Last Time in Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

That's it. I'm done. My hands drop, curling into fists. "You know what? Screw you!" My voice is deathly quiet. "I didn't ask for your help. You're the one who wanted to. You're the one who took out tesserae without even talking to me, so don't try to blame that on me! We don't need your help."

He's gone pale with two bright spots of color on his cheeks. He seems shocked at my anger.

I don't care. He's hurt me. "I thought you were my friend. That's what you said you wanted. Well if this is how you're gonna be, I don't want your 'friendship'. Friends don't call their friends whores or kick them while they're down." My words catch in my throat. I'm so angry. So hurt. I take a deep breath. "Goodbye, Peeta."

I storm off, hot tears searing my eyelids. I refuse to let Peeta know just how much he's hurt me. I didn't ask for this life. But I damn well refuse to let anyone insult how I choose to live it.

oOo

Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged
by RoseFyre & FanficAllergy

oOo

Chapter Seven: The Shots You Don't Take

oOo

"You miss 100% of the shots you don't take."
― Wayne Gretzky

oOo

Prim questions me about my reddened eyes when Aven and I get home.

I should have expected it, but it still takes me aback just how protective of me she's become. It's almost like she's the older sister and I'm the younger. It feels weird. Wrong. I'm the one who should be protecting her. I busy myself with removing Aven's outerwear so I don't have to look Prim in the eye. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Did that Peacekeeper do something?" she presses.

I wish she'd let it go.

I know my sister's arms are crossed over her chest, her lips drawn into a thin line. I know that look. It's the Eiken stubbornness coming through. My mother used to get the same expression when dealing with a particularly fractious patient. It always looks out of place on Prim's young face.

"That Peacekeeper was fine," I answer her question, frustration evident in my tone. "Darius was a perfect gentleman!"

I go to the cupboard to get Aven his afternoon snack. My heart skips a beat when I see the last of the bread Peeta made. I want to throw it out, but it's food. You don't waste food. I hack off a ragged slice and hand it to the little boy next to me.

Aven takes it, shoving the whole piece in his mouth, then bounces off to the bedroom to play.

When he's left the room, I turn back to Prim. "It's Peeta who was the asshole."

My sister reels back. "But he loves you!"

"He's got a crappy way of showing it." I tell her what Peeta said about me, how he called me a whore. I do my best to keep from crying.

I don't succeed.

With each recounted word, Prim's eyes darken into murderous slits. "Do you want me to shoot him?"

I can't help it, Prim's offer makes me smile. "You'd get in trouble."

My sister tosses her head. "Only if I get caught."

"No, don't." I sigh. "I just... I don't want to see him again."

Prim bites her lip. "You know, you and Peeta have really horrible timing. He was supposed to bring his tesserae over on Sunday."

"We don't need his help," I say immediately. Peeta's words about him always needing to save me still rankle.

"No, we don't. But we're running out of food."

I stare into the almost-empty cupboard. We're out of cheese and meat. There's only a little bit left of the bread. We maybe have a day or two of tessera grain, but the chicken Darius brought will need to eat and I'd rather not kill a laying hen if I can avoid it. It's worth more in the long run if I can keep her alive. I might be able to stretch what little we have for a few days, but Prim's right. It's still not enough.

"I'll just go to Cray." I flinch at the thought. But I can't see any other good options.

"Or I could take out tesserae," Prim counters as if she knew was I was going to say. "I'm twelve. It's legal now."

I glare at her. "No. I promised Dad. We'll find another way."

"And if we don't?" She crosses her arms.

I refuse to say anything because we both know what the answer is: Prim will take out tesserae, and everything I've endured will have been in vain.

oOo

The weekend passes. Peeta doesn't bring his tesserae, even though part of me was still expecting him to. I guess he's taken me at my word that I don't want to see him again. Good. We don't need his kind of help. I should have known charity like his always comes with strings attached.

