Peeta:
The clock reads 3:10 am, and I feel vaguely sleepy but am having trouble winding down. Gloria only fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago. She's been mentioning people's names, and I think they might be people she misses. One time she woke up, called for her "Mommy" and then glanced around the room with a confused look on her face. She screamed frantically for me after that, and fortunately I happened to be sitting in the chair in her room reading when it happened. I think Gloria's just had too many changes in her life in the last year, and I can't imagine being only three years old, and grieving the kinds of losses she has already endured.
I look at the clock again. 3:15. Before Gloria came into our lives I'd have been up in 2 hours baking. That won't be happening today, unless I never go to sleep at all. I sigh.
Opening one of the kitchen cabinets I take hold of the bottle of pills that Dr. Aurelius strongly encouraged me to keep taking after that terrible episode in the Capitol. There's a pill I've been taking since the war that I take in the morning also, but this one for nighttime is probably the more important of the two right now because it has a calming effect in addition to helping to prevent episodes. I hate it because it makes me very sleepy, and at this late hour I'm afraid if I take it, I won't be able to wake up in the morning. If Gloria wakes up, I might not hear her right away. She seems to wake up about 6 am no matter what time she goes to sleep!
My thoughts turn to my destroyed kitchen a few days ago. Katniss and I worked hard to clean it, but what bothered me most about what happened to the kitchen was that Gloria had found the knives amongst the silverware that day. She'd lined them up neatly on the floor, probably enjoying playing with something that she knew was forbidden to touch. When I told Haymitch how guilty I felt about her finding things that could have hurt her he helped me "Gloria proof" the kitchen. For someone who owns a house that could be condemned as a health hazard, he possesses surprising organizational skills.
I placed the pill bottle down on the table, collapsed into a chair, and started tracing the grain of the wooden tabletop with my finger while I continued to debate whether it was too late to take the medicine or not. What's best for us? Risking me being crazy or chancing being too sleepy to take care of my daughter? I'm probably being hard on myself.
I told Delly about the kitchen when she called to see how we were all doing, and she told me "Just try to keep things safe for her as much as you can. Kids get into trouble, Peeta. Do your best to prevent problems. I know you will do that," she said.
But I can't help but beat myself up. I feel inadequate. Katniss might be right in her hesitancy to raise this little girl. Maybe we aren't ready for all this. I start to tear up a little because I don't want to think about being unable to keep Gloria. Why am I so upset? I can do this, right? I've always wanted to be a father. Maybe I'm just tired.
Standing, I put the pill bottle back in the cabinet where it is safely out of reach of Gloria and lay down on the sofa to try and get whatever rest I can.
Katniss:
I answer the door to find Peeta and Gloria have arrived a few minutes early for breakfast. The three of us eat most of our meals together, usually breakfast here and dinner at Peeta's house. I'm often in the woods at lunchtime.
Gloria's examining the remains of Buttercup's latest kill with a disgusted look on her face. It appears to have been a bird before Buttercup got a hold of it.
"Buttercup has certainly become a mighty hunter lately," Peeta points out.
I notice the dark circles under his eyes as soon as he looks up.
"Tired?" I ask him.
"Yeah, a little. And I miss you."
I knew that, but hearing him say it tugs at my heart.
Sign the damn papers, a voice inside me orders.
But the fear wins, as usual. Haymitch is wrong. This is not about stubbornness; it's about fear. If I sign the papers I'm declaring myself Gloria's mother, at least her foster mother. I can't do that, but as it stands now I may be failing Peeta. There appears to be no way to win. Inside my head, I vow to help Peeta more as I reach for his hand.
Then, catching sight of Gloria's outstretched arm, I kick the dead bird off the porch before she has a chance to touch it. Some dried blood and feathers remain. Gloria shakes her head and wrinkles her nose.
"Yeah, I'm not sure what's going on with that old cat. He's been so lazy about hunting for years. Now all of a sudden he hunts when I can afford to feed him? One more reason to hate him…he makes no sense."
Peeta raises his finger to his lips with a wink and a soft smile, to encourage me to be quiet. Gloria loves Buttercup.
Once we settle down to breakfast Gloria uses her spoon to scoop eggs and oatmeal into her mouth with her usual speed. Then she teases the cat by pulling a piece of ribbon across the floor, and Buttercup obliges by chasing the ribbon dutifully. Unfortunately, the little game they are playing reminds me of Prim and how much I miss her, and I feel tears coming to my eyes. At least Gloria doesn't look like Prim.
"Katniss, I'm going to take the extra baking pans to my house today if that's okay with you. I'm hoping to get more baking done in the next few days" Peeta says.
