Disclaimer: Hunger Games does not belong to me, neither do any of the characters, or the storyline. This is just a little fanfic that I wrote following Mockingjay. Enjoy.
Wounds
There was no reason for me to be thinking about the Hunger Games again. It had been years since the capital had been taken down and the surviving Tributes of District 12 had been left to their own lives. Still, I couldn't take my mind off of those two years that had changed the lives of our world.
My mind wandered again, back to that first reaping day, when Primrose was called forward by Effie in her horridly shocking pink attire. I had felt a sorrow fill my heart, because of Katniss. I had watched her for years, wanting to protect her from anything. But the reaping was not something I could protect her from—and watching her sister being forced to an arena where she had little to no chance of survival was going to be pain for her. A pain I couldn't ease.
But Katniss's voice pierced the silence like one of her arrows, she was going in to protect her sister. My heart had stopped for only a moment before pounding away like one of the mine machines. Never had I ever seen such bravery and valor before. Her fear showed only once before it melted behind a wall of stone and determination. She had to come home… she had to be protected.
My mind had wandered away for a mere moment, thinking hard of how I could protect her. Perhaps a negotiation with the male tribute? Yes. That was the only way. I would ask the male tribute to keep an eye on Katniss for as long as possible to ensure her safe return home. But what could I bargain life with? The security of the tributes family. I could make sure they stayed well fed. It was an offer my parents wouldn't like, but one I would make sure was carried through. My mind had been so focused on the plan that I had nearly missed my name being called out.
I was then that the memory started to take a new form to it. I had glanced up to see Katniss leering at me, seducing me to join her at the podium. Katniss wanted to destroy my life… Katniss wanted to destroy the capital… I gripped tightly to the arms of the chair I was sitting in, holding on to my grip on reality before it could slip away from me, before the reality President Snow put in my head took over and made me destroy what little we had here.
It was then I felt a pair of arms wrap around me in a gentle yet needing embrace. It was an embrace I had experienced all too well from the giving and receiving end. Her perfume crawled through the room. I took several deep breaths, fighting all false urges that were rushing within me. There was one thing I knew would calm me down, even though I well knew the answer.
"You love me. Real or not real?"
I could almost feel her smile behind me and her hug tighten. "Real." My muscles relaxed a bit more until I no long felt any foreign urge surgically implanted in my brain, attempting to rob me of what sanity I had. I smiled to myself and released my cemented grip on the chair. "We are safe from the world. Real or not real?"
I frowned at her question and turned to her. "Real," I whispered, running my hand along her cheek, brushing away stray strands of her brown hair. Despite the fact the Hunger Games were no longer a part of our world I knew whatever came, revolution or Armageddon, I would be there to protect her as I always would be. I held her closer and closed my eyes.
"Marry me?"
I'm not sure how much time had passed before she moved away, out of my arms. It was only a matter of time before I proposed, for real. Even Katniss Everdeen could not pretend that someday she wouldn't be asked this simple and complicated question. It was a question that I expected a negative response from, but feeling her pull away and seeing her confused look still hurt just as much.
"Peeta…" I could see the cogs turning in her head. She answer wasn't necessarily no, but she was still trying to find a way from answering the question. "You know how I feel about the subject."
I nodded, trying not to let my disappointment show, but she knew me far better than that. We were different in the respect that she didn't want children, and I did. But we both had wounds that would never heal, wounds that only each other could fill. Though we were together here in District 12, practically alone, there was still something about her being my wife that would connect us together in ways we could never be elsewise.
I took her lack of answer as a rain check and turned, moving silently out the back door, careful not to slam the door shut. I didn't want her to think that her answer had upset me. I had waited this long for her to return what love I had to offer the beautiful flower that she was. I could stand waiting a little while longer for her answer.
