***Hello, all! Yes, it was a long break, and I can't promise the regularity of this story, but I haven't abandoned it, so take heart. I'm so glad that everyone has followed it so loyally, and a special shout-out to #louezem on Tumblr! Yes, I did see your page, and yes, I loved the love.
Last, TL&N is up for a couple of awards for best Everlark Smut which is awesome, yay! Please Google "Tumblr Everlark Smut Awards" and go vote for me. Thanks! Enjoy!
Chapter 16:
In the morning it hits me like a freight train, the second my reptilian brain rises to consciousness. I've slept completely soundly, curled around Katniss, but the second I begin to awake, boy, am I awake. My eyes fly open in the dawn. There's no WAY that went down, I think, beginning to settle into the disappointment that follows these dreams when they occasionally come. But that one was so vivid. I sneak a look at Katniss, curled into my arms. She's smiling in her sleep but she doesn't look any different at my first glance. She's nude, but that means nothing these days. She looks peaceful and I squirm for a minute or two, but I'm drawn in almost helplessly by the movie that's beginning to play again in my head. I brush my mouth against her neck, nipping gently under her ear. She makes an "mmm" sound but doesn't stir. I take her ear lightly between my teeth, stroke my hand down the valley between her breasts. She sighs and I feel her stir. As she sleepily turns her head to me, I whisper urgently in her ear.
"Was it real?"
She looks back and closes one eye like a wink, squinting at me and smiling.
"Yes, Peeta, it was real," she says, and my body feels like it's been hit with a thousand volts of lightning just hearing those affirmative words spill from her lips. For a few moments, I'm too paralyzed with joy to move. Then I move against her back, pressing my body frankly to hers. I move my hand up to cup her throat and tilt her head back, and bury the other in her hair. She groans, but it's not the kind that signals dissent.
"I need it again," I whisper urgently to her. My cock is so swollen it hurts, pressed into the small of her back.
She shivers all over against me at the words. I feel her arms break out in goosebumps. Against the inside of my forearm, her nipples are tight and hard. I feel dizzy even trying to think about this at all, but my body is calling, the rush of blood in my ears and my heart pounding against her back. That excruciating throbbing. It's not possible.
Her throat moves as she swallows under my hand and then as she nods. I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until I exhale. "Say yes," I say against her ear before I move. I want to hear it.
"Yes," she says, pressing back against me. I feel her whole body acquiesce, melting back into me. I suck my breath back in again. "Take it."
My hands are shaking terribly as Katniss nods towards the nightstand and I open it to pull out another one of Delly's rubbers. When I slide it over myself and turn to face her, Katniss pulls the covers away for us and stretches her arms above her head. I can't place anything, especially not at the moment, but she looks different. I'm convinced it's not just my mind playing tricks on me. She looks sensual, confident, in her position of repose. But her smile softens the calm wisdom that's come into her eyes looking at me. I wonder what has changed.
"Peeta," she whispers. "I'm waiting."
And then I'm lowering myself down to her, resting on my forearms. I hesitate before I continue. This is the fastest we've ever gone. I don't know if she's ready. Her eyes gazing up to me are dreamy, anticipatory, and she's chewing on her lip again.
"I'm not going to hurt…?" I ask. In response, still smiling, she reaches for my hand. Puzzled, I let her take it, and she slips the middle three fingers into her mouth and sucks on them for a minute. Just that sensation is driving me crazy. But I don't understand what she's doing until she takes them out and then guides my hand between her legs. I'm surprised that she's aroused at all. Maybe she had the same dreams as me. While her hand is there, she takes me in her hand and I'm shocked at her confidence and smoothness when she guides me inside her. My breath hisses through my teeth as I'm incapacitated by the feeling of Katniss' body around me. She's so hot. Jesus. My dream all rushes back, only not a dream, after all. How many years have I spent hoping?... I'm trying with all my effort to remember it's not just me, to pull back from the bright lights that pop between my eyes. I focus my eyes on Katniss, my hand stroking her cheek lightly.
"Are you okay?" I ask. Her eyes are closed. She nods, her breathing a little uneven. Slowly, I press forward again, and the hand not on her face digs all its nails into the pillow because I can't even imagine how many times a day I'll need to do this before it stops feeling like I'm going to pass out and die at the same time. I feel Katniss yield under me, opening up and accepting my weight. When I lean down and kiss down her neck, she makes a sound like a whimper and a purr and tightens her arms around me.
I draw back and study her furrowed brow, those chapped lips parted. I'm still struggling not to shake.
