Katniss sits next to Peeta at the plaintiff's counsel table as the jurors file into their box.
Given that Katniss is not listed as an attorney of record in this case it's technically a minor violation of court rules for her to be sitting here. But in the moment she doesn't care.
"I can't face this without you next to me," Peeta confessed as they walked back into the courtroom together, hand in hand. "It all comes down to this and I just… I can't do it alone."
That was all Katniss needed to hear before agreeing to be right there by his side for the verdict.
They quickly decide that if the judge asks who Katniss is and why she's sitting there, Peeta will explain that she's his colleague, and is therefore just as entitled to be there as he is. Which, absent an appearance from her on file, isn't technically true. But they're banking on the judge not wanting to do anything about it on the very last day of trial.
Five hours, is what the bailiff told Peeta over the phone. Five hours is all the jury needed to deliberate, and to reach a verdict, in a case it took Katniss and Peeta months to prepare.
"This is either very good news or very bad news," Peeta whispers into Katniss' ear as the judge ambles forward and takes the bench. Katniss already knows that. How could she not? But she looks at Peeta and nods her agreement all the same.
"Madame foreman," the judge says, turning to look at the elderly juror who remains standing after the others have taken their seats.
"Yes, your Honor," she says.
"Has the jury reached a verdict?"
"We have, your Honor," the foreman confirms.
The judge nods. "Good," she says. She picks up a pen lying on her desk and begins writing something down on a notepad. "Beginning with the first count against Defendants Capitol Corporation and La Maquila, and continuing through to the last one, would you please read off how the jury finds?"
"Certainly your Honor."
Katniss grips Peeta's hand as the foreman takes out a sheaf of paper from her white lined notebook. Peeta squeezes her hand back. His grip is steady and strong – which surprises her.
A moment later the foreman clears her throat and begins to read.
Katniss has imagined many different versions of this moment over the past several months. Almost every time, the jury's verdict has been accompanied by absolute chaos. Whenever Katniss imagined Defendants winning, their attorneys usually pounded their fists on their table in triumph. Whenever she imagined them losing, they'd storm out of the courtroom, furious.
In every version of this scene Katniss always imagined tears and anger; fury and elation. And shouting. Everybody shouting – the judge, the jury, plaintiffs and defendants; sometimes even the bailiff and custodial staff – no matter who won and who lost.
As the real foreman reads off the real verdict, however – as she lists, one by one, each and every one of the counts on which the jury has found for Peeta and the Plaintiffs – the universe remains firmly on its axis. There is no throwing of paper nor rending of clothes. Nobody is screaming, and there is no hysteria.
When the foreman finally reaches the end of the list, and it is clear that Peeta and the plaintiffs have won on every count – and everyone in the courtroom is still as calm as they were five minutes ago – Katniss realizes, highly annoyed with herself, that she's spent way too many hours watching stupid legal dramas with Madge.
And just like that, it's over.
Peeta's hand tightens into a vise grip on Katniss'. Because he's won. After all this time – after all the sleepless nights and the countless hours spent preparing for this moment – Peeta has won on each and every count he brought against Capitol Corporation and La Maquila.
But aside from Peeta's grip on her hand there is no other outward sign in the courtroom that anything terribly momentous, or even all that interesting, has just happened. The judge thanks the members of the jury for their service and dismisses them. They leave the room in single file, talking about what they plan to have for dinner tonight, what's on TV this evening, and other minutiae.
Katniss glances across the courtroom at opposing counsel. Delly Cartwright's face is white as a sheet, but the partners in her firm who tried this case – while they hardly look happy – don't look terribly upset, either. Lead counsel for Capitol is saying something Katniss cannot make out to Capitol's CEO.
And for his part, Capitol's CEO looks only mildly annoyed.
"Well, then," Peeta says to her. Katniss turns to look at him for the first time since the verdict was read. The pinched, anxious expression Peeta has worn nearly constantly the past few months is still there. Like he can't believe it's truly over, and that he's finally emerged on the other side, victorious.
"I guess we won?" Katniss says. She says it like a question, even though she knows it's true. She hopes Peeta believes it. He deserves to believe it.
"Yeah," Peeta says. He swallows audibly. He smiles a little. Shrugs his shoulders. "I guess we did?" He says it like it's a question, too.
