyond his wits. I sniff, realizing my eyes are blurry, terrified.
My fear starts to melt away as I see Father grabbing onto my mother's shoulders firmly, fixing her with an assuring gaze, but the tension in my body still holds, my limbs stiff.
My mother sobs, biting down on her pillow, and turning away. Her eyes are red and moist - it is a big surprise. She never cries. She is very distant and steely. She hiccups, her words words I am not familiar with.
"Mother, what happened - I heard the scream and I ran and I'm so scared - I thought something bad happened -"
"Your mother had a bad dream, that's all." Father explains, leaning over my mother, one arm slung over my mother, another arm extended out to me and my brother.
We clamber into his embrace, still very unsure.
He smiles sadly down at me. "It's nothing. We're still safe. I promise." He looks around, giving his assuring smile around at us. He presses his lips to me and my brother's forehead, his hand passing over our heads, and rustling our bed hair. "Go back to bed." He grins, gazing particularly at my brother. "No need to cry." He says, analyzing my brother's stream of phlegm-filled tears. "Just a bit of a scare, that's all. Trust me, they'll be scarier things when you're older. Maybe big spiders."
My mother nods, although her face is turned away from us, curled up, not wanting to face us as if she's ashamed. She mumbles, "Peeta, stop, I'm fine." Her voice is strained. "You should go back to sleep, we have to wake up early in the morning."
"But I wanna sleep with you." My brother protests.
"Fine, you can sleep here." My father smiles and pats the bed.
I hear my mother give a barely-audible sigh of exasperation. She turns around to look at us, her eyes hollow, sad. She takes pills in the morning to control this, but lately, it doesn't seem to be working.
We eagerly climb into the bed, sitting in the darkness and awaiting sleep to come around and whisk us away to dreams. But not bad dreams. Especially not bad dreams.
After a long time, when they think we're asleep again, my Father stirs, turning towards my mother.
My eyes pop open, my thoughts still running rampant. I should be getting to sleep, like my mother said.
"Katniss?" He whispers, and I can see his arm reaching over to nudge my mother.
I never really heard my mother's name a lot, unless they're close friends. People visit a lot, but they usually only call her Mrs. Everdeen or Mrs. Mellark.
She makes a questioning noise. "Mm?"
"When are we going to tell them?" My father asks, his voice solemn in his musing. He places an arm around her.
Tell them what? I wonder. I sit in the darkness, watching them quietly.
"I don't know. I don't think they're ready." She shook her head. "I don't want them to know until they can understand."
"I see your point." He sighs. "I just want to be open, and let them know so that they just don't brush it off later."
"But I don't want to know. I don't want to remember that."
I can hear my father smiling in his voice. "I know. I don't either. Maybe next time it'll be me who'll be waking up in the middle of the night screaming with murderous tendencies coming out." The sheets rustle, and he reaches over and I can make out their figures embracing each other.
She gives a soft laugh, something rare, but not unheard of. "I remember." Her voice is sorrowful at the same time, though.
The moonlight spills over them, just enough for me to see father leaning over and giving her a kiss on the forehead, just as he had given us. I still have to squint. "No more nightmares tonight? It'd be bad to wake up the children."
"You'll have to promise too."
But it was only the first time.
R&R bby?