Peeta doesn't show up at school on Monday. Delly shoots me a look. I feel the recrimination in it.

I eat lunch by myself.

The next day, he's back. His eyes meet mine across the crowded room. We both flinch. I take my lunch and flee to the nearly empty library.

Thom joins me the following day in my hiding place among the stacks. We're back to how things were before Peeta intruded on our lives. Peeta and Delly eat lunch with the rest of our school. Thom and I sit alone.

After school, Thom walks with me to the Hob. I'm going to try to barter some of my mother's herbs for food and other necessities. I don't feel comfortable going there on my own, not after what happened with Donaldson. But I should be safe with my best friend.

"What's going on with you and Peeta?" Thom asks after a long silence.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Thom thankfully doesn't push. Instead, he leads me to his family's stall, showing me the pile of fabric remnants they've acquired from the tailor. They're cheap, and I wish I had enough to trade for them. But I don't.

I don't even have enough to buy food.

A flash of Peacekeeper white makes up my mind. I need to go to Cray again. He'll pay, and maybe he'll give me more food. Either way, it should be enough to get me through until I can get my tesserae again. I glance around the crowded market. Cray often hangs out in the Hob. No point in going to his house if he's already here.

I spot him drinking at Ripper's stall along with Haymitch Abernathy. The two are joking and laughing. I'll have a better chance of getting his attention now than if I come by his house later.

I smooth my hair and clothing down. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Thom watching me. He doesn't say anything, much to my relief. It's taking all of my courage to do this.

Making my way through the maze of stalls, I approach the Head Peacekeeper and former Victor. Both men look up at my approach.

Haymitch grunts, downing a small glass of white liquor. He can guess why I'm there and doesn't want anything to do with what I'm offering. He never has. Even though he has money and could afford to, he doesn't pay for sex.

Cray, on the other hand, is more welcoming. "Hey, girlie, any turkeys stupid enough to wander into your garden? I've got a mighty hankering for some fresh meat."

Is he trying to insinuate something? I can't tell. It doesn't matter, because my hands start shaking at his words. "No, but... I was still hoping I could see you tonight." To cover my fear, I play with the end of my braid, giving the man what I hope is a friendly look.

The tipsy man eyes me sharply. "Sure you wanna do that, girl?" All hint of his earlier teasing is gone.

I flash what I think is a confident smile at the old man. "I'm… I'm sure."

He peers at me, as if he can see through my lie. After what feels like an age, he nods. "Alright, I'll see you at sundown then. No need to dress up. Let's keep it casual."

Relief and dread flood through me, warring with each other for dominance. I feel the weight of both Haymitch's and Cray's eyes on me. Longing to escape, I bob my head and slip away before I do something stupid like cry.

oOo

That night, I do as Cray asks, knocking on his back door as the sun sets. I shift from foot to foot, my boots sliding on the packed down snow. It's still cold, but not as bad as it was just a short time ago. I can't wait until the weather clears enough so I can sell Cray a turkey rather than my body.

A few seconds later, a sweater-clad Cray opens the door. He nods in approval at my appearance and invites me in.

I don't waste any time. I'm afraid my courage will fail me and I'll run away before I can go through with what I came here for. Refusing to look at the Head Peacekeeper, I shuck my coat and shawl, leaving them draped over one of the kitchen chairs.

When I lift my hands to start unbuttoning my blouse, Cray stops me. "No need for that, girl. Freeman told me what happened to you." His voice is gruff, yet oddly paternal. It's not what I was expecting at all.

I turn away so he can't see how much my hands are shaking.

"I like my women willing," he continues in that same confusing tone. "For both of us to have a good time. This? You don't want this."

What's unspoken is that I don't want him, and he's right. "I… but I need to do something," I say, embarrassed by how small my voice sounds. "You… I…" I can't articulate the words. I need money. Desperately. Otherwise Prim will take matters into her own hands, and I can't allow that.