"Mr. Mellark," a voice cuts in abruptly.
They turn in unison to look at the speaker. It's Mr. Davenport, lead counsel for Capitol Corporation.
"Can I help you?" Peeta asks, sounding dazed.
"Congratulations," Mr. Davenport says, his voice utterly devoid of warmth. It's clear to Katniss that he's not remotely interested in congratulating Peeta on anything. "Tomorrow morning, after we've all had a good night's sleep, let's talk about the post-trial briefing schedule. And damages. Shall we?"
"Oh. Right. Briefing, yes. And damages figures, yes, ok," Peeta says absently, as though suffering from the disorientation that often accompanies waking from a long nap. He stands up and rummages through the papers on the table, looking for something to write with, his movements clumsy and slow.
"I'll call you first thing tomorrow morning. What – what's a good number for me to call you at?" Peeta asks. Katniss winces, because Peeta's had more phone conversations with Mr. Davenport these past few months than he's had with her. If Peeta were in his right mind he'd be able to rattle off the phone number from memory.
"Don't bother calling me," Davenport says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll have my associate call you." Katniss looks up and sees Delly walking towards them, carrying a legal pad.
Peeta smiles at their old friend. Or he tries to smile at her, anyway. "That would be great," he says. His voice is still shaky. "I look forward to talking numbers and dates with you tomorrow morning, Ms. Cartright."
"Thanks, Mr. Mellark," Delly says, nodding at him. She tries to smile back at him. Katniss notices Delly's only marginally more successful at it than Peeta had been.
When Delly and Mr. Davenport leave the plaintiffs' table and return to their own, Peeta turns once more to Katniss.
"Hey," he says, as though he's seeing her for the first time in weeks. The look of anxiety and shock on his face has faded – replaced with a wild, almost feverish glow. Peeta's grinning now, and the smile reaches his eyes.
It's hit him, Katniss thinks. It's hit him that it's over, and that we won. .
"Hey," she says back to him. Also smiling.
Before Katniss even realizes what's happened Peeta's long arms are suddenly wrapped around her, and he's pulling her close. He lets out a carefree, bubbly laugh – god, how she's missed his laughter – a moment before he closes the short distance between them and presses his lips to hers.
"Oh, hey," Katniss says, giggling uncomfortably. She tries to pull away from him but Peeta appears to be hell-bent on kissing her right here, right now. She eventually manages to extract herself from his grip but it's no easy task.
"Come back," he whines – loudly enough that everyone in the courtroom can likely hear him. He doesn't seem to care, though. Refusing to be deterred, he tries kissing her again – her lips, the tip of her nose, her cheeks. Every part of her he can reach.
"Peeta," she chastises, breathless with laughter. She places her palms flat on his chest and tries to gently push him away. "People are watching us."
He grins wolfishly at her and rests his forehead against hers. "Let them watch," he sighs against her lips. He reaches up and tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Because I really don't care about the other people in this courtroom right now, Katniss."
Despite what Peeta told Delly and Mr. Davenport at the end of trial, he's still soundly asleep at ten o'clock the next morning.
His phone lies on the dresser across the room from his bed. It's rung three times in the past hour. Katniss knows it's probably been Delly each time, trying to reach him as planned to discuss post-trial issues. But the phone's buzzing didn't wake him, and Katniss decides to let Peeta sleep.
It took them months to get to this point. Katniss figures Delly and her clients can wait a little while longer.
After some time passes, Katniss decides to get up and make them both breakfast. Last night they agreed they'd be taking today off work. (Katnss willfully avoids thinking about the multiple unchecked messages on her own phone. She decides Cinna and Haymitch can wait a little while longer, too.) A leisurely midweek brunch is something they've never had time for before and in the moment Katniss can't think of a better way to spend the morning.
Of course, she's not much of a cook. Growing up, she and Prim mostly ate soup from cans and whatever her mother brought home from the diner the night before. She didn't do much better for herself in law school, either. But she and Peeta are celebrating today. If she's ever going to take a stab at cooking, it might as well be now.
Katniss pushes the bed covers back very carefully so she doesn't wake Peeta, and then rolls over a little so she can feel around on the floor for her clothes. Her fingers close around the underwear Peeta tore off her without ceremony last night and she pulls them on. She searches a bit longer for the rest of her clothes but can't seem to find the blouse or skirt she was wearing last night.
