Chapter 30: Thirteen Years Later

I slip softly through the quiet, deserted hallways of the district school, carrying a lunch pail in my hands. We were in such a rush this morning, that it is inevitable for my daughter and I to have forgotten something. If I get a late start to hunting today, Vick will understand.

After checking my daughter's class schedule with the registrar, I headed upstairs to her second period Hunger Games History class.

The coursework of my least favorite subject has apparently expanded quite a bit since Poppy's father and I were in school. Not only are the district's Victors invited to speak just before end-of-year finals, but also before the midterms as well. Poppy says it's a marathon just to cover each and every one of the 92 (soon it will be 93) Games that have been in existence.

And thankfully, now we have two Victors from District 12 to share the burden.

Approaching the classroom door, my heart somehow manages to skip a beat when I see which of our two Victors is leading the lecture: his homespun golden hair catches the trickles of sunlight coming in from the window, making it sparkle. In front of the man who was once briefly my husband, my daughter and her classmates are listening with various degrees of attention. I pick out Poppy right away, busily scribbling in her notebook. My daughter's always been the consummate student, in a way that I decidedly wasn't. I feel pleased that she at least got her studiousness from Peeta, and maybe also from her Aunt Prim.

I can hear Peeta talking pretty clearly through the door, so I wait until there is a lull for me to slip in and hand my daughter her lunch while not interrupting too much.

A boy who just from his posture looks to be the second coming of Rafe Cronin raises his hand. "So is the life of a Victor all it's cracked up to be?"

"Maybe for him!" a smart-ass calls out. "But Peeta's boring! We wanted Haymitch Abernathy instead!"

Several kids guffaw, Poppy glowering at them. Madge Undersee, the former Mayor's daughter and now a teacher, bustles over to admonish her more unruly pupils.

Peeta just smiles good-naturedly. "You'll get to hear from Haymitch at the end of term, right before the Reaping." He dips his head in acknowledgement when he notices my daughter raising her hand.

"But you still didn't answer Udo's question," she presses. "How has your time as a Victor been for you?"

Peeta is studying my daughter curiously. I feel my heart start to pound. Does he suspect? Does he realize how so incredibly alike they look? Primrose has always said how, in a pregnancy with at least one Merchant parent, Merchant genes tend to be more dominant. And Poppy looks very much like a Merchant's daughter, though her hair is a dirtier blonde than Peeta's.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Poppy Everdeen, age 16," my daughter chirps. I smirk. She'll be 16, come April. Her precise response is more like something I would say.

Peeta is staring at her in befuddlement. "Poppy Everdeen, age 16," he repeats, sounding dubious. "You're, um…. Katty's girl?"

Poppy wrinkles her nose at how I and the famous Victor could have ever been on a first-name basis. "My mom's name is Katniss," she corrects.

"Well, since you asked, Poppy, I'll tell you: I won the Hunger Games, against pretty high odds, and you know what? – it pretty much…. ruined my life."

Many of the kids seem shocked – a Victor's riches and lifestyle is something that plenty of children in the Seam could only dream of! Off to one side, Madge looks a little uncomfortable, concerned for Peeta's sake, as he probably came very close to saying something seditious. A Victor is supposed to be nothing but grateful for the mercy the Capitol has bestowed.

I choose this natural silence to rap on the door. Madge turns her head, sees me, and lights up in a beaming smile of relief. I steal into the classroom.

'Hi,' I mouth, making an effort to not look at Peeta while hefting my daughter's lunch pail. I smirk at how Poppy's cheeks burn with embarrassment. I flit over to her and hand her her lunch. "Sorry, dandelion," I whisper. Poppy can't help but smile. Though a completely different flower, 'dandelion' has been my pet name for her since she was a baby. I kiss her on the cheek, then stand to leave, ignoring how some of the fresher boys in her class are actually ogling me.

I nearly bump right into Peeta on my way out the door. "Hi, Katniss."

I smile friendly-like. "Hi, Peeta." I slip out of the classroom and head down the hall.

I've gotten down to the first floor and am just past the registrar's office, when I hear running feet approaching behind me.

"Katniss, wait up!"

I turn, heart still hammering when I see Peeta slowing out of a light jog. I frown in bemusement. "Shouldn't you be with your class?"

"Bathroom break," he explains smoothly. "Madge can hold onto them for now; I was just about done anyway." I shiver when he takes my hand. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah," I try and say nonchalantly, though my throat feels dry. "Come on." Taking his hand, I lead him into the first empty room I find.

Peeta takes in where he used to wrestle nostalgically. "Man, the old gymnasium still looks the same."

"My lack of hand-eye coordination probably is, too," I state wryly. It's strange – I can still hit a moving target on the fly, but place me in front of a volleyball net, and I'm hopeless. Poppy is much the same way, and actually worse, as I've come to find out. "I was much better at watching others compete. Remember when I would come to your wrestling matches?"