"Can you cook?" he asks suddenly, cutting off my incoherent attempt at words.

"Yes?" Of course I can cook. If I couldn't, I'd starve.

"Then you're one up on me." Cray shrugs. "My regular housekeeper's off takin' care of her new grandchild for the week. If you don't mind cookin' and cleanin' and pickin' up after an old man, I could use a little help around the house."

"That's all?" I can't stop myself from asking.

"That's all. Unless you want more. But make sure you skedaddle by sundown most nights. Unless you want people talkin'." He seems oddly sympathetic and aware. It's not what I expected. "I'll pay you three coin a day and you can take what leftovers there are home with you."

I don't have to think about it. It's a good offer and it doesn't give me the fear thinking about sex does. "I'll do it."

"Good. I hope you can make something good out of this mess." He throws open the door to his pantry. "And if there's anything you really want, feel free to grab it. I ain't fond of tinned food. Prefer fresh, if you know what I mean."

I do. Fresh food always tastes better. But food is food and you have to make do with what you've got.

For the next week, I work as Cray's housekeeper. I don't get as much as I would've earned if I'd spent the night with him, but it's enough to keep my family going for a little while. It's hard work, but I don't feel disgusted doing it. In addition to cooking, I clean his house and do his laundry. The man insists on clean sheets every night, so the amount of laundry I'm doing makes my hands look like Hazelle's. I wish I had lanolin to rub on them, but we ran out a month ago.

By the end of my stint as Cray's interim housekeeper, I've accumulated a supply of dented and unlabeled cans from the pantry that contain who knows what. I don't think anybody's gone through them in a while. From what I'm able to glean from Cray, the cans are part of his standard Head Peacekeeper salary. But he doesn't use them, he gets most of his food fresh from the merchants in town or at the Hob. Unfortunately, with this weather, there's no fresh food to be found, no matter how much money you're willing to spend.

The trains are running late, when they run at all. I can't even get my tesserae until two days later than normal, when a train finally manages to slip through.

It's a hard winter. Each day, there's fewer and fewer kids in school. Most will return eventually, but a few won't. Disease, starvation, and exposure are taking their toll on our District.

It's always one hardship after another in Twelve. I refuse to let this latest string of them defeat me.

oOo

On my last day of working as Cray's housekeeper, he pulls me aside. "Got something for you, girl."

I raise my eyebrows at him, wondering if it's more food. The trains have started running again, so there's more fresh food. Given Cray's distaste for canned food, I'm hoping he'll send me home with his leftovers.

Instead of going to the icebox, he pulls out a thick golden envelope and holds it out to me. "Please accept this as reparation for the unprofessional treatment you experienced at the hands of former Peacekeeper Donaldson." He glances at the palm of his left hand before continuing, "Please understand that his behavior is not indicative of the Peacekeeper Corps and does not reflect the views of the Capitol. If there are additional damages, please contact your district representative to work on a solution."

"Huh?"

Cray's shoulders slump. "Please don't ask me to repeat that bullshit."

I shake my head. I don't think hearing it again will make me understand it more. To cover my confusion, I open the envelope and pull out several thin slips of paper. According to the writing on the slips, it's money, but not like any kind of money I've ever seen. Around here, everything's done using metal coins or wooden chits. I've never even heard of paper money. "Is this real?"

"You think this is some kind of joke?"

"No, it's just…" I hold up one of the slips. "How am I supposed to spend this?" The vendors at the Hob won't accept it. I don't even know if the merchants in town will.

Realization dawns in Cray's eyes. The mines pay on a daily basis. Even death benefits, the largest sum many families will ever see at one time, are handed out as coin. No one uses paper money in Twelve. "Fuck. Didn't think of that. Come with me."

The Head Peacekeeper grabs several other identical envelopes and escorts me through town, heading toward the Peacekeepers' barracks. I try to trail behind, not make it obvious I'm with Cray, but he won't have any of it. "Quit dawdling, girl. You want your money or not?"

