DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES TRILOGY

IT BELONGS TO SUZANNE COLLINS

*Correction on Chapter Fifty-Four:

… "You and I were in the 74th Hunger Games. My sister, Prim was chosen and I couldn't let her go so I volunteered. … you know how it goes." I pause and Peeta nods. …

Fifty-Five

Days, weeks and months have passed since Peeta and I talked about our story. I have learned to keep my distance from Peeta, letting him have his space. The night is filled with terrors, my nightmares keep me and Alouette awake. I've decided to give my daughter her own room so that she can sleep in peace, without having to experience my nightmare every evening.

"Are you sure about this?" Claire asked as we moved the crib from the master bedroom to the nursery.

"She'll be fine." I said, "She already sleeps through the night."

"Will you be okay?" She asked when we finished the transfer.

"I will be." I said, when I turned to leave.

I curl my legs close to my chest as I watch the moonlight stream through the windows of the room. Instinctively, I reach across the end table standing by my side of the bed. I grab the ring of keys and fumble through them and find the one that opens Peeta's front door.

I remember a night just like this one, long ago when there was no hesitation. I reached for the keys and went straight to his house in an attempt to escape the very same trap that has captured me once again tonight.

Nightmares.

I put the keys back on the end table and pull the blanket over my shaking frame. Tonight was different. The nightmare was a vision of darkness and the dead. I shake the images of the nightmare from my head and close my eyes and wait for the terror that is sure to come.


"I can't keep living like this." I say to Harvey as I scoop some food into Alouette's spoon.

"Like what?" He asks.

"Like I'm nothing without Peeta." I say, bringing the spoon to Alouette's mouth. "Like my life revolves around a single person and the moment he's gone, everything in my own world crumbles."

"What would you like to do?" He says.

"I'd like to have a normal life." I tell him, remembering how Haymitch followed me through the woods, scolding me for being angry at Peeta. "I need to get a job."

"That sounds good." He nods and starts to leave but I stop him.

"A normal life without hundreds of security men and women waiting and watching my every move." I say, "A normal life in a normal house, not a mansion."

"What are you suggesting, Mrs. Mellark?" He asks. Alouette starts to pounding on the high chair. I take her from the chair and bounce her on my lap.

"Harvey, what happens when your job here is done?" I ask him.

"Technically speaking, this is a permanent job, not unless we get fired by you." He starts, "Hypothetically speaking, if this assignment were terminated, we would go back to headquarters. We would be given a new assignment, new identities, new District."

"So your real name isn't Harvey Porter?" I ask him.

"No, it's a cover name." he says, "We do this to protect the people we have—had in our past."

"So who were you before you got assigned to me?" I say as I let Alouette play with the spoon.

"That's classified information, I'm sorry, Mrs. Mellark." He says.

"That's alright." I say as I get up from the dining table.

"Would that be all, Mrs. Mellark?" he asks,

"Yes." I tell him and he leaves and goes off to wherever they go when I dismiss them.

"Let's take a walk." I say to Alouette as we climb the stairs. She's been learning how to walk for the past few weeks. She pulls herself up on coffee tables and I hold both her hands as she struggles to balance a foot in front of the other. "You will love the meadow."

I pull her dress down and slip her arms into a jacket. I put on her shoes and carry her again in my arms and make my way through the room and down the stairs. Harvey stands by the foot of the stairs, adjusting his earpiece.

"We're going to the meadow." I tell him. "You and Claire can come this time."


The meadow is tranquil with the wind blowing on the leaves of the trees. Flowers have started to bloom across the field, painfully reminding me of Rue's death.

I pick a spot where the sun shines and take a seat in the grass. I let Alouette crawl around the field, picking flowers and throwing them as far as she can. The wind catches the flowers and the air is filled with the fragrance of the petals. I watch my daughter explore the meadow, unknowingly crawling through the graveyard of the people who once walked the streets of the District. It's a calming thought knowing that the meadow, now beautiful in the spring morning, is where the people I once knew rest now. Kind persons who always had time to admire my hunting skills and once in a while even purchase game.