I shrug, turning so he doesn't see the emotions flitting across my face.
"Fine with me."
Although it actually upsets me to see any more of Peeta's possessions leave our home, he does need his baking pans. Opposing him on sentimental and symbolic grounds would be petty.
Peeta starts pulling pans out of several of the lower kitchen cabinets while we talk about our plans for the day, but then he stops abruptly.
"Katniss, did you put this here?" Peeta asks pointing to a little pile of…something.
"No, of course not," I answer. "What is it anyway?"
"Dried up bacon?" he speculates. "There's some more over there. Maybe Buttercup…"
Peeta looks puzzled, and I know my suspicions will break his heart. I've been a hungry child, hungrier than Peeta, and know the uncertainty that brings.
When will I eat again? Will I eat again?
"Buttercup doesn't open cabinets," I say.
He still stares at me.
I look over at Gloria and then turn sadly back to Peeta.
"You think Gloria did it?" he asks.
"Who else? She's hiding food, probably to make sure she always has enough."
I start opening more of the lower cabinet doors and find some of the table scraps I usually give Buttercup hidden in another cabinet. No wonder the old cat is hunting. Now that I think about it, he's been pawing at these cabinet doors as well.
"I make sure Gloria has plenty to eat," Peeta says defensively. "Even at the orphans' home I brought her food. Why would she think she needs to hide food?"
"Maybe she hasn't always had enough. We don't really have any concept of what her life was like before we knew her." I keep my voice quiet, so Gloria doesn't overhear us.
Peeta stands up and starts to walk over to Gloria.
I follow him, stopping him by placing my hand on his arm.
"Don't mention it, Peeta. Trust me. Just don't," I warn with a desperate tone in my voice.
He turns back to me.
"I wouldn't talk to her about it until you are sure of what you are going to say," I add. "I think it might embarrass her, maybe even shame her."
Peeta starts walking toward Gloria again, and for a moment I think he's going to ignore my advice.
"Gloria," he says. "I want to show you my studio before we go back to our house and bake."
Gloria jumps up from the floor, making buttercup pounce to try to follow the ribbon she's still holding.
Peeta guides her up the stairs.
A sigh escapes me. The thought of my daughter being hungry like I was, like Prim was, makes my knees weak. I lean up against the wall and look at the little pile of bacon in the cabinet. Buttercup saunters over and gives it a sniff, but I shoo him away before he can sample it.
Haymitch:
I give Katniss' front door a quiet knock and then walk inside. Peeta and the girl are outside, so I know she's alone.
"Hey, Sweetheart," I greet her when I see her sitting in her rocking chair by the fire. She's sewing something, I think. "How's 'Little Jay' doing?"
"Please stop calling her that," Katniss asks.
"It's just a nickname, Sweetheart. She just looks so much like you."
Katniss gazes up at me imploringly. I recognize the look in her eyes, the one she gets when something truly troubles her.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Gloria's hiding food, Haymitch. She thinks she'll go hungry."
Katniss lays her sewing project down on her lap, places her hands on the arms of the chair and starts to rock.
I sit down in the chair beside her. Instantly, I understood. Children in the Seam went hungry almost as soon as they were weaned, sometimes before that if their mother was particularly malnourished. Everyone knew that hungry cry, a baby just learning the meaning of hunger. Hunger would plague them the rest of their lives on and off. Even when food could be found, there were those "hollow" days when no matter how much you ate, you still couldn't escape the feeling of hunger.
From a young age both Katniss and I understood the distress of not knowing where our family's next meal would come from. While still a child herself Katniss assumed responsibility for providing for her family. I thought of my younger brother and how many times I had sneaked food onto his plate, just so I didn't have to watch him suffer and hear him cry.
"She's not going to go hungry," I tell her gruffly. "That girl will never go without."
I'm probably trying to reassure myself as well as Katniss. I wouldn't be able to watch Gloria waste away and cry like my brother did during those cold long winters many years ago. I can't abide the thought of Peeta and Katniss watching it either or going hungry themselves. Never again. I'll fight to my last breath so that it never happens again!
"I don't think Peeta understands," Katniss says as she brushes a few tears from her cheeks and watches the flames.
"No, I don't expect that he would. I know the boy went hungry at times. But he's never felt the responsibility to feed a child before, never known the fear of being unable to do so, and never lived in a home without a crumb of bread. I have, Katniss. I understand."
She scowls at me, but she knows I'm right. The scowl fades into a melancholic expression. I lean forward on my elbows.
"What are you sewing?"
"A bag for Gloria. I thought she could keep bread in it. So…so she'll always have something to eat that is just for her."
