June 2nd
Two men stood in a room, light dim and would be menacing if it wasn't coming from the sun itself. The taller of the men was leaning against a desk, arms crossed over a well-built chest, while the shorter—with a buzz-cut and a harsh face—stood near the doorway.
"The hovercraft is ready, sir," said the man in the doorway, snapping a hand up to his forehead in a salute. "As are the team of eight I've readied."
"Eight?" The taller cocked his head, displaying dull interest. "Isn't that a bit much?"
"It's what you ordered, sir."
"Very well, then." No arguing with that. Heaving a sigh, the man who was obviously in charge detached himself from the side of the desk. "You remember my orders, General? Only her."
The General nodded his head once, briskly. "Yes, sir."
"If necessary—which I know it most likely will be—him too. Anyone who gets in your way to her."
"Yes, sir."
"No intentional harming, though. The last mission you were sent on ended badly." The taller man walked around to the other side of the desk and picked up a flat piece of glass, wood framing around the rectangle. "No, don't hurt anyone. Especially not her."
"Of course, sir. It will not happen again."
"And please stop calling me sir. It makes me twitch."
"Yes, sir."
Letting out another sigh, the man in charge looked up from the cold rectangle he held again. "No breaking into her house, either. Or setting it on fire. No damage inflicted on anything, got it?"
"Of course."
"I expect it wouldn't be too difficult." He turned a pained look out the window behind him. Endless seas of evergreen trees lifted their spiky branches to scratch the cold, clear sky. "She'll do anything to keep the people she loves safe. When the time comes, a sacrifice will be made and there should be no problem taking her."
"Yes, sir." The General didn't mind having so many restrictions on his job. He was loyal to his boss, and if following his directions meant having tea and crumpets with the girl while hopping up and down on one foot, he would have done it. Maybe.
"Good luck, though." The taller man looked back at the rectangle, once again absorbed. "Be back in a few days. With her."
Snapping another salute, the general said: "Yes, sir," and left the small room.
The mild sunlight in the room illuminated a sparkle of black hair, hanging from the grieving man's bowed head. He hoped it would work… He hoped, he dreamed. Dreamed of the girl.
Sighing, he set down the rectangle and left the room as well.
A single beam of light shone down on the picture, propped up against a thick reference book. A picture of Katniss Everdeen (Mellark, actually, but that shouldn't be too hard to fix), holding a tiny baby in her arms and scowling at the camera. Almost…
KATNISS' POV
June 4th
2:54 am
I woke up from a strange noise in my dream. Though I knew it wasn't in my dream. Blearily opening my eyes, I peered around the room, disoriented. The basement was almost pitch black; all but one of the candles had gone out some time when we were sleeping. It only took me only a few seconds to remember what happened yesterday. And the strange noise wasn't making me feel any better.
Since I was laying on my side, back pressed up against Peeta's chest (his arms were around me), I had to squirm loose to sit up. "Peeta?"
He woke immediately, blinking in confusion up at me. "Are you okay?"
"I heard something," I whispered, feeling five years old again, when I used to wake up my father claiming there was something coming to get me. There was actually something to be afraid of this time, though.
Peeta sat up, getting alert quickly. He folded his hand over mine protectively, but we didn't dare breathe, just waiting, just listening.
There it was again… No wonder I woke up, because it was a muted WHAM and a loud thud, as if something—or someone—was trying to cover it up. Although it was slightly different from the last noise I heard, it was still there.
At the sound, Peeta's eyes flew wide. When I opened my mouth to say something, he shushed me, straining his ears again.
Yes, there was definitely something upstairs. A pair of footsteps could be heard, but then a light thud and another pair joined that one. Soon, it was obvious we were far from alone in the house.
Shaking his head around furiously, Peeta's eyes dashed all around the room frantically, searching for something. He had begun shaking, I felt.
A new kind of fear was making its way inside of me, a kind more fiery and real than last night. To see them creeping around in our backyard was one thing. Having them in our house, trapping us in the basement was another. My instincts told me to run, do whatever I can to get free of the corner and escape, but who knows what would happen to me if I step foot out of the basement?
There was another loud thud—these were the noisiest ninjas I've ever come across to in my years—and a sharp rattling at the top of the basement stairs.
Peeta cursed again, once and quiet, shaking even more violently, he yanked me upright and we hurdled into the basement bathroom, with nowhere else to go. A sputter of yellow light and the candle went out, dousing our world in bitter darkness. The bathroom door swung halfway closed behind us, but he gave me no chance to close it before dragging me clumsily behind the shower curtain as soon as his blind fingers found it. My heart slammed viciously against my ribcage. No, no, no, leave us alone, I wanted to whimper in fright. No sound came, though, as I curled into a fetal position in the bathtub.
Peeta had his arms around me tightly—too tight, it hurt me, but I just shrank closer, pressing us into the smallest amount of mass. He was trembling and his breath was ragged and as scared as I felt, but it was obvious he was trying to stay quiet.
