Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

oOo

Gone the Sun
By FanficAllergy

oOo

Theme: 28:Tears
Words: 1175
Summary: Even in the darkest of nights, the dawn will come. Modern AU

oOo

Katniss Everdeen waited on the edge of the tarmac, her eyes fixed on the arriving plane. Her short, black dress fluttered in the warm summer breeze but even that couldn't distract her. The 747 rolled to a stop. Ground crews scrambled out, securing the wheels, prepping the plane for unloading.

Beside her, Gale placed a hand on her shoulder. Katniss wanted to shrug it off, push him away, but she couldn't. She barely had the strength to stand.

How could it have come to this?

A line of soldiers dressed in their gleaming best marched out to stand at attention beside the cargo bay door. Slowly and with a loud thud, it opened. A lone soldier lifted a bugle to his lips and began to play the sad, sweet strains of 'Taps.'

Appearing at the opening, a heavy, grey coffin draped in the Stars and Stripes lumbered down the conveyor belt toward the waiting men. When it reached the end, they lifted it reverently onto a stand. As one, they took a step back and saluted the casket.

"Go to her, Catnip."

Her. Prim. Her sweet baby sister who'd wanted to be a doctor so much that she'd joined the Army to be able to afford it. She should have taken out loans instead.

Katniss took a step forward. Then another. And another. Each step brought her closer to the flag-draped coffin. Each step brought her closer to Prim.

When she reached her sister, she placed her hands on the smooth cover. A tremendous shudder coursed through her body. She couldn't hold it in any more.

A loud wail erupted from her throat as she screamed out her grief. Her hands clutched at the edge of the flag, the silky fabric tickling her palms. She didn't know how long she cried. It didn't matter. Prim was gone and nothing could bring her back.

Prim was supposed to be safe. Medics didn't go to the front lines. They were kept back, out of harm's way, in order to care for the wounded. That was the plan.

Someone should have mentioned in war very little goes according to plan.

Friendly fire they called it.

A mistake.

An airstrike gone horribly wrong.

By the time anyone knew what had happened, the hospital tent was gone and everyone in it was either dying or dead.

Including Prim.

Strong arms lifted Katniss up, supporting her so she wouldn't fall.

Gale.

She didn't want his help. She didn't want anyone's help. She wanted her sister back.

This was all Gale's fault. If he hadn't suggested enlisting, if he hadn't made joining the Army sound so appealing, her blonde-haired, blue-eyed ray of light would still be alive. Not a broken and charred husk sealed away in a casket. Barely enough tissue left to bury.

An officious little man scurried over, whispering meaningless platitudes: So sorry for your loss; Primrose Everdeen made the ultimate sacrifice on the altar of freedom; Everyone who knew her would mourn her loss.

Only the last was true. Everyone would mourn. Katniss most of all.

Gale half-carried her to the waiting limo. It was time to lay Prim to rest. The plot in Arlington was waiting.

Katniss didn't remember any of the ride from the airport or even most of the funeral. Prim was dead. What did it matter that the sky was as crystal blue as her sister's eyes? Prim was dead. Her mother's quiet sobs echoed through the eerie stillness of the cemetery. Prim was dead. And with her the only person Katniss knew for certain she loved.

After the final crack of the three-volley salute and the last note of the bugle faded, Katniss was left alone with her sister and her grief, the mourners drifting off to their lives and their homes. Gale escorted her mother. Katniss remained. She didn't know where she was supposed to go. Returning home to West Virginia seemed out of the question. The little house was filled with items and pictures celebrating Prim's life. It would be haunting after her death.

So she stayed by the grave.

Watching as the caretakers lowered the coffin into the ground. Watching as they poured yards and yards of earth on top of it. And then they too were gone.

Katniss stared at the loose dirt and blank headstone and cried. As she wept, she tried to find something, anything, to encourage her to go on.

Nothing.

Then, out of the corner of one eye came a flicker of movement. A shadow just on the edge of her vision.

The shadow coalesced into the form of a man, wearing the dress blues of a marine, limping in her direction. A thin blood red stripe ran along the side of his pants and his white cap was shoved under one arm. In his hands, he held a bouquet of bright yellow flowers.

Primroses.

The man reached the grave and laid the bouquet upon the loose earth. He looked up and his eyes met hers.

Katniss started.

His eyes were even bluer than her sister's!

The man straightened, running a hand through his dark blond hair. "I didn't think anyone'd still be here."

"What are you doing here?" The words slipped out in a tone harsher than she'd intended.

His eyes flicked to the flowers and then back up to her. "I wanted to pay my respects."

"Why?"

"Because she saved my life and I couldn't save hers."

The words were so simple. So raw and filled with pain and self-loathing.

"Were you there when..." Katniss trailed off.

"No. They'd shipped me back by then. Because of this..." He lifted the edge of his pant leg to reveal the prosthetic hidden underneath.

"Then it wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't yours either."

How did he know she was blaming herself? As much as she blamed Gale for encouraging Prim to enlist, Katniss blamed herself more for letting Prim go. "How-"

"I recognized the look in your eye. Seen it in the mirror every morning since I heard what happened."

"Were you and she...?"

The man shook his head. "No. She was just someone I liked and admired very much. You must be Katniss."

She nodded. How did he know her name?

"Prim talked about you," he answered her unasked question. "Showed me videos of you singing. You've got an amazing voice."

"Thank you."

He brushed his hands off on his pants. "I'm Peeta, by the way. Peeta Mellark."

"It's nice to meet you, Peeta."

There wasn't really much more to say. They stood together next to the grave, watching the sun go down. It was a companionable silence.

Then, as the sun slipped under the hills, painting the sky in a palette of orange, red, and pink fire, Peeta cleared his throat. "Could I buy you a drink, Ms. Everdeen? You know, raise a toast in Prim's honor?"

She considered it. She had nowhere to go, no one she wanted to see. A drink with someone who seemed to understand her sounded nice.

"I'd like that."

oOo

AN:
Written: 9/10/16
Revised: 9/11/16
Betaread by: RoseFyre

So this was written in a few hours after some discussion on a social media site that shall remain nameless. Thanks to Chele20035 for bringing it up and sharing her inspiration pic with me and Alliswell for encouraging me! Special thanks to Rose for betaing this sucker at 1:30 in the morning. LOL