"Yes," Peeta smiles fondly. "Though I always thought Madge dragged you to those."

I shrug. "Just the first one…. When you got edged out by your brother."

Our gazes lock, smoldering. Peeta looks pleased at my admission.

"Well, with you there… you kept me going." And I know he's not just talking about his wrestling stints anymore.

There is a moment of silence.

And then suddenly, he and I are making out furiously, and I leap willingly into his arms as the handsome Victor all but drags me under the bleachers. My mouth petals open into full bloom happily against his, greeting his wild and eager tongue, and ignoring how my jaw muscles are already screaming in protest. I moan when I feel Peeta grind against me, and I scramble the rest of the way into his lap, bouncing along his clothed member. Cool air nips at my suddenly bare breasts as Peeta yanks the bodice of my blue dress down my chest. And then his mouth is on my nipples and my breathing becomes labored while I continue to ride him.

"I fucking love your tits," Peeta growls against my boob, sucking it further into his mouth, and I whimper.

"Oh, Peeta, please…."

It isn't long before my skirts are pushed up over my hips, and Peeta's cock is jerking deep inside me. His every movement makes me cry out in delight.

"Uhhhh…. Huhhh….. Ohhhh… Ooooh…. Ahhh…. Ahhhh…."

He cums hard, and I follow with a half-scream. Kissing lazily as we both come down from our high, we quickly disengage. I cover my boobs again, and Peeta zips up his pants, flush with exhilaration.

"You know, that's the best sex I've actually wanted in a long time," he admits.

His odd wording makes me take pause. "What do you mean?"

Tellingly, Peeta cringes, glancing away. "Nothing."

I frown. "You say this is the best sex…. you actually wanted?" My heart turns to ice as a sudden thought strikes me. "All those other times, we made love when were children…. do you mean to say you didn't want that?" I can easily think of one time when he didn't – the night I almost went to Thread, while I was pregnant with Poppy. But all those other times – the Slag Heap, out back of the Bakery, my father's hunting cabin – as I recall, Peeta had been a very active and very willing participant.

Peeta is shaking his head again, and turning away. "Nothing…."

"What?"

"You wouldn't understand…"

"What wouldn't I understand?"

"It doesn't matter all right? Water under the bridge." I'm not familiar with the expression. "Look, bad things happen…"

"Peeta –"

"…. And there's nothing you can do about it! So why hash it out?"

"Because now I know there's something you're not sharing with me!"

"It's none of your business," Peeta states coolly.

Of course it is, I want to cry out. In my heart, you're still my husband. "What happened to you?" I ask in a whisper. "You're not the Peeta I fell in love with."

"You're right. I'm not. Now are you satisfied?" The double entendre is not lost on me. Peeta is almost sneering at what he must think is my naivete.

"No," I grumble. "Just disappointed."

Peeta scoffs. "You know, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Husker."

I remember his ally from the arena. "Good," I mutter. "He's dead anyway."

I jump when I feel Peeta taking me by the shoulders and shaking me. "Listen, you think you can just show up and throw in my face what a good life I had? You don't even know what I've been through!"

I gaze at him gently, despite his anger. "I would…." I softly cup his face, turning him back to me. "If you'd just tell me."

Peeta shakes his head, releasing me. "Forget it."

I can hear my own voice echoing the words, from that night in the Bakery when we nearly made love, when we weren't much younger than our daughter is now. As I watch Peeta stalk out of the gym, a single tear tracks down my cheek. "Fine."

Maybe he's right, I think, as Vick Hawthorne and I go about tracking game later that day. Maybe the Peeta I shagged on impulse in the gym isn't the same one I married in secret in the Justice Building all those years ago. People say that Victors change from the time before they entered the arena and after they come home. Mother's always said how, though still a loner when they were young, Haymitch wasn't nearly as angry growing up before the Second Quarter Quell. And he certainly didn't drink. Hard to believe, but the Abernathy boy had apparently been something of a looker as well.

It's nice to know that Peeta's handsome looks haven't changed…. even if nearly everything else about him has.

Vick can tell from my silence that I'm stewing about something, but knows me well enough by now to not press the point. He's broad, lean and strong now – not at all like the little boy who gave me my first Reaping Kiss. Everybody changes; I'm still mourning over how Poppy is no longer in diapers.

It's nearing the end of the day; Poppy will be letting out of school soon. We just have to check these last snare lines, out by Daddy's hunting cabin. "I'll take first watch tomorrow, Vick," I'm prattling, still apologizing for being late out to the fence this morning. "You can meet me here after patrolling our traps by the river, and then we can… Mmmm…."

My voice is suddenly cut off while I stagger back into a sapling, as Vick suddenly takes my face in his hands and kisses me, right on the lips.

I am completely unprepared for this. After years of hunting with the youngest Hawthorne boy – no, man… I correct myself, I've never had the occasion to wonder about his lips. Or how his hands, which are so deft with snares, now so easily entrap me as they loop about my waist and pull me close. My hands have found the sharp planes of his muscular chest to steady myself, and though I should push him away, I don't. Like his brother before him, Vick has apparently never seen the need to ask a girl before up and kissing her. My nostrils inhale the sweet scent of oranges.

Vick and I break the kiss noisily, and I stumble to the side, brushing along the side of the tree trunk Vick nearly pushed me up against. I stare at this man I used to babysit as though I've never seen him before, mouth agape, blinking in utter shock.

"I had to do that. At least once," Vick murmurs. Then, lightening the tension, he cracks both a smirk and a joke. "You prattle too much, Katty. Especially when you're worried about something."

"And you thought kissing me would calm me down, did you?" My breasts are heaving for every gulp of air. I'm redfaced and flushing and still nearly speechless.

Vick's grin falters. "Well…. yeah. I've been itching to kiss you for years. Gale warned me though, how you can be a bit of a stubborn ass."

I gaze at him heartbreakingly. "Vick…"

He kisses me again before I can react, and this time, I squirm a little. "Hmmm…. Vick, please…."

"You're so beautiful…" Vick murmurs huskily against my cheek, dipping his lips into the soft curve of my neck.

Now I nudge him away, though I feel awful about it. I really should have kept my eyes open, as to how Vick felt about me, about how he's probably felt since he was a little boy. I know he'd had a crush on me when he was little, but I thought he would have grown out of it.

"Marry me."

My jaw unhinges again. "What?"

"I have a ring and everything," he says earnestly. "I've been saving my miner's pension for months."

I feel my cheeks burn at his sweetness. "Clearly, you got your proposing skills from your brother too," I tease.

Vick blinks. "When the hell did Gale propose to you?"

"He didn't," I chuckle. "Not in so many words anyway. He did kiss me though, once, about as boldly as you just did."

Vick just shakes his head. Then he takes my hands in his. "I really do want to marry you, Katty." Another kiss, which I allow, even as tears prick at my eyes.

"Darling boy, I'm flattered. Truly. But I have my daughter to think about. Poppy…."

"Poppy would be thrilled," Vick beams, supping another peck from my mouth again. "I've practically helped you raise her anyway; she needs a solid father figure in her life. You don't have to tell me who you had her with, that doesn't matter to me. But I've saved up enough, I'm well established. And we work well together."

"Just because we work well together doesn't mean we'd be a good match in bed," I chuckle again, though it sounds closer to a sob now. "Gale once thought as you do…"

"I'm not like my brother!" Vick suddenly blasts out, quite emphatically. "And I'm not a little boy anymore, Katty. I love you! I've even saved myself for you!"

The tears now slip down my cheeks. "Vicky, please don't ask me…." I whimper.

Vick cradles his face in my hands. "Katty, I swear… I'd be a saint…. You and Poppy could live with me; you wouldn't even have to go into the mines unless you wanted to…."

I gaze at this boy – no, young man, sizing him up. Despite his insistence that he's not a little kid anymore (and he most definitely is not, as even I have to admit, Vick has grown into himself quite nicely), Vick has always felt like a little brother to me. And although my heart still belongs to Peeta, Peeta is gone, and it is very much in doubt if he will ever come back to me, or would even want to. Whereas Vick has been by my side since he was a teenager. He never asked questions when I got pregnant, and has treated Poppy like she was his own…. Even though were he really her father, he would have knocked me up at only twelve, and the thought nearly makes me laugh and cringe all at once.

But Vick isn't twelve anymore, just as I am no longer eighteen. The youngest Hawthorne son will be thirty next year, and is quite the strapping young man.

And so, even though I have doubts, I bravely loop my arms about Vick's neck and kiss him. And when Vick's calloused hands dip below my waist to feel up my bum, I brazenly raise my leg to his waist, locking our pelvises together.

Vick enthusiastically kisses me back, maneuvering me into the trunk of a tree. Spreading my legs wide, I allow him to take me against the sapling. The sound of our panting, heavy breathing and groans is challenged only by the soft plops of snow hitting the earth.

"Huhhhh….. Uhhhh…..Mmmmm….." I jerk my hips against his.

"Fuck, Katniss….."

He doesn't make me cum, but I feel Vick release himself inside me. Throwing the lad down in the snow, I audaciously move to straddle him, hands resting lightly on his chest as I bounce up and down on him. He's pleasant enough to be with – I moan and make tiny noises as he fucks me – but I don't feel overheated the way I am when Peeta so much as glances my way.

With Vick primed and drooling for me, I rise languidly off of him before I can make him cum again. Taking his hand, I guide him with purpose into my father's hunting cabin where, down on my knees, I take him deep in my mouth and give him head. My fist curled around the base of his shaft, I stroke him with my fingers and my tongue until Vick ejaculates into my throat and I gulp down all he offers.

I'm not usually in the business of taking away anyone's virginity. But at 29, Vick should have known a woman's touch long before this. I might not be sure what will come of it (though Vick has made his intentions quite clear), but I can give my stalwart hunting partner this.

The sun is going down when Vick and I arrive back at the fence. He kisses me once, very gently, and I hold it before we both head for home.

"So…. will you?" he asks.

I smile. "I'll think about it." I split off and head for the Everdeen homestead.

Mother, Poppy and I have been living with Rory and Prim since my daughter was a baby. Shucking my game bag at the door, I wave to Prim, who is with a patient. Rory is reading on the sofa. Then a blur of gold barrels into me and I hug my daughter.

"Hi, dandelion. How was the rest of school?"

"Great, Mom." Poppy draws back, wrinkling her nose. "You smell funny."

I smell like sex, I think but I don't voice this thought aloud. I don't know what my daughter would say if she knew I just shagged her Uncle Vick in the woods. And that was after I up and fucked her father in the middle of her school gymnasium. Snow's roses, I'm a deviant.

Prim bids goodbye to her patient, glancing me up and down. "You're home late."

"Blame her," I jerk a thumb in my daughter's direction. "She forgot her lunch."

"Hey!" Poppy gawps.

I ignore her. "Did you have a good time in your classes?"

"Yeah. Peeta Mellark's lecture in HGH was fascinating!" Poppy states.

I refrain from wincing. I know Poppy isn't the biggest fan of the Games, but sometimes her love of learning – no matter how horrid the subject material – can suggest otherwise. My stomach only churns all the more at how she is referring to her own father by his full name.

And whose fault is that, Katniss? I ask myself. I touch my daughter's arm.

"Can we talk in your room?"

"Sure," she shrugs. We head up to her room, and I quietly lock the door, the pair of us sitting down on her bed.

"I have something to ask you," I begin hesitantly.

"What about, Mom?"

"How… how would you feel about my…. dating?"

Poppy's brow shoots up into her hairline. "Dating? Who?"

"Uncle Vick," I nearly whisper.

Poppy's blue eyes – her daddy's eyes – go huge. "Did you sleep with Uncle Vick?" I don't answer, and Poppy's pupils expand all the more.

"I'm not saying it would happen!" I get out quickly. "But if it did…. would you be OK with it?"

"I…. I guess," Poppy shrugs. My heart hurts for her. I know she's always wondered about her father; perhaps she's even held onto the hope that her dad and I would reunite one day. The fact that she's accepting this, however tepidly, though tells me that she is like her father – selfless.

I give her a hug. "I'm not saying it will work out," I tell her. "But I…. I want to try. I love you."

"I love you too."

As dusk approaches in earnest, I steal over to Vick's little apartment. When he opens the door, I yank him close and kiss him with all the passion I can muster. I feel that I could learn to love him, if I tried hard enough.

"Yes," I whisper, when we break apart, nodding my head bravely. "Yes."

Clad in my blue Reaping dress, I stand before the District Justice of the Peace, Vick Hawthorne by my side in his finest suit. Quietly, we exchange rings and vows and when the clerk declares us husband and wife, we kiss lustily. It might not have been something I expected. I might still have some reservations (mostly around the prospect of two sisters marrying into the same family) but we'll make it work. Somehow. And Vick's smile could light up the sun as he takes in me, his bride.

The bread I insisted we Toast beforehand and eat here in the Justice Building, rather than in the fireplace at home, is stale, but edible. I couldn't bear the thought of buying new bread for this purpose from the Bakery. I think I would have rather gone into the arena than alerted Peeta to the fact that I was getting married… to someone who isn't him.

In his apartment that night, I let Vick have his way with me. I stay up thinking, long after he has cum deep inside me and fallen asleep in my arms.

Six weeks later, Vick wakes me up early to make love, which we do roughly and with a no-nonsense air. Watching him dress in his mining uniform and handing him his lunch, he kisses me goodbye, very sweetly, before heading off to work.

I am hunting in the woods in the middle of the day when the explosion rocks the earth.

I and nearly the rest of the Seam dash for the West Entrance of the Abernathy mine, from which smoke is billowing and bodies are piling up. Thom Borden, my cousin-in-law and the Miner Foreman, approaches me and quietly informs me that my husband of all of six weeks is among the deceased.

I cry, but not as deeply as I should be.