The pounding from upstairs grew louder, until a great splintering crash sounded and burst the quiet air as the door to the basement came hurdling down the stairs in a flurry of splinters. This time I let out a noise, by accident, but it was terrified and unrestrained. Peeta clamped his hand over my mouth, pressing my lips painfully against my teeth. An irony taste covered my tongue. Together, we shrank into an even tighter space against the cold ceramic tub.
Like icy fingers, terror took hold of my chest and dug in, raking huge scars into my lungs. A roaring had taken up in my ears, loud and dead silent at the same time. And with every ticking second that dragged by, I could hear it. Footsteps treading lightly over the dirty stairs. I could just see the figure in my mind, body lithe and black, silhouetted head tilted to the air, as if he was sniffing the air, trying to catch the scent of fear.
If my pounding heart didn't give us away, I don't know what would. It held a sliver of comfort, though, to feel Peeta's chest thudding as hard as mine was. I wasn't the only one scared out of my mind.
The footsteps came closer. Soon, they'd be in the bathroom, watching their pray cower, in a cold harshness of the washtub. Laughing. Clop, clop, clop. Quietly treading feet getting nearer and nearer. My head felt bloated with fear, pressing my eyes into the backs of my skull. Please no, please no…
They stopped right outside the half-open bathroom door. Why didn't we close the damn thing? Peeta's hand did not yield on my mouth. In fact, he squeezed me closer. My lungs were no longer able to expand, but that was okay. I wouldn't be able to breathe anyway. I could almost feel my ribs cracking.
It felt like an eternity the mystery person stood there outside the bathroom door. Perhaps he was inside. What made him stop? Was he taunting us? Did he know we were in here? If so, he could just stroll in and pluck us right up. Every heart beat of mine was like the tolling of a great clock.
We waited.
It could have been a week later when there was finally some kind of sign from outside from the person. A hesitant footstep backwards, then a long sigh. It sounded not evil, or joyous, or even malicious. It sounded…disappointed. Maybe even regret added in. Slowly, they retreated back across the room and up the stairs, no longer trying to keep their stride noiseless. Were they…?
I was still stuck, frozen. Still, neither Peeta nor I moved.
When we could hear the footfall on the first floor again, there was a disturbance. Of course, we knew already that there were more than three people, but when we heard the voices—upset by the sound of it—it was obvious there was way more than three. Nine, maybe. Or ten. It sounded as though they were arguing, but the specific words were inaudible. It was more like buzzing in the very backs of our eardrums.
And they left. Just like that, they left. Footsteps wandered to the right of the first floor and vanished, with a few of the men—they were men—cursing loudly, kicking things over in anger. The second they were gone, Peeta's grip relaxed all the way, arms sliding away from me like ropes, exhausted from the many years of kissing the necks of convicts. He let out a choked noise, and begun crying quietly into my hair.
Don't cry, please don't—
I was crying, too. In the squat metal tub, I managed to slide onto my stomach and put my arms around Peeta's shoulders as best as I could, comforting him, even though there were tears on my own face. Hands gripped the material of my shirt, pulling me close to him, but not in a passionate way. Just like this was the first time he'd held me in years. Might as well have been. We just escaped certain end. End to what, I wasn't sure. But end most definitely.
Both of us were quivering, muscles deciding not to move for another, oh, decade.
Peeta's tears were cold. "…I thought I was going to lose you," he whispered against my neck, light gasps tickling the tiny hairs down my back. "Both of you."
I didn't know what to say to that. I was still frozen in shock, unable to feel anything but the arms around me, unable to hear anything over the raging drum of my heart, unable to taste anything but the fear still raw in my throat. I was getting pulled back slowly, but the last five minutes (it did all happened within only five minutes, believe it or not) put everything into perspective. Of course, it scared me more than anything. I found myself more afraid then than I ever had been in my life. Not in the Games when I almost died or when I watched Rue die or when I watched Gale being whipped or in the Quell, not any of those times.
I was afraid because of the child inside of me.
Peeta and I stayed put for a while, wrapped in each other, trying to share whatever strength we had left to stop the open taps in our eyes. In fact, it took another good half an hour before I was able to lift my head from Peeta's chest and swallow.
"Do you think they're gone for good?" My voice was a hoarse whisper.
Peeta's bitter laugh scared me. "Of course not."
A small choking noise burbled from my mouth.
"But we have a few hours, at most." He closed his eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, he swept my hair back with a sort of desperate tenderness. Wetness prickled his eyes again, and a pained grimace appeared, creasing his forehead. "…I don't know what to do."
I was at a loss for words, mostly because he seemed to be in physical agony. It was horrible to watch, pearls of saltwater tracing vertical lines down his cheeks, one after another, soaking all hopelessness that sat on his chin, dragging the corners of my husband's mouth down. Trying to swallow the lump in my throat, I reached both of my hands up to cup his wet face.