Katniss' sewing skills in no way rival her archery ones, but I see that in addition to sewing the bag itself she's embroidered small flowers on the fabric that forms the front of it. My mother used to embroider flowers like those on the baby clothes she made for people to earn extra money.
"I can't do this, Haymitch," Katniss says mournfully. "I can't be her mother."
"Sweetheart, look at what you are doing for her. Do you really think anybody else would do better? You understand her, Katniss. Peeta needs you, and Gloria needs both of you. Don't you get it? You already are Gloria's mother. All you have to do is admit that. You loved Peeta, but you wouldn't admit it for so long. Do you really want to make that same mistake again? It costs you so much the first time."
Tears are rolling down her cheeks now.
"Prim," she whispers.
"She's not Prim, and you're not a child anymore. This is different. You won't have to do this alone. You have Peeta."
/
I'm laughing my ass off. The boy doesn't think any of this funny at all, but it is.
"Get down from there, Gloria!" Peeta tells her for about the tenth time, but I think he's starting to realize that she can't. She's sitting on a branch of the red maple tree that's in my front yard.
Gloria giggles and sings nonsensical songs. Then she folds her arms to resemble wings and flaps them as if she's a bird.
Peeta gasps when she lists just a little from taking her arms off the branch, losing her balance but regaining it quickly.
"Gloria," he begs. "Please get down. You're scaring me."
She looks down sympathetically. I have to say, the child has Peeta's way with people at times. She clearly doesn't like upsetting him, but she has an adventurous streak also. She can't help but follow her free-spirited nature.
"I'm a bird, Daddy. See."
She flaps her "wings" again, trying to reassure him that she's fine.
"Birds hop around on the ground sometimes. Why don't you try that?"
Gloria grins, and I can tell she's not subscribing to that idea regardless of how much she loves Peeta.
Peeta turns to me, runs his fingers through his hair and then scrubs his face with his hand nervously.
"I can't climb that tree. She's going to break her neck," he laments.
"Ah, I don't think so. Her mother climbed every tree in the district when she was a kid."
"Well, I would have broken my neck climbing that high."
I chuckle, "Maybe."
"Where'd she get a crazy idea like this anyway?" Peeta asks.
"Kids don't need any inspiration for crazy ideas. Those come naturally. That picture you painted of Katniss in a tree that you have hanging in your dining room might have sparked something though."
Peeta looks defeated.
Just then a real bird flies into the tree, and Gloria lets out a screech.
"Down, Daddy! Want down!" She suddenly screams. The bird hops from branch to branch. Gloria stays still despite her fear.
"Down!" she says again, starting to cry.
Peeta turns to me, eyes filled with panic.
"Calm down, boy. She hasn't budged. She's just afraid."
Peeta's just not himself, much too serious and nervous. He seems unable to deal with this situation.
"Oh, Gloria," I say. "That bird's a heck of a lot more afraid of you than you are of him. Give him a minute, and he'll fly off."
She watches, quite bravely for a three-year-old. The bird tweets and then raises his wings before flying away.
"Bird's pretty," Gloria points out.
Peeta's still looking at her, a terrified expression on his face.
"You've got to calm down, boy. Things are going to scare her, and she's going to cry. That's just what little kids do."
"How do you know so much about little kids?"
"I did have a much younger brother, you know," I answer. A few years ago I wouldn't have mentioned my brother at all. The grief was too fresh even after more than twenty years, but now I could at least point out that he was once a part of my life without an emotional collapse that leads me to spend the evening with a bottle. I hope one day that Katniss can mention Prim without the kind of emotional collapse she had yesterday. Peeta had to come inside and carry her to bed, and that was after I'd spent an hour trying to calm her down. This morning she apparently went out into the woods as usual. I suppose Katniss is out there looking for peace as much as game.
Peeta nods, apparently accepting my expertise on the behavior of little kids.
"So what are we gonna' do?" he asks.
"Wait 'til Katniss comes back." I look up into the sky, gauging the time. "She should be along soon if she follows her usual habits."
"Oh my word! How did she get up there?" The unmistakable voice of Effie Trinket trills from behind us.
Effie arrived yesterday afternoon. She said she wanted to visit to see Gloria, but she guiltily asked if she could stay with me.
"Do you think Peeta and Katniss will think it's improper?" she asked when I helped her take her suitcase from the train station to my house.
"I don't think they will think much of anything about it. We're both adults," I replied.
"Isn't it obvious? She flew up there," I answer Effie sarcastically before I'm even turned around all the way to look at her.
Effie gives me a glare and shakes her head.
"Get her down, Peeta," Effie orders.
Peeta doesn't explain that Gloria's up too high for him to reach or that his leg won't allow him to climb the tree.
