Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View
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I can assure you that I have not written anything wrong (besides the timing of Peeta and Katniss' children in this chapter), and I had the books open whilst writing out these fanfics. Thank you.
Chapter Fourteen
Another stroke of paint, an eye looks out at me from the canvas. The door behind me creaks open. More strokes with my brush, one colour blended in with another, the filling in of a chin. A hand on my shoulder.
"Come to bed, Peeta. You can finish that tomorrow." She murmurs sleepily, and I hold my hand over hers, pull it forward to plant my lips gently against the skin.
"What do you think so far?" Normally I wouldn't ask, but this painting is mostly for her. She's silent for a minute, and the worry gnaws at me inside.
"They look so alive," she finally breathes.
Alive, I nod in agreement with her answer, wondering if that means that she likes it. She had once said she hated my paintings, even though I had understood her reasoning. Lips on my bare shoulder. "I love it," she adds, as if reading my thoughts.
The painting had started off as just Prim and an elaborate bckground, but then Katniss had asked hesitantly if I could add in Rue. After that, it was Finnick. Steadily, the painting had become a memorial to all those friends we had lost in either The Hunger Games or the war.
It's going to be her present after we get married.
Two years have passed since my return to District Twelve, and our relationship had grown stronger each day. Both of our minds had grown clearer, and my episodes had grown more and more apart. It had been five months since my last flashback episode. It's no longer necessary for either of us to call Dr Aurelius, since he had deemed us both sane. Sometimes one of us still do, as he is a steady voice on the line who always seems to know the right words to say.
Three months ago I had finally proposed to Katniss, during a picnic deep in the woods, next to a lake she used to visit with her father. She had said yes and it had taken days to decide what kind of wedding to have. For a long while, we had been considering an intimate event between just us. Then it was decided that of course we couldn't leave Haymitch and Greasy Sae out.
The wedding is next weekend and Mrs Everdeen, Annie Cresta and her son, and Effie, even Johanna, are all coming for the wedding. A lot of people in the District have also sent us replies to confirm their attendance. Katniss' old Prep team had been by numerous times for fittings and planning, although I'd always been ushered hastily out of the house with orders to return in so many hours.
Tomorrow, I begin the planning on our wedding cake.
"""
Haymitch's house is much more pleasant these days. With a lot of patience, we'd gotten him into the habit of washing up after himself and throwing rubbish in the bin, rather than on the floor. I still have to come round to empty the rubbish, otherwise he'll just allow it to build up until it's close to taking over his kitchen.
Katniss throws open the windows in his house to let in the light, and some fresh air.
"Do you want to wake him, or shall I?" She asks, picking up some clothes from the floor.
"I'll try first," I laugh, knowing what her waking methods involve when it comes to Haymitch. Katniss just shrugs and continues tidying up around her, finding a bottle of white spirit behind a cushion on his sofa. I wander into the kitchen, where Haymitch is sleeping with his head on the table, his arm tucked up under it, no doubt holding his trusty knife. We hadn't quite gotten him into the habit of sleeping in a bed yet, but all in due time. Surely he must constantly have a sore neck from sleeping in such a position. There were nights when he would sleep on the sofa.
"Haymitch," I murmur, shaking his shoulder and keeping a safe distance, ready to duck away from his blade. He swung it at me one morning when I woke him up, and had had to go see Greasy Sae for some stitches. A loud grunting snore, and he falls into his slumber again. "Haymitch," I repeat loudly, prodding his side and shaking him some more.
He mumbles something incoherently and turns his head, blinking groggily up at me. A frown builds into his brow.
"It's not clean up day," he says, turning his head slowly to the other side, where there's a very low pile of rubbish.
"No, it isn't. I'm here with Katniss." She walks into the kitchen upon hearing her name.
"Morning, Haymitch." She opens the kitchen window, and I can already feel the stuffy heat leaving the room to be replaced with fresh, cool air. Haymitch just frowns, his eyes moving between Katniss and I, waiting for an explanation.
Katniss sits at the table, and I move across the kitchen to where there's still some bread left from the day before. Open the fridge, and find a slab of butter in there amongst a few bottles. There had been a delivery the day before, so he was well stocked for the moment.
"I actually wanted to ask you a favour," Katniss says, and I feel her gaze flickering to me, seeking my help. I open a draw and pull out a dull knife, spreading the butter on the bread. A huff from Katniss when she realises that I'm not going to ask for her.
"A favour," Haymitch repeats, the remnants of sleep still evident in his voice. "Thought I was all done giving you favours. Nobody needs me now." I can't be sure, but I think the last part sounded a little sad. Is that what he thinks? That now the Hunger Games are over, nobody has use for him any more?
I drop the bread and butter on the table in front of Haymitch, who picks at the edges and begins to eat them. Katniss is wringing her fingers around one another, trying to find the words to say. I rub her shoulders reassuringly, planting a quick kiss on the top of her head.
"Haymitch … I'd like you to give me away," his eyebrows shoot up. "At our wedding. With my father gone … there's nobody else I'd like to … to give me away."
"You want me to …" Haymitch starts, but doesn't finish his sentence. He's staring straight at Katniss with wide eyes. She nods, because she doesn't need to repeat it.
"It means you'll have to be mostly sober," I cut in. At this, Haymitch pulls a face but after a moment he finally nods. I can't be sure, but I think there's the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.
"Okay. Sure. Yeah … I'll give you away." He scrunches his face a little, as if thinking of something. "When is the wedding again?"
"""
Katniss is fidgeting, and hasn't sat still for the last two days. Today is even worse, and she cleans the house three times over before sitting down. I make her a hot drink, and she leaves half of it on the table, suddenly thinking of something else to busy herself with.
Her mother comes in to District Twelve today, and the wedding is in two days. Katniss hasn't seen her mother since we were back in District Thirteen, I think. A few hours after her mother comes in to district Twelve, the train from District Two will be coming in, and Gale will not be on it. I think that some of the agitation in Katniss is from knowing that. We haven't talked about it much, but I know that there's a part of her that had hoped he would come for the wedding.
I glance up at the clock sitting on the fireplace and pull myself out of the armchair, wandering into the kitchen where Katniss scrubs at the pristine table surface.
"It's time," I tell her quietly, and her back stiffens, the scrubbing stops. She takes a steadying breath and nods her head.
There's not many people at the station. Today is not a big delivery day, but as with every train there's likely to be supplies and special orders coming in. Mrs Everdeen steps off the train and searches for us, and at first glance she looks exactly as when I had seen her last, just how I remember her. She gets closer, and I realise she isn't the same. There are deeper lines in her face, a haunted and sad look in her eyes, her hair is starting to turn grey. She's lost a husband and a daughter, and has likely seen a lot of tragedy since the war began. She wasn't on the front lines though, she was back in District Thirteen.
She was too valuable. That's what they had told us. Her death wouldn't have had as much impact. That's what they hadn't said. I wonder if she had known that her youngest daughter was sent into the midst of the fighting, wonder if she had allowed it.
"Katniss," she says softly with a smile, her eyes then flicking to me. "Peeta," she nods, keeping the smile on her features.
"Hello, Mrs Everdeen." She's no longer looking at me. Her eyes are fixed to her daughter. Her now only daughter. Her only family. I step away, notice a familiar face a few feet away.
"Hello, Delly," I greet her warmly, and she smiles back at me.
We have a brief conversation that consists mostly of my wedding in two days, which Delly tells me she is very excited about. My eyes are mostly focused on Katniss and her mother, who talk intensely, and then hug fiercely, and I'm sure that there are tears.
"""
Tradition dictates that the husband and wife to be shouldn't see each other before the wedding and should sleep separately the night before. This is the reason I find myself sat in the house that had once been my own, and it seems cold and empty despite the fire that had been lit for a few hours now and my bags in the corner of my room.
Katniss and I hadn't spent a night apart since that night when we started to come together again. It feels … wrong. I glance at the clock. Thirteen hours. I get married in thirteen hours. A smile crawls across my lips and there's a flutter of nerves in my stomach. In thirteen hours, Katniss will be Mrs Mellark, and I will have a wife. We will be together finally. Without the influence of the Capitol.
I'm nearly twenty years old and about to marry the only girl I've loved since I was five, and I plan to spend the rest of my life with her. Some people had commented on how young Katniss and I are, and shouldn't we wait a few years before we settle down?
I'd already waited years, and sometimes I feel so, so old. I'd seen so much already at nineteen, and lost far too many people in my life. I'd lost all of my family, fought for mine and Katniss' lives twice, been tortured, had my mind hijacked, lived so long in confusion and a haze of unknown. And now I've found my way through the fog and as far as I'm concerned, I deserve this happiness.
I lie down on the sofa and close my eyes, counting backwards from fifty and getting lost somewhere around thirty. Wedding in thirteen hours. Married, getting married. Mr and Mrs Mellark. Tomorrow I will have a wife, and right now my arms are empty, and I'll never be able to sleep without her.
I jump to my feet and pull on my shoes, throwing the front door open. I can sneak into her room, and leave before anybody else gets out of bed. It's cool outside and everything is completely still, most likely because it's so early in the morning.
I open Katniss' front door quietly, and almost jump out of my skin to see the figure standing in the hall. She freezes where she is, and then frowns in confusion.
"Peeta?" She's bent at the waist, one boot halfway on her foot.
"Katniss, what are you doing out of bed?" I ask, and she straightens up.
"I could ask you the same thing." For a moment we stare at each other, and then burst into laughter at the same time.
"Were you on your way to see me, future Mrs Mellark?" I ask her with a raised eyebrow.
"Well you're on your way to see me," she points out. I laugh again and step forward to fold her in my arms, and everything feels right again. She pulls off the first boot and we go upstairs to her bed, being careful not to wake her mother. Most of the wedding guests are sleeping in the usually empty houses in the Victor Village.
Mrs Everdeen tuts and shakes her head at us, but I can see the hint of a smile on her lips.
"You are supposed to sleeping in your own house, Peeta." I try to look apologetic, but it doesn't work well.
"Sorry Mrs Everdeen, I just find it difficult to sleep without my fiancee." In just a few hours, I will be able to call her my wife.
"Well you best get back, there's a lot of preparation, including getting Katniss dressed," she turns to her daughter at my side, and then back to me. "And you are not to see the wedding dress until she's walking up to you in the aisle." I kiss Katniss quickly, telling her that I'll see her in the church, not even trying to hold back the grin. She smiles back at me, and I leave them to take part in all of the preparing.
I have to go to bakery to check on the wedding cake, and make sure it's ready for the reception.
"""
I'm standing at the altar and everybody is looking at me, and looking back at them I'm awash with the memories of faces that should be in the crowd. All of the people who should be in the room, but are in the ground instead. I tug on the sleeves of my suit, tailored for me a few weeks ago with the help of Effie.
The gentle notes of a piano, and everyone in the room shifts to their feet as if on some agreed cue. And then she's there, nervously glancing at me, and then around her at the sea of faces. Her arm is hooked through Haymitch's and I'm relieved to see that he's able to walk straight, and he looks like he's only had a few drinks so far today. My eyes are on him for only half a second, because they betray me and settle upon Katniss again, and the entire time she walks towards me I cannot tear my gaze away.
The white dress is one that I haven't seen, so I know that it is a new design rather than one from our pretend wedding. The material clings to her fuller figure, the bottom trailing behind her a few inches, and I notice she's even wearing heels. Surely she must have been practising walking in those shoes, and I'm taken back to a memory with Portia, asking her to help me get down on one knee. My face melts into a grin that threatens to split my face in two, but I cannot help it. There's a shawl around her shoulders, which I suspect is to hide most of the burns on her shoulder and down her arm, although there was nothing they can do for me. People are used to seeing me with the slightly puckered skin that crawls around my face. Katniss' hair is up in a bun, with some small white flowers tucked into the strands, and her face has been made up with not too much make up, so that she still looks like Katniss.
She is not just beautiful, but she is radiant. She is breath taking, and for a moment I wonder if I'm not in a dream. Is she really here to marry me?
I know that it is real when she and Haymitch step up toward me, and he places her hand in mine, nodding at me before stepping away and to the side. He seems to be taking his role very seriously. I grasp Katniss' hand and she clings back, glancing at me with gratitude for holding her up, and fear and happiness and love all in the same expression. I'm certain my own expression mirrors hers.
We step up to the altar, turning to face one another whilst the priest begins his speech. There are a few cameras rolling around the room, and the highlights will be broadcast around the Districts later in the day. The world isn't quite ready to leave us alone just yet. It's the main reason for such an extravagant event.
I promise to love you forever, I promise to stand by you in your worst moments, and carry room for you and only you in my heart and soul. She touches my face briefly, and dazzles me with a loving smile. I feel the sting of tears in my eyes.
There have been times when I was not myself, but even in my worst moments you have been my light, the only one able to bring me back. I have and will love only you, and I will be complete only with you at my side. You are the love of my life. Always. There's the sound of tears from the crowd, but I have eyes only for Katniss. Her eyes shine in the light, and she lets out a half laugh, half sob. She slides a gold band onto my wedding finger and repeats the words of the Priest, and I do the same with a more feminine gold band, two diamonds glinting at us.
"I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may now kiss the bride." I don't have to be told twice.
Our lips crash in a hard kiss and I cup her face in my hands, and some people in the room cheer, and then there's clapping, and I have to pull away, but not before placing my lips against her forehead. We turn to the smiling faces, and I see Mrs Everdeen dabbing at her eyes, and I'm sure Haymitch swipes his face quickly with a sleeve.
Mr and Mrs Mellark. Husband and wife.
We had received a request to hold the reception in the town square so that everyone in the District can attend, but we agreed on our own reception with family and friends. There are photographs taken outside of the church, and cameras are still following us, and then Katniss disappears to change out of the dress into another one. People flock to congratulate us, tell us it is about time, and they are so happy for us. Annie walks up to us with Finnick Junior waddling at her side, and a vague look in her eyes. I think that her thoughts are too busy on her own wedding and the man she lost.
"How are you doing?" I ask her quietly, leaning in to kiss her cheek and then kneeling to grin at the two year old at her side. Katniss and Annie talk quietly, whilst I entertain her son. Holding his small pudgy hands in my own, cooing at him until he flashes me a wet, two-tooth grin, I realise there's an ache in my chest. Seeing small eyes exactly like Finnick's make me want young eyes that are just like my own.
I glance up at Katniss, but look away again. It's too soon for that. One step at a time, Peeta.
"""
I sit down on the edge of the bed, entirely relieved to finally be able to sit down without someone swarming in on me with congratulations, or asking to dance, or wondering where my beautiful wife is. A movement at the edge of my vision makes me look up, and I watch Katniss step into the room, a small smile lighting her features.
"Well, that was exhausting," I say with a laugh, and she chuckles along with me. Takes another step, and another. My heart thuds, she shrugs off her dress. "I sure hope someone helped Haymitch home," I continue. I'm rambling. She moves closer, her hands trailing up my arms now. I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? She lowers herself onto my knees, her hands moving down to the edge of my shirt, which she tugs over my head. I throw it to the side, wrap my arms around her naked waist. Surely she can hear my heart from where she sits. Her gaze on mine is intense, and her tongue flicks out to run quickly over her lips.
That small motion is enough to set me over to edge and I'm pulling her head to mine, kissing her fiercely. She's pushing me back to lay on the bed, her hands already moving lower … lower. My lips at her collarbone, my hands at her breasts, a small moan.
Now is not the time to talk about children; now is the time to enjoy my wife.
"""
"I can't do it, Peeta. You know that I can't!" She snaps at me.
"But why not? Tell me why Katniss!" My voice is almost a shout now, but this isn't the first time we've had this fight. She's looking at me with that fierce expression, which hides the fear. I know why she can't, because I've felt the same fears and I've had the same nightmares, but I need to hear her say it. If she doesn't, then we cannot move past it.
"I -" she pauses, looking like a trapped animal. Like a deer in the headlights, as some would say. A deer in the line of her bow and arrow. "I can't." She finally finishes, falling back onto the sofa.
I sweep forward, lowering to my knees in front of her, hands clasping hers tightly, pulling them to my lips.
"The Hunger Games have finished, Katniss," I plead with her, and she turns to look away. I let go of one hand to put a finger under her chin, turning her face back to me. "The war is over. It's been three years, Katniss. I want children." There are tears in her eyes. "I want to complete our family, and we can do it. We can have children, and they won't be hurt. They can't take our children away from us." She shakes her head in denial, and there's a lump in my throat.
"What if ..." Her voice is a whisper, "what if they bring The Hunger Games back? Or something similar? What if they find a way," she swipes her eyes. "What if they find a way to take them away from us?"
"They won't," I shake my head and cup her face. "There won't be another Hunger Games. It's over, Katniss. It's over."
"You don't know that," suddenly she's shouting, throwing my hands away from her. "You can't tell me it's all going to be okay, when you don't know!" She's right, I don't know. I have no idea what might happen in the future, I have no clue what kind of world our possible children could grow up in.
"I don't know," I admit miserably. "But I do know that I want our family, Katniss. I want you and me until I die, and I want there to be children and grandchildren. Don't you want that?" My voice hitches, and there's no answer until I look up at her. I shoot to my feet and sit on the sofa beside her, wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her to me. She's sobbing violently, and her hand clutches around my shirt. "I'm sorry," I murmur. "I'm really sorry. Shh, it's okay." I'm about to tell her we won't talk about it, but I want to talk about it. I need to talk about it.
"I want children, Peeta." I freeze for a moment, not sure that I had heard her correctly. I glance down, and she's looking at me, searching my eyes. "I'm scared." I kiss her hard, and again gently.
"I know. I know, Katniss," I kiss her forehead, pausing for a moment. "I'm scared, too. But I want this, Katniss. We want this."
She dries her eyes and cheeks, and I stroke her cheek with my thumb. She suddenly nods.
"I want to have children with you, Peeta." My face breaks into a grin and I'm crying again, but they're happy tears.
Months pass by and life goes on as normal, but I begin to notice Katniss drifting away from me. We lay in bed and I try to kiss her, but she pulls away. We sit to dinner, and she barely talks to me. She looks at me with hesitant eyes, and after three days I just can't take it any more.
"What wrong Katniss?" I ask, dropping my spoon into my almost full bowl. Katniss stiffens, staring down at her own bowl of food. She opens her mouth, but clamps it shut again. I sigh, rub the bridge of my nose.
It doesn't seem to get better, until we're laying in bed a few nights afterwards, and Katniss turns to me.
"Peeta ..." she whispers, and I turn my head to look at her in the small light of the night.
"What is it?" I want to reach out and touch her, but hold back. Her hand closes over my wrist and she moves it to lay my hand on her stomach. For a moment, I don't understand what she is trying to tell me, but after a few seconds it occurs to me.
"Do you mean …?" I don't dare to finish. She nods, but there's no smile on her face, no hint of joy. My arms slide around Katniss, and she's warm against me, and there's a child growing in her womb. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay. This baby will be okay."
Her nightmares get worse, and I often have to shake her awake and talk away her fear. I hide my own nightmares from her, waking in a cold terror with a scream on my lips that I don't let escape. My eyes close and everything in my dreams seem perfect; married to Katniss and children running around the house. Our daughter turns twelve, and Snow turns up at our door, snatches her away from us with a smile on his bloodied lips. Other times I have to watch our child die, a small head caved in, a spear through their gut.
Katniss doesn't talk about her dreams, but I know that they're just as bad and they last until she's ready to give birth.
"""
"So, I'll box up four of those, and you want six rolls?" I ask the customer, who nods pleasantly, eyes roving the cupcakes splayed in front of her.
"Could I also have one of those?" She points to a cream eclair, and I add it to the small box. The door opens, but I don't look up. One customer at a time, to give each my full attention.
"Peeta," I glance up at Haymitch in shock. He's panting hard, clinging to the door frame. His eyes are wide and panicked, and an icy cold fear tightens in my stomach, I almost drop the box of cakes in my hands.
"What is it? What happened?" I put the box down on the counter, but Haymitch laughs and I frown.
"It's time. The baby is coming." He pants, and I'm moving instantly. I shout out to the back room for my assistant to take over, and I'm running hard. I don't even look back for Haymitch or wait for him to catch up, and I don't stop until I'm bursting into the second bedroom.
Katniss is laid on the bed, rubbing her swollen belly, her face creased in pain. Her mother is stood at the side of her bed, clutching one hand and murmuring comforting words. She looks relieved when she looks up to see me in the doorway. She had arrived in town a few weeks ago, and insisted on staying with us to help with the birth, and help Katniss and I to cope with a newborn.