"There's still hope," I said to him, but not believing it myself. "If we manage to make it to District Thirteen—"
"The train station is closed, Katniss," Peeta nearly wailed, scrambling to sit up. "We can't—"
"Just shut up," I snapped at him harshly, smacking his chest none too lightly. "Saying things like that gets us nowhere. We'll walk, if we have to. Run. It's a half-hour ride there on a hovercraft. If we go five miles an hour, then we'll be able to get there in less than twenty-four hours. Not all is lost."
He was gritting his teeth, avoiding my gaze with steely, upset slate eyes—a completely new look for him.
"Peeta."
He still didn't look at me.
I took my finger to turn his head towards me. Yet another tear fell. I couldn't find the words I wanted, though. I took a few minutes of keeping Peeta's mournful gaze that I managed to speak.
"We'll call Mother, and go from there." I took my hand away from his face and eased my shaking body out of the bathtub. Even though my limbs hissed and sputtered like an old, broken car, resisting all efforts of movement, I managed to pull myself into an upright position and turn back to face Peeta. He was still laying there.
Biting my lip, I held a hand down to him. It was hard trying to be strong—or at least, stronger than him. I wasn't feeling upset or even particularly superior over him at that moment. Considering all that was happening, though, one of us had to grin and bear it, and I didn't blame Peeta for feeling what he was feeling. We all go through that moment of pure terror that seem to fold us inside-out, that freeze our usual selves and let something else kick in, whether instinct or not. All I knew was that he never blinked twice whenever I lost step, so I wasn't even considering that. Didn't even cross my mind.
"Come on, Peeta." My voice remained smooth—and perhaps even coaxing—as I offered my hand down a little further. He just stared up at me in pain. "Come on."
Finally, his shivering fingers wrapped around mine and I pulled him into an upright position, in which I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest. At times like these, sometimes I wished that I could have been a little closer to his height to make it easier comforting him, but this time was just right. I let Peeta tuck his chin on the top of my head and snake his arms around me, using the small shape of my body to curl around and lean into.
"I'm sorry," he whispered finally, after several long minutes of trying to breathe properly. His hands—which were barely shaking at all then—stroked the curve of my spine, brushing back strands of my hair with a now gentle touch. Peeta had his head bent so where his lips were just barely touching my neck, and as he spoke, I could feel the vibrations of his throat against mine. "I'll try and keep myself together better."
"We all have those moments." I pressed my lips to his cheek and pulled away, still keeping hold of both his hands. "It's alright."
Peeta shook his head at me, as if he pitied my point of view of things like this. "Not really, but what's done is done. Now let's go call your mother before they come back." He squeezed my hand reassuringly, back to the way he was. Strong and sturdy as he flicked on the bathroom light (my eyes screamed and watered in the blinding orange beam) and led us out of the dim bathroom that had been our prison just a few minutes ago.
I wasn't prepared to see past the shade of my own eyes. The basement, though not in complete ruins, was a definite mess. The door, which had been a solid, thick mahogany, was laying in pieces all across the room. Various sizes of splinters littered the floor, ranging from the side of my calf to the size of a needle. It was almost macabre, looking at the remnants. A bloody fight, remains of the loser smearing dead footprints along the floor, the last traces there was a fight at all.
My heart almost went out to that poor, inanimate object that had so faithfully tried keeping the ninjas away from me and Peeta.
Peeta whistled, low and long. "I don't know if a normal human could bash a door up like that, even if it did get hurdled down a flight of stairs thirty feet up."
"Maybe he had some sort of…bat," I said unsurely, doubting my own words. Suddenly, I could look at the scene anymore. Turning my head away from it, I quickly tugged him in the direction of the stairs. "Let's go,"
Although we did ascend the stairs, Peeta insisted on being first, brandishing one of the two hunting knives in our possession.
As we gently stepped over the broken frame leading out of the basement, I came to realize the full impact the break-in had done on our house, breaking in at such an early time with no warning. Tables were turned, lamps shattered across the floor. One solitary light was turned on above the front door, which was also smashed inwards, crushed on the landing. The large, gothic-styled window I had once loved that had been embedded into the door was in pieces—just like everything else.
I sucked in a short gasp, momentarily pressing my side against Peeta's. His face seemed pulled tight in an aggrieved look, but he said nothing as he kept leading the way. We picked our ways across the long living room, stepping over bits of glass and wood, all the way to the phone in the entrance on the other side of the room.
According to Peeta, he had locked all of the doors in close proximity. The doorknob to the kitchen appeared to have been punched out, and the slab of now-useless wood hung limply on its hinges. Was…was our fridge raided? Do these people have no dignity?
Face remaining twisted and fidgety with apprehension, Peeta dialed the number for the house next to ours—my mother's—and held the phone up as it connected. He was offering it to me, but I shook my head, throat closing up. Soon I'd get over with the delayed reaction and start freaking out majorly. Our house had just gotten broken into by freakishly badass ninjas, and Peeta and I nearly gotten dragged off—just like the seven other victors that stood no chance. How we managed, it was beyond me.
