A/N: Okay, I lied. I've been working on LB 20 but I had too much inspiration for this chapter not to write it. In case anybody missed it, the last chapter was... kind of important. So maybe make sure you're up to date first. It was posted quite recently.

FYI, I made a few small changes to earlier chapters, the only notable one being adjusting the size of the house at the lake. "12 feet square" is a little ambiguous, but upon rereading chapter 10 of Catching Fire, it became apparent I'd gotten it wrong.

It's the last Sunday of May by the time I finally get to give Katniss her birthday present, and the air is still warm well into the afternoon. My armor and both our jackets were tossed aside long ago. It's too early in the year for us mere humans to brave the lake again, but the waterfowl have returned, as we were counting on. They're easy pickings, and really the only way Katniss could justify forgoing her usual Sunday hunt to make this trek.

The long hike was necessary to ensure we wouldn't be heard. Even with a suppressor and the deep forest we've set up in muffling the gunshots, there's a chance the echoes could carry back to the district even from this distance. I decided against bringing any larger guns out to play to keep the volume to a minimum, so I'm watching from a short distance as my pupil picks off targets with my handgun, which is usually all I'll carry in terms of firearms anyway. I have nothing to compensate for.

As for Katniss, her accuracy is chill-inducing. So is her lethal focus and the set of her jaw, just in a different way. Just watching her, heat and tension are blooming in my gut. I've maintained my professionalism and made sure all our recent training sessions were productive, despite the cloistering sexual energy in the air. And this is for fun, anyway. I'm due for a break. As she ejects the last magazine and pulls her earmuffs down, I expel a low whistle. "That's really fucking hot."

Katniss pauses mid movement, cocks an eyebrow. "You have a thing for women with guns?"

"Maybe," I drawl slyly. "I definitely have a thing for you with a gun. Or any weapon, really." Her lips curl up a bit, and I smirk. "The first time I saw you shoot an arrow was when I figured out how I felt about you."

Her teeth play at her lip momentarily. "I felt you watching me. I wasn't sure if that was why, but I kind of hoped so." As a smug grin takes over my face, she backtracks, "Don't get me wrong, I despised you, but I wanted you to like me." She shrugs. "I liked feeling like you cared."

"You despised me, huh? That why you brought me the sunglasses?"

"That was a business deal," she parries.

"Uh huh." Tilting my head, I start a slow, stalking approach. "Is that why you missed the shot? Because I made you nervous?"

"I don't perform well with an audience," she grumbles. "When I was first hunting with Gale, I had the same problem."

"Really?" Stopping a foot away, I drag my eyes over her body. "I haven't noticed you having any performance issues."

Finally catching on, Katniss flicks her eyes about. "Here?" she all but whispers.

"No one to hear you scream," I wink, relieving her of the empty firearm and tossing it on the forest floor. My earmuffs quickly follow. "No audience to worry about."

Mouth gaping and dry, she makes a few failed attempts at speaking before reaching for my collar and yanking on my dog tags to draw me in. Surprised, I grin into her kiss. When Katniss twists the ball chain, constricting my airway just a little, my libido surges and I jam my tongue in her mouth, stealing her breath right back.

Walking her backward, I set the girl down on a fallen log and kneel in the dirt, hands already going for her belt. Needy hands grip my hair and neck as I unbuckle it in seconds and move on to tearing open her pants, ripping them down her legs. The log is an awkward height and she's half sitting, half standing against it, but it's perfect for my purposes. As I peel down her underwear, I look up to find her staring slack-jawed. For all the fun we've had in the last week and a half, this is a new first. Shooting her a wink, I slip my tongue into her folds.

"Holy shit." Rough, bitten-off nails dig into my scalp and whimpers fill my ears as I drag my tongue back and forth. "Hanna?"

Smiling into her, I pull back to circle her warm nub. As she gasps, I blink up innocently. "Mm?"

Eyes squeezing shut, she grunts and pulls me closer. After a moment of struggle, she gets out, "Thank you. That was a really great birthday present."

I give my tongue a little flutter before using it to speak. Smirking up at her, I point out, "Who says it's over?"

She gets only a handful of words out after that, most of them curses. Too aroused to take my time, I finish her within a couple of minutes. Fiercely shaking my head while sucking hard does the trick and she spasms, folding at the waist with a surprisingly high shriek. Her hands go from clutching to cradling my head as she comes down, panting and stroking my jaw as it continues its service. I spend a few moments sweeping through her crevices and drinking up all her juices before pulling away and peeking up. Eyes still hooded, Katniss rubs her thumb over my hairline.

"Do you… need…"

I stand, pulling her pants up with me, and shake my head with a saucy grin. "I'm good." I fully intend on taking care of it later when I have more time and a spank bank freshly brimming with her moans and shivers, but there's no need to spell that out.

She nods and shakily refastens her pants and belt, then pushes off the log to retrieve the weapon I tossed away. Her unsteady gait makes me beam with a perverse kind of satisfaction, but thankfully her back is to me.

"At least there won't be bruises this time," she remarks, gingerly straightening up from collecting the gun. "It's been tricky making sure my mom doesn't see me in my bra. There's been some close calls."

"That's why I keep suggesting you shower," I tell her. "So she won't smell the sex on you."

Her eyes blink cluelessly a few times before going wide. "It has a smell?"

Unsure if she's fucking kidding, I narrow my eyes doubtfully. "You really haven't noticed?" The brunette shrugs, and I snicker. "You're adorable."

No surprise, she glares in return as she yanks her jacket on. But heeding my advice, she asks, "Does that mean I need to go jump in the lake now?"

"Nah, it was quick, and I cleaned you up nicely," I say. "You should be good." Smirking, I turn to grab my uniform jacket off the branch it's slung over. "Just don't go creaming your pants at the memory on the way home." I've just shrugged it on when something soft but heavy smacks into my back. I turn curiously and see the bulging game bag lying at my feet, its owner glowering at me from eight feet away. "Rude."

"You're rude," she scoffs. "Do you always have to be so vulgar?"

"You love it," I grin, stalking closer.

"Do not," she retorts.

Grabbing her by the lapels, I yank her in and kiss her. With lots of tongue, so she can taste herself. That shuts her up, aside from a few quiet moans. When I disengage, she stares at me with dazed eyes. "Do too."

After one more peck, I snatch my helmet and vest from the ground and suit up. Katniss returns my gear and retrieves her own weapons, then stalks off silently. But she's long stopped smoldering by the time we make it to our tree some hours later, and we exchange another kiss, followed by a long hug.

"See you Tuesday?" I confirm, tracing her jawbone. Adding a hopeful wink, I venture, "Or sooner?"

"I have to skip Tuesday this week," mumbles Katniss, dropping her eyes. "I forgot to tell you."

Crossing my arms, I dissolve into an exaggerated pout, petulant lower lip and all. "But why?"

"It's Prim's birthday," she explains. "Gale and I are going to hunt right after school so I can get home early and make Prim's party, spend the whole evening with her and Mom." This is understandable, if inconvenient, so I quirk my mouth and give a reluctant nod. I'm about to suggest she sleep over tomorrow to make up for it when she adds, "And I want to be there when she wakes up too, so I'll be sleeping at home on Monday."

"You sure know how to treat a girl," I huff. "Too bad she's your sister."

Katniss shoots me a glare. "Just how much of my time do you need, Johanna?"

"Sorry, I…" Blinking away my surprise, I speculate, "I thought you wanted…"

"I do," sighs Katniss, her aggression fading. "But I miss my family."

That, I can understand. "Believe it or not, so do I," I admit.

Katniss snorts. "Yeah, right."

"No, I do. They suck sometimes but… they're where I'm from, you know?" Tipping my head, I divulge, "I haven't spoken to Josh or Jordan since I got here. My parents, all of twice." Her eyes bulge with this new information, and I can't help a small chuckle at her naivete. "Communication with our families isn't exactly encouraged. It's seen as a distraction. That's why we can't get married or have kids during our service."

"You can't?" Her brow furrows further when I shake my head. "But what if you, you know, have an accident?"

"They give you a magic pill to make it go away," I shrug. "Unpleasant, but effective."

Gray eyes flicker. "What, did you…?"

"God, no," I interject. "I've just heard from some of the other girls."

Katniss chews on her cheek, gaze elsewhere. "That really sucks, though. Unless you're in your home district, you don't see your family. And you can't make a new one."

"It's part of the job. We know that when we sign up." I shrug. "And we get a bit of leave here and there. Maybe every couple of years. It's not so bad."

Katniss stares at me for a moment before suggesting, "Do you want to come to Prim's party?"

"Like as your date?"

"No, like as a friend," she smirks. "Prim adores you, I'm sure she'd love it if you showed up."

One eyebrow lifts high on my forehead. "But would your mom like it?"

"I don't think she has a problem with you. She's just a little wary of Peacekeepers. Who isn't?"

"Lots of townspeople. And Hobsters, if they know us," I answer swiftly. "She was born a Townie."

"Yeah, but her kids are Seam," argues Katniss. "She's been both, she knows the difference."

"So, what, I just have to prove my intentions are good?"

"You're a good person, Hanna," she insists. "She'll see that, if she hasn't already."

I only deliberate for a few seconds before giving in. "When should I come?"

"Party's from four-thirty to six. I'll probably be late as it is, so I don't know when you'll want to show up." Rolling her shoulders nervously, she suggests, "It'll just be us after six, but maybe Mom would let you stay for dinner."

"Dinner with the parents? Interrogation time?" Mock horror contorts my face. "We're really getting serious now, aren't we?" Katniss answers that with only a smile and a kiss. Squinting into her eyes as she pulls back, I ask, "Why are you doing this?"

Her lingering thumb brushes my cheek. "Everyone needs family. Even us."

***o***

The bell above the bakery door rattles as I push it open not half an hour later. I had only 48 hours to come up with something to get Prim, but I got a great idea before I even made it back to the barracks. The storefront appears deserted as I close the door behind me, but one of the sons emerges from behind the swinging door to the back within seconds. His immediate friendly smile says he recognizes me as he wipes his floury hands on his apron and approaches the counter.

"Hi," he greets me, "what can I get for you today?"

"Hey," I respond with a nod, trying to place his identity. He's the shortest of the three brothers, but obviously that doesn't always correlate with birth order. I mean, it did in my family, but whatever. Bad example. I decide not to assume anything. "Can I speak to Peeta?"

"You already are," the boy grins, baby blue eyes sparkling. "What do you need?"

"I hear you make the cakes around here."

"Oh, I decorate the cakes," he clarifies. "But yeah, I do the artwork. If you want a custom design, I'm the person to talk to."

"You did the cake for my boss last month," I acknowledge with an impressed eyebrow lift. "'Aye, aye, Captain!' It was very nice."

"That one," he chuckles. "It took a long time, by far the biggest I've ever decorated. That redhead really shelled out for it. Does he have a crush on her or something?"

"We probably all do," I smirk provocatively. Leaning in, I purr, "There's something very attractive about an aloof, self-assured woman."

"Heh," he snickers, eyes turned upward. "That's fair." He's got that charming smile back as he catches my gaze again. "I don't suppose you're interested in outdoing him? Massive cake declaring your love?"

"No," I laugh. "Just something for my friend's kid sister. It's her birthday coming up."

"Big party?" he suggests, eyebrow cocked. "Lots of kids?"

"God, I hope not," I groan. "I'm just after something small. They're Seam, they won't turn their nose up at it."

"Oh, all right," he sighs exaggeratedly, though his eyes still gleam disarmingly. I can't help but roll mine and give in in some way.

Tilting my head, I assure him, "But if you do a good job, I'll give you a tip as handsome as you, how's that?"

The blonde leans back with renewed cheer, planting his dusty hands on the counter. "Deal." Bending down to fish something out from under one of the displays, he comes up with a sketchpad. "What were you thinking?"

"Primroses," I muse aloud. "That's her name. But 'Happy birthday, Prim,' is good in terms of script. She doesn't really use her full name."

The boy's voice is thoughtful as he mutters, "Uh huh."

"Maybe a nanny goat and an orange tabby cat, if you can work them in," I add. A blank moment later, I conclude, "That's all that comes to mind."

I peek at the pad in time to see him finish a couple notes on the top corner of the page. He's wearing a surprisingly serious expression as he looks back up. "You're friends with Katniss."

Double my surprise. I try to blink it from my face. "You know her?"

"She's in my year," he shrugs, eyes flitting away. Oh, fuck, I thought he was older than that. That's only slightly embarrassing. "How do you know her?"

"Oh, you know, I've arrested her a few times," I deadpan. His pale face goes a shade whiter. Despite this sort of being the desired effect, I don't want him to worry, so I ease up with a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm kidding," I fib, then follow it up with a truth of sorts. "I know her from the Hob."

"Right, of course," he says, shaking his head. "Obviously." Clearing his throat, he retrieves his warm smile. "When do you need it for?"

"The cake? Uh, Tuesday afternoon. Five-ish should be good."

"Perfect," he ponders with a bobbing head. "I'll do some sketches tonight. If you come back tomorrow after school, you can give your approval then and we can talk price."

"Great," I smile. "Thanks."

"No, thank you," he deflects, extending a hand. "Lovely doing business with you."

My lips curl of their own free will. He's already quite the businessman. Or salesman, at least. He'll do well for himself. Accepting his handshake, I drawl, "The pleasure was all mine."

***o***

After dinner on Monday, I find myself pacing around my room, debating whether or not it's worth it to try calling home. The monetary cost is manageable, but I don't feel like I have anything to say to the family I supposedly need. Nothing my parents would want to hear, anyway. And it's not like they've tried contacting me in the last couple months. But there's a chance I could intercept my brother around six o'clock, when the mine is closing and they've loaded the last of the cargo trucks for the day. It's generally quite a process to set up a time to talk to family, but it's made easier when one of them works in the same building as the phone.

A knock interrupts my deliberations, stopping me in my tracks. I stride over to the door and open it to see Darius standing there uneasily. "Hey, Jo. Can we talk?"

The door frame supports my weight as I look him over, arms folded. "Can we go next door?"

"Uh, sure," he shrugs, meandering back through his open door. I make sure to shut mine behind me. He's sitting on the bed when I enter, leaving his swivel chair for me. "I thought you'd be more comfortable in your own space," he comments as I rotate it and sit on it backwards, knees straddling and elbows sitting atop the backrest.

Shaking my head, I pointedly remark, "I want to be able to leave when I want to."

He ducks his head, the reference clearly not going over it. "I'm sorry, about the last time we talked. I should have just left you alone. It was obviously what you wanted."

"Then why did you keep bugging me?"

"I don't know," he mutters. "I guess I just wanted to feel like I was helping. Could help." Despite his nonchalant shrug, it sounds as pathetic as it is when he says, "Like I mattered to you."

"You matter," I reply bluntly.

"Then why…" Darius trails off, squinting. "You were just kind of mean."

I'm not sure what he expected. I'm not someone who's known for going out of my way to be nice. But neither is Katniss, and she took a step his way. Maybe I should too, if only so she won't yell at me. Purposely sinking out of my aggressive posture, I acknowledge, "I know. I shouldn't have jumped on you that way. It must have seemed pretty out of the blue." It was for me. I've been disproportionately mad at him since, finally processing my feelings over the matter while also enjoying Katniss's company in many senses of the word. It's been easy to demonize the guy in that situation.

I doubt he'd believe me if I tell him my blowing up wasn't just about him, so I decide to give him the story. "Darius, one of the Agents on my mission tried to force himself on one of the miners." The redhead leans back as his eyebrows go up in understanding. He knows how much that kind of thing bothers me, though not all the reasons why. "I had to attend the situation as a medic, and it was pretty upsetting for me," I divulge. "And when you chased me down, I'd hardly slept and I thought Katniss was mad at me. It was just bad all around."

"Shit," he states emphatically, his mouth quirking with sympathy. "I had no idea."

"I threatened the dude, and he tried to threaten my job," I continue. "Thankfully, it looks like that's blown over."

His eyes narrow. "Can't you get him fired? That's the kind of thing they discharge people for."

"Purnia wanted to bury it. I attacked him, and I sided with a local over him, so it looked bad on me too." Drolly twitching my eyebrows, I snark, "Probably wise. Cray's not exactly known for standing up for the less fortunate in our community."

Darius snorts, rolling his eyes with disdain. "No, not unless they're kneeling."

It takes a second for me to laugh. Not because I don't get it, but because I'm not expecting it. But when I catch the glint in his eye, I erupt with a snort that evolves into genuine laughter. He sniggers in return, lips parting with a satisfied grin. Ducking my head, I smother my remaining chuckles in my crossed forearms.

"Oh my god," I grin as I regain control. "I really fucking miss you sometimes, you know that?"

Darius shrugs, a wistful tinge seeping into his smile. "I couldn't be sure."

Fuck. And men say we're the impossible, emotional ones. I narrow my eyes and specify, "I miss you, but I can't be friends with you if it feels like you think you're doing me a favor by spending time with me. Or like I'm obligated to spend time with you to make your whiny ass feel better."

"I didn't meant to make you feel that way, Jo," he claims. "But you're right, I haven't been much of a friend to you. It's because I haven't been looking at you as a friend, just as another girl who screwed me over." Dropping my shoulders, I let loose a sigh and roll my eyes to the heavens. "Hold up," he interjects, lifting a hand as though I'm about to walk out. I'm pretty close, come to think of it. "I'm not done. Thing is, I was being a hypocrite."

Oh. I settle back in, waiting to see where he's going with this. "I offered to let you use me, and when that using turned out to not be exactly what I had in mind, I acted like you'd betrayed me." He nods, holding my gaze. "That was wrong of me, and selfish, and I'm sorry."

Well, shit. I don't know what to say to that. It's disarming as fuck, but I'm also surprised he took the time to think about this while I was busy hating him. "You had a right to be hurt," I mumble.

"I did," he nods. "And yeah, I was hurt that you lied about your feelings and intentions when it came to Katniss, and to us. But more than that, I was hurt that you wanted her more. And really, that's why I was pissy." His mouth twitches guiltily. "But that's not something I had the right to be mad over, not with what our situation was."

Whether or not I owe him an explanation, I decide he deserves one. I clear my throat and articulate, "The reason I always denied having feelings for Katniss was because I didn't even want to admit that to myself."

"Because of Clove?"

"Partly. But I…" Sighing, I look over the young man I was once so fond of. "I wanted to want you more, Darius. Katniss looked like a disaster waiting to happen. But you were this kind, funny guy. More age-appropriate, yeah, but more importantly, a Peacekeeper." His only response is a blink, so I delve in further. "I know lots of us fuck locals, with varying degrees of consent. But falling in love with one is bad news."

"Can I ask you a question?" he requests quietly. With a subtle gulp, I nod. "Were you ever really into me, or was I just a distraction from her the whole time?" I tense up, and he immediately clarifies, "I know I offered, I just… I want to understand what happened."

"Neither," I admit. "You were more of a distraction from my general misery than from Katniss. And I was never going to be 'into you' the way you wanted, with or without Katniss. It wasn't about her, or you." I hold his gaze definitively. "That's just me. I'm what happened."

Darius sighs, dragging his fingers through his auburn locks. "I know. And I'm better off now, not emotionally tied up to someone who couldn't feel the same way. It can just be hard to see that at the time."

"So you are over it," I surmise.

"Are you over Clove?" he retorts rhetorically. "Like, entirely? Do you not care if she lives or dies this summer?" Giving his head a little shake, he adds, "I know that was a more serious relationship. I just mean, these things take time."

I waffle a moment before confessing, "Well, to be honest, I'm glad you still care if I live or die. You were the first person in a long time to say that." I swallow, gaze falling to my hands. "Even Clove, she knew chances were I'd die in there. She couldn't afford to care."

"But you cared if she did." Watching me closely, he observes, "You still do."

"Well, unlike her, I'm not a sociopath." A snort breaks my deadpan expression. "Despite popular belief."

"It'll be weird," he muses. "Watching the Games."

"It sure will be." I've missed these discussions with my old confidante. Talking to him is not so bad after all. When I can temporarily forget our baggage.

"I wish we could go back to how things were before," Darius mumbles, as though he can hear my thoughts.

"But do you really?" He looks up but doesn't answer. Smiling wryly, I muse, "There were some good things, too." The boy chuckles inwardly, giving me a little nod. "We can't go back," I conclude, "but that doesn't mean we can't get along."

Darius responds with a small but genuine smile. "I hope not."

This seems as good a time as any, so I stand to leave. "Do you want to work out together on Wednesday?"

A cheeky grin spreads across his face. "Sure thing, Agent Beastie."

"You're ridiculous," I snort. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As I'm exiting, I hear him echo the sentiment behind me. "Tomorrow."

On the strength of this interaction, I decide to put some effort into another old relationship. At 7:50, I sink into the rolling chair in the Communications Office and unfold a small piece of loose leaf. After swiping my ID card, I carefully key in the string of digits scrawled on the crumpled paper. It takes four rings before I hear the rattle of a receiver being picked up.

"Meredith Station," answers a female voice. Station is sort of a misnomer, it's more like a large warehouse built on the edge of our limestone quarry. There's no trains up there, just the large trucks that run from the mine down to the railway in the nearest valley several times a day. Clove and I hitched a lot of rides on those trucks over the years to train with some of the other candidates in larger towns. I blame those cramped rides for much of the sexual tension that sprouted between us.

"Hi," I reply, shaking my head back to its senses, "can I speak to Joshua Mason down in Freight?"

The surprise in the woman's voice is palpable. "I'll see if I can track him down for you."

In the quiet minutes that follow, a cramp slowly takes over my gut. I generally don't miss home or my family all that much, given I was obviously an accident some six years younger than my closest sibling and was generally treated as a nuisance for my very existence. Probably because I was a nuisance, an asshole from birth. My parents did love me in their own way, but I only got the scraps of their attention until I joined the candidacy program. There were bright spots, though. Like my earliest swimming lessons in the river on warm summer Sundays, Josh showing me how to doggy paddle and Jordan tugging my legs from below to scare the shit out of me. She would roar and tickle me until I peed, calling herself the sea monster. She got the monster part right, anyway. It's probably her fault I've never been that fond of the water.

"Hello?" The sound of my brother's voice dissolves my reminiscent smirk as it inundates me with a vision of how he would typically look by the end of his shift at the loading docks. Covered in stone dust, calloused palms flushed, smelling of a hard day's work. Not so unlike the miners here.

"Hey, big brother."

His voice jumps an octave. "Johanna?"

"No," I retort, "it's Jordan. I thought I'd call you from the imaginary other phone in town."

His familiar gravelly laugh makes me smile again. "I've missed you, you little smartass. How've you been? Mom told me you met some nice Peacekeeper boy."

"I did, but that's not a thing anymore," I mutter, toeing the desk leg. "It never really was."

"Oh, she made it sound like it was."

"Of course she did," I grouse, my expression suddenly sour. "I don't know why she cares at all. It's not like I'm having kids either way, with this job."

"Well, she didn't want you to enlist either," he points out.

"Yes, because it's so 'dangerous.' Funny, she didn't mind me wanting to volunteer."

"That's different."

"Yeah," I scoff. "An Agent in Twelve is hardly a trophy kid. Especially if she comes back missing body parts."

Josh sighs, and I can practically hear him pinching his brow. "Are you at least happy up there, kiddo? Happier, anyway?"

"Yeah. It was good to get away," I admit. "I've made some friends here. I get on really well with my CO. And the boy, he's nice. An idiot sometimes, but a sweetheart."

"So why didn't it work out?" inquires Josh.

Picking at my cuticles, I deliberate how much to divulge. "I wasn't really that into him. And there was someone else."

"Let me guess, another troublemaking girl?" A deep, throaty chuckle fills the receiver. "You pussy hound."

I snort, more teasingly than defensively. "Like you're one to talk."

"Not anymore," he declares. "I've been made an honest man. Sabina and I got married a few weeks ago."

"Holy shit, what?" Everybody knows everybody in our village of a few hundred people, but they'd only started dating around the time Clove dropped her bomb on me. Late in the summer. I know there's no way I would have been able to get time off to go to the event, but I can't help the vague sadness I feel at having missed it. "That was quick."

"It felt right. Sometimes, you just know."

"Yeah," I muse with a smile. "I get that."

"At least tell me this girl isn't gonna sell you out?" he sighs, his tone suddenly darker. "Whenever I see that shrimp around town, I have half a mind to beat her to death with a pickaxe."

"Please don't, Josh." Part of me means it. But after a beat for comedic effect, I deliver the punch line. "I'd rather see it live on television."

We share a laugh, one that makes me realize just how much I missed his. A voice in the distance interrupts us, and he clears his throat. "Han, I gotta go. We're closing up."

"I know. I just wanted to call and say I miss you guys." Blinking my prickling eyes, I add, "Tell Jordie I say hi. Mom and Dad, too."

"Of course, Hanna."

***o***

Laughter and chatter fills the air as I close in on the Everdeen residence the next day. It's nearing 5:30, and that's no accident. Hanging out with a bunch of tween girls isn't my idea of a good time, but I wanted to make an appearance in time to deliver the cake.

It seems they're in the middle of some word game when I peek in the door, the group of at least ten kids crowding around the table and shouting seemingly random words in turn. Surprisingly, not only are there a couple of boys, but it's a mix of Seam and Town kids. I guess if anyone can pull that off, it's Prim, between her lineage and her personality.

The first person to detect my presence is the boy standing next to Prim. His face pales as much as it can given his skin tone, his muscles going rigid. The blonde must feel his reaction, because she blinks up and catches me easing the door open. Shock overcomes her expression, and since everyone appears to be focused on her and the pad she's writing on, I almost instantly have a pack of young faces turned my way. Their expressions range from curious to frightened. And I'm not even in my armor. I really hate these off-duty uniforms sometimes.

Lifting my free hand in a gesture of goodwill, I paste on a smile and reassure them with a jocular, "Don't worry, I come in peace."

"Hanna!" Prim finally calls out. With a smile, to my relief. "What are you doing here?"

I blink. "Katniss didn't tell you I was coming?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," comes Katniss's voice from the other side of the door. Peeking around it, I find her sitting on a bench tucked against the front wall of the house. Her mother sits in the corner beyond her, on a rocking chair to the right of the hearth. She's paused the knitting project in her lap in favor of watching me as I round the door cautiously.

"A pleasant one, at that," the woman chimes in, sending me a reserved smile from across the room. It's a gesture I return as I shuffle closer to Katniss. "It's good to see you, Johanna." Though several of the kids remain a bit wary of my presence, they seem to trust Prim's judgement and return to playing the game.

"This is more kids than I expected," I mumble as I sit down beside her sister, strategically placing the box between us. Having a parent to impress, I need to be on my best behavior.

"Prim's popular."

Snorting, I dryly remark, "Must run in the family."

Katniss tosses me some side eye and a fist to the shoulder. "Smartass."

"Okay, that's it," Prim announces to the others. "Let me fill it in."

I'm just returning my attention to Katniss when a loud meow startles me, stealing it back. Glancing down, I see Buttercup padding toward us. Pausing just a second, he gives me a little mewl and then hops up on my lap. He shoots Katniss a rather smug look as I instinctively begin to stroke his coat, and I can't help but laugh. "You'd think he understands English."

"The little moron only knows his own name and Prim's," she scoffs. "He just likes to rub in how much he hates me."

"I didn't realize you minded."

"I don't."

"Uh huh." I playfully nudge the girl with my elbow. Glancing past her, I see her mother watching us with a faint smile. Before I have a chance to respond, Prim's clearing her throat.

The young blonde sneaks a shy glance at the boy beside her before reading out, "How to date the coolest guy in school." Then her eyes skim down the page and she starts to read some nonsensical guidebook, frequently interrupted by disproportionately raucous laughter. "Turn the pencils. Make him angrily want to date you. Make sure you're always dressed to smuggle."

"So Prim's old enough for boy-girl parties now, huh?" I say to Katniss as the story continues.

"Those are Gale's brothers," she tells me. "Rory's in Prim's year, and I think she invited Vick so he wouldn't feel left out."

Smirking, I continue to eye the pair. "Or so it looks less suspicious." Katniss chuckles and nods her agreement. "What are your family's rules for dating?"

"We don't have any," she says flatly. "Haven't needed them."

"How convenient," I drawl, shooting her a sly wink. Moving my gaze to the party, I admit, "Sex in the woods is nothing new to me. Josh got taken out back once for having a girlfriend over when our parents were out. I never made that mistake."

"Out back?" Katniss blinks her bewilderment.

"You know…?" But she clearly doesn't. There's no nice way to put it, so I don't try. "Behind the house, beat him, took a belt to him." Katniss's eyes grow huge as this sinks in, her expression beyond horrified. I twitch my eyebrows. "Well, I guess I can't see your mom being the type to do that."

"No," she denies zealously, "our parents never hit us."

Blinking away, I snort, "Lucky you." But I feel her eyes lingering on me in an unspoken question, so I roll mine and return them to her. "Lots of times. I'm a 'brat,' you know."

My girlfriend's hardened jaw twitches and her hand begins sliding across the bench toward my knee. Then she thinks better of it, pulling it back into her lap. There's just a hint of anger in her measured tone when she remarks, "I'm starting to see more and more why you hardly speak to your parents."

"Look who's talking," I scoff, turning my attention back to Prim's disastrous dating advice.

"-before answering in a very fuzzy voice, 'I'll have to fight about it.'" Grinning broadly, Prim turns the page as the last of the laughter dies out. Unexpectedly, her eyes flick over and catch mine. "Johanna, you should play this time!" she suggests brightly.

Sweet kid, trying to make me feel welcome. But with the continued sketchy looks from half the kids, nothing is going to make me comfortable standing at that table. Besides, I'm enjoying my proximity to her sister. "Buttercup is too comfy," I protest. "Can I play from here?"

Prim nods. "Give me an adjective."

"Like one that describes you?" I puzzle, still rather confused over how this game works.

"No, any adjective."

"Uh…" It's a struggle to come up with any word, and the ones that do come to mind are not appropriate for a preteen's birthday party. Actually, some are, just not from my point of view. Discreetly trailing my toe up the back of Katniss's ankle, I submit my answer with a straight face. "Wet."

Katniss stiffens besides me, probably in more than one sense of the word. A tiny shiver runs down her leg and she snaps a pair of peeved eyes over. "They were right about you being a brat," she huffs under her breath, crossing her arms. Notably, she doesn't move her leg. "You are in so much trouble next time I get you alone."

"Mm," I purr. "You planning on punishing me?" It's in poor taste, given our previous topic of conversation, but I can't help myself.

She narrows her already incendiary gaze. "Don't get me started."

"Oh, I've already gotten you started, babe." So much for being on my best behavior. But I want to give her as much motivation as possible to show up at my window tomorrow night. For now she continues the death glares while pretending not to enjoy my touch. She's doesn't fool me, not for a second.

When the round draws to a close several minutes later, I try to ease Buttercup off my lap so I can stand up. He stays stubbornly put. Rolling my eyes, I stand anyway, forcing him to jump before he tumbles off, voicing a loud mewl of displeasure. Katniss snorts behind me as I pick up the box and walk to the table.

"I have a surprise," I announce. Setting it in the middle of the table, I open the box to reveal the circular cake, twelve inches in diameter. I'm glad that Peeta talked me up from ten, because there's more mouths than I anticipated. The frosting design features Buttercup rolling in a bed of primroses, Lady sniffing the bush they fell from. With my help, Peeta got the details correct down to Lady's markings and Buttercup's half an ear. Prim squeals and rushes around the table to throw her arms around me. "I've seen you looking at the cakes enviously a few times," I grin, wrapping her up in return. "I had them make it just for you."

"Thank you, Hanna!" she exclaims. "You're the best!"

It's fortunate that Prim's holding onto me, because those words throw me surprisingly off-kilter. I'm not the best because I can afford to spoil her. I'm not the best at all. I don't spend most of my free time hunting in an effort to keep her belly full, didn't put the better part of today aside to devote to making her happy. Suddenly, I'm feeling extremely self-conscious in the face of this innocuous comment.

"No I'm not," I scoff. "You're the best. Your sister's not bad, either." Peeking over my shoulder, I find both of her family members watching quietly, but not crossly so far as I can tell.

I'm can't be sure of whether Katniss is saving me from the awkward moment or just being herself, but she rolls her eyes and parrots, "Not bad?" as she stands up. Pinching my side as she walks by, she announces, "I'll get a knife."

The kids get going once we've eaten the cake, which for the record is fucking amazing. There's a small collection of gifts by the hearth, but Prim doesn't seem intent on opening them yet. I wonder if that's a custom here or if she just doesn't want to embarrass the kids who couldn't bring one. No one complains, either way. Other than me, mentally, because it makes me feel like an even bigger douchebag in comparison.

With that in mind, I decide to give her family the rest of the day. Briefly catching Katniss's eye, I nod at the door and mouth, "I'm going." She barely has time to crinkle her brow before I to turn to Prim, who's just returning from seeing the last of her guests out the door. "I don't have an actual gift to give you today," I apologize. "But I made a deal with Greasy Sae, and there's a nice new ribbon for Lady waiting for you next time Katniss takes you to trade your cheeses over at the Hob."

Prim smiles brightly. I anticipate another hug, but instead she wheels to face her mother and excitedly asks, "Mom, can Hanna stay for dinner? She just got here."

"Uh…" Even though Katniss was going to suggest the same, this just feels wrong. Before she can answer, I tell the woman, "You don't have to feed me, Mrs. Everdeen. I have dinner waiting for me back at the barracks. But I'd love to stay for the company, if you'll have me."

"Nonsense," she counters. "You're our guest, and you were so generous to Prim. Of course we'll feed you."

"Thank you," I nod, ducking my head.

"In fact," she continues, "I think this calls for a special treat. It's a party, is it not?" Addressing her daughters, she suggests, "How about we have dessert tonight?"

"Mom!" gasps Prim. "Can we afford that?" I'm not sure she's the one to ask. Even with Mrs. Everdeen's home business, I have no doubt that Katniss makes at least half the family's money. She's brushing up beside me, I can feel her, but she doesn't argue. So I don't either.

"We'll need a little more food with one more mouth, anyway," reasons Mrs. Everdeen, already grabbing her jacket. "Why not make it something sweet?" If that was meant to make me feel guilty, it worked. But she already insisted, so there's not much I can do but bear it.

"Can we, Katniss?" Prim begs, blue eyes wide and hopeful.

Even Katniss can't refuse her. Especially Katniss. Prim is and always has been her biggest weakness. "I'm not going to say no," she answers, forcing a smile.

It's hardly an exaggeration to say Prim jumps up and down. "Mom, can we please go to the Hob to get it? I really want to get that ribbon."

Mrs. Everdeen pauses, eyes flicking amongst the three of us. "It's closer than anywhere in town. I don't see why not." Looking to Prim, she adds, "Get your coat on, then, if you're coming with."

Prim is babbling happily about something as they cross the small yard, but I'm not really listening. The whole situation is doing a number on my stomach. It doesn't help that Katniss is walking away from me, rounding the table silently to gather the dirty plates.

"I fucked up, didn't I?"

I only drag my eyes from the door once I've spoken. Katniss stops what she's doing and eyes me with what I think is supposed to be sympathy. "Prim stopped asking for birthday cakes after Dad died. We'd never been able to afford one before, and we sure couldn't then." Watching her drumming fingers, she speculates, "I think Mom always felt bad because she had them when she was a little girl, but she couldn't afford them for her own kids."

"And then I waltz in and outdo her at her own party," I groan. "Fuck, I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not," Katniss insists. "You're sweet. It was very considerate of you, at least as far as Prim is concerned. You made her day."

"Yeah, but it shouldn't have been me making her day."

"Is that why you were gonna leave?" she asks. "Mom'll get over it, don't worry." Extending a hand across the table, she beckons me to join her effort. "Come on, Hanna, let's clean up."

Katniss puts some water on to boil on their small wood-burning stove and we finish collecting the dirty dishes, then wipe down the table. She's about halfway done sweeping the main room by the time the kettle starts whistling. Mixing it with some cold water from the tap, she gets a sinkful of soapy water at a tolerable temperature. I take over and start on the dishes while she finishes the sweep. She doesn't bother with a dustpan, just sweeps the dirt out the door and off the porch before joining me indoors again.

All my senses buzz as footsteps close in on me from behind. My throats constricts with a swallow when I feel Katniss reaching around me, until I realize she's grabbing the dishtowel. Silently, she plucks a plate from the dish rack and dries it off. I have to give my head a shake. The proximity is getting to me. That and how we're once again unsupervised in her house, this time without any orders to be elsewhere. I'm harboring this sudden and strong urge to take her upstairs and ravage her on her bed, but that would be pretty disrespectful of the birthday girl seeing as it's her bed too. Plus, who knows how soon they'll be home? Katniss's breathing has escalated a little, so I can't help but assume the same thoughts are tumbling around in her brain. I don't ask. That's dangerous.

We continue to work silently in tandem. Once I finish, I take my time wiping down the counter, finding a use for my hands while she dries and puts away the last of the dishes. As she hangs the towel, we lock eyes for the first time since she joined me. Her intense gaze shoots electricity down through my feet, freezing me in place as she takes a tentative step closer. I gulp, eyes darting to the open door and unblocked windows that are letting in the last of the afternoon light. We'll be eating by candlelight for sure. Whenever the others get back.

"It's okay," she whispers. "We're alone." Leaning in, she brushes some hair behind my ear and gives me a soft, lingering kiss. When we break, I tug her closer and slide my arms around her middle. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me in tight, and I rest my head on her shoulder, listening to her pulse in her neck. Given its strength, I wasn't wrong about her state of mind. But we stay like that for a long time. Just touching after having to be reserved in mixed company feels like such a luxury.

It's me that initiates the next kiss, tilting my head up to catch her eye. We close the gap together, lips connecting gently at first. But that doesn't last. Gasping into my mouth, Katniss turns me and presses me against the counter beside the sink. I moan in reply and circle my arms around her neck, leaning back as I pull her in. In an instant, her right hand is under my shirt and bra, exerting some kind of mind control over me via my nipple, making me kiss her harder. "I told you you'd be in trouble," she hisses.

A soft whimper escapes my mouth and I grip the back of her neck with my left hand, the other sliding down to rest just above her butt. "This is not what I had in mind when you said that."

"Too bad," she growls.

"They'll be home soon."

"Yes, and we'll hear them coming. Do you see me taking your clothes off?" I shake my head dumbly, too aroused to make sense of her actions. "No," she whispers, "you're going to sit through dinner and go home as frustrated as I was."

"At least I can get myself off in my own bed when I get there," I retort. Katniss twists my nipple in a flash, making me yelp into her mouth.

"Fuck you." I guess that's the best comeback she can think of, because she snarls down my throat and goes back to kissing me hard. I'm on the verge of losing self-control, nails scraping the flesh just above her belt. If she tried, I'd let her boost me up and fuck me right here on this counter. I have half a mind to start it myself. Whining, I try to wrap a leg around her but she's got me pinned in too tight.

Our grunts and ragged breaths are pretty loud when in tight like we are, but they don't block out the sound of a throat clearing behind Katniss. We whip our heads to the door instantly and see her mother and sister standing there, one displeased and one amused. We'll hear them coming, sure Katniss. Fucking idiot. Now we're fucked. They probably couldn't see where her hand was just a second ago, but they surely saw mine trailing under the hem of her shirt. It could have been a lot worse, but I'm still flushed with embarrassment. Not that I wasn't a bit flushed already.

Prim's smile falls a little as she surveys the room, then she gets her grin back for a split second before wolf whistling like the little shit she is. Older siblings suck, but we're arguably worse. It might have been an attempt to break the tension in the room, but if so, it backfires. Glaring down at her, her mom pushes her back half a step and then turns her sights on us just as Katniss fully turns around.

"Johanna, I think it's time you went home," she says evenly.

"No," Katniss outright refuses, shielding half of me with her body. "She's staying here."

Squirming under her mother's evil eye, I appeal, "Katniss, maybe-"

"No," she snaps, "forget it." Standing her ground, she turns her icy gaze back to her mom. "We weren't doing anything wrong."

Frustration flares up in her already irked blue eyes, but Mrs. Everdeen's tone is eerily calm as she lays down the law. "Katniss, go upstairs."

Her daughter stiffens and scoffs with disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"Go to the bedroom," she repeats.

"Oh, now you're trying to mother me?" the girl sneers, prowling forward. "You're a little late for that, Paula."

"Katniss, stop it!" Suddenly fuming, I stamp up beside the taller girl as she turns her venomous gaze on me. "You know, maybe she'd still be your mother if you'd fucking let her." Three pairs of eyes go wide, and I realize my slip up. Shit. Lifting my hands in surrender, I grumble, "It's fine, I'm leaving."

"You're not serious," a scandalized Katniss responds. I just nod curtly and pass between them, making for the door before I can dig myself a bigger hole with any of them. Peeking over my shoulder in hopes of giving Katniss an apologetic look, I instead find her eyes are boring into her mother.

"Don't follow me," she seethes. I have never heard Katniss use a tone so dark, yet so quiet. It's terrifying, actually, because I know all too well the anger that's boiling under the surface. Her glare settles on me for a split second and I realize that that order was meant for me too, sending my already turbulent stomach flopping about.

I gulp as she storms through the room beyond the staircase and out the back door, shudder when it slams so hard it shakes the house. "I'm sorry, Prim," I say after a few painful seconds. She turns and catches my eye. "I didn't mean to ruin your-"

"You didn't." The young blonde steps closer and wraps her arms around me, a gesture I return hesitantly this time. "Thanks for the cake."

"You're welcome, kiddo. Thanks for having me." Over her shoulder, I make fleeting eye contact with Mrs. Everdeen. She's watching us, expression unreadable. I force a dry swallow and a nod before releasing Prim and retreating out the door.

Impress the parent, check. Well fucking done, Mason.

***o***

By morning, after tossing and turning for much of the night, I've come up with what I hope might constitute an olive branch. Absconding with a few small food storage containers from the communal kitchen, I spend several hours rooting around in the forest west of the Seam, retracing my steps in a hunt for the herb patches I've visited once or twice with Katniss. The knowledge she dumped on me the night of our first sleepover proves helpful in finding and identifying some, though I certainly don't remember everything.

I've filled the containers by 10:30 or so, ending my excuse to procrastinate. I should get on with it, anyway. Katniss probably doesn't feel like making her mother soup over her lunchtime today, but I'm more comfortable having this visit when I know she'll be stuck in class. It's hard enough for me to have an adult conversation with an authority figure even without the possibility of a disruption.

Clearing the expansive meadow just inside the fence, I pass a few gates and turn into the Everdeens' yard. I knock the instant I reach the door to avoid any chickenshit nonsense and also portray some sense of confidence. My training in the art of body language proves useful when I hear a chair scrape the floor, and I square my shoulders despite the dread weighing them down. Show no fear.

The door swings inward, revealing the tired-looking woman. Her eyebrows arch at the sight of me.

"Hi, Mrs. Everdeen." I extend my stack of parcels, taking the lid off the top one to display its contents. "Consider this a peace offering?"

The blonde slowly bobs her head and steps aside. "Come in, Johanna." I shuffle inside, keeping a wary eye on her as she places the containers on her countertop. "Would you like some tea?"

"So long as it's not poisoned." She catches my eye over her shoulder, her expression humorless. Shifting a little despite my best efforts, I clear my throat. "Did Katniss make it home last night?"

"Of course," she confirms, waving me off. "She wouldn't miss her sister's birthday dinner over a temper tantrum. She needed a little time to cool off." As I continue to stand there uncomfortably, she asks, "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to apologize for the incident last night, for disrupting your celebrations," I say, willing myself not to blush. "That was really inappropriate."

"Well, it can be difficult to suppress your feelings when you're young and in love," she acknowledges, making my eyebrows shoot up. "Though I would have preferred my twelve year-old daughter not see her sister, whom she respects very much, getting handsy with a Peacekeeper."

My eyes drop shamefully. "This isn't what it looks like, Mrs. Everdeen." I make sure to meet her gaze again before declaring, "I know about Cray, what he does and some of the others do, and it disgusts me. I swear, I have only the best intentions for your daughter."

"I don't doubt it. From everything I've seen, you seem like an upstanding young woman, Johanna." She nods at the chair beside me as she moves aside a bowl of some salve she's mixing. "Have a seat." Once we're awkwardly faced off across the table, she jumps right in. "Am I right to assume it's you she's been staying with several nights a week, coming home fed and bathed and glowing?" At my gulp and hesitant nod, she chuckles inwardly. "And here I thought she'd taken up with her friend Madge or some other Townie girl, followed in her father's footsteps."

My eyebrows fly up. Despite the general open-mindedness I've encountered in both districts, I'm not used to that being the assumption. "Ma'am?"

"Well, she's never seemed very interested in boys," the blonde smirks. A relieved snort pushes its way out of my lungs. "Despite the mystery of it all worrying me," she continues, "it has been a welcome change to see Katniss so happy."

I nod my agreement. "We make each other happy."

"I can see that, very clearly. It's also apparent that the two of you have gotten quite serious. From the marks on her body, not to mention the way she looks at you." My eyes dart away before she even finishes that sentence, landing on my fidgeting thumbs. So much for close calls. "It's not just some fling to either of you."

"Definitely not," I concur, but I still can't look her in the eye.

"That's the problem."

My head snaps up in surprise before I'm reminded of the obvious. "Because of my job."

"Partially." Her gaze goes distant as she chuckles wryly. "The irony doesn't escape me. I never thought I'd be on the other side of this scenario." After a moment, she returns her attention to my questioning face. "My parents were opposed, to say the least, to my relationship with Leander. They said it couldn't last, and they said I'd be throwing my life away if it somehow did."

"But they were wrong, on both counts," I point out.

"Yes, they certainly were. If they were still alive, they might argue, saying that if I had married a baker instead of a miner, my husband would still be alive." She shakes her head, sweeping her eyes across the dilapidated house. "But I have two wonderful children to show for it, and I don't regret it. Social class is not the strict divider they saw it as."

"Then maybe this isn't, either," I contend gently.

The older woman lifts an eyebrow. "'Marrying down,' as my parents called it, involved some sacrifices. It was difficult, but it was always possible. We were from different parts of the district, but the same district nonetheless." Her eyes turn piercing as she gets to the point. "You are a citizen of District Two. Maybe one day you will retire, and be free to form a family if you so choose. But do you get to choose where you settle?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am," I admit. "Peacekeepers aren't allowed to travel the districts freely anymore after they retire, but I've never heard of someone trying to move altogether. All I know for sure is they have an easier time relocating within Two than your average citizen." I know that because my father liked to harp on about how he chose to come back home after his accident instead of moving to the city, because of the importance of family. Funny, given his main contribution to the family he proceeded to create was living off his prorated pension and barking orders like the officer he never got to be while his wife worked down in the quarry. And people wonder why I have problems with authority.

As for settling in other districts, in all honesty, the reason I haven't asked is because I'm afraid of the answer. And the reaction of whoever I choose to ask. My father would have a shit fit. Purnia and Cray are both out of the question because they'd know why I'm asking. "I can look into it," I say.

"Well, if not, you would need to continue your service indefinitely to stay with Katniss, if by some miracle the stress of hiding a relationship for twenty years had not caught up to you by then. And you would have to keep hiding it." I know all these things, but hearing them aloud makes me squirm in my seat. "Do you want to have to keep your relationship under wraps forever? Sneaking in and out of the barracks, withholding affection in public, always fearing detection?"

Those questions are clearly rhetorical, so I don't bother answering. "I don't want that for my child," she concludes. "I know that in this world, there is great temptation to live for the present, but you have to consider the pain your choices now can cause in the future." Her mouth twitches grimly. "There's no future for you two."

Clearing my throat, I sit up straighter. "Mrs. Everdeen, this is not the first supposedly doomed relationship I've been in. I'm used to the uncertainty."

Her head cocks the slightest bit. "How did your previous ones work out for you?"

My gaze averts itself sheepishly. That wasn't the best logic ever. "Betrayal," I admit. My eyes flick up. "Heartbreak."

Mrs. Everdeen nods. "I believe that hurting Katniss is the last thing you want to do. I also believe that it's inevitable." Her shoulders shrug and then droop. "I don't see any way that this can last. Do you?"

Choosing to take this literally, I wrack my brain for a solution. It comes within seconds. "I make Head Peacekeeper. I stay here indefinitely, in my own house. No sneaking around, no bosses to watch out for."

"Ambitious," she remarks dryly.

"A girl can dream."

Her neutral expression fractures the slightest bit, with a hint of a smile that looks oddly affectionate. "You're not going to heed my warnings, are you?"

"Believe it or not, all these things have crossed my mind before. I resisted my attraction to Katniss for a long time because it all seemed like a disaster waiting to happen." Holding her gaze, I pause for effect. "It is a disaster, in a sense. It's hard. But I don't regret any of it either. And I don't think I ever will." When she merely blinks, I resort to begging. "Please, don't stand in the way of a good thing."

"I thought you were more practical than this, Johanna," she says, with obvious disappointment. She sighs, seemingly gathering her thoughts. "I can't give my blessing. But I also can't, and won't, stop Katniss from seeing you. She is correct that she has earned her right to be treated as an adult, though some of her decisions and behaviors suggest she may not be ready for that." A subtle eye roll accompanies that last sentence. "In any case, I've long lost my right to tell her what to do, and I accept that." Her focus lands keenly on me. "I just hope you're able to take care of her in a way that I wasn't."

"Katniss doesn't need taking care of," I object in her defense.

"On the contrary. Katniss is very independent in terms of her physical needs, but she is in dire need of some emotional nurturing."

"To say the least," I snort.

The blonde throws me a warning look that wipes the smirk right off my face. "That imbalance has always existed due to her personality, but the responsibilities and lack of support she was left with after the explosion only made it worse. She was always closer to her father, but I was unavailable too, after he died." Her weary blue eyes fall to the table. "I try my best to make up for it now, but she won't let me. She's too angry." The woman chuckles sadly. "Some wounds, even I can't heal."

"It wasn't your fault," I reply automatically. But when she eyes me doubtfully, I realize I mean it. "I understand… what that feels like. I've been in the deep, too. It's not easily escaped."

Her expression scrutinous, Mrs. Everdeen observes me in silence for a moment. "That's why you defended me."

"Yes," I nod solemnly. "Katniss hasn't had a lover before. She doesn't understand how it feels to lose that person."

"Precisely," she responds emphatically, and I duck my head, realizing what I just walked into. "I know it's uncommon around here, but you can be transferred without your consent, Agent. You're at the mercy of the government, same as the rest of us."

"I know."

"And Peacekeepers do sometimes die in the line of duty, even in Twelve."

"I know," I repeat firmly, catching her eye again.

"You know everything, don't you?" she retorts, eyebrows arched in amusement. "Typical teenager." I don't answer, and that levity fades. "Please tell me you are a teenager."

"I'm eighteen, Mrs. Everdeen," I respond coldly. "Plenty young enough for your daughter."

"Yes, as you've proven with this conversation."

Tearing my fingers through my hair, I expel a frustrated sigh. "Are we done here?"

"You're the one who came to talk to me," she reminds me. "I've said my piece. Have you said yours?"

I guess I have, even if it felt like I was saying it to a brick wall. Getting to my feet, I give her as confident a smile as I can. "You'll come to like me, in time. I'm not going anywhere."

"I already like you," she assures me, making my eyes widen. "That's not the point."

My eyebrows knit. "So is it okay if I come back here again, or are you going to kick me out?"

"Not if you can conduct yourself appropriately while under my roof in the future," she responds pointedly.

A little smirk crawls onto my face. "I think I can handle that."

The blonde nods with a tiny smile of her own. "Then I'm sure I'll be seeing you around, Agent."

A/N: Thanks to D7P, as always, for all her help with this chapter.

Next chapter is what you've all been waiting for: the Reaping/the start of the canon-adjacent storyline. Setup's all complete. But LB 20 will probably come first.