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Trigger Warning: there's discussion of child abuse in this chapter. It doesn't happen on the page, but it is mentioned.

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Lovers in a Dangerous Time
by FanficAllergy & RoseFyre

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Chapter Nine: Dirty Little Secrets

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Last Time in Lovers in a Dangerous Time:

Mr. Odair glances at his children and grandchildren. "It's the kids that matter. The Quell taught us that."

Finnick's face goes hard. "The Quell taught us a lot of things." He doesn't expand on what he said, just tightens his arms around Annie as if she's his lifeline and he's hers.

"So now what?" Katniss asks after the explanation is over.

"We keep doing what we're doing," Finnick answers. "Fighting back any way we can."

oOo

Eventually the medics usher the Odairs out of our room. They need to go through the standard health procedures like the rest of the refugees. With all of the Odairs gone, Katniss immediately falls asleep, taking advantage of the momentary silence. With Ash's schedule, I'm not surprised she's taking advantage of every moment. Especially when it's just family now.

And family, well that includes Peeta's ma, who's still holding Ash.

The quiet gives all of us a chance to catch our breath and look around. My husband's eyes widen when he spots his mother cradling our son. He watches her warily for several long moments before flicking his eyes up to where I'm standing by the door to Katniss's room.

I point with one finger to our son. Our quiet son. Our non-screaming son. And I shrug. If Ash is willing to shut up long enough for Katniss to actually get a little sleep, I don't care who holds him so long as I can keep an eye on them. Silence is golden with small kids, even if that silence is fraught with things unsaid.

Unsurprisingly, my husband's the first to break the silence. "Hello, Mother. I didn't expect to see you here." His voice is almost achingly polite. There's a brittleness to it that I wouldn't have been able to identify two years ago. Peet's on edge, a knife's edge. But being who he is - a peacemaker, a mediator - he's trying to smooth the tension.

"I didn't expect to be here." She glances down at Ash, who's making little sucking motions with his mouth. "I didn't expect him to like me." She seems to realize what she's doing and looks up at me. "Do you want me to leave?"

I can tell she doesn't want to go. Frankly, I'd rather she'd stay so Katniss can sleep, but I glance meaningfully at Peeta. "It's not up to me."

"Do you want to stay?" Peeta asks, his voice carefully emotionless. That's not a good sign. My husband only does that when he's stressed or when he's dealing with President Coin. Which is the same thing.

Mrs. Mellark runs a thin finger down Ash's cheek. "I'd like to stay. It's been a long time since I've held a baby in my arms." She glances over at her son. "Seventeen years, in fact."

The words have an effect on Peeta. I can read it in the way his fingers twitch. After several long moments, I see Peeta make a decision. There's a little shift in his shoulders that tells me I need to brace for a possible ambush.

The ambush isn't long in coming. "Are you going to treat my son like you treat my husband? Like you treat my wife?" While his voice is soft - a necessity when there's a sleeping infant in the room - there's an intensity to it that makes me want to gather him into my arms and protect him from what's coming.

She stiffens, though her arms don't move. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's bullshit, Mother, and you know it."

"I don't need to hear that language from you," she snarls. Her cheeks are pink - a sign of anger - while her tone rises to match her color. "I raised you better than this."

"You barely raised me at all," Peeta says dismissively. He turns his head to regard the sleeping Katniss. "And keep your voice down. I shouldn't need to tell you how to behave."

Mrs. Mellark's shoulders slump. "You're right, you shouldn't."

"So answer my question, Mother. Are you going to treat our children like they're garbage just because they're part Seam?"

I can see the effect the question has on my mother-in-law. She struggles for several long moments, trying to come up with an answer that's both honest and one Peeta will accept. Finally she says, "I don't think I will. I don't want to. But sometimes I can't stop what comes out of my mouth. But I'll try. For my grandchildren, I'll try."

With a sharp nod, my husband continues, "And are you going to treat our children like you treated your children?" He holds up a finger as she opens her mouth to speak. "And before you ask what do I mean, are you going to quote 'discipline' them with your fists or rolling pin? Are you going to quote 'toughen them up' by calling them useless or worthless or lazy when you're having a bad day?" Peeta's eyes harden and the tendon leading up to his jaw stands out in stark relief. "Because if you do, I'll make sure that you never, and I mean never, see your grandchildren again. Do you understand?"

She swallows visibly. "I understand."

"I don't want you with my kids unsupervised. Do you understand?"

She nods.

I nod too. I didn't know how bad things were for my husband. I mean, I knew they were bad, we all did, but hearing the specifics makes me want to gather Peeta in my arms and hold him until everything's right with the world once again. Now I get why Rye is so unwilling to try to patch things up with his mother, and now I appreciate just how much my husband had to overcome to even consider making the attempt. It makes me love him even more. If he's willing to give this woman - this horrible horrible woman - a second chance, I understand now why he was willing to give Katniss and me one.

I don't deserve him, but I'm damned happy to have him.

"Fine," Peeta says, softening. "You can stay."

Mrs. Mellark nods to her son, then rocks Ash, smiling down at him.

"Are you done?" Katniss says sleepily. She yawns, shifting in the bed.

Peeta leans over and presses a kiss on her forehead. "Yes, we're done."

"Oh good. 'Cause I need sleep cuddles." Her eyes meet mine and I know she's heard the whole exchange. Damn, I love my wife. She's sneakily giving Peeta the very thing he needs, physical contact and reassurance, without making him lose face in front of his mother.

Peeta gathers her into his arms while I come around the other side to pull the both of them into mine. "I think we can accommodate that."

oOo

The air in Twelve smells of ash and rain. How ironic that our sons are named that.

Ash and rain. Life and death. Death and rebirth.

District Twelve is dead. The Seam is dead. The town is dead. The mines are dead.

But my home lives. Because District Twelve isn't home. It hasn't been home for two years, to the day. April 15th. The day I turned my back on Twelve and the Capitol and everything it stood for. The day I set out with the woman I love and picked up the man I love along the way. It's a day that has a lot of meaning for me. For us.

And if Thirteen knew that, they would exploit the hell out of it.

So we don't tell them.

It was Katniss who first realized the significance of the date. And it was Katniss who decided we weren't going to tell anyone in Thirteen. Thirteen has stolen enough from us. Thirteen has demanded enough from us. They don't get this.

As it stands, we don't even get time off after having a new baby. Ash is right here with us in Twelve, along with Rain. In the rain and the ash. If Coin was looking for a better symbol, she'd have a hard time finding it. Never mind that she's subjecting a newborn and a not-quite-one-year-old to the vagaries of the weather in early spring.

I hate that she's done this to us. That Plutarch's done this to us. That Thirteen has done this to us.

But above it all, I hate that we have to do this, that the Capitol has driven us this far. I can't even enjoy the image of Rain toddling through the newly-sprouted Meadow, Peeta hot on his heels. They play a game that has no name filled with laughter and flying dandelions. Cressida and her group are filming their play, which leaves me and Katniss alone.

My wife slips up to me, worming her way underneath my arm, our week-old son nestled in a sling draped across her chest. He's calmed down some since he met his grandmother. She showed Katniss how she held him, without a single anti-Seam remark even, and it's helping. He only screams half the time now. I'll take it.

"How long do you think they'll make us stay here?" Katniss asks, her voice low.

My eyes dart over to where Plutarch stands in the relative safety of the hovercraft entryway. "Until the Gamemaker over there gets what he wants."

"I do not trust that man. He's like a spider sitting along the edge of his web, waiting to spring at the right moment to inject poison into whatever comes along."

"Peeta likes him. Peeta trusts him." Peeta's usually a good judge of character.

"I know." She leans further into me. "And it makes me worried."

"Worried for Peeta or…"

"Just worried. I can't explain it. There's just something in my gut that tells me not to trust that man. That everything he does is for his own benefit and that he cares about nothing and no one except for his own obscure goals." She shrugs. "I don't have any proof though."

There's nothing we can do about Plutarch and dwelling on this isn't helping Katniss, so I turn the subject away from the current Vice President of Thirteen to something else that's been bothering me. "You know, I always sort of thought that after everything was done and over, we'd come back here."

"To Twelve?"

"Yeah. But now that I'm here, I find this isn't the place I'm missing."

Katniss turns in my arms and slips a hand up to cup my cheek. "I know what you mean. This isn't home. Our cave, our river, our creek. That's home. But more than that-" she turns again and rests her head against my chest, "-you, me, Peeta, our kids, our family. Wherever they are, wherever we are, that's home."

My arms tighten slightly around my wife so as not to disturb our son, and I nod. She's got the right of it. Home isn't a place. It's a people. My people. They're worth fighting to protect.

From the edge of the Meadow, Rain's laughter turns to a squeal, and Katniss and I both tense. Our eyes seek out our son, and what we see, what I see, causes my heart to race. Along the edge of the forest where a section of the electrified fence used to be stand several indistinct figures.

My feet are in motion before my thoughts can catch up, running for my husband and my son. Peeta scoops up our son and carries him away from the group. I pass them halfway, covering my husband's escape with our child.

But when the figures come into view, I realize I didn't need to make the mad dash into danger. Because there was no danger. The figure in the lead is familiar. Very familiar. Even as thin and weather-beaten as he is, the two-time Hunger Games Victor from District Eleven, Chaff Chavez, is unmistakable.

I take a few steps forward and call out, "Hey yo!"

"Hey to you too!" Chaff calls back with a smile in his voice. "You don't by any chance have some food?"

I shake my head.

"Damn." He wipes at his brow with his stump. His eyes take me in, from my Thirteen-issued haircut to my Thirteen-issued coverall to my Thirteen-issued rifle. He pauses on my face and I wonder if he recognizes me from the propos. "I don't suppose you know the way to District Thirteen?"

I laugh and point at the hovercraft.

"Ah. Good. Don't suppose you've got room for…" He looks back behind him and does a quick headcount. "Eight people?"

"We could probably make room."

By this time, Plutarch and Cressida have joined me. "Oh my goodness! I can't believe this!" Plutarch says in that overly exaggerated Capitol way. "Chaff Chavez! How wonderful to see you again!"

"Heavensbee," Chaff says, his tone slipping from convivial to wary. Someone else who doesn't like Plutarch. Interesting. "I didn't expect to see you here. You part of this whole rebellion too?"

The man puffs his chest up. "Going on ten years now."

Chaff nods, a slow motion, as his eyes narrow. "Snow made me attend your funeral."

That's right. The Capitol thinks Plutarch and those techs who came with him are dead.

"Oh, how was it?" Plutarch claps a hand to his chest. "Was Caesar there?"

"I'm sure there's a recording of it somewhere." Chaff's tone is dismissive. "I wasn't really up for payin' attention, if you get my meaning."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. How inconsiderate of me. I'm just so excited that you've managed to escape and have found your way here to Twelve on the very day that we happened to be here! It's like the stars aligned!" Plutarch is in raptures.

"Actually it's 'cause there's fish in the creek over there." He points off to the southeast. "We've been here for a week. We hid when we heard the hovercraft, but decided to take a chance when we heard the little one." Chaff waves his good hand at Rain, who's still in Peeta's arms. "Hello, little one."

Rain takes after his mother and stares at the newcomer with silent wariness, his blue eyes as cold as ice. Our little boy is growing up, and I don't see much of Peet's easy acceptance in the child. If it weren't for the blond hair and blue eyes, Rain would be pure Seam.

"So what all are y'all doin' out here?" Chaff has slipped into his laid-back country yokel act that he's perfected over the years. If I hadn't seen the cunningness that he exhibited in the Quell, I'd be taken in, just like Plutarch and Cressida seem to be.

"Oh!" Cressida blushes at Chaff's intense gaze and gestures to her crew and their equipment. Castor still has his camera out. "Um, we're just filming another revolutionary propo!"

"Ain't that somethin'."

"Yes, and, oh! I have just had the best idea ever! We should restage this! You should go back into the woods and we should find you and rescue you!"

I want to groan.

"Yes, it would be perfect!" Plutarch agrees, clasping his hands together. "Alma would be so pleased."

"What we should do," Katniss steps in, "is feed these people. We've got enough propos. These people need medical care and food and water and a place to sleep that isn't open to the weather. We say we're here to save all of us. Well, let's put those words into action. Show Thirteen welcoming refugees. Show how Thirteen is better than the Capitol. And I guarantee that will be more powerful to the people left in the districts than any staged rescue."

A flash of some emotion flits across Plutarch's face so fast I can't identify it before settling into his typical non-threatening expression. "Ah, why Katniss, you are correct. The showman within me got out of hand. I forgot that we're in this for the people."

"Seems like a strange thing to forget."

Ash fusses a bit, probably in response to her tone. Peeta elbows Katniss.

I step in before she can possibly do more damage. "It's all right. He got excited. Happens to the best of us. But now that the excitement's past, why don't we get these people safe? After all, isn't that what we're fighting for?"

"And cut!" Cressida says. "That's a wrap!"

oOo

We're not the only ones to do propos.

In fact, we're not even the most talked-about propo.

That distinction goes to - surprise surprise - Finnick "my smile can light up a room" Odair. I guess even the Mockingjays don't have the same amount of fame that the Victor from Four has. And he, like us, has a compelling message.

Or at least, that's what Fulvia Cardew tells us, for like the fifteenth time.

Katniss and I haven't seen it, thankfully. There's only so much propaganda we can take before it just turns into angry noise. I understand Thirteen's insistence on getting their message out, on rallying the districts to their side, on getting people who were once apathetic to stand up and fight for their own future. But at a certain point, when you're already in Camp "Let's Free Panem," the message becomes less inspiring and more anxiety-inducing.

Besides, it hasn't even aired yet. Until it's actually shown in the Capitol and has some sort of effect, I don't see a reason why I need to watch it.

Thank the stars for cranky infants. I never thought I'd say that in my life. But Ash's colic is probably the only thing saving my sanity right now.

And the irony of that statement is not lost on me. Unfortunately, it is lost on Katniss. When Fulvia brings the propo up in that breathy Capitol voice of hers, referencing one of the people Snow destroyed, Katniss is just sleep-deprived enough not to avoid mentioning that we haven't actually seen the film.

Fulvia rears back as if I've just punched her in the face. "What do you mean you haven't seen it?"

"I haven't seen it?" Katniss says, clearly unsure as to why that's such a big deal.

"But you have to see it!"

"No we don't."

"But you do! You're the Mockingjays! Why, it'd be like you not seeing the Games! Unheard of."

"No really, we don't have to see it," I say, stepping in. "We've got a full schedule. See?" I hold my purple-ink-covered arm out as proof.

"I'll just talk to Plutarch. Why, I'm sure-" she squints at my arm "-I'm sure we can find some time. The propo's not that long. Why, why you could even watch it during Reflection!"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"I think what Gale's trying to say," Peeta slides in in his usual manner, "is that Reflection's one of the few times that we have to get some relationship time. I'm sure you understand the importance of our bond and the necessity of making sure that that bond remains strong and untarnished. It's that relationship which makes us such an effective lodestone amongst the public. But that magnetism takes time and diligence to create and foster. Why relationships are like propos, they take planning, time, hard work, passion mixed with a dash of spontaneity, and a certain 'je ne sais quoi' to use the Thirteen phrase to make it as strong as ours." Peeta's talking out of his ass now, using buzzwords, but the effect they have on Cardew is electric.

"Oh my goodness! You're right! I've never thought of it that way! Why, you can tell I"ve never been in a relationship!"

I do my best to keep my lack of shock off my face. With her Finnick Odair obsession, I can't imagine that anyone would measure up. Or put up with it. I remember how hard it was thinking that I was taking second place in Katniss's affections; I can't imagine what it would be like to take second place to a celebrity, or worse, a fictional character.

But Peeta's words seem to solve the problem for the moment. Fulvia leaves, thank goodness.

Unfortunately, we can only avoid the propo for so long. A couple of hours later Fulvia returns, wheeling in a screen with a tape player.

I check my arm. Technically this is supposed to be Ash's feeding time and family bonding time. Last I checked, watching Finnick Odair disparage the Capitol didn't qualify.

Katniss must think the same thing, because she says, "I thought I was feeding my son."

"He can have formula. This is more important."

Peeta's eyebrows shoot up and I know mine mirror his. "Have you cleared this?" he asks diplomatically.

"I've run it by Plutarch. He agrees with me that it's more important that you're up to date with our current information strategy, especially since this propo is going out to all of Panem in just a few hours. After all," she waves her hand, "it's not like the infant will remember what happened today."

No. But we will.

But I don't say that aloud.

Fulvia presses a button and the screen flickers to life.

I can tell right away that Cressida and her crew didn't shoot this video. The lighting is all wrong and Finnick's not framed as elegantly. It bothers me more than I can say that this is the first thing I noticed.

"What's in his hands?" Katniss asks, her eyes on Finnick.

I focus my attention there. Katniss may not know what it is, but I'm able to identify it. It's rope. I've seen this motion before, this outward calm belied by frantic hands. He needs the rope to get through this.

That tells me, more than anything, that whatever it is, it's going to be bad.

I watch as Finnick takes a deep breath, as if to center himself, and then begins to speak. His voice is dull, impersonal, as he speaks of his rape by the Capitol. Oh, he doesn't use that language. No, he couches it in more sanitized terms. Terms that are Capitol-friendly. But it does nothing to hide the reality.

Finnick was sold. Raped. Over and over again by anyone who could afford the price Snow set.

I wonder, if I had won, if I would've been sold. Even with so many of my family dying, there are people I care about who the Capitol could use against me. Mrs. Everdeen. Prim. Katniss. Rory. Katniss would've never forgiven me if I'd let something happen to her family, and I never would've forgiven myself if something had happened to Rory. So I would've done it. I would've let the Capitol use me. And unlike Finnick, I wouldn't have had the savvy to trade sex for secrets.

And oh boy, does Finnick have secrets.

Things I never even thought of, like how the quotas that my family lived and died by were just numbers. The Capitol didn't care. Because of Madge's revelations, we knew that the Capitol didn't use our coal, that it went to the districts. But I didn't know it was this bad.

Even worse, they had another source of coal entirely. Not from the districts, but from a trading partner who sent ships which docked on the coast between Districts Three and Five - in a port so secret only those who'd been vetted, whose families had been vetted, knew about it. A country from the west, that Finnick called The Kim.

That's a shock.

We'd been told for so long that we were the only survivors of the Cataclysm. To find out that there are other countries out there, many of them in fact, forces me to reevaluate every single thing I've been taught and told.

It doesn't matter when Finnick says that most of the countries that survived the Cataclysm refused to trade with us because of our, quote, 'human rights abuses.' What matters is that no one helped us. That they let us die. That they let children die. Babies. That they knew about the Games. The starvation. The torture. And not one of these self-righteous countries lifted one finger to stop it.

Oh, they enacted sanctions, whatever those are. But they didn't soil their hands. Which in my mind means their hands are as bloody as Snow's.

And boy are Snow's hands bloody. He's even worse than I thought. The guy's apparently poisoned his way to the top and kept using poison to stay there. He'd destroy an entire family, even a whole banquet or party, just to take out one person he perceived as a threat.

The entire propo's sickening. I can tell, from the way Finnick's speaking and the way his hands keep moving, that this is hard for him. Traumatizing. Terrorizing. Thirteen may have forced him to relive it, but the Capitol's the one who subjected him to the horrors to begin with. In my mind, the Capitol is the greater of two evils. Thirteen isn't good - we've learned that the hard way - but compared to what Snow and the other Capitolites have done, I'll take Thirteen's evil over the Capitol's any day.

The point is driven home when Finnick says, "I know my words are dangerous, that they're going to cost people their lives. But I'm not saying these words because I'm safe or because the people I love are safe. They're not. My family, my loved ones, are fighting in this war. And you need to fight too. Because if you don't, it won't be someone else who pays the price. It will be you."

The screen fades to black and Fulvia turns to us. "So, what'd you think? Stirring, I know."

"I'm not sure that's the word I would use," Peeta says diplomatically.

"Oh, you're right! Why, inspiring is a much better word, don't you think?"

"Yes," I say, letting my anger come through. "Finnick's words are definitely inspiring. Why, they've inspired me to want to hit something."

"Keep that anger handy! There are plans in the works that will give you plenty of opportunity to 'hit something.'"

But rather than the joy that sentiment would typically fill me with, instead I feel a trickle of dread.

Just what is going to come?

oOo

AN:
Written: 11/8/18
Revised: 11/13/18

The title of this chapter comes from the songs Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects and Dirty Little Secrets by Pat Benatar. They both really suit Finnick, as well as all the stuff with Peeta's family and going back to Twelve.

We've got a lot of headcanons about the universe of Panem. It doesn't make sense for Panem to be the only survivor of the Cataclysm, especially if (as in this story), the Cataclysm began in the mid-1980s. A lot of countries are gone and others are very different, but even if the US wanted to, it couldn't bomb all of Russia. The steppes will survive. Katniss never mentions this in canon, but Finnick is the logical person to know it. Also, the timing of everything is different, so maybe in this universe Finnick had a new lover that told him all about this, since the flu took some of his old lovers. Welcome to one more butterfly effect.

We tend to headcanon that the countries that survived for the most part wouldn't have anything to do with Panem because of their civil rights and human rights violations. Think North Korea; they pretty much only have one trading partner: China. Well, in this universe, Panem pretty much has only one trading partner: North Korea. Or, what it became (it's larger and includes a lot of territory that used to belong to Russia, China, Mongolia, and even other countries). Just as a random note, if North Korea thinks you're a cool country, there's probably something wrong.

While Africa would not be directly hit by the nuclear fallout, the continent faces other problems: famine, war, disease (both HIV and then later Ebola). Without the UN, WHO, and outside aid a lot of countries would falter and fall. They would rise up, but it would take a while. South America, particularly those countries in the Andes, is likely in better shape. But Europe, North America, much of Asia, and the major cities of Australia are really messed up/gone. There are pockets of people, but it's more city-state/vassal-state than organized nations.

As an FYI… Panem is a vassal-state. Yay politics.

BTW one scene was written on election night… you have one guess as to which part. LOL

You might have noticed that we gave Chaff the last name of Chavez since he doesn't have one in canon. It's in honor of Cesar Chavez, who was one of the founders of what is now the United Farm Workers Union. He was a civil rights activist. And we wanted to give Chaff a name that had meaning.

For Plutarch: think book Plutarch, not Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Nothing in this chapter was randomized.

Let us know what you think! Your reviews inspire us to write more. This is especially true with fic. Since we don't get paid for this. ^_^ To those who do review, you're the reason we haven't abandoned our fics. We love you.

Until next time! Thanks for reading!