I shook my head again.
Peeta shrugged and swallowed noticeably before putting the receiver to his ear.
The other end rang fifteen times, before automatically hanging up. Peeta dialed for a second time, but got an answer after the fourth ring. I could hear, too.
"Is everything alright?" Mother's voice said tiredly, obvious she had just woken up.
There was a pause from our end, trying to sort out the right things to say.
"Hello, Ms. Everdeen." Peeta had never gotten used to calling her 'Mother', despite her constant assurance. "There had been an…issue here."
The tone of voice used immediately made Mother's fatigued demeanor melt. "What's wrong, Peeta? Is Katniss okay?"
"She's fine, but our house isn't." Peeta proceeded to explain what happened, muting the worst of the worst parts so where they didn't sound as horrible as they really were. "…I hope we didn't disturb you too much, Ms. Everdeen."
Surprisingly, Mother didn't even try to correct him. Tiny, barely audible noises of disbelief were coming from the phone, but I didn't think it was the static. She had to take several breaths before being able to talk. "…I-I don't want to wake them… But-but can I come see? Survey the…damage?"
Have fun with that, I thought bitterly, but didn't say anything. It felt like my mouth was going to be in a frown for the rest of my life.
"Be careful," Peeta said quietly, eyebrows creased. "They might still be out there."
"Can I talk to Katniss, Peeta? Is she there?"
"Yeah, here." He pressed the telephone into my hand with a supportive smile. It seemed too tight to be real, though.
I put the receiver to my lips and said in a shaky voice: "Hello, Mother."
"You stay safe, honey. I'll be right over."
I had never been happier to hear my mother's voice. "Okay."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
There was a click from the other end of the line, and I hung up the plastic device with shaking fingers.
A cold second passed, and then another before Peeta puts his arms around me from the side and pulls me against his chest. I could smell the faint starchy smell of flour and bread and other such things that he spent so much time with, I could smell the lemon shampoo that sent his sandy hair into a crackly of clean static electricity, I could smell the still-raw shock on his skin in the form of a sudden cold sweat.
I breathed in warmth he provided and tried not to think of what is going to happen. Our house was…well, half-obliterated. We'd have to buy new doors and windows and the little tables and lamps… Not to mention how I'm never going to sleep again, in fear of ninjas coming and dragging me away by my hair in the middle of the night when I'm sleeping.
Peeta held me until Mother got there, about two minutes after the call. The crunch of the broken glass underfoot on the front porch made me pull away and stare through sad eyes as she walked. My mother was still in her nightclothes, a scraggly grey-blond braid swinging out from the back of her head. She had on a horrified look as she slowly stepped through the glass and wood until we were within touching distance.
Watery blue eyes turned slowly from the wrecked ground to me.
Her arms went around my neck, cold tears pouring from her eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay… You're not hurt, are you?" Quaking like a sheet of autumn rain, Mother pulled away from my neck and did a quick examination, patting my shoulders for dislocations (or something like that) and then feeling down to my stomach. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," I reassured her, not knowing if that was true or not. I put my hands over her soft, wrinkled ones. "I'm fine, Mother. Peeta…he took care of me." The last sentence was spoken quieter, almost as if I was embarrassed to speak them.
I wasn't.
Mother blinked once and then put her arms around Peeta as well. She was quite a bit smaller than him, thinner and more delicate. It almost looked unreal seeing such a fragile-looking aged woman embracing Peeta—a strong, wiry teenage boy who had on the face of a man.
"Thank you, Peeta. Really," her voice sounded sore, but the words were strong. "Thank you for taking care of my daughter…"
Peeta's azure irises swept over to me and he looked nothing if not proud. "Don't thank me. I'm just doing my job."
"It's no job," Mother said as if was completely obvious, and she pulled away from him, wiping her cheeks. As I had expected, she didn't elaborate.
You're right…. I live to be with her… I could hear it in the gentle touch of his fingers on my wrist. It wasn't like he hadn't spoken to me before.
He had.
I squeezed back.
After only a few more seconds of standing in the same spot and turning her head around a little, my mother cleared her throat. "You're going to have to stay in one of the guest rooms."
Peeta said, "What if they come back?" the moment I said, "I'm not putting you, Prim and Annie in danger like that."
"I don't think they'll come twice in one night…" She had on an odd face, and I was surprised to hear something like that coming from Mother. She always thinks of the worst possible outcome, but I wouldn't consider her a pessimist. Just…careful. "If we don't sleep the entire day, I think it'll be okay."
Peeta had on his thoughtful face, eyebrows furrowed & bottom lip caught between his teeth. He put his arm around my waist. "…I wouldn't want to risk anything."
Mother shook her head. "And I do?"
This went on for a while. Mostly between my husband and my mother, we debated about whether or not it was safe for us to be in their house. Slowly, I could tell my mother's side was winning. It was clear Peeta and I couldn't go back to sleep here, at least not until we put in new doors and windows. Almost disgruntle admitting it, Peeta pointed out that the "ninjas" must have done something wrong. The way that they so confidently broke all our doors down and shattered the contents of our house, and then just left, cursing and upset. If they were upset about not finding us, it just might have been a little louder or at least directed towards us, not the ground.