I glance around at the people on the streets, hoping they didn't overhear. Nobody meets my eyes.

He leads me to a small squat building on the edge of town. Beyond it are several long rectangular buildings surrounded by a chain link fence. The barracks. He talks to the Peacekeeper at the guardhouse and says to me, "Wait here. I'll be back."

The woman guarding the barracks watches me with wary eyes. I feel like a criminal waiting for judgment. I shift my weight from one leg to the other, anxiously awaiting Cray's return, hoping nobody recognizes me.

"Katniss?"

No such luck.

I turn to see Darius with his partner, Purnia.

"What are you doing here?" The expression on his face is a cross between pleasure and concern.

I try to smile. "Peacekeeper Freeman. What a surprise."

"Answer his question," Purnia snaps. She's wary, like the guard.

"Cray asked me to wait here." There's no point in lying or evading the truth, not when it's so easy to verify. I wonder why both Purnia and the guard are so hostile. What does she think I'm going to do? Set the place on fire?

"Oh! It came!" Darius's eyes brighten.

"Huh?" Great move, Katniss. Ask a more intelligent question, why don't you? "What came?"

"The reparation package. I thought it should be coming soon." He turns to his partner. "Remember that incident I had to report?"

"Yeah." The earlier antagonism fades as recognition sets in. "This one of the injured parties?" There's a flash of sympathy in the woman's dark eyes.

Darius nods. "You think you can clock me out?"

Purnia rolls her eyes. "You'll owe me."

"Put it on my tab."

He waits for her to go before pulling me off to one side, out of the guard's earshot. "I figured you didn't want anyone overhearing what happened."

I nod, grateful for the courtesy. "How do you know about the reparations?" The word feels foreign on my tongue.

"I'm the one who filed the report. As the arresting officer and ranking Peacekeeper at the time of the incident, it was my responsibility to report what happened and the damage that was done. It was a violation of his duty."

"That doesn't make any sense." I can't say it to Darius, but I thought Peacekeepers were sent to districts to keep them in line. To keep them scared so they won't rebel. Punish any troublemakers or suspected troublemakers. Gale used to rant about them all the time when we dated.

As if he was privy to my internal monologue, Darius explains, "Peacekeepers are sent to the districts to keep order, to prevent agitators from inciting rebellion. The last thing anyone wants is for those tasked to keep the peace to break it. What Donaldson did was wrong, and it's a violation of the trust the Capitol placed in him."

"But he's a Peacekeeper."

"And he should know better."

I shake my head, unable to comprehend what he's saying. "But why all the fuss over me? I'm not important."

"It wasn't just you. During his interrogation, Donaldson admitted to compromising the Capitol's interest with multiple women." Darius's lips thin. "Apparently he started right after he arrived here from Six. The man's a rabid dog and he's been put down."

"You mean-" I don't want to admit it, but relief floods through me at the thought of Donaldson's death.

Unfortunately Darius's next words shatter that relief. "No, that's too good for the likes of him. He's in the Capitol's debt and that debt will be repaid."

"So what's gonna happen to him?" I don't ever want to see Donaldson again, so I hope Darius doesn't mean he'll be sent to Twelve. I don't know if I could deal with it.

"He'll get a taste of his own medicine." A pleased smirk crosses his handsome face. "The Capitol will cut off his tongue and cock and put him to work. Sewers are too good for him, if you ask me, but that's where he'll go. That's what happens to people who take advantage of the Capitol's generosity."

Good. He deserves it. I look up at Darius. "Thank you."

He reaches out to touch my cheek, but stops himself partway. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop it, Katniss. You didn't deserve that. No one deserves that. I just hope it doesn't make you hate all Peacekeepers."

"Not all," I tell him.

He smiles at me, then glances behind me at the barracks. "Cray's on his way back. You think maybe I could walk you home?"

I nod. I don't know what else to say.

oOo

The Hob hums, filled to almost bursting. It's a Tuesday. Not typically the busiest day of the week. But it's been so frigid, so miserable, for so long, that everyone is looking to do something, anything, to escape from the cold. There's so many people packed into the rickety old building that for the first time all winter I'm not able to see my breath hang in the air while Thom and I move from stall to stall.

He's already helped me get another load of coal back to my house. I spent more of my reparation money on it than I'd wanted, but if we don't want to freeze, there isn't much choice. Now we're looking for clothes and blankets that aren't too threadbare.

I've been hanging out with Thom more. Peeta and I still haven't spoken since that day, and I'm beginning to think I'll never see the blond merchant again. There's a twinge of some sort of emotion deep in my belly.

I don't want to think about it, so I distract myself by scanning the various stalls. There's more offerings than one would expect at first glance: clothes, knick-knacks, even furniture. These last several weeks have been hard. People are dying of cold, starvation, and sickness. If my mother were herself, we'd probably be raking in money for her treatments. But she's not, so we're not.

"What do you think of this?" Thom asks, holding up a light gray knit shawl/scarf combo.

"For your mom?"

"No, for you."

I stare at it, trying to picture it on myself. "It's ugly, but it looks warm."

"Isn't that the goal? You could always unravel it later and make something less hideous out of it."

He's got a point. It looks like there's enough yarn there to knit a sweater or a vest for Aven, if nothing else. And it does look warm.

After the obligatory haggling session, the ugly thing's mine. I've already gotten a few skirts and a pair of pants with a ripped inseam. Nothing new, but the clothes don't need to be pretty. They just need to keep out the chill.

Thom and I move on. "So what was it like workin' for Cray?"

I shrug. "Work."

"Did you have to…" He trails off.

I shake my head. "No. Not if I didn't want to." It was understood I didn't want to. Besides, there was a line of women waiting earlier and earlier each night for him. Cray didn't need me.

Thom grunts. We pause at the next stall. Most of what's here looks to be remnants of fabric and spools of thread. While I pick up some sewing supplies, Thom wanders over and starts perusing the ribbons. I join him a few moments later. If it were closer to Prim's birthday, I might consider picking up a hair ribbon or two for her. Thom's got three sisters, he might have the same thought. "Is one of your sisters' birthdays coming up?"

He looks up, startled.

"You okay?"

Thom nods. "Yeah, fine." He gets the attention of the stall's owner and points to a length of ribbon about a foot and a half long. It's pale sky blue, decorated with daisies with bright yellow centers. "I'll take that one."

"Is it Bree's birthday?" I ask, referring to his littlest sister. A kid her age would like a ribbon like that.

Thom shakes his head. "No, not 'til August."

"Then who's it for?"

A low flush rises up my friend's neck. "No one."

I raise an eyebrow. I know an evasive answer when I hear one.

"A girl I like."

I know he's not referring to me, and I have a sneaking suspicion I know who it might be. A twinge of guilt rushes through me. If I'm right, my fight with Peeta hasn't been hurting just me. "I think it suits Delly nicely."

Thom's eyes widen. "Am I that obvious?"

I shake my head. "Only to people who know you."

"Please don't tell anyone." The Merchant/Seam divide is still strong. A lot of people would be upset with Thom for dating a Merchant girl.

But I'm not one of them. "Your secret's safe with me."

oOo

It's still bitterly cold a few days later. I'd like to do nothing more than curl up next to the stove and play with Aven, but I can't. I've got too much to do. While I appreciate Darius's gift of a chicken, having the bird creates a whole new problem. We've been keeping it indoors for now, but the thing is messy. If it's not poop, it's feathers. If it's not straw, it's tesserae grain. Not to mention, the cat can't seem to stop chasing the beleaguered bird for fun.

A chicken coop has become a necessity.

I don't want to waste money on lumber. Winter's not over; who knows what else we'll need to survive until spring? Besides, there are other ways to get wood, even ones which don't involve me climbing under the still snowed-in fence.

There's a garbage pile just outside the entrance to the mines. It's not the slag heap, but a mound of discarded and broken tools, mine support beams, and railroad ties. They're treated with something that makes burning them dangerous. However, just because it's not good for burning doesn't mean you can't use it for other things. And I plan on using it to make a chicken coop.

I've loaded up Aven's toy wagon with the best pieces I can find and am headed home, trying to suppress the shivering that's threatening to overwhelm me. I stayed out too long, and because of my exertion, I've ended up sweating underneath my clothes. Now it's a race. Will I succumb to hypothermia or get home in time?

"Katniss?"

I pause, glancing around to see who's called my name. I don't see anyone, just the normal mix of people coming and going. It must be a hallucination: a sure sign of hypothermia. Thinking it's just my imagination, I start walking again.

"Katniss! Wait!"

There it is again. I see a white-clad Peacekeeper jogging toward me. Instinctively, I freeze. I want to run away, but that'd mean I'd lose my haul and my wagon. Maybe I can slip away, pretend I didn't hear them.

But I've stood here too long. I'm out of time.

The man skids to a halt in front of me, his breath forming little clouds in the air. "There you are, Katniss! I've been looking all over for you."

I breathe a sigh of relief. It's Darius. Of course it is. Who else would it be? I just can't shake the primitive fear I get whenever I see that hideous white uniform.

"What do you want?" I ask, trying not to let my voice shake too much.

"I wanted to talk to you. Is there a good place, someplace we can go that's private?" He glances around. "I don't really want to have this conversation out in the street."

I try to think. I could take him home, but Prim and Aven are there. Not to mention my mother's still unresponsive. I'd suggest the Hob, but it's still so busy. But I need to get inside. I'm fighting off hypothermia. The last thing I need is more time standing around outside, especially now that the sun's starting to go down. "There isn't any place," I tell him after a few long moments.

His face falls and he bites his lower lip. "Damn." He lets out a sigh. "I suppose we can go to my house."

"You have a house? I thought you lived in the barracks."

"I did." He fiddles with his gloves, looking everywhere but right at me. "Kind of got a promotion, and when you reach a certain rank, they don't let you live with the other Peacekeepers. 'Cause it promotes fraternization or some such bullshit. So do you want to come over?"

"Okay," I agree. At least it'll be private.

We walk in silence. It's really too cold for casual conversation. I try to figure out just what he wants to talk to me about that's so important, but I come up blank.

By the time we make it to his house, the sun's fully set and my teeth are chattering. Darius motions for me to take a seat at his kitchen table while he putters around the house, trying to find a teakettle. He's nervous, I realize, because if he'd just stop and look, he'd see there's one resting on one of the burners of the stove.

"D-D-D-Dar?"

He turns, a question in his eyes. I point at the teakettle and he lets out a short bark of laughter. "Right. Figures it'd be in plain sight." He doesn't bother trying to continue the conversation, instead filling the kettle, letting the warmth of his house seep into our bones.

While I wait, I take in the space I can see. The house looks similar to Cray's, but doesn't have a lived-in feeling like his does. The whole place feels antiseptic, almost artificial. There's a monotonous sameness to it, and there's absolutely nothing anywhere that gives a hint to who the owner is. No pictures or artwork or personal items, nothing. The house is a blank slate, just waiting for someone to make it a home. Darius can't have lived here long.

A few moments later, Darius sets a steaming mug of tea down in front of me along with a bowl of sugar and pitcher of milk. I stare at them, my mouth watering. I can't remember the last time I was able to take my tea with cream and sugar. I look up at him in surprise. Somewhere along the way, he's removed his helmet and body armor, and he's wearing what looks to be long gray pants and a grayish white sweater.

He smiles at me ruefully and runs one hand through his red hair. "I've always had a bit of a sweet tooth. My brother and I used to sneak out to the sugarcane fields at night and hack off pieces to chew. I realize now how dangerous it was. If we'd gotten caught, we could've been executed. But we were kids and it was sweet." His voice is distant as he shares this memory with me. His smile softens. "So now you know my deep dark secret. I'm a sugar thief."

I can't help it. The way he says it makes me laugh, breaking the tension in the air. I fix my tea the way I prefer: heavy on the cream, heavy on the sugar. Darius hums in approval when I add three lumps to the warm amber liquid. "So what'd you want to talk to me about?" I ask after taking an exploratory sip. The tea is rich and spicy with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. This is not ordinary tea. I wonder why he's sharing it with me.

Darius sits down across from me, his striking eyes fixed on me. "You know I like you, Katniss."

I nod my head. Of course I do. It would be pretty hard to miss. He asked me to call him by a nickname and he keeps stopping by, bringing me and my family little gifts. And then there's the chicken.

Seeing that I'm not going to say anything, Darius soldiers on. "I don't want to scare you, that's the last thing I want to do, but I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. Real feelings. And now I'm in a position where I can do something about it."

I frown. "I don't know what you mean."

"It's kind of complicated, but you know Peacekeepers aren't allowed to marry?"

I nod. I remember Darius mentioned it before, but I haven't really given much thought to it. I've had more important things to worry about.

"Well, if I thought you'd say yes, and if I thought they'd allow it, I'd court you the way you deserve. The way I want to. Do the right thing and marry you." He stares down into his mug. "But I can't."

I don't know what to say, so I say nothing.

"But I can offer you the next best thing. I care about you, Katniss. Love you, even. And I can see you're struggling. If I could just give you the money outright, I would." He stirs his finger in the rich brown liquid. "But the Capitol doesn't allow that either."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

His eyes meet mine. "I want you to be my companion."

"...Companion?" Does he mean a lover? Friend? Housekeeper?

His cheeks flush tomato red, but he doesn't look away. "It's not as seedy as it sounds. You'd be my companion and lover while I'm deployed here. In return, I can offer you a stipend, even a place to live if you want it."

"Where?"

He looks down into his tea again. "Here. With me. You could even bring your family if you want, there's plenty of room."

My brain can't process this, so I stare at him, my tea growing cold on the table in front of me. "How… how…" I shake my head. "How long would this be for?"

"At least five years. Could be as long as nineteen."

I take a huge gulp to cover my shock. That's longer than I've even been alive. By the time our arrangement would be over, I'd be too old to start a family.

As if he's picked up on my thoughts, Darius continues. "I know that's a long time, and I'm not asking you to commit to anything you're not willing to."

"What about children?" Condoms don't work perfectly to prevent pregnancy, and that's if he's even willing to use them. I've helped my mother enough to know that. If I'm his lover for nineteen years, children are almost guaranteed.

I want children. But I want a husband too.

"You mean, our children?" He's unable to cover the little smile that forms when he says those words. "I'd support them, of course. They'd never have to take out tesserae, I'd make sure of it. We don't have to have them if you don't want to, that's your choice. But if you did…" The blush intensifies. "I wouldn't mind. I've always wanted a big family."

I shake my head. "I don't know what to say."

He tilts his head. "You haven't asked me about money yet. I expected that'd be the first thing you'd want to know."

He's right. I haven't. It should've been the first thing on my mind, but I've just been so blindsided by the offer that I haven't asked the most important question. "How much are you offering?"

"If you didn't want to live with me, it'd be seventy five a month."

"And if I did?"

"Well, assuming you brought your whole family with you, I'd only be able to pay you fifty. But I'd cover everything else, like food and clothes and medicine, for all of you."

That's actually a better deal. If I lived with him, I wouldn't have any expenses and I'd be able to put away a huge nest egg, so when Darius's deployment did end, I wouldn't have to work in the mines unless I wanted to. But even more important, it would save my family from the Community Home. We could bring my mother, but because we're under Darius's protection, her condition wouldn't matter. She could even die, and we'd be safe.