"I'll get her down," Katniss' voice comes from behind us, as she appears on the path carrying her bow, arrow, and a predictably empty game bag.
In seconds Katniss shimmies up the tree and navigates the branches to reach Gloria.
Gloria beams and reaches her arms out to her, flapping her "wings."
"I'm a bird," she says sweetly to Katniss.
"I see that." Katniss replies with a small smile.
I've noticed that attention from Katniss usually makes Gloria extremely happy. It's as if Gloria knows that the key to securing her place in Peeta and Katniss' lives is to convince Katniss to love her. I find Gloria's attempts to charm Katniss both amusing and heartbreaking.
I wish I could just tell the child that Katniss already loves her. If Katniss didn't love her she wouldn't be so afraid of not being a good enough mother to Gloria in the first place.
With Gloria's arms tightly wrapped around her neck, Katniss descends from the tree, branch by branch, and when she reaches the lower branches Peeta raises his arms to take Gloria from her. Once he's handed Gloria to me, he goes back to gently hold Katniss' hand while she jumps out of the tree.
/
Katniss:
Peeta's talking to her so soothingly, so compassionately. I love him so much.
"Everybody has enough to eat at my house and at Katniss' house. You, Katniss, Buttercup and me. There's no need to hide food because there's always enough."
I raise my folded hands to my lips and keep listening, hoping what he says will be true. Even though I want to run out of the room, my feet stay firmly planted on the floor.
Peeta looks at me, his tired eyes full of love. He turns back to our daughter and gives her two small baskets both of which contain several bread rolls and two small apples.
"These are yours now, Gloria. One is for our house, and one is for Katniss' house. We're going to keep bread and fruit in them all the time. You can get what you want to eat whenever you want. Okay?"
Gloria's blue eyes move slowly from the baskets, to Peeta, and then to me.
I relax my arms to hang down by my sides, not wanting to look worried in front of her.
Peeta seizes the opportunity while she's looking at me. "Katniss made something for you," he explains.
He nods to me, reminding me of what I'm supposed to do. I take a hesitant step to the kitchen drawer and pull out the bag I've made.
Peeta guides Gloria by placing his hand on her back, and she takes a few steps to meet me.
I smile as I try to blink back a few tears. Holding back my emotions seems impossible lately. Peeta sees that I can't follow through with what we'd agree I'd say. I never was good with words.
Gloria's focused on the bag in my hands.
Peeta puts his hand on her shoulder and takes the bag from me gently.
"Katniss made this bag for you also. You can put the bread or fruit in it anytime you want, and you can carry it with you anywhere you go."
Gloria's eyes dart up to mine. I'm openly crying now.
Peeta told me that it would be alright if I got emotional.
"It matters more that you are there and supporting her than it does if you get upset."
Part of me thought he wanted me here to support him, but now I see what he meant. I needed to be a part of discussing Gloria's fears.
She looks from one of the baskets to the other. Then she quickly reaches for one of the apples in the basket and stuffs it into the bag. She looks intently at my face and then Peeta's as if she's checking for our responses, wondering if what she is doing is really going to be acceptable to us.
Is this really mine? Her eyes seem to ask.
I nod my head at her reassuringly.
As Peeta pulls the draw string to show her how it works Gloria returns her gaze to the bag. She plays with the string with her nimble fingers. Then he opens the bag so she'll see how to do that also, and I can see the small muscles of her face form a smile even though she's not looking at me. She places one of the rolls from the other basket into the spot where she's removed the apple.
Then she puts her palm on top of the apple that's inside the bag. Maybe she's trying to make sure it's still there. As quiet sob escapes my throat, and Gloria glances up when she hears it. She looks at the baskets again, glancing from one to the other. Without a word, she picks up a roll and raises her arm to offer it to me.
My eyes grow wide as I see what she's doing. She's offering me bread. My whole body weakens as I realize that her generosity rivals her father's. I open my mouth to speak, but my lips only quiver. I look at Peeta, who nods nervously from behind Gloria's line of vision.
I reach out and take the roll from her tiny hand.
"Thank you," I choke out.
With a satisfied smile, Gloria carries the bag back to where she'd been playing the ribbon game with Buttercup. She plops down on the floor, puts the bag in her lap, and picks up the ribbon.
Peeta takes a few steps forward to catch me in his arms. I rest my head against his chest and squeeze my eyes closed to let the large tears brimming in my eyes fall. He brushes my hair to one side a moment later and then pulls me away from him just enough to kiss my cheek. That's when I see that the boy with the bread is crying as well, and I tighten my arms around him.
[AN: Special thanks to my wonderful beta Katnissinme and Loueze who I consider my "Plot Advisor" - you are both appreciated]