"I'm not arguing this anymore." Mother wrinkled her nose and shook her head defiantly. "You've nowhere to go for tonight, so take the room next to the master. It has no windows, and it's in the harder-to-access part of the house. We'll work something out in the morning."
Fine, said Peeta's face, but I knew he was just happy to get this over with.
Both of us still had our knives with us, actually. Mine was where I had fallen asleep with it—tied firmly into the waistband of my pajama bottoms (no one laughed, thank goodness. It must have been an odd sight). The second we started walking out the front door (or where the door used to be) Peeta's knife just appeared in his left hand, my left in his other. Cautiously, we stepped outside into the dark.
It was warm out for a June night. No stars shone through the freshly blanketed sky, holding out what little light they provided. I didn't mind. A single florescent light was on in my mother's house, visible from the kitchen window. Hopefully everyone was still asleep. I didn't want anyone's regular pattern disturbed at my fault. Of course, it wasn't really mine, but…
"Why don't you two get some sleep," Mother said after we got inside, locking the front door behind her. "We'll get up bright and early tomorrow to discuss what we're going to do next."
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep again for a while…" I muttered to myself, sighing at the floor.
Peeta kissed my temple. "No harm in trying, though."
Only pausing to give my mother a quick goodnight hug and reassure her I'd be safe, I dragged my cement feet off to the bedroom she was talking about and sat on the edge, my cold fingers curled around the hilt of the knife.
"Really, Katniss, you should at least try to sleep." Peeta sat with his back against the headboard of the bed, eyeing me sympathetically.
"Are you?"
He frowned. "…No."
"Then neither am I."
His eyes rolled with exasperation.
So we sat. My head rested on his shoulder, our hands wrapped around each other's. Though tiredness tried to pull my eyelids down over my dilated pupils, I forced them to stay open. Sadly, it only worked for about an hour before both Peeta and I went crashing into a state of uneasy slumber.
I don't know what time it was when my head snapped up suddenly, a violent cramping pain shooting down my neck. A sheen of shivery sweat wrapped my body up in a cloak, and for a few seconds, nothing could be heard other than my heartbeat. Slowly, I realized that nothing was wrong. A nightmare still swam tauntingly fresh in my mind.
My abrupt movement made Peeta wake up, too.
He was alert at once, gripping my hand and staring around the room. "Where—?" His eyes flicked, afraid, to the door, and then to me. Upon seeing my mostly-unperturbed expression, he seemed to deflate.
"Sorry to wake you," I said quietly, sinking an inch further into the pillows against him. "Nothing's wrong."
Peeta let out a sigh that seemed mixed with relief, exhaustion and exasperation. "You scared me."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He pressed his cheek on the top of my head briefly. "Do you know what time it is?"
There was a small analog clock on the bedside stand. It took only once glance at it to read 5:30am. I told this to Peeta, and he let out yet another heavy sigh.
"We might as well get up…"
The fatigue in his soul was obvious, bending his wiry body into a half-circle. Blue streaks were painted like butterflies on his face, standing out among the pale of Peeta's skin. The weight of the world was forced to be dragged with every step away, breaking his shoulders all the while. When I got my legs working, I walked beside him, pressing the side of my body against his, lifting a fraction of that weight off.
My clothes felt grimy and stiff, even though I had only spent one night in them. It was no surprise, though, considering the films of sweat that had layered my skin countless times in the past few hours.
I was wearing my undershirt and a pair of Peeta's pajama pants.
Peeta was still shirtless.
No one seemed to care. And apparently, they all had the chance. When we dragged our worn-out selves into the kitchen, everyone was there to greet us. And by everyone, I meant everyone. Haymitch, Mother, Annie (with Jace), Primrose, Caroline, and little red-headed Ivy. That second our footsteps faltered to absorb the scene before us was all needed for Ivy to spring out of her seat and hurdle herself into my arms.
"CANISS!" She giggled maniacally and dug her tiny fingernails into the bare skin of my shoulder. "G'morning, sweepyhead!"
"Good morning, Ivy." As always, I relaxed a bit with her in my arms, and patted the corduroy material of her little burgundy dress. "How are you doing?"
Ivy giggled again. "Good." Her attention flicked over to Peeta next to me, and her reaction was priceless. At first, her eyebrows puckered in confusion, and then she gave a comical 4-year-old groan. "Oh no, Peeta, where your shirt?"
Even though the gathering was not meant to be entirely carefree and happy, everyone there gave a small snort of laughter.
I didn't bother explaining anything to the little girl before I put her back in her mother's arms.
Caroline put her hand over mine as I sat down (Peeta on my left side, Caroline on my right, Mother right across from me, and Prim and Haymitch on either side of her, Annie sitting between Prim and Caroline). She looked like she aged ten years since the last time I'd seen her. "Are you okay, Katniss?"
I allowed myself a long pause before answering unsteadily, "For now. Shook up, of course, but I'm okay."
At that moment, my mother shifted a little uncomfortably and cleared her throat. "I hope you don't mind," she said to me, a flush appearing on her creased, pale cheeks, "but I…I told her. Caroline. I told her about your…condition. You probably wanted to tell her yourself but…" Her face was apologetic. "Sorry, honey."
That would explain Caroline's expression…
My mouth pulled up at the corners in an attempt of a smile. "I don't mind. It's fine, Mother." Though the smiled failed, the feeling was still there.
So that would mean everyone in this room knew. Haymitch—who look tired and ill-suited for being around anything other than his own garbage—knew. Primrose—who seemed on edge, but happy to see me and Peeta, still wearing a sweet pair of lacy cream pajamas that seemed two sizes too big for her—knew. Annie—still in a heavy white nightgown, chocolate hair done up in a sweeping braid, clutching a little bundle of sleeping baby—knew.
I wasn't sure if Ivy knew, though. If she did, she surely didn't show it. Poor child must not know anything about what we were doing here all in our pajamas, worried and jumpy. She sang a carefree tune to her glass of juice, unaware of the events happening around her.
When no one spoke for a few minutes, Primrose sighed gently.
"I do wish you would have woken me up when they came, Mother," she said lightly, a pout to her bottom lip. "I wouldn't have minded."
"It's not that, dear." Our parent didn't say anything but that.
Haymitch seemed to have nothing to say, too. He just kept on leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, wearing a face of pain. It could have been just the alcohol, or maybe hearing what happened last night upset him. Again, I didn't know.
Between the eight of us, only a fraction of the breakfast Mother made us was consumed. Neither Peeta nor I ate any—our insides felt twisted and dried up—and everyone else's appetite seemed a little off except Ivy's. She shoveled down her syrup-saturated pancakes without a care in the world. When she finally shoved the plate away, thoroughly smeared with sticky sugar and groaning, someone cleared his throat.
"So what are we planning on doing about this 'problem'?" Haymitch's bloodshot eyes were on me, his fingers absentmindedly picking at the corner of his first, uneaten pancake. "You've got crazed, mysterious, black-clothed ninjas out to get you. That's never a good thing."
He sounded as though he didn't believe our story, which had obviously been told to him by Mother.
Prim's lovely face twisted into an upset frown at my old mentor. "You saw her house, Haymitch, you know it's true. Stop acting so sour."
My old mentor just raised his eyebrows at her.
Mother didn't seem to like the arguing, but her lips just pursed as she cleared her throat. "We do need to think about what to do next. What exactly happened last night isn't as relevant as the fact that something did happen, and Katniss and Peeta aren't safe here."
"Where can they go?" Haymitch put his hand on the table and leaned forwards. "The station is down, and they obviously can't go out into the woods. That would be ten times worse than staying here."
Peeta glanced quickly at me. I could read through the glimmer in his eyes what he was thinking, but now that I was fully awake, I wasn't sure it was such a great idea. Peeta didn't catch my warning look before turning back to the debating adults. "We'd thought about going to District 13."
"Are you mad?"
"That's not safe!"
"You aren't thinking about walking there, are you?"
"Absolutely not!"
"That'd take days."
Everyone started talking at once, scowls and startled looks and furrowed brows were thrown at me and Peeta like bricks, hitting hard. I was bashed down automatically, shrinking an inch down into the chair under the weight of everyone's words. Peeta, however, deflected them with a wave of his hand.
"Katniss had it all worked out, actually," he said. "The hovercrafts get to and from here in about thirty minutes, right?" When everyone just blinked at him, he sighed. "Right?"
Haymitch would know, and he did. Coughing lightly into his fist, he nodded once. "Right. Twenty-five, actually."
"And they travel at around two-hundred miles an hour, right?"
That was fast…
Again, Haymitch nodded.
Peeta's face lit up in a defiant smirk, and he leaned back in his chair. "That means it's about just one hundred miles there, right?"
"…Yeah."
"So if Katniss and I go at a minimum of five miles an hour, we'll get there under twenty hours."
Mother's eyes glinted with menacingly parental love. She stood up and leaned forwards on both hands, which were planted firmly on the table. "Twenty hours in which you'll be alone, in the middle of the woods, practically defenseless, with eight potential murderers after you who are obviously professional, to a destination a hundred miles from here without even a MAP. Twenty hours if you know where you're going and go five miles an hour non-stop. There are too many risks."
"I'll have my bow," I said, feeling subconsciously insulted. Did she not think me strong enough to handle myself?
Annie spoke this time. She passed Jace to Prim, stood up and put on a brave, yet feisty clench to her jaw. "They took Finnick. There's no doubt they could take you two."
My voice rose automatically, standing up as well, prepared to argue this to the end. "Finnick wasn't armed. He can use a trident. I can kill from a distance easily."
"Don't think you're so much stronger than the rest of us, Katniss." The bravado was slipping from the other girl's voice. Tears were swelling in the corners of Annie's beautiful green eyes. "You talk like you'd be able to kill someone after all that's happened, but it doesn't work that way. I've gone through the Hunger Games too, you forgot. I've seen things, too. I've had my heart broken, too. I've killed people, too."
My chest was ripping, slowly but surely.
Annie took another deep breath. "I've lost just as much as you, Katniss. Maybe even more. I lost my entire family. Jace is all I have left now. No matter how strong you think this ordeal has made you, it's not strong enough. The only thing the Hunger Games teaches you is true fear, which puts everything else into a dangerous perspective. Even though you aren't in the Capitol's arena, Katniss, you're still in life. There are still risks, and no matter was size of chance something bad will happen, it's not worth it." She seemed to wither back into herself, slumping onto her seat once more. "I don't want to lose you and Peeta, after everyone else."
The air began leaking out of my lungs like a punctured balloon. Her utterances were all it took to rip a gaping hole in my chest, making self-loathing and regret and guilt spill out onto the floor in a hypothetical pile of my soul. My vision blurred and my limbs grew numb with remorse. My mouth opened and closed with words that wouldn't come.
"Katniss…"
Shut up, Peeta. Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me. I'm not worth it. I'm not worth anything. I was being selfish… No, no. That is the last thing I want to be. I can't be, I'm not—
"I'm not selfish," I whispered to myself through a throat of sandpaper, avoiding anyone's gaze.
Peeta slipped his hand around mine, which had been clenched in a fist. Strength found its way inside of me through his warmth and I managed to lift my head.
"I have someone else to think about."
Eyes automatically turned to shirtless young man sitting beside me, though I shook my head.
"Not Peeta." Now was no time for denying anything. I didn't even have the strength to deny anyways. I winced at the eyes boring into mine again. "…The life inside of me."
A yellow tear fell onto Annie's nose and everyone else's faces turned pained and, in a way, beautiful. Like a gruesome painting you'd find in an old, neglected house of a wealthy window. So beautiful yet so horrible.
Ivy just looked perplexed.
"If I get caught, who knows what'll happen once I have the kid. If they'll let me have it at all, that is."
They knew what I meant.
"You're having a baby, Caniss?" Ivy's dark red eyebrows were creased on her forehead and she was blinking in confusion at my stomach, which was most obviously not at the birthing point.
"Not now, honey," I said gently to her. "Later."
"Oh." She settled back in her momma's arms to look at me expectantly again.
I sighed, and continued. "We all agree that either way, they are perfectly capable of capturing me and Peeta. Running or staying. So it makes very little difference what we do, there's still a high chance we're going to get captured anyways, correct?"
Everyone except Prim and Ivy nodded (after hesitating for a millisecond).
What a bunch of friggin' pessimists.
Blowing out a huge, displeased breath, I sat down heavily in the hard wooden chair. "Well, we still need a plan. I spoke mine, if anyone has any better ideas…"
A long silence followed.
Ivy left to use the restroom.
She came back a few minutes later.
She sat.
We waited.
Primrose chewed on the end of her fingernail and glanced up at me uncertainly. "We could…keep you hidden? Until they leave?"
I swallowed, but the effort seemed to get stuck halfway down. "I don't want to cower. I'm done hiding, playing defense."
Peeta squeezed my hand very gently, trying to soothe my currently harsh mien. "We obviously can't act as offense against a force we don't even know, Katniss."
Our eyes met, deep blue against light grey, soft against hard. I spoke quietly. "Then let's not play the game."
Cynical frown. "What do you mean?"
"Let's pack up some food, weapons, head out straight to District 13. No stopping, no resting. Go straight there. If they come, we deal with them. Just get to Thirteen, and from there we can formulate a better plan." I swept my gaze over the rest of my family—Haymitch, Mother, Primrose, Annie, Jace, Caroline, Ivy, Peeta. "Twenty hours is longer than it should be, but we do have an advantage. We know they're after us. We don't leave tracks, we'll sleep in trees if we need to sleep at all, we'll always be on the lookout, we'll be fast. It's not much, but it's better than sitting up in bed waiting for them to come and carry us off."
Annie wasn't the only one scarred with tears now. Primrose had pearls on her cheeks as well, along with Mother and Caroline. Ivy had her mouth open in confused hurt. Haymitch just looked sad.
"You can leave, Katniss." Mother's voice was rough with the gravel of sadness.
"We can't stay."
Another silence.
I looked over at Peeta again. "You've been rather quiet. Anything to say?"
Everything to say, his eyes told me. His mouth said something else. "No. You've said it all."
At that point, my mother stood up and left the room.
Also at that point, Ivy hopped off of Caroline's legs and got lifted onto mine.
"Why is everyone sad, Caniss?" Ivy asked quietly, face somber and begging.
