Hey guys!

Sorry, I know this has been a long time coming – although if you were following my tumblr page (newsongfanfics dot tumblr dot com (no spaces)) you would've had a little sneak peak of this chapter. Life has been crazy with graduation and new jobs and all kinds of crazy… Unfortunately, I have a feeling updates may be a little more spread out, but I will try to post stuff on tumblr and keep you updated on my progress.

Anyways, here is Ch. 26 in all its glory… Happy Thanksgiving!

Most of what has occurred since the ceremony has been a blur of smiling, congratulatory faces and two bright, blue orbs, always adoring, always filled with love. Whenever we can steal a few moments of privacy - behind random decorative plants or in small rooms that branch off the main reception area - we find, to my pleasant surprise, our lips meet without much thought. Marriage, so far, has given us both a sense of confidence and a boldness we haven't necessarily had before. I never dreamed love would feel so... good. If I had, I'm pretty sure I might've felt differently about the whole situation from the beginning. Maybe I wouldn't have been so hesitant toward Peeta at first.

We dance, we laugh, we kiss, we chat. Annie and Finnick appear to be just as swept up in a whirlwind as Peeta and I, based on the few short moments we've seen them. Our infatuation with our significant others seems to keep all four of us to ourselves for the most part, except for the occasional dance with the higher-ups of the rebellion or a brief interview from the camera crew and, of course, congratulations after congratulations, from both people we love and people we've never even seen before. The cameras haven't really been much of an issue, but I've been forcing them out of my line of sight, refusing to be tormented by the ever-present red blinking light that signals Panem's all-access pass to the Odair and Mellark wedding. The interviews are relatively painless, but that's mostly because Peeta does the majority of the talking.

For the father-daughter dance, I dance with Haymitch, who entertains me with his sarcastic antics in regards to Plutarch's over-the-top enthusiasm. He mimicks Plutarch's high-pitched squeal of delight, and I feel like my gut will explode from the deep belly laughs that overtake me. I'm pretty sure that the party depravation from living in Thirteen has gotten to Plurarch; he's a little too happy tonight - any other party, and I'd assume he was over-consuming alcohol, but this is Thirteen, after all.

Peeta, on the other hand, dances with Prim in place of his mother and does so joyfully. Tears well up in my eyes as I watch my husband twirling my little sister. A beautiful picture of the new life we are beginning, the new family we are becoming... Never forgetting what has been lost, but instead, appreciating what has been found. Prim. Gale. Finnick. Johanna. In a weird, broken sort of way, we are all connected; we are all a family.

At the designated hour, Thirteen has the standard meal in their pre-assigned portions delivered to the reception area for all of the wedding guests. Of course, Thirteen wouldn't allow the wastefulness of a feast - not even one in honor of their precious Mockingjays and beloved victors. Instead, dinner is some form of meat stew with a hardening roll of wheat bread. I find that soaking the bread in the broth of the stew improves the chewability of the bread quite a bit. It's simple things like this that I learn quickly to help preserve a sense of normalcy, while living in such a rigid and stagnant community.

Throughout the evening, I notice Coin several times; she simply stands stoicly in the same place against the wall, observing the gathering and chatting with the occasional official-looking person. Even off the clock, she is dull and gray, just like the hair that falls around her cold, sharp face. At least she isn't bothering us.

Approximately thirty minutes before curfew, the gathering is dismissed. I notice the grave look of disappointment on Plutarch's face, which only serves to make my smile even bigger. Peeta turns to me shyly and reaches his hand out to grasp mine and lead us back to his compartment. I intertwine my fingers with his, walk with him to the elevator, and as soon as the elevator door shuts, I allow myself to melt into his side. It's like my whole body sighs in relief. Finally. It's just me and Peeta for the rest of the night. No more acting. No more dodging cameras or official people or interviews or hiding out. Just us.

"What a night, huh, Mrs. Mellark?" he speaks up, emphasizing the "Mrs." I smile. He has been calling me "Mrs." or "wife" or "beloved" any chance he has had since the ceremony, as if saying it more times will make everything more real.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Mellark. I am absolutely exhausted," I reply, playing along.

"I hope not too exhausted. I have a surprise for you when we get home."

"A surprise? Like what kind of surprise?" I wonder out loud, raising my eyebrows in a playful gesture.

"You'll just have to wait and see, Beloved." He says with a sweet kiss just as the elevator door slides open, revealing the hallway that leads to our little compartment.

His hand is still entangled in mine as we make our way down the hall. We pass a few people on our way, and it's obvious that even District 13 citizens are curious about the Mockingjays who live among them. Peeta and I simply pretend not to notice, but the way he pulls me closer to his side as others pass us, tells me that he is protective of both me and our privacy.

As soon as my hand reaches the doorknob to his - I mean our - compartment, Peeta places his hand over mine, slowly turning the handle with me as his lips curl into a warm smile.

"I hope you like it," he states as the door cracks open to reveal a small tray with a few plain candles, two plates, a knife, and a loaf of thick, hearty bread. The nutty aroma of the bread is almost intoxicating in such a confined space.

"Peeta? How did you -"

"No worries. Remember, I have connections," he reassures with a wink, pulling me inside our home. "I know a lot of today wasn't exactly what we would've chosen, so I wanted to make at least some part of this day special in our own way." He walks me over to the tray arrangement, never letting his eyes leave mine. "Katniss Mellark, will you share this toast with me in our new home as a symbol and a memory of the promises we have made today?"

Warm tingles trickle down my spine. I'm melting. I can't believe he went to this much trouble for me, for us (it's Thirteen after all). Somehow, I manage a weak, "Of course," and with reverence, I watch as he slices a couple of small pieces of bread from the loaf. "Oh my god. Peeta, is that the bread?"

"The very same recipe," he responds, his expression tinged with sadness. Taking a moment, I allow the sight and aroma of the bread before me to take me back in time...

I am a dirty, starving, and desperate twelve-year-old digging inside the trash to find something - anything - that I can bring home as food for my family. The bitter cold steals the feeling from my fingers while the foodless waste bucket drains the hope from my heart. After only a few moments, I know dinner will not be presenting itself once again.

At the sound of a slamming door, I jump backward, locking eyes with the Mellark woman's dark, hated-filled eyes.

"Get out of my yard you filthy Seam trash! If I catch you around these parts again, I swear I'll turn you in to the Peacekeepers!"

Without a second to spare or another glance in her direction, I sprint away from the bakery yard to seek shelter under a nearby tree. A decent place to die, I think, resigning myself to the deep, dark void of hopelessness, the same hopelessness to which many unfortunate Seam residents succumbed. Hunger. Bloated bellies and brittle bones.

I'm not sure how much time has passed, but from afar, I hear the creak of the bakery door as it opens again, more gently this time. I don't care anymore, so my eyes remain shut. I'm numb to the world. My engergy supply is exhausted.

A few moments later, however, my suffering is interrupted by the most incredible, intoxicating scent. Bread. I open my eyes and am surprised to find two blue eyes, belonging to a very blond boy, staring concernedly back at me. He doesn't do much besides stare and toss a loaf of fresh bread toward me, but the redness under his left eye makes me wonder if residents of the Seam aren't the only ones who suffer abuse at the hands of Mrs. Mellark. Wordlessly, he leaves, and I, being the animalistic, starving girl I am, scramble to my feet to snatch up the bread and return it home for my mother and sister. As my hand reaches for the bread, I notice that, a few inches ahead, a dandelion, the first of the season, is in full bloom.

Hope.

"Katniss?" a voice calls to me, awakening me from my reverie.

"Huh? Sorry - I - um... the smell... It just brought back memories," I stutter. I can feel my face flush bright red. We've never discussed that day.

"Katniss, I - I'm so sorry I didn't do more that day... I've never stopped regretting that I didn't talk to you or go check on your family or something," he admits, refusing his eyes permission to meet my own.

"Stop. Peeta, you saved me, and you probably saved my whole family, too." I gently take his hand in mine, reassuring him. "Besides, I've never been much of a talker, and that bread gave me what I needed to survive. Now, I'm here... with you." I move to capture his soft, warm lips with my own.

"Thank you," he breathes into my ear as I pull back.

"Come on. Let's make this marriage District 12-official."

I grab one of the slices and Peeta grabs the other. We both take a minute to toast the slices over the lit candles, since the warmth of a fireplace or wood burner is not available in our temporary District 13 compartment. When I finish toasting mine, I realize Peeta is already done. He's just watching me, almost reverently. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and suddenly, I am very aware of myself.

"You're so beautiful, Katniss. I never dreamed this day would actually come, but it has." I chew on my cheek nervously under the intensity of his gaze. I never thought this day would happen either, but I'm glad it has. "Sometimes I literally have to pinch myself to make sure this is real life. I know we have a lot of difficulties headed our way in the near future, but I am confident that it will be okay as long as we are together. Katniss Rae Everdeen, with this bread, will you choose to take the name Mellark and join yourself to me as long as you remain on this earth?"

"Yes. I will. From this day forward, I will be Katniss Rae Mellark." He lifts his toasted bread to my lips and I take a small bite of the bread, blushing deeply once again. It seems that my face has consistently been a shade of pink of late. Once I finish my bite, I continue the traditional vows. It takes me a minute to think out the little bit I do end up saying.

"Peeta Glenn Mellark, you have stolen my heart. You are everything I never even knew I wanted and more. And... um..." I chuckle softly to myself. "Well, you know I'm not too good with words... But I hope I can show you how much you mean to me every day. Peeta, will you lead and support me as my husband and join yourself to me as long as you remain on this earth?"

"I will. From this day forward, I will no longer make decisions for myself; instead, everything I do will be for our collective benefit." He smirks goofily at me and winks as I move to feed him my toast.

"Stop it, Peeta! This is serious!" I chastise him. All the while, I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as he takes a nibble of my toast.

"I've always thought toastings were too serious anyways," he explains with the partially-chewed bread still in his mouth, as he rips off another slice of his toast and throws at me.

"Peeta!" I exclaim in shock, tearing off several chunks of bread to return the favor. "I. Can't. Believe. You're ruining. Our toasting!" Each word punctuates a well-aimed throw. Within a few moments, we are both standing up, ducking behind anything we can find to avoid the flying chunks of bread.

"Not ruining! Enhancing!" He corrects, but a few seconds later, he throws his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. We should stop. This bread is too good and too fresh to have it all on the floor. When it's gone, we have to go back to the stale, tasteless Thirteen variety."

"Fine, but I won."

"What? No, we agreed on a ceasefire," he refutes.

"No, you're surrendering. I win," I say with a mischievous grin.

"Fine. You win, Mrs. Mellark," he gives in all too easily. Peeta is one of the few men on this earth who isn't afraid to let his wife win, and he's mine. Next thing I know, his warm, bread-scented breath is on my skin, his right hand is tangled in the hair behind my ear and his left hand is wandering slowly down, down, down my hip. "We are officially married now..." his voice is lower now, a deep whisper.

"Yeah," I sigh into his neck. As soon as the word leaves my mouth, his lips are there. And they don't leave for a long while.

We don't get much sleep that first night as husband and wife. The time slips aways as we get to know each other in ways that neither of us has really been able to explore with anyone else. It is beautiful and awkward and uncomfortable, but it is amazing because it's just us. Both of our hearts are released into a place of freedom and vulnerability with each other that we've never known before.

By the end of it all, though, we are so exhausted that we sleep through breakfast and our first few appointments for the day. At around 11:00, I wake up to a sleepy-eyed Peeta starting at me.

"Hi," he croaks with a puff of stale morning breath.

"Hey," I whisper back, flushing pink as I remember the previous night, all the while wishing we could keep at it for the rest of forever. Forget Thirteen. Forget the Mockingjays and the rebellion. "Mmmmmmmm... Can't we just lock ourselves in?" I grumble, grabbing a pillow to hide under.

"You have no idea how much I wish we could-"

Bam, bam, bam. A fist beats on the other side of the door to our compartment. "Hey! Lovebirds! Put a sock on it and get your asses down to Command before Coin gets her panties up her fallopian tubes!" Haymitch.

"We'll be there in a few! Chill out!" Peeta yells back.

"I'll wait here, then..." Haymitch adds stubbornly.

Peeta sighs dramatically. "Apparently, we are being summoned..."

I pull the blanket up over my head and grumble.

"Come on, Katniss, before Haymitch has any more chances to embarrass us in front of everyone within hearing distance." He tugs the sheets back, and Thirteen's cool, stagnant air hits my bare body like a tidal wave. I whimper in my discomfort. In a matter of minutes, Peeta is already in his gray uniform, and without me asking, he goes to retrieve mine from the floor. Never leaving the bed, I wiggle in to my pants and top and throw on my shoes.

Finally, I'm ready. Peeta runs his fingers through my hair to settle it down, which I'm sure is horrendously messy. I've already decided that, if Thirteen wants me up and working the day after my wedding, they can suffer the sight of my undone hair. He pulls me out of bed, and walks with me to the door.

As soon as we open the door, Haymitch is there. "Thank heavens I didn't have to come in there..." He fake shivers in disgust.

Even though I know he could care less if we slept the day away and that his orders come from Coin, I glare at him wordlessly.

"You didn't have to wait..." Peeta states.

"Yeah, unfortunately I did. Coins orders. Let's get moving before your wife hurts herself," he adds as he smirks amusedly at me and walks off.

He escorts us straight to Command, and I give him the silent treatment the whole way. From the manner in which Peeta is smiling and turning his face away from me, toward Haymitch, I sense treason and immediately drop his hand, which I was still holding from when he helped me out of bed. Instead of walking with them, I push my way ahead and am the first of our group to enter Command.

"Katniss. Glad you and your new husband decided to join us this morning," Coin states as soon as I'm through the door. "Have a seat. Please." Plutarch is poised casually in the chair next to her, leaning back with his legs outstretched under the table. I sit across from him, Peeta is next to me, and Haymitch kicks his legs up on top of the table, the image of ease. "I hope today was the last time you two disregard your schedules. Grace has been extended this time, since yesterday was such an important event for both of you, but be sure that it does not become a regular occurrence."

"We do apologize for the inconvenience," Peeta replies stiffly.

Plutarch clears his throat, effectively moving to a different topic of conversation to ease the tension in the room. "Well, the happy wedding of the Mockingjays and the beloved victors of District Four was an absolute success. The rebel forces are growing at an unprecedented rate, and we have support from the majority of the districts," Plutarch explains animatedly.

"If you remember our discussion yesterday, we need footage of you all as well as Soldier Hawthorne in Twelve. That will begin promptly at 13:00 today. After you are both prepped and rehearsed, a hovercraft will drop you and your crew off to film for the remainder of the day. Do you have any questions?" She pauses, allowing us a chance to inquire, but no one has anything to say. Instead, we simply shake our heads and wait for her to continue. "Good. Now, moving on: we need every one we can gather to join together to make our vision of a free Panem a reality," Coin adds with a hint of something I can't quite place in her voice. "As such, we are initiating all trainee soldiers to immediate evaluation and placement on the field." A knot twists in my gut, and my hand slowly searches for Peeta's under the table. When I finally find it, he gives my hand a small squeeze and proceeds to rub small circles on the back of my hand to calm me. "Now, I understand you two are newly married, but unfortunately we cannot make exceptions. All soldiers must assist with the war efforts. You two included, even if you are the Mockingjays," she pauses thoughtfully. "With that being said, tomorrow morning you will be evaluated and assigned to a unit."

"Woah, woah, woah. Hang on. You're going to send two minors into battle?" Haymitch questions, sitting upright so he can face Coin straight on.

"The laws of our district require that, in times of national crisis, healthy, able-bodied youth from the ages of 15 and up are eligible for military combat," she explains calmly.

"Tomorrow? Why so soon?" Peeta asks.

She turns and locks her steel gray eyes with his, "We will need all the manpower we can get in order to invade the Capitol."