The Mockingjay in Flames Chapter 2, a hunger games fanfic

I already had this one partly done so that's why I was so quick to put it up. Thank you to the guest that gave me the lovely review! I know it's a bit dull to introduce, but I'm hoping to make this quite long - hopefully novel length - so it does need quite a bit of introduction. And I'm still figuring out how to work this, so bear with me! I own nothing here, except my own plot interpretation - everything else goes to the wonderful Suzanne Collins. If you want to leave me a review, that would be totally cool. Like, I would not mind that at all. At all.

Chapter 2

I curl up on the corner seat of our big couch and Peeta leans against the side of the sofa, by my head. My prep team, Effie and Haymitch continue their conversations on the other seats in our front room, glasses of wine in hand, while Gale can be heard upstairs play fighting with Gloriana. Robin is already in bed.

The topic of discussion slowly moves towards tomorrow's events.

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. The day is spent in appreciation of all we lost during the Capitol's reign and it mostly centres around the Hunger Games and the dead tributes. This year, it's District Twelve. I don't think I want Gloriana and Robin to see tomorrow's Remembrance Day broadcast, which is the only programme that is mandatory these days. Not that I mind watching it, but it makes me sad to think about all the people I loved that are gone. I play with a strand of Peeta's hair, and begin listening to the conversation properly.

'It's just diabolical. Where is law enforcement when you need them?' Effie is saying, waving a hand in an exaggerated flourish.

'I agree that they should be doing more. Even these days when everyone is so touchy about security, these things are still slipping past our guard.' Flavius says, shaking his head in disapproval. Peeta murmurs his assent.

Gale enters the room at this point, laughter dancing in his eyes. Everyone glances up when he comes in, and I can see him reading the looks on everyone's faces.

'What's going on?' he asks.

'We were just discussing those murders in District Two,' Haymitch informs him. Have I been tuned out for that long? I've missed the entire conversation.

'It's just too bad law enforcement wasn't on the scene quick enough. A week before Remembrance Day, as well. What does that say about our country?' Effie says, the disgust showing on her face. Gale sighs and sits down on the other end of my couch.

'Yeah, I knew the family,' he says heavily. I look at him in surprise. He never mentioned this.

'Who were they?' Peeta asks, twisting round to look at him.

'Kanika and Sterling Holland. The kid was thirteen years old. I never knew her name though. What kind of person does that? Sterling works with the same company as me. He always acted a bit odd around me but I think he was just shy,' he explains, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit when he's upset about something. Everyone makes sympathetic noises and comments but gradually the conversation returns to happier topics after a while. Everyone exclaims over how pretty Gloriana is or how handsome Robin is and we discuss Gloriana's upcoming birthday party.

'We will be choosing the party outfits of course,' Octavia says, waving her hands in a decisive manner. Peeta and I laugh but we know it is inevitable that we will have no control over our child's wardrobe on the day.

'No flames,' Peeta warns them, and I smile sadly. On our first debut for the Hunger Games, Peeta and I were dressed in capes and headdresses of fire designed by Cinna, my stylist who was killed during the rebellion.

'Of course not, she's going to be thirteen! It was different for you two,' Venia sniffs as though the very idea offends her personally. I pick a biscuit from a tray on the ornate coffee table. I chew the corners and relax as the atmosphere in the room becomes drowsy and peaceful.

Effie warns Peeta and I about the inevitable interviews and attention we will be bestowed with tomorrow. Especially since we are the victors of the last ever full Hunger Games. She's even brought along a list of question and answers she wants us to review.

After a while Haymitch begins to snore loudly, signalling the end to the evening. I yawn and Gale begins to stand, extending his hand towards me. I reach for it, but suddenly Peeta has his arms around my waist and is pulling me up. I'm too tired to notice anything strange and nobody else seems to be paying attention to us, so Gale clears his throat quietly and bids us goodnight, leaving for one of the many guest rooms. Flavius, Venia, Octavia and Effie are staying in the little hotel in the square.

