Closing In


The sunlight leaks through the curtains, but they had already been up long before the first rays touched their skin.

They pay no attention to anything but each other; their breaths are short and ardent, their open eyes drink in the sight, their limbs writhe and tangle through their soft sheets.

Always, they finish with a tender kiss and lay there for a few more blissful minutes before beginning their morning routine of washing and dressing and leaving.


It starts out fun, with both of them challenging each other to find new places, times, and situations. Everywhere in the house, after (or even before) hours in his bakery, in her office…

It is the honeymoon they had never had. When they married, they were still very young and neither had much of an idea of what to expect or do. After a few hours of Peeta talking with his father and brothers and Katniss talking with Effie—of all people, Effie, and she surprisingly had a lot of good information and advice—the two were whisked off to their pseudo-house for their honeymoon. They had a week to themselves...

But that was far too little of a time for them to comfortably progress from genuine kissing while lying down or simple and clothed exploration, especially after that time.

And then, their lives picked up; the bakery was Peeta's, a wedding gift from his family, and Katniss had her work.

Now, though, is the time to make up for it; they have that right balance of virility and experience, they know each other so very well, and they now have a new common goal. The symbiotic relationship has never been better, and both relax and let the giddy laughter and excitement course through their bodies.

But when the blood comes, Katniss watches as Peeta's giddy blue eyes glaze over and turn grey. Katniss herself feels ambivalent about seeing the spots on her underwear, but always feels dread at telling him.

They were not discouraged the first times; they believe that, since it didn't work out this time, there is an even greater chance for it to happen the next time. The image of holding their angel in their arms overfills them with hope, and so they push on.


At his request, she begins to chart her cycle. It is still a little irregular, but does not fluctuate as dramatically as it used to when she was uncertain about when her next meal would come.

As soon as she begins writing down her fertile days, every part of their lives becomes consumed by the cycle.

On days leading up to the precious window of time, they are openly amorous and enjoy each other's company. They are spontaneous; going for a walk and kissing in the middle of the deserted path, darting around the hallway in a frenzy to find a place to be alone, slowly swaying in each other's arms as soft music floats around their ears and the candlelight flickers across their bodies.

The bubble of pleasure building inside them bursts, and it slowly diffuses across their bodies and settles in their limbs, making them heavy and languid with delight. Most nights, they don't even make it up the stairs.

As soon as she begins to bleed, they freeze their passion.

Their rapport becomes more strained, and they cannot bear to look into each other's sad eyes. There is no rushing home early anymore, no laughter resonating off of the walls, and the house is silent and dark before the sun sets. They separate, barely speaking to one another because they don't know what to say outside of chitchat. At some point, they stop looking at each other while having their dinner.

They tangle themselves into a web of hope and love and expectation and failure, cutting off sensation. They stop seeing each other, closing their eyes and visualizing their motivation as they fall back onto the nearest surface. Their communication dwindles to soft moans emanated during their act.

Every time as he moves above her, she can't help but think of an automaton: he follows his rhythm ceaselessly, like the pendulum on a clock. Everything seems to be falling into place, including them.

They become so drawn into this drama that their roles are ingrained into their heads; he is the male, she is the female, he is the seed, she is the bearer, he moves and gives, she lays and receives. After he finishes, he either rolls next to her or rests on top of her, and something about the air sends chills throughout her body.


He becomes more capricious with every cycle, and Katniss feels the tumultuous disruptions.

He begins to read books on conception, and shares with her what he learned from them: she should not be on top because there's greater chance that his seed will fall out after she climbs back down. She should lie still for at least thirty minutes—an hour, maybe even go to sleep staying perfectly still—after they finish. He should eat oysters for dinner to accrue his sexual potency.

As time goes on, the suggestions—taken from little more than superstition of others—become completely outlandish; they may as well try black magic to work miracles.

They don't trust capitol technology, least of all near the parts necessary to create and hold their future. They refuse to undergo testing; it's impossible that they can't have for what they had wished so hard. They will keep at it. And then the day will come, and they will be overjoyed.


Failure, as they come to see it, eventually begins to wear them raw. The first thing they do is begin to question each other.

Do you really want a baby? I mean, it's fine if you don't, but please tell me—

Of course I want one; just as much as you! I've thought about having one for so long…

I don't doubt it—I swear! It's just… (Awkward, nebulous gesticulation has replaced words by now)

Let's talk about our children. How they'll look, what they'll do, our plans to decorate their rooms…

Well, I guess—I mean, that would be-

Please. Their names; what will their names?

We'll name them…


After another disappointment, Katniss sits down with Peeta to talk about adopting.

Initially, they both say that they are open to the idea; that adoption could work. After all, Katniss had personally put in the new adoption and foster care system and had met many wonderful children that the couple could potentially adopt.

But, as information about the potentially adoptable children begins pouring in, the less encouraged they both become. Peeta is disappointed that no child is less than nine years old: he wants to be there for the child from the moment the child is born or, if that is not possible, when the child is six months old at most.

When Katniss asks why, he replies because that is when children begin to truly see and learn from their caretakers.

He wants to be sure that his children have the best impression of caretakers and they can establish a trusting and loving relationship quickly and seamlessly. He also wants to see them grow, and children grow the most quickly during the first five years of their lives. Also, he knows the most about children who are under the age of ten, and he would rather try and start raising a child while he is in his comfort zone.

Katniss understands, although a part of her cannot help but think that such a relationship can establish itself between two people, regardless of age.

But right at that time their respective workloads unexpectedly become heavier, and they must put talks of adoption on hold in order to take care of their duties on time.

As they are working to provide relief for the natural disaster that hit district six particularly hard and to incorporate the new set of enriched grains developed in district eleven into bread for optimal nutrition and quality, the children in the adoption system are adopted or grow too old for legal adoption.

Policy dictates that children in the system are educated the same as children from other families up until they finish secondary school but will be held responsible for funding their own education after that point. It is an imperfect system, Katniss admits, but they do not yet have a comprehensive solution and they are at least providing the children with the skills and education they will need for their future.


When the two of them think that they have found the right one, just as they are about to visit her, their case is dropped.

Katniss receives the message at her office the next day; the author and person with whom Katniss had become very well-acquainted, evidently disappointed in the abrupt change, coldly asks her to give them prior notice before the contract has been drawn up because each one requires weeks' worth of work. She writes back, saying that she doesn't understand what was happening, and the warmer yet still curt reply states that Peeta had sent in a request of cancellation yesterday.

When she returns home that night and sees Peeta preparing dinner and whistling as if nothing had happened, she has never wanted more to smack that bowl out of his hands. Just to see something break. When he sees her coming towards him, his smile fades when he sees the fury emanating from her flaming red body.

"What have you done?"

Initially, their voices are hushed; both of them barely holding on to their sanity and civility, but they stop listening again, and the cacophony begins.

Their voices boom, almost shaking the windows of their house; their eyes flash uncontrollably in anger; and drops of water begin splashing on the floor as the maelstrom progresses.

The termination of the application surprisingly does not hurt Katniss as much as the fact that Peeta had made that decision without first talking with her about it. Katniss had looked forward to meeting Marigold very much, especially since the agency had given Marigold's description to be almost exactly identical to that of Rue's. Perhaps it was partially out of her guilt that she chose Marigold, who would be twelve by the time they adopted her. Come to think of it, Peeta had always seemed less than thrilled at the possibility of adopting Marigold; although she was the youngest one they could find, he had always tactfully mentioned his concerns about her age and possible past experience with caretakers.

What is wrong with you? She was raised by someone, and that does not mean that they were abusive or negligent or—!

It's not that, it's really—

You say that you want children, and yet you always stall when we're about to adopt! We've talked about this; you said you were fine with it!

Listen to me!

So why did you pull out our application?

He and his parents had spoken about adoption and, he claims, his parents are adamantly against it; especially, they allegedly say, since both he and Katniss are healthy. Of course nothing can be wrong with their youngest son; his elder brothers have children already, and his father himself had come from a family of twelve children. Katniss's parents had two children, and they are sure that if her father had not died in that unfortunate accident that her parents would have had more.


How is one supposed to feel about this? More importantly, what does one do after this? Try harder?

They go to bed angry for many nights following their confrontation. Any attempt to reconcile is interpreted as only a means to get back to procreating, which they both vehemently avoid.

In the daylight, they tiptoe around each other; whoever got up later would wait for at least fifteen minutes to use the bathroom, which consequently resulted in both Katniss and Peeta's trying to get up earlier and earlier just to one-up the other in their little competition. When the later partner comes into the breakfast room, the bread and spreads are already on the table, as well as their morning beverage-just as they like it-is steaming from the cup on the table. One-word, contrived goodbyes follow the silent breakfast, and they try and work as much extra time as they can before biting the bullet and going home. The person who arrives home first cooks dinner, and this time there is no playful banter echoing through the kitchen and dining room while chopping the spinach or remarks of how heavenly the room smells as the scent of stew and hot buttered bread permeates the air. After a silent dinner, with the occasional remark about how good the food tastes peppered in, the partner clears the table and cleans up while the cook gets ready for bed. They are in bed at separate times, sleeping in separate rooms right now; their pride and hurt do not allow them to throw themselves into their partner's arms and make up.

And yet, they miss each other. They miss the predictability and security that their routine had given them; they miss the good times they had; they miss seeing each other regularly. It wasn't completely perfect, but it felt better than sitting around alone. Trying to reconcile while saving face is not easy, and both do not feel comfortable rebuilding their line of communication as the silence continues to abuse and deafen their ears.

On a quiet night, the two of them meet at the base of the staircase; they wordlessly kiss, knowing why they are there, sharing a soft and nice sensation.

Their hands slide lightly across each other, just in the way that each knew their partner likes. Katniss quietly sits on the second step and leans back, bracing herself. Peeta kneels down, continuously running his hands over her body gingerly, preparing her.

"Peeta"

"Katniss"

Softly and slowly, they move as they rediscover touch, pleasure, tenderness, and feeling; communication with their bodies is much easier than talking anyways. They finish quietly, and go back up the stairs to sleep in their bed.

Once again, the snake has bitten its tail.