But no one gets fifty coin a month for doing nothing. "What would I be expected to do?"

"You'd be my housekeeper and this place," he gestures around the white-walled room, "would be yours to decorate how you want. You'd get to decide what we do and what we eat. And at night, we'd curl up together and… sleep."

"Just sleep?" That seems like a lot of money just to get someone to cuddle with.

"That'd be up to you too. Eventually, I'd like to make love with you, but I don't expect it right away." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "You've… gone through so much. Had to do so much. You're the strongest person I know, Katniss, that's what I admire so much about you. But everyone's got a breaking point. And the last thing I want is for me to be that pebble that sends you careening off the cliff."

I'm grateful he isn't pushing me now, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to have sex again. Especially with a Peacekeeper. I like Darius, and if he had offered this to me before Donaldson, I would've taken his offer in a heartbeat, even with the downsides. Now… I don't know if I can. But I don't feel like I can say no.

"Can I have time to think about it?" I ask instead.

"Of course! Talk it over with your family."

"How soon do I need to give you an answer?"

"There's no rush. Take as much time as you need."

I glance down. "What if you change your mind?"

"I won't. This is something I really really want." He drains his tea and puts the cup back on the table. "If you're okay with it, I'd still like to see you while you make up your mind."

"I'm okay with it," I say without hesitation. I like Darius. He's funny and sweet. I'd be a fool to push him away while I'm making up my mind regarding his offer.

Some of the tenseness in Darius's shoulders lessens. He licks his lips and his eyes meet mine. "I'd like very much to kiss you right now. Will you let me?"

My head nods of its own accord. How am I going to be able to have sex with him if I can't even kiss him? Better to find out now, rather than lead him on and make him angry. The last thing I need is another pissed off Peacekeeper in a position of power over me.

Darius slides his chair around the table and reaches out for me. His fingertips ghost across my cheek to my chin, his eyes searching my face for any hint that I want him to stop. I don't. His fingers are roughened with calluses I didn't expect. I wonder how he earned them. He pauses, his eyes searching my face, hunting for any signs of revulsion. I nod slightly. So far so good. I don't feel any fear or disgust at his touch.

He leans forward, placing two butterfly kisses on my eyelids. "Keep your eyes closed," he breathes.

I do.

A few seconds later, his lips cover mine. They're gentle, with a hint of sweetness from the sugar in his tea. The kiss is soft. Tender. It's very different from all of the other kisses I've had. Not insistent and fiery like Gale's, or wet and clumsy like Bran Hatfield's. It's not even coldly dispassionate like Cray's or violent and sloppy like Donaldson's.

As soon as the yellow-eyed Peacekeeper's face rears up in my mind, I shudder and pull away.

"I'm sorry!" Darius holds up his hands. "Did I do something wrong?"

I shake my head. "No. It wasn't you. That was… nice." I don't have any other word for it.

Understanding dawns on his face, his eyes becoming shuttered. "Thank you for giving me the chance. I understand."

I know he does.

And that's part of the problem.

oOo

AN:
Written: 6/21/16
Revised: 9/10/16
Revised 2: 9/29/16
Betaread by: Xerxia, Amelinazenitram, & Amy

Ahhh so much happened in this chapter and without any Peeta. Much of it massively important and pivotal to the rest of the story. Yay foreshadowing!

Yes, the cowl thing Thom found in the Hob is the same thing she wore at the beginning of Catching Fire. We figured it was something Katniss had from her old life and not something Capitol-made.

Darius's offer is something we based on old-time officers stationed overseas back in colonial days. It's something we could see happening in pretty much any district, and depending on the district it could be a position of power or a position of ridicule. We know which Twelve is. It may not be what you think.

Things we Randomized:

-Weather
-If Prim hunted/gathered and if she got anything (no and no)

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