They say their goodbyes and we leave Haymitch to snore on the couch. Peeta takes me by the hand and leads me upstairs, locking the doors on our way past. I lean into him; the several glasses of wine really are taking their effect now. It has been a long day.

'Watch your step,' Peeta murmurs, leading me up the stairs. I can hear soft snores emanating from Gloriana and Robin's rooms and once again, I feel reassured that absolutely everything about our lives will always this perfect. How could anything bad ever happen in our little bubble? The little bubble where we are safe and sound. Where there is no threat to our children's lives. A smile curves my lips in response to this thought.

Peeta helps me out of my clothes but I'm too tired to change into pyjamas. I flop onto the big bed in my underwear. Peeta climbs in next to me and pulls me close, carefully tucking the duvet up under my chin. I quickly fall asleep.

But it's not long before I wake with a start, covered in a cold sweat, my breathing ragged.

My old nightmares are back. Similar, yet slightly different. I dream that Peeta, Gloriana, Robin and Gale are all on one side of a sheet of glass and I'm on the other, unable to get to them. And suddenly, I can hear all of their screams, as though they are being tortured and even though I can see them in front of me and I can see they aren't harmed I begin screaming too. Just as I do, a cloud of birds, as black as the night, descend on me, pecking at my exposed skin with their beaks and scratching me with their claws.

And that's always when I wake. For a long time I try to get back to sleep but the room is too stuffy and I'm uncomfortably sticky with perspiration. Finally, I give in and swing my legs out of the bed. I look back at Peeta, safe and unharmed. Crossing to the big bay windows, I toss one wide open to tempt in the night air. I breathe deeply and then slip into the bathroom, where I lean over the sink, staring at myself in the mirror. There is no colour in my cheeks and my hair sticks up at the back—evidence of my restless sleep. I run the water from the tap for a minute and try to wipe away the sweat on my forehead but it feels so good I decide just to take a cool shower. I slide my underwear off and step into the enormous shower room. The digital clock on the wall tells me that it is quarter past two in the morning.

When I'm satisfied that all the nightmares have been washed away, I switch off the shower and move to the mirror again. The closet in the bedroom yields me a t-shirt and shorts that I can wear to back bed. I pull them on swiftly and braid my wet hair down my back but my mind seems to be buzzing with some unexplained energy. Maybe some tea would calm me.

The thick carpet in the hallway deadens my footsteps and allows me to move silently through the house. First, I visit Gloriana. I brush her hair off her forehead and pull her duvet a little higher. Then I go into Robin's room—who is completely buried under his many stuffed animals and blankets. He is cocooned like a caterpillar and shifting them to find his little face is a harder task than I imagined. His eyelids flicker, a tiny dent appearing at the side of his mouth as he dreams. His are obviously much more peaceful than mine.

Once I am sure they are comfortable I pad downstairs in a reverie. I go to open the front door for some more air but a sudden noise from the kitchen snaps me out of my trance. I push myself against the wall soundlessly and use the long shadows to keep myself hidden. Creeping along the hallway, every silhouette and object looks like a threat in the gloom. The bang comes again and I tense the muscles in my legs, preparing myself to run. My mind races as I remember my knife, in its sheath on my bedside table and I curse myself. What on earth am I going to do if it's a burglar? Another thud and I'm at the door, my body rigid with distress.

I take a deep breath and throw the door open, rolling as I would had I had my bow and arrow, and grab a knife from the worktop to hold it out in front of me, ready to strike.

'Don't do that, sweetheart, you scared the hell outta me,' Haymitch grumbles, clutching his chest. I lower my knife, my heartbeat slowing to normal.

'I scared you? Haymitch, I almost stabbed you. I forgot you were here.' He frowns and his eyes trace my face.

'Nightmares again?' he asks, turning away and replacing the cans he'd lifted down from a cupboard. I don't answer him. He shakes his head and turns towards me, pursing his lips. 'You look like hell. When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?'