Alouette finds her way back to me and stretches her arms over her head, asking me to pick her up. I get up and pull her to her feet, steadying her as she tries to stand on her own feet. I try to ignore the fact that I might be raising this child all on my own since her father has no memory of even marrying me. I am guiding Alouette as she takes her steps when in the corner of my eye a figure approaches us.

"Harvey, Claire, I think you can go." I tell them and they nod and leave the meadow immediately. I pull Alouette up and carry her in my arms. In a few moments, I am face to face with Peeta.

"Who's this?" He asks, gesturing to Alouette who is craning her neck and pulling away from me and reaching for her father. I hold her hands and put them down and away from Peeta's face.

"She's a friend's daughter." I lie, "Would you like to hold her?" I ask him because I can't bear to deny my daughter the company of her own father.

"No thanks, I don't think I will be good with children." He says, keeping his hands in his pockets. Alouette starts to whimper in my arms, still reaching over to Peeta.

"But you are good with her." I say silently.

"What was that?" He asks,

"Nothing." I bring Alouette down back on the grass where she crawls over to Peeta and raises her arms up to him, wanting to be carried.

"I just came here to tell you that I believe you." He says then. "I believe the story you told me about us being in the Games and in the Quell but…"

"But what?" I ask him, squinting against the sun.

"But I don't think I'm ready to accept it just yet." He says, "I can't live the life you expect me to in such a short period of time. I'm not ready for it."

"It's okay Peeta." I tell him, "I'm going to wait for you no matter how long it takes."

"She's not really a friend's daughter is, she?" Peeta asks me then. He kneels down and takes the child in his arms and carries her.

"No." I tell him. Peeta holds Alouette in a single arm and holds her tiny hand in his own. I watch my daughter gaze up at her father and for a moment I wonder if we'll ever have this again, this ease with one another.

"Is she yours?" he asks, "She looks a lot like you."

"She's ours." I tell him.

There is silence between us for a while. I watch as he looks down at Alouette, taking in her beautiful face and gentle frame. It is truly like he's seeing her for the first time in his life.

"I don't expect anything from you." I say, feeling the tears come as I tell Peeta that he can be free from all of this, "If you can't be here for her, I understand that. We'll be fine on our own."

"She was learning to walk when I got here, wasn't she?" He asks me, bringing down the baby, supporting her as she learns to walk.

Peeta and I allow distance between us. He holds both of Alouette's hands in his as he guides her to my open arms. I plant a gentle kiss on top of her head when she reaches me.

Peeta and I alternate with guiding Alouette. In a few hours, Alouette is already able to take a few steps on her own without tumbling. I watch Peeta catch her as she staggers. He steadies her and let's her go, a timid foot in front of the other until she makes her way back to me.

"Why did you do this?" I ask Peeta when Alouette has fallen asleep on my lap, tired from the events of the day. "We're practically strangers to you."

"I don't know." He shrugs. We both sit in the grass, looking toward the woods. "It felt right, holding her and teaching her how to walk."

"She missed you." I say, letting my fingers pass through my child's brown hair. He doesn't answer. We sit there in silence, letting the afternoon air bring the songs of the birds from the woods.

"I guess I'll see you around." He says then, getting up from the grass. I get up too, slowly though, so as not to wake Alouette. Peeta extends his hand to me and I shift the child so that I can take it.

"Goodbye, Peeta." I tell him and he turns to leave the meadow.

I stay in the meadow for a few minutes longer, trying to freeze the image of my husband teaching our child to walk, leaving the excruciating details elsewhere. Alouette starts to stir in my arms. She wakes, squinting against the sunlight on her face. I bring her to the ground and she stands, her tiny legs steady and ready to walk.

"Let's go back home." I tell her as I reach for her hand. We walk through the meadow together. Alouette points at butterflies that flutter past the flowers in our path.

Then I realize how fast she's growing and how sooner or later, she would learn how to speak as well. I fear the words and questions that might come from her innocent mind.

Will she understand the world that was before she came to it? Will she realize that her father is no longer who he was or will she spend her life in silence, refusing to ask the questions that bring terror to me today?