She eventually gives up and just puts on the blue button down shirt Peeta wore yesterday. Because Peeta is so much taller than she is the bottom hem reaches all the way down to her mid-thigh. Fortunately, Peeta's roommate is out of town this week. Given that, Katniss figures she's decently enough attired to make breakfast for two.
Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, Katniss pads into Peeta's small galley kitchen so she can rummage around for breakfast fixings. Unsurprisingly, the fridge is mostly a wash; there's not much in there other than half-empty takeout containers. In the very back, though, Katniss eventually finds a small carton of milk that's only a few days past its printed expiration date. She also finds a carton of eggs.
Katniss opens the milk carton and tentatively sniffs it. It's still good. A quick search of the pantry yields a box of pancake mix and enough vegetable oil to make up a small batch of pancakes for the two of them.
She's halfway through mixing the ingredients together in a large metal bowl when a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around her from behind, startling her.
"Hey," Peeta breathes into her ear. He leans forward a little and kisses her cheek. "Whatcha doing?" he asks, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Pancakes," she tells him. She cranes her neck a little so she can look at his face. For the first time in recent memory his blue eyes are bright and clear and there are no dark circles underneath them.
The sight of him relaxed and rested makes her smile.
"Yummy," he says, grinning broadly. He kisses her on the lips and walks to the only flat surface in the apartment that's not covered in books and reams of paper: a small kitchen table tucked into the corner. Peeta sits down in one of the chairs and buries his face in his hands, yawning loudly.
"Your phone rang a bunch of times," Katniss says. All Peeta's wearing right now is a pair of plaid boxer shorts. The sight of his bare chest and broad shoulders makes her think back to how she'd straddled him in bed last night and teased the shirt she's currently wearing off his body. And the sounds he'd made while she did it.
She turns back to the mixing bowl, a blush rising on her cheeks at the memory.
"Yeah, I know it rang," Peeta says. "I listened to the messages before coming out here."
"Was it Delly?" Katniss asks. She bends at the waist and digs through Peeta's cupboards until she finds a griddle large enough for pancakes. The bottom hem of Peeta's shirt rises up at the movement, and she can practically feel Peeta's gaze inching up the backs of her bare thighs.
She stands up and turns back to face him. Sure enough, Peeta's blushing now too. He clears his throat before answering her.
"One message was from Delly, yeah," he confirms. "She wants to talk about damages, like Davenport said yesterday. And also the timeline for dismantling the facility in Guatemala and retraining the workers left without jobs." He rubs his eyes and yawns again. "And, well… that's gonna take some doing. We got the facility shut down, sure – but now all those workers are unemployed. There won't be an easy solution to that." He shakes his head.
"But the damages you're getting for the workers should help them, right?" Katniss asks, raising one eyebrow.
"Yes," Peeta concedes. "Until the money runs out, of course."
Katniss gives him a grim smile. "Peeta, those workers are safe now because of you. The rest will work itself out. We'll make certain of it." She nods, because she knows it's the truth.
Peeta sighs. He shakes his head a little as if to clear it, and Katniss can tell he doesn't believe her.
"I guess I always thought of this trial as just the first phase in helping those people," he admits to her, very quietly. "But… but anyway. Yeah. The first call was Delly."
"Okay," Katniss says. She turns back to the stove and flips over the first pancake in the pan, grimacing a little when she sees it's a little overdone. "Who were the other calls from?"
"One was from the Chicago Trib. They want to interview me about the trial and the verdict. Sometime later today, I think. And the third message… well..."
Peeta coughs again, and trails off without finishing his sentence.
"Yes?" Katniss prompts, glancing over her shoulder at him as the pancakes sizzle on the stovetop. But Peeta's not looking at her. He's staring down at his hands, studying his cuticles as he drums his fingers on the table. "Who was the other message from?"
"Well…" he says again, then pauses. He swallows audibly. "The other message was from the City of Chicago's Legal Aid office." Another pause. "Their Executive Director, actually."
"Oh," Katniss says, poking at a pancake. "Really? What did she want?"
"Yeah, really," Peeta confirms, drawing out the words. "She called me completely out of the blue. And…. uh. She wants me to call her back right away." Another pause. "For a… um. For a job interview."