"Open your eyes," I say to her. She does and I push forward again, sliding the rest of the way inside her. Her eyes automatically flutter shut as she arches up to meet me.
"Open them," I tell her, tapping her cheek lightly. She obediently does. I stare into their silver haze as I begin to so slowly rock back and forth against her. The friction is almost unbearable. I'm trying to go slow, but my body is dying to find out what happens if I push harder into her. I'm panting, and it's not because I'm tired. Katniss' eyes flutter shut. I don't know why, but I don't want them closed. I take her face between my thumb and my fingers on each side of her cheeks, not hard. Her eyes fly open again.
"Look right at me," I tell her, and her eyes lock with mine. My hand finds her hip and pulls her in tighter. She gasps and bites her lip. Her cheeks are flaming. When I press more firmly into her, she groans softly. I can feel her nails in my shoulders.
"Wrap your legs around me," I direct her, and I feel her soft legs tentatively creep back around my thighs.
"Tighter."
It's all I can do to breathe through the cement wall of pleasure hitting all my senses at once, but it's turning me on more to talk us through it. To be just a little bit of what she so often needs me to be. I feel those strong legs tighten around me, and her eyes are so wide staring into mine that she looks like one of the deer she stalks. I lean down and find her mouth with mine, and she arches up urgently, reaching for my kisses. Her eyes, this time, remain open the entire time, which makes me smile.
I push as hard as I dare against her, still afraid to hurt her, but her body rises eagerly to meet me. We're speeding up. The next time I move she cries out my name into the sweet, orange-tinted glow filling the room. Her eyes frantically stay with mine, but they're pleading, and finally I lower myself down to kiss her throat, the hollow of her neck, her delicate collarbone, the swells of her breasts. The salt from her skin coats my lips like dew, and I feel the inexorable rushing towards us.
"Katniss…" I think I'm saying her name, but maybe my lips are just moving. I have one glorious moment of watching her, hazy, arch her throat towards me blissfully, silky black waves falling just over the edge of the bed, and then it's only colors.
I can manage nothing but to lie limp atop her, my body weight held by forearms that quiver with the effort. We're slick with sweat and I can dimly hear her breathing, heavy, deep inhales and exhales. I don't remember taking her hand but our fingers are locked together on the pillow beside her head. When I can finally raise my head, shaking soaked curls back from my forehead, she's smiling. Her eyes are half-lidded. I feel regret that Katniss can't seem to reach orgasm at the same time as me when we make love—this is an expectation I've picked up from somewhere, but it's evidently not so clear-cut. I want her to come with me. But she doesn't look displeased; quite the contrary, she looks like the cat that got the canary, as my mother used to say. She's practically purring.
"This agrees with you, doesn't it?" I get out. I'm not surprised…it was Katniss who, way back when, initiated this entire chapter…but I'm surprised by the openness, the fact that she's not trying to hide, deny, minimize. She just lies there in slanting beams of sunshine that are so calming, because they could be from home, this could be our bed, if I close my eyes. Katniss is my home, so home is where I am. I carefully slip out of her and slide the condom off myself, throwing it in the trash beside the bed. She stretches extravagantly, closes one eye, glances down, and laughs. I'm self-conscious for a moment before I spot an enormous wet patch on our sheets and then I bite my lip, trying not to smile, but I can't hold it back.
"I think it does, yes," she says, with a kind of cheer that I hope, or maybe just wish, she could hold on to for the remainder of what will be a very long day. As I sit on the edge of the bed, she slides up and wraps her arms around me from behind, nibbling on one earlobe.
"Want me to make you come?" I ask. She considers this a moment, and then shakes her head.
"Later," she says, and sighs. "Maybe it'll be a good reward for getting finished with this fucking day." Already her face is drawing back into its old seriousness; I can hear it in her voice. I feel a fleeting sense of sadness followed by a weary resolution. I want to lie back down, pretend it's a Saturday at home and we have the time to lie in one another's arms for awhile in luxury, but the thought is only half-formed when a familiar voice yodels through the door.
"Kaaaaaaatniiiiiiiss!" I'm glad they sent Johanna to fetch us. She'll be the easiest means by which to coax Katniss out.
"Oy vey," Katniss says resignedly, but with a note of comedy in her voice. I make a mental note that our sex has been quiet neither last night nor this morning, which means that word will probably spread like wildfire. Do I even care? Gale might, my mind thinks pettily, before I can stop it. Katniss is sliding off the bed beside me, though. I pinch her ass as she goes and she slaps my hand. She's wrapped in the bedsheet so I quickly retrieve my trousers from the floor and buckle them on. She opens the bedroