A/N: Hola amigos! Here's chapter twenty five for you all! (I can't believe we're five chapters away from thirty!) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I sadly own nothing.

Warnings: Sexual content, unconsented touching, swearing, implied rape and certain sexual activities.

Chapter Twenty-Five-The past has caught up with us

Peeta: That night: Same Room (i.e: cell)

"Urgh," I groan, shifting my head slightly on the floor. My head hurts and my body's aching. I blink rapidly to clear my vision but end up giving into exhaustion and close them again. Something is tingling up and down my spine but my mind is too fuzzy to try and figure out what it is.

"You sore little kitty?" Finnick suddenly says. His voice should alarm me but I'm too tired to care. His presence is starting to become too familiar for my liking.

"Go to hell," I mumble. I note that my arms are no longer behind my back, they're resting by either side of my head, causing me to realize that the tingling on my spine is Finnick's fingers dancing up and down my back.

"Aw, tired too," he coos, the finger dance changing to soothing circles. My eyes threaten to drop again but I refuse to let them. Knowing that he is right here beside me is unnerving, especially to just fall asleep again with. There's been plenty a time back in the day where I'd wake up covered in more semen than I had fallen asleep with or to find myself in a compromising position that enabled him to pleasure himself while I'm dead to the world.

"Yes, so let me sleep in peace," I mumble back, shifting on the floor to make myself more comfortable-quite a difficult feat due to the fact I'm on hard, cold ground. Finnick only smiles and pets my hair as if grooming a cat.

"Sweet dreams kitty," he whispers, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I'm too tired to protest against it so I just sigh and feel my eyes droop again. I fall asleep completely to the feeling of his hands ghosting over my face in gentle caresses.

Finnick: Same time: Same place

I watch Peeta fall back to sleep, running my fingers through his hair as he does. It looks like liquid gold and feels like silk between my fingers. Even after all these years, I still remember he can't resist me stroking his hair. I used to do it to get on his good side, especially after doing something particularly bad. It even made him purr once. Such a shame it only happened once.

When Johanna called me and asked me to come back to the Mafia because they needed to break Peeta Mellark, I was ready to come back in a heartbeat. I didn't have a price, I was already out the front door when she offered to give back my trident keychain. Still, I wasn't going to say no to getting the keychain back as well was I? I was worried in case he had changed-it has been thirteen years after all-because for all I knew he could have gotten fat or something but he hadn't. He looks exactly the same.

I hook my finger under his collar and pull it down slightly, smirking at the 'F' that sits carved into his skin. I had always wanted to mark my intitals into him but couldn't because you're not allowed to do things like that to escorts (apparently). The skin around the letter is inflamed, adding to the effect that he was marked by me. He belongs to me. Not to that stupid Katniss or dumbass Cato. To me.

Peeta shifts in his sleep, turning his head away from me and smacking his lips. I pull his head into my lap, studying his peaceful expression carefully. He's so hard to resist, even now when asleep. I just want my hands on him all the time, making him scream just like old times. My hands itch to touch him even when he's asleep.

I graze my knuckles lightly down his cheek and smooth the hair out of his eyes. Peeta smiles sleepily and leans into the caress, very likely oblivious to the fact it's me doing it to him. He's so cute when he's sleeping, like a little angel. "My little baby," I smile, hooking my arms under his and pulling him up to sit in my lap. His head falls back tiredly and leans against mine, enabling me to hear his gentle snores more clearly. I keep him upright by hugging his chest, keeping his back pressed against my chest. "I've missed you little kitten. No-one has ever matched up to you, ever." Something tells me I should feel crazy talking to an unconcious boy but the feeling's not coming. Some of my most exhilerating conversations with Peeta have been when he's asleep, when he can't talk back.

"So beautiful," I whisper, nuzzling my nose into his neck. "And all mine." I tug his shirt up, grinning into his skin at the sight of the 'O'. Wow, that never gets old. I trace it over and over again, unable to keep the grin off my face. "Mine, mine, mine." I love how he twitches every time I reach the top again. I lightly run my finger over the seam of his pants, remembering back to when I jerked him off half an hour ago, wishing he was awake so I could do it again while at the same time wishing he'd stay asleep because he looks so hot while sleeping.

"Do you mind?" Peeta suddenly whispers sleepily. I start slightly but tighten my arm around him.

"Not at all," I whisper back, nuzzling my nose behind his ear.

"I'm still tired," he whines, slapping my hand away and leaning forward. I roll my eyes and sigh, tracing the 'F' on the back of his neck and inflicting a shiver from him.

"Then go back to sleep," I reply, pulling his head back onto my shoulder.

"No," he protests, struggling against my hold on him. God, why does he have to be so stubborn?

"Sssh," I coo, pulling his legs over the side of my own and leaning against the wall. "Go to sleep." Peeta weakly fights it for another couple of minutes before his body slumps tiredly against my own. "There you go." His eyelashes brush against my neck and I swallow a giggle at how ticklish it feels.

"You're insufferable," he mutters quietly.

"You love it," I reply, bracing my arm behind his back to cradle him like a baby.

"No, I really don't," Peeta replies, letting his eyes fall closed again. I know he's not sleeping as when I return my hand to where it previously was he slaps it again.

"Don't make me handcuff you again," I growl, lightly slapping his lower back. Even though causing him a bit of pain can be an incredible turn on, I think his wrists are chafed enough from over the past couple of days. "And I really don't want to do that." I press a kiss to his damaged wrists, making him wince.

"Oh yes, I'm sure you don't," Peeta says sarcastically. "I'm sure you're not itching to get them back on me again."

"There's many a thing I wanna do," I reply, running my hand down his thigh. "But sadly, no handcuffs . . . for now."

"Well you'll just have to wait because I'm about ready to pass out," he replies hotly, moving to climb off me. I sigh and yank him back. He stumbles and nearly bangs his head against my own as he falls back into me. His awkwardness makes me grin and I manouver him round on my lap so he's sitting ontop of me, both of his legs enclosing mine.

"You don't have to do anything," I say, trailing a finger down his chest and stomach. His muscles contract under my touch and he squirms away. I laugh and hug him closer to me, running my palm down to cup his ass.

"Please let me go," Peeta murmers, his breath brushing against my ear.

"Why should I?" I ask back.

"Because it's uncomfortable," he answers quietly.

"Aw, poor baby," I tease. I squeeze his backside, basking in the gasp it rips from him, and groan as he rubs against my arousal as he tries to wiggle out of my grasp.

"Please don't," he almost whimpers when I slip my hand under his pants and stroke the delicate skin of his upper thigh. He shudders in response.

"Sssh, it's OK," I whisper. "I'll be gentle."

"No you won't," Peeta replies.

"OK, I probably won't," I admit. "But it's not my fault I've missed you so long."

"Some perverted nostalgia you have," he mutters, pushing his palms against my chest to push himself away. I wait until he's pushing hard enough and let go, laughing as he falls backwards and lands on his back, his legs lying spread eagled before me. His yelp of shock makes me grin and I grab his ankles, pulling him back towards me. I hook my fingers under his pants and pull them down, every inch of skin revealed wetting my apetite more and more. He kicks in protest and I sigh, climbing ontop of him and pinning him to the floor.

"Get off me," Peeta whines, trying to push me away again. His fatigue wins out though and his head hits the floor with a gentle thump.

"You're so sexy," I murmer, trailing a hand down his side and kissing him on the lips. He turns his head away and huffs, blowing a stray hair out of his eyes.

"Just get on with it so I can go back to sleep," he mutters, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly.

"Fine," I sigh, sucking his earlobe into my mouth and running my hands over his body.

God, I love him so much. Sometimes I wonder how my life would have turned out like if he hadn't of moved to District 3 and became an escort. I also sometimes wonder what driven such a beautiful boy to take up such a degrading profession . . .

Katniss: Fifteen years ago: District 3 Grocery Store

"Momma!" Jennifer coos, tugging on my hair as I examine the fruits at the end of the store. "Momma! Momma! Momma!"

"What sweetie?" I ask, patting her head as she sits in the trolley seat.

"Momma!" She repeats, grinning up at me. I sigh and roll my eyes. Ever since that became her first word it's all she has said. It's beginning to get irritating. Peeta grins at my irritation and bumps me with his elbow.

"You OK?" he asks.

"Yeah," I sigh, looking at the very few ideas in the trolley. "How much more can we afford?" Peeta counts up the ideas on his fingers and frowns.

"Not much," he answers. "Maybe we should have used a basket instead of a trolley. It looks so empty." I shrug helplessly and stop Jennifer from eating her hair. "Did you eat anything this morning?"

"No, we didn't have anything," I reply, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.

"Right, OK, we need to get you something to eat. It can't be good for the baby," Peeta says. He walks down the aisle and turns right, persumably to find some discount food. I chew the inside of my cheek and rest a hand on the baby bump. We're going to die, all of us. We're going to starve to death and there's nothing we can do about it. And it's all my fucking fault.

"Excuse me?"

I turn around and frown at the woman smiling at me. Her black hair is tied up in a tight bun and she carries her shopping in the crook of her arm-the full basket making me burn with envy. We don't know anyone here, so I instinctivly lift Jennifer out of the trolley and hold her close to me, worried about what this woman wants.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"That man you were just talking to, who is he?" the woman asks. My frown deepens and I tighten my hold on Jennifer.

"Why do you ask?" I ask back.

"You don't see a lot of blondes around here," the woman explains, putting a hand on her hip. "He's obviously not from around these parts. So, how much did he cost?"

"What?"

"That man. He's obviously an escort, right?" The woman questions.

"Huh? No. He's my husband!" I exclaim. She quirks an eyebrow at me in disbelief before shaking her head.

"Sure," she says. "Of course(!) I'm sorry, some confidentially thing right? Should have known. Meh, it was worth a shot."

"What? He is my husband!" I protest as she turns around and walks away.

"OK, whatever," the woman calls back as she leaves the aisle. Peeta returns moments later with a couple of tins of discount lamb stew. My mouth still hangs open in horror from the previous couple of minutes. He oblviously puts in the tins in the trolley and smiles at me.

"Momma!" Jennifer repeats, tugging on my hair.

"You OK?" Peeta asks, tapping my chin with his hand to close my mouth.

"Uh . . . yeah," I lie, setting Jennifer back into the trolley seat.

"You sure?"

"Uh . . . uh-huh."

A week later:

Anything to save the kids. Anything to save the kids. Anything to save the kids. The words dance around in my head like an unwanted mantra. He took the suggestion so well. I thought he'd be disgusted in me, disappointed even, but no, he's taken the idea on board.

Anything to save the kids.

Our second child isn't even born yet and he's already worrying about him as well as Jennifer. I'm ashamed to say that I had written off this child's survival as soon as I'd discovered I was pregnant again. I didn't have an abortion though, Peeta was excited about having another child, especially when we found out it was a boy. 'One of each,' he'd said excitedly. Getting an abortion would be like kicking a puppy and throwing it outside during a thunderstorm so I decided to wait. We're poor enough, I'm still quite sure that I'll suffer a miscarriage. We're lucky if we get a meal a day. Any food we do salvage mostly goes to Jennifer but Peeta makes sure I eat as well. I'm worried about him though, he hasn't eaten in two days at least.

The front door opens and shuts quickly, jolting me awake from my nap on the sofa. I put Jennifer down to sleep three hours ago and practically passed out from exhaustion. Peeta comes into the living room and lifts my feet off the sofa so he can sit down before putting them onto his lap.

"Did she . . . accept you?" I ask quietly. He stares blankly into the distance for a moment before sighing and running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, she accepted me," he answers.

Miss. Coin is an infamous woman in District 3, most commonly known for pimping out men and women. She doesn't do it against their wills though, no, apparently they're too sophisticated for that. She likes it better when they come to her and beg to be accpeted.

We sit in silence and I fiddle with my thumbs, biting my lip and fighting back tears. "I'm sorry," I finally manage to croak.

"It's not your fault Katniss," he replies, still staring ahead of himself, unblinking.

"What do we do now?" I whisper. Peeta chuckles sadly and shakes his head before finally turning and smiling weakly at me.

"We get on with it."

A year later:

Jennifer's face crinkles up in an expression of distaste as she puts her dummy in her mouth. We've been trying to wean her off them by putting this clear stuff on them that is apparently disgusting and makes children stop sucking dummies. Josh sleeps in the pram, happily sucking his untampered with dummy. My son was born two weeks early and it was close call on whether he'd survive or not. Mostly because of my lack of proper nutrition during the pregnancy and only starting to eat properly again during my last two months before he was born.

And that was because of Peeta's money.

I barely seen him for the first couple of weeks Coin sold him to people. The money he was-and still is- given for each job is phemonial, not even including tips. I made a complaint though, telling her that I wanted to see my husband more, so she only makes him leave twice a week, three times if it's a large enough payer who wants him.

"Look Momma!" Jennifer grins, tugging on the hem of my dress and pointing across the road. "It's Dadda!" I follow her finger to where she's pointing and sigh tiredly. It is, indeed, Peeta-his blonde head lights up the whole crowd of darks around here-but he's with a cilent. I think this guy's a big spender, I'm not sure. I can't see their faces, just their backs as they're facing away from me. The cilent has bronze hair which is more of a District 4 thing than District 3. Maybe he's on holiday? His arm is wrapped possiessively around Peeta's waist as if they're a dating couple-the very thought making me bubble over with jealously and hatred for the bronze haired man.

"Who's 'dat?" Jennifer asks, pointing at said person.

"That's just a friend of daddy's," I smile, ruffling her hair. She looks confused for a moment before nodding happily. "Come on, let's go home."

Present:

My phone suddenly explodes in song, making me jump out of my skin as it vibrates against my backpocket. I pull it out, looking at the caller ID. It's Jennifer. I examine the occupants of the car-Cato's lying fast asleep in the backseat with Rue cradled in his arms. Satisfied that they're dead to the world, I flip the phone open and hold it up to my ear.

"Hello?" I say.

"Mom! Where are you?!" Jennifer screams down the phone. "We've been at Auntie Prim's for days now!"

"Did you get through?" Josh asks.

"No dickweed I'm having a conversation with the voicemail!" Jennifer snaps sarcastically.

"Don't talk to your brother like that," I hiss. I normally couldn't care less about what my children called each other but I haven't been myself as of late. Peeta used to tell them both off constantly for swearing to themsevles or at others.

"Where are you mom?!" Jennifer exclaims.

"Honestly?" I ask. "No idea. But don't worry, I'm fine, just stay with Primrose for a couple more days."

"What about dad?" Josh asks. An image comes into my mind of both of them hunched over the one mobile and listening to my responses on the speaker.

"Your dad's . . . fine too," I lie. "He's with me right now."

"You're lying," Jennifer says instantly.

"What?" I frown.

"Your voice goes all funny when you're lying," Josh clarifys.

"What's happened dad?!" exclaims Jennifer. "Oh my god has he died?!" My eyes widen in horror at the assumption.

"No!" I reply. "Of course not! What would make you say such a horrible thing?!"

"Mom we haven't seen either of you for days!" Jennifer replies. "Why do you think we'd say such a horrible thing?" I sigh and shake my head. Both of them actually thought that their dad was dead? I feel so guilty having to keep them in the dark like this. "Oh my god one of them have came back haven't they?!"

"Who?" I frown.

"One of the . . . cilents." She whispers the last word, trying to not let Josh hear. I told Jennifer about what her dad did when she was old enough to understand. I've been meaning to tell Josh as well but I've been so busy recently because of the opening of the District 12 Casino.

"What makes you think that?" I ask.

"One of the who?" Josh hisses.

"Hush up a minute," Jennifer hisses back harshly. "I've been thinking of that thing you told me when I turned fifteen. About . . . ah . . . dad. And I've accepted it and learnt to live with the fact that he had our best interests in mind. But I remember . . . when I was little . . . I saw something."

"What did you see?" I ask cautiously, suddenly very worried.

"Remember that day you told me that dad walked into a door and got a black eye? Well, I knew you were lying to me, even as a kid, and sort of wanted to figure out what had happened," Jennifer explains.

"When was this?" Josh asks.

"You were only a baby, now ssh," Jennifer says. "I used to think that what I saw the next night was just a weird childish dream I had had. But recently, since dad and you have been acting funny, I've been second guessing it."

"What did you see?" I repeat.

"A man. Hitting dad. I had a nightmare and wandered downstairs looking for either you or dad and he was standing in the doorway with some man. I dunno, he had orange hair or something . . . could be passed off as bronze I guess. They were talking, well, it looked like argueing. He slapped dad before kissing him-"

"What?!" Josh exclaims.

"I'll explain everything in a minute Josh!" Jennifer snaps. "And threw a wad of cash at him. He said, 'You'll always be mine and I'll always find you.' He's come back hasn't he?" I don't give my daughter enough credit for her cleverness. "It wasn't a dream was it?"

I can't answer her. Even though she is right I can't tell her so. "Just stay with your aunt, OK?" I say instead. The silence on the other end confirms that she knows that she's right and I just can't tell her.

"Can someone please explain to me what's going on?!" Josh suddenly asks, breaking the silence.

"Kids?" Prim's voice suddenly calls. "Kids? Where are you? Are you talking to your mom?!"

"Yeah," Josh stupidly answers. I sigh and I hear Jen doing the same on the other side.

"Give me that!" Prim says followed by a loud of rustling-persumably her fighting to get the phone off them. "Katniss? Katniss? Is that you? Is everything alright?"

"Yes Prim, everything's fine," I answer, fiddling nervously with the end of my braid.

"You've been gone for days," Prim replies. I can practically hear the confused frown in her voice. "What's going on?"

"Some things have happened," I say. "The past has caught up with us."

Ever since District 3 my whole family have had an idea that the past would someday come back to bite us in the ass. Whether it was Old Cray seeking revenge for the badgers I shoved up his chimney on my last day of work before leaving or Jennifer discovering she'd earned over 2,000 dollars singing on the street but wasn't allowed to spend the money herself. One thing I'd never thought of though was anything to do with Peeta's cilents locating him. I mean, we were moving to District 12, I'd never considered any of them finding us again. Prim agreed with me that if anything extremlely bad happened then she'd look after the kids.

"What's happened?" Prim asks.

"Just trust me Prim, OK? Look after the kids for me."

There's a heavy pause before my sister responds. "OK, I will. Is Peeta alright?"

"He's . . . fine."

"Alright Katniss," Prim sighs. "Just . . . be safe OK? I've heard the Mafia have been lurking again recently. Be careful. Do you want me to put the kids back on?" I bite my lip sadly and sigh.

"No, I can't bear saying goodbye. Just look after them in case . . ." I can't even finish the sentence. "Goodbye Prim."

"Bye Katniss," Prim replies. "I'll tell the kids you said bye and you'll be back soon."

"Thank you Prim," I answer. "I love you."

"Love you too Katniss."

She hangs up and I sigh, chucking the phone into the driver seat. I wonder if the signal will last until tomorrow. Maybe we can call that Clove woman to tell the police the Mafia's location when Rue takes us there. If Rue takes us there. I don't know if we can trust the girl yet. Who knows how low the Mafia will stoop to trick us. Maybe this little girl is highly trained and manipulation is like an every day job for her.

I turn round in my seat to look at her, finding myself strangely smiling at how taken Cato was with the little girl. Even though neither of us trusted her at first, as soon as she mentioned being able to help Peeta, a.k.a 'Golden Boy', he'd completetly changed in demeanour and treated her like a long lost sibling. Maybe it's to get on her good side incase she is a spy? Make her think we trust her when we don't? I don't know what it is but something in my mind tells me that this assumptions is wrong. Rue really does work for Madge and that my friend isn't dead.

But, if that is true, how did she survive?

A/N: So we've learnt a bit more about Katniss and Peeta's time in 3 and have seen the point of view of Odair himself. What's going to happen next?

Teaser: (OMG! I'm actually doing one again!)

Delly sighs and shakes her head, her manicured nails dancing eleangtly around the big red button. The water sticks to my skin and clings to my clothes; the drops falling off the ends of my eyelashes flicking into my eyes.

"You and I both know I don't want to hurt you," she says teasingly, hovering her hand above the button. "But I will do if I have to."

"Oh really?" I ask.

"Really," Delly smirks.

I let a pregnant pause linger before I put on my best smirk and say, "Then hit me with your best shot."

Please R&R! :D