'Last night,' I tell him, wounded. He raises his eyebrows but doesn't press the matter.

'So, you seriously don't have any alcohol in this house at all?'

'No, I thought you were kidding when you asked Gale if he knew any secret hiding places,' I reply, replacing the knife on the counter.

'I asked him that?' he said, puzzlement crossing his features, as he attempts to sift through the drunken haze of his night. I just grab a glass from the draining board and fill it with water from the tap.

'Remembrance Day, tomorrow,' I murmur, staring down into the glass. Haymitch mumbles something and returns the last few tins to their respective shelves. 'You don't think they'll ask about—' I swallow convulsively and force myself on, '—about Rue, do you?'

'Today,' he corrects me. 'Yes, I was worried about that. Among other things.' I'm pretty sure I know what these 'other things' are. The fact that Peeta and I are most certainly going to be mentioned in tomorrow's show, they'll almost certainly ask about the rebellion and moments I don't want to relive.

'Robin was going to find out sooner or later,' I whisper, thinking of Gale, and his propensity for telling Robin things he should not know.

'Maybe you should tell him, before he finds out from the Capitol,' Haymitch says uncomfortably.

'I will.' I put my water glass in the sink and bid goodnight to Haymitch. I'm sort of glad I had the chance to speak to him. He's reassured what I'd been developing in my head for a while now. Gloriana knows enough to get by, I think. She's old enough now: but Robin isn't ready to hear it. Not in my opinion. Gale might think he's ready, but Gale has never been the most cautious.

I tramp back up the stairs and into my bedroom where Peeta lies, still in the same position I left him in. I climb into my bed and curl into the curve of his body. I pull his arm around me and I feel him raise his head from the pillow slightly. I wait for him to say something but he just puts his arms around me and holds me closer.

For a while I lie in the darkness, running my thumb across Peeta's palm. I roll over until I am face to face with him. He looks so calm and perfect when he's asleep, though I know there is some serious damage inside him, just like there is in me. I stroke his cheek and press my face into his neck. I wait for sleep to take me, but it does not come.

All I can picture is the terror in Rue's eyes when she realised I couldn't save her. My mind replays the images of her final moments over and over. I whisper the song I sung to her as she died and I feel tears begin to spill from eyes and run onto the pillow, leaving damp stains.

'Hey,' I hear Peeta's voice, slightly muffled as I have my head completely buried against his chest, under the duvet now, 'what's up?' His hands reach down and tilt my head up towards him. I see his face crease with worry and horror at my distress. 'What's going on Katniss?' he demands. I try to answer him but my words choke off in my throat and tears stream from my eyes in a fast-flowing river.

His thumbs delicately wipe them away and he puts his arms around me, pulling me into a sitting position. He rocks me gently back and forth, letting me cry all my tears away. When I've finally run out, he leans back and looks into my eyes which are ringed red and bloodshot, I know. I open my mouth to tell him about Prim, when I realise that it's not just Prim I've been crying over, it's Rue. Little Rue with her mockingjay call and her sweet, trusting nature. The two were so alike that it's not surprising I am thinking of both of them now, even when I did not intend to do so.

'Prim or Rue this time?' he asks knowingly.

'Both,' I whisper. He holds my face between his hands and looks down at me, demanding I look at him.

'Katniss, I know it's hard, but you have to let go. They're gone now and you're just cutting yourself up over it,' he pleads. I stare at him, shocked.

'How can you say that?' I gasp, shrinking back from him.

'I can say that because it's been years. They're not coming back Katniss.' He rushes on before I can protest, 'And I know you loved them both very much and they loved you too, I'm sure of it. But life goes on. All the things we've been through will only make us stronger in the end, even now, when she's gone she's still helping you.' I look down at my hands. Peeta presses his lips to my head and strokes my hair.

'I'm sorry,' I whisper. Peeta knows that I'm not talking to him, but to Rue and to Prim, who, if I'd planned better—if I'd been better—both would have lived. I look into Peeta's face. His eyes are a bit too bright but they tell me it will be all right. I stretch up and kiss him hard, wordlessly thanking him for everything he does for me. Pulling me back down, we settle back onto the mattress.