Mine felt begging, too. I sighed, tucking her tiny, red-headed self against my chest. "Some very bad people are here. They took Uncle Finnick. Now they want to take me and Peeta."
Ivy gasped. "Why?"
"That, I don't know." My cheek pressed against the stop of her head. "But everyone's sad because Peeta and I have to leave. We're running away from those bad guys, running to safety."
The little girl pulled away from my arms, face pulled into a defiant, suspicious and troubled look. "You're goin' away?"
"Yes, Ivy."
"For how long?"
"I don't know, Ivy."
She narrowed her eyes at me as if judging whether I was telling the truth or not, and when she didn't find what she was looking for, her celery-colored eyes flicked over to Peeta.
He ducked his head in one sullen nod.
Now Ivy was crying, too. She started whimpering, great fat tears rolling their way down her soft, impressionable face. Her short arms wrapped themselves around my waist and she stained my undershirt with saltwater, wails muffled by the cloth. "Don't go, Caniss! Please don't go!"
"Ivy…" I sucked in a breath, trying to suck back in my own snuffles, but to no avail. Pieces of light danced as they fell from my face onto the cherry hair of this four-year-old whom I loved so much. Noiseless sobs quaked my shoulders.
I didn't bother looking up to see if Peeta had broken down, too. As soon as I began crying, he was standing from his chair, bringing me and Ivy up with him. His arms provided a shelter to hide from the world. Slowly, Caroline drifted up from her chair to come and slip her thin arms around the three of us. Prim joined, too, sneaking her small body into the circle of my embrace.
Haymitch was the only one who didn't stand. His eyes were narrowed in great sorrow. All he said was two words:
"I'm sorry."
Those two words shook the room like thunder.
Lightning cracked where quiet followed, splitting the group up as quickly as it had formed. Caroline took Ivy to clean up in the bathroom, after mucus had coated the girl's upper lip. Primrose pulled a small burlap pack from a cupboard high above her head. Peeta washed his hands and pulled out a plastic container of pre-made bread dough. There was no question about what was happening. They were preparing. No one had even said, "Okay, yeah, you two are leaving." They hadn't agreed on our plan. They just…did.
I left in silence, determined to heal at least one thing gone wrong here. Maybe not heal, but help.
I found Mother in her room. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, dried tears scratchy on her perfectly white cheekbones, body curved over a picture she was holding.
Wordlessly, I walked over and sat next to her.
"….It's just like the Games all over," my mother whispered after some time. "Losing you a second time…"
"No, Mother." I swallowed. The picture she was holding was one of me and Peeta. It must have been taken just a few weeks ago, though I did not recall it. "Nothing like the Games. This time I have a chance. A very good chance, with food and an advantage over the enemy and less than a day of danger."
Her watery blue eyes locked onto mine. "The same to a parent. Losing you all over again. Sending you out, not knowing what will be waiting… If something happens to you—to either of you—it might as well have been me just killing you."
"Don't talk like that," I scolded her. "Nothing that happens to us is your fault, you understand?"
She didn't.
"Don't blame yourself for anything."
"It'll still be my fault for letting you go…"
I let out a sigh. "If it'll make you feel any better, you could just tell me not to go and I'll go anyway. That way it wouldn't be your fault. If anything happens, it'll be purely my own overconfident stupidity."
A ghost of a smile touched my mother's weathered lips. "Thank you, Katniss, but it wouldn't." She stood up, setting the photograph back onto her nightstand. When she began walking out of the room, I frowned.
"What are you doing?"
She smiled again. "The least I can."
oOo
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I really have to stop doing this. SO…MANY…WORDS… *gag choke* Oh well. What did you guys think about this chapter? Pretty awesome, right? I sure hope. Again, please tell me if I'm doing anything wrong. OOC-ness, too long, too short (a short NOVEL you mean)… Stuff like that. Tell me. I know this chapter ended weird, but only because I had to chop off a good 1,500 words and shove it into the beginning of the next chapter.
So we all know Katniss is now Peeta's darling baby-mama. And yet, there is a problem. I seem to be unable to make up my mind for the kid's name. Since I'm enlisting all of your help, I'll give away one detail—it's a boy. I shouldn't have said THAT much, but too late, so now you HAVE to help. In my head there is a good few names, but I need a combination for first and middle. My names:
Rowan
Oliver
Tolliver (Katniss' favorite in "Gravity")
Christophe (Peeta's favorite in "Gravity")
Alyxander (Xander)
Redd
There are those names, but feel free to add one or two from your own "favorite name" list. If it was a girl, I would DEFINITELY name her Aprilynn, because that is the prettiest girl name ever (*hint hint* I don't want any girl names).My favorite combinations of those names are Rowan Oliver Mellark, Alyxander Christophe Mellark, and Tolliver Rowan Mellark. If you know a better combo, TELL ME. :D:D (And might I add, "rowan" is a kind of plant. In the dictionary it's described as "the mountain-ash")
Love you all SOOO much, and don't forget to review! Have a nice Halloween and such. (: