A/N: First, I'd like to apologize for the insanely long gap between the chapters. I'm not sure I really like this fic, but do you guys? Because if so, I'll make an effort to continue. If not, I can mark it complete.
Because this has got to be the most OOC thing I've ever written.
Please tell me if it's worth continuing!
Plutarch comes by a week later, towing Peeta. "Katniss, there are people here to see you," the Head Gamemaker says. I look at Peeta for more details, but his unusually grim eyes reveal nothing. Then I understand.
Three very thin, very frightened figures stumble into my hospital room. Dressed in the white gowns that are uniform for all of us patients, stripped of their eccentric jewelry, they look almost normal. But those golden tattoos, those corkscrew curls – the purple lipstick has vanished – and the green skin, are all very familiar.
"Venia?" It makes no sense that my prep team is here. They should be in the Capitol, attending parties and whatnot. "What's going on?"
"They were rescued when I was, apparently," says Peeta. "but they've been to upset to go anywhere. Until now. Plutarch brought me to see them and then I told them that you were here. As soon as I said your name, they wanted to come."
"We were worried," says Flavius.
"When the arena was destroyed, we thought you were dead," says Venia. "It's been horrible." I'm sure it has. With these three, anything short of perfection is bad. But I don't hold it against them.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here, or I would have helped sooner." I shoot Peeta a look. My eyes ask, do they know? He shakes his head slightly.
"Are you ill?" The question comes from Flavius, who looks so worried that I'm gratified. I didn't expect such a degree of concern.
"No." I pause, wondering how to phrase this. "I hope you like kids."
They stand there, wondering what I mean, until Octavia gets it. "A baby! Oh, I'm so happy for you two!" Suddenly I'm mobbed by three ecstatic beauticians. They're laughing and joking and smiling so hard I think their faces will break. Octavia is actually crying.
"Calm down," I get out, but I'm laughing too. It's nice to know that three more people are reacting positively about this, when I'm so unsure myself.
When they finally leave, I look at Plutarch. "That's not the only reason you're here."
"You're right, there's more," he agrees. "Our propos need a little spicing up, and you can help us. After all, everyone loves a wedding."
I'm frozen for a moment. A wedding? Peeta and me, married? For a moment I feel that old flicker of uncertainty that was constant when I wasn't sure who held my heart. But then it's all I can do not to jump up and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. As it is, I find myself straining against his arms.
"Everyone thinks we're already married," he reminds Plutarch. "From the interview." I want to shush him for arguing against it. But I shouldn't have worried.
"Their hopes were crushed when the Capitol wedding was canceled," Plutarch counters. "They'll be glad to see you two united formally, legally. And I'm sure the two of you will like it." He checks his watch. "I've got to run. We'll start preparations tomorrow." He walks out, leaving us alone.
"Married," I sigh, leaning back against the hospital bed.
"Mm-hmm," he agrees, but he sounds strangely reluctant. I open my eyes to see him watching me.
"I thought you wanted to get married?" I say uncertainly. This has always been his dream.
"I do," he acknowledges, "but I know you don't. I don't want to force you into anything…"
I laugh. Well, giggle is more appropriate, and this surprises me. "Peeta, when I didn't know what was going on or if I really loved you – then I didn't want to get married. Half of that was just because I was afraid to start a family. I can't stand the thought of having my children in the reaping. But, well, this rebellion could change all of that. There might not be any more Hunger Games. And now that this baby's on the way, I don't see any reason to avoid getting married."
"Really?" His face splits into a grin so wide I think it may break his skull. I nod. "I knew you'd see sense eventually," he says, and we laugh together at his joke. "You know, I should have a ring," he points out after a few minutes of companionable silence.
"A ring's too… normal," I say, searching for the right word. "We've got to be the most abnormal couple in known history. Although," I add as Peeta's face falls, "if it matters to you, I'd love one."
"Where can you get a ring in District 13?" Peeta wonders.
"No idea. They'd probably deny any request on the grounds of whim," I tell him.
"These are the people who abandoned the Districts in the Dark Days," he says. "Whim, my foot. They owe our wedding to us."