I keep my ear close against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The steady sound reassures me and I fall back into my uneasy sleep soon enough.

The next time I awake, it's to the sound of my bedroom door being flung open and I look up to see the formidable silhouette of Effie standing in the doorway, wringing her hands, hair worryingly tall and bouncy. I blink in the daylight filters in through the curtains, attacking my eyes.

'You two better get up. There are camera crews headed here right now,' she says seriously. I sit up straight immediately, Peeta however seems not to have woken and just rolls over, mumbling something incoherent. I jump out of bed, dragging a pillow with me. For a moment I'm confused but before I can do anything too decisive, my prep team are here, ushering me into the bathroom. I launch the pillow in Peeta's direction.

'Wake up, Peeta! Get Gale up, too!'

'What?' he asks, wearily rubbing his eyes. I'm shoved through the bathroom door and over to the sink. He pokes his head in, to see Octavia and Venia attacking me with wax strips and tweezers. Flavius fusses over the closet in the bedroom, clearly at a loss for what to put us in.

'Cameras. They're coming here,' I say agitatedly.

'So? What's the fuss?' he says running his hands through his mussed hair. I almost laugh at the sight of him.

'They'll want interviews,' Effie says, peering out the bedroom window, her nerves infectious. Peeta slaps his forehead.

'Remembrance Day.' I nod at him.

'We did not account for this,' Flavius says, hurrying over with a red silk dress and black spiky heels. I frown at him.

'Are those necessary? I'm not trying to make an impression anymore.' I complain.

'You're right!' he gasps, drops them on the floor and hurries back to the wardrobe. He dashes back just as Octavia pulls out my braid and brushes through my hair. He holds out smart, black cigarette-pants which cling closely to my skin and a carefully, delicately tailored black suit jacket to top off a white silk blouse. Venia hurries from the room to get Peeta ready.

'The heels are still necessary though; you want to look your best,' he nods at me. I sigh but let him tug the tight clothes onto me. Just as I'm dragging on the last stiletto and my make-up is almost complete, Peeta hops into the room pulling on black trousers, his matching shirt hanging open.

'This is mental,' he mutters, earning himself a reproving glance from Venia. I have to agree. When I am finally allowed to look in the mirror, I see that my hair has been put into the style my mother did for the first reaping but my face is pale with my eyes ringed in dark make-up. I look striking. It is clear that despite what he says, Flavius is still looking for me to make an impression. Venia attempts to put make-up on Peeta but he slaps her hand away.

'You are joking,' he says in a warning tone and finishes buttoning his shirt. Octavia darts in and unbuttons the top two buttons

'Perfect, just that little touch of rebellion,' she says, surveying us standing next to each other.

'Ah, the star-crossed lovers from district twelve are back,' says Haymitch, entering the room and sliding sunglasses onto his eyes—his hangover is obviously defeating him. 'You're not on fire,' he observes, bemused. 'Odd.' I don't laugh.

'Right, so are we having a party in here or what?' Peeta asks, gesturing at all the people in our over-crowded bathroom. As if pushed by his words, the group slips into the bedroom just as Gale ducks in and double takes at the sight of me—no doubt everyone sees my blush.

'What's going on?' he asks, bewildered. Flavius sighs and explains the situation.

'So, they'll be looking for interviews from the ones who survived: the Mockingjay and her partner. Oh, you don't think they'll want one with you too?' he asks, worriedly appraising Gale's pyjamas. 'You were involved heavily in the rebellion.' Gale holds his hands up and backs away a few steps.

'I doubt it; they don't know me.' Just as he says this, the doorbell goes and Gloriana pads into the room, too, making it a party of nine. Suddenly, everything begins happening at once. Flavius, Octavia and Venia advance on Gale, dangerous expressions on their faces, and drag him into the bathroom, while Haymitch and Effie begin talking at the same time. Gloriana tugs Peeta's sleeve and asks what's going on. I just look at them all and excuse myself from the room. The confusion is too much for me, so I go to answer the door.