"Are you okay?" I ask, closing across the room to her side, pushing the hair away from her forehead.
"It hurts. Oh god, it hurts." She sighs, falling back against the pillow. I see a slight smile on her mother's lips.
"And we're not even at the hardest part yet," she chuckles, which makes Katniss groan.
It goes on and on for hours, contractions making Katniss scream in pain and then breathe in relief when it's over. Hours of this and it's time for her to push, and her face is red from exertion, her screams making Haymitch disappear into town, and she clutches my hand so tightly that I'm sure she 's cutting off the circulation.
"Here it comes. One last push, come on Katniss!" Her mother says excitedly, and I kiss her sweaty forehead and tell her to keep going, it's nearly over.
The small cry silences Katniss, and makes me freeze in my tracks, watching in shock as Mrs Everdeen stands up with a bloodied baby in her arms. She wraps a blanket around the tiny human, and tears spill over my cheeks. Mrs Everdeen looks up at us and laughs in surprise, her own tears shining in her eyes.
"It's a girl."
A girl.
We'd made a little girl.
I have a daughter.
Something between a happy laugh and a sob bursts from my lips, and Katniss is crying too, clutching my hand. Mrs Everdeen hands over the crying girl to Katniss and I crouch down beside them, an arm around Katniss, using a soft cloth to wipe the skin of my daughter. My daughter.
"Primrose," Katniss whispers, glancing up at me with pleading eyes. I smile and nod.
"Of course. Primrose Portia Mellark. Our daughter." The word bounces around my mind, and it feels as if my heart is about to burst. Love for the small, squalling girl blossoms inside me, so much love.
"""
"Where's mommy?" the small girl pouts, folding her arms over her chest in an adorable, stubborn act. I'm close to laughing, but manage to hold it back, stroke the black hair from her face and look into her blue eyes. I had wanted a child with eyes exactly like mine, and it's what I had gotten.
"Mommy is getting your little brother or sister ready to show you," I tell her. We had tried to have a reasonable conversation with Primrose about how babies are made, without going into the gruesome details. It had turned into quite the laughable affair, with Katniss and I bumbling over one another whilst Godfather Haymitch laughed in the corner. We had tried to tell her that mommy and daddy were having a special hug, but she had burst into tears and told us that she had hugged a friend at school and she was very, very sorry and she didn't want a baby. So that idea was lost, and we had to try and cover up the mistake.
"A boy," Mrs Everdeen breathes from the doorway, causing Primrose and I to snap our heads up to look at her. "It's a boy."
"I have a brother?" Primrose asks, looking up at me hopefully. A slight frown burrows into her expression, and it reminds me so much of her mother. "Why are you crying, daddy?"
"I'm just happy, sweetie." I kiss her forehead and set her on the floor so that I can stand up. Primrose slips her hand into mine and makes me walk slowly and carefully, which she had been doing even since she found out I have a prosthetic leg. I don't have the heart to tell her just yet that I can walk fine, because her protectiveness is so sweet. We have to walk to my old house, where Katniss had given birth to our son. I'm taken back four years, to the birth of my little Primrose Mellark, all of those feelings of bliss rushing back to me.
When we walk into my old bedroom, Katniss is propped against the pillows and rocking a very clean, sleeping baby boy. I guess they had waited to clean up before coming to collect Primrose and I. I wanted to be there for Katniss through the birth, but someone had to sit with Primrose and answer her constant questions; she's becoming very inquisitive at four years old. Unfortunately, Haymitch is passed out and I think he will have the mother of hangovers when he finally comes to.
"He's beautiful," I smile, planting my lips upon Katniss'.
"He's small," Primrose quips. "Is he asleep? Why? He only just got here." She pouts, and I can't help but laugh a little. "What's he called?"
"Lukail Gareth Mellark," I tell her, and her face scrunches up a little at this information. Then she nods, as if finding the name acceptable.
I smile down at her, and my eyes move to Katniss and the new addition to our perfect little family. So happy. Life has fallen entirely in to place, and it is all so very real.
End.
And there we have it! The end to my Peeta Point of View. It's been a brilliant journey with you, and I thank you for making it this far with me!
I hope that you'll stick by and read some of the future projects I will be posting up, and any ideas are always welcome!
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it out.