Katniss' spatula slips from her fingers and clatters to the floor, splattering pancake batter everywhere.
"I see," Katniss says, very slowly, trying to sound nonchalant. She grabs a dishtowel and starts cleaning up the mess she's made of Peeta's kitchen floor, trying to ignore the rapid increase in her heart rate at his words. But her voice comes out squeakier than she'd intended all the same, making her cringe.
Stay calm, Katniss.
"Well," Katniss continues. She doesn't know what to say, so she starts babbling just to fill the silence. "I mean… do you think…"
"Katniss," Peeta interrupts. He gets out of his chair and walks over to her. He gently turns her around so she's facing him and puts one hand on either side of her waist. His palms are very warm. Katniss can feel the heat of them through the thin cotton of his button-down shirt.
She shivers a little anyway.
"The pancakes, Peeta," she stammers, looking down at the floor, the wall over his shoulder, anywhere but at his face. "I don't want them to burn."
"I'm not leaving Chicago," he blurts out suddenly. Which surprises her. It hadn't occurred to her that he might be moving. Then she realizes Peeta likely doesn't really know what to say right now, either. "I'm staying right here in Chicago with you," he adds, as if to emphasize that point.
"Okay… well, that's good." Katniss takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, bracing herself for the rest of it. "But."
Peeta sighs again. "But," he agrees. "But, when my Kirkland fellowship runs out in four months, if I'm still at the firm it will take over paying my salary again. And they'll treat me like any other associate."
Katniss nods, waiting for him to continue, but already knowing what he's going to say.
"Meaning, I won't be able to do the work I want to do anymore," he says. He looks into her eyes. "I'll be expected to represent corporate clients and meet an annual billable hours requirement just like everyone else."
Katniss worries her bottom lip with her teeth. She takes a deep breath and chooses her next words very carefully.
"You mean you'll be treated like me again," she says. It's not a question.
Peeta winces a little at the accusation but doesn't respond. His silence, however, tells Katniss everything she needs to know. He kisses her forehead, and when he pulls back from her the expression on his face is unreadable.
"I love you," he says, his voice husky. "And I promise you that I didn't look for this opportunity. It just… I mean, it just kind of came out of nowhere. And if – if I leave HP&C to join the Legal Aid office in a few months, I promise that you and me," – he pauses a little, gesturing between himself and Katniss and then back to himself – "won't change at all." He chuckles a little under his breath, but the look in his eyes is suddenly very intense. "I waited too long for you to let a job change get in the way of us."
Katniss' heart feels a little lighter at his words.
"Well…" she begins, still not knowing what to say. She knows Peeta's soul would be crushed if he had to do the mind-numbing work she's been doing at HP&C since joining the firm. Leaving at the end of his Fellowship year is of course the right thing for him to do.
But how will she be able to bear the work herself if his office is no longer just down the hall from hers?
She doesn't want to get into any of that right now, though. "What sort of work would they have you doing, Peeta?" Knowing that whatever the answer might be, it'll be better than what he'd be doing at the firm if he stays.
"I don't know yet," he admits. "But I know their civil rights division just lost someone. So… possibly that kind of thing?" He shakes his head. "I'm going to call them back today, though and get more information." He walks back to the table and sits down. "I also want to be clear with them that I'm not going anywhere until my work on La Maquila is wrapped up."
Katniss tries to smile. "I'm happy for you Peeta," she says. Because it's the truth. Or part of the truth, anyway. She decides to keep the rest of it to herself for now. No point in ruining their celebration.
"I'm happy too," Peeta says – one short moment before his stomach growls very loudly.
He laughs again.
"Will the pancakes be ready soon?" he asks. "Because I'm starving."
"Soon," she says absently, as she tries to think of a way out of her own miserable job situation. But she knows there's no way out for her. Because as always there is still Prim; her own impoverished childhood; and her astronomical student debt that's not going anywhere anytime soon.
"Just one more minute, Peeta, and they'll be ready."
"I love you," he says again, sounding happier than Katniss can ever remember him sounding. "And breakfast smells delicious."
a/n: The next chapter will be the final one. If you're still reading along, I can't tell you how much it means to me.
If you'd like to find me on tumblr to yell at me for taking forever to finish this story; to congratulate me on finishing it in less than two years (!); or just to say hello, I'm there as jeeno2. .