When I reach it, I look out the peep-hole to see several camera and sound crews from different television networks—or insects as I prefer to call them. I take a deep breath and just as I am about to open the door, Peeta appears at my side and takes my hand. I smile at him and open the door to instant camera flashes and multiple questions. I blink a few times but Peeta, always the speaker, steps forward and holds his hands out, gesturing for quiet.

I move up and stand next to him.

'Peeta!' several reporters shout and many microphones are held out to him.

One reporter manages to shout above the rest: 'Peeta and Katniss! What are your thoughts on today's Remembrance Day ceremony?' Peeta clears his throat and glances at me. I nod almost imperceptibly.

'Today is a sad day,' he says, and the watching crowd grow quiet. The gravity in his voice keeps the listeners riveted from the first word. Those from the District have gathered to hear and the people in our house wait nervously behind us. 'It is a sad day for a number of reasons. We mourn the loss of our friends, our relatives,' he squeezes my hand, 'and the strangers we never knew. Katniss and I both lost people we love in the rebellion but had it not been for their brave sacrifice, the world would not be the same today. We'd still be playing the Games. Children's lives would be lost every year for a senseless reason, and there would always be that cycle of destruction. But today we don't think about ourselves, today we think about those who gave their lives for the cause. Those who gave their lives, unwillingly or otherwise for the Hunger Games.' He looked at me and I realised it was time for my piece. After a long pause I begin my speech, keeping my eyes trained just above the gathered crowd. It keeps my heart rate slightly lower.

'I know, maybe more than most, what it feels like to lose the ones you love. I never wanted to fight a war and lose my sister, my friends, my home. But we're better for it. Panem is better for it. Stronger. I think that's what we need to focus on today. Remember what those who died did for us. For Panem.' Though my speech isn't as long or intricate as Peeta's I think it has the desired effect—I've never been as good with words as he is. There is a weighted silence from the watching crowd and cameramen. We make to return inside but are bombarded with questions as to if we'll give interviews or speeches later in the day. Effie barges past to sort these things out: it's what she's best at. We close the door quietly and I lean against it, my breathing shallow. I wonder for a moment when I'll ever stop having to relive the Hunger Games. Robin trips down the stairs, stuffed bear in his hand.

'You look pretty, Momma,' he says with eight year old simplicity. I laugh a weak, relieved laugh and it breaks the ice in the room. Gale smiles at me and scoops Gloriana up in his arms and carries her into the kitchen.

'Food!' we hear him announce. I realise I'm starving. I hear a few sniffs and look up to see Octavia and Venia wiping their eyes and patting each other's shoulders.

'That was beautiful,' Venia tells us and they excuse themselves to the bathroom.

Peeta helps me up from the door and we go into the kitchen where Gale is frying eggs and Gloriana waits expectantly. No one but Robin follows us in; they know we have to iron this out. Peeta goes to a cupboard on the wall and slides it to the left, revealing a silver safe. He types in a code and brings out a big black box. Carrying it to the table, he sets it down and Robin's curious, intelligent eyes watch him carefully.

'Why are those people here?' Robin asks us, his eyes trained on my face. I tap the lid of the box.

'This is why,' I say and lift the lid away to reveal the book Peeta and I made, which contained everything that happened before and during the rebellion which we thought worth noting. Gloriana sits down at the table, her face covered in a look of childish superiority—she thinks she has the upper hand; she already knows what we are going to say. And that hurts my heart.

It contains the tapes of our Hunger Games, recordings of any interviews and the propos from the rebellion.

Gale makes to leave the room but I know I can't relive this without him. I pull him into the seat next to me by the elbow and Peeta sits on my other side. The confusion on Robin's face intensifies when I pull a stack of photographs from the box.

I take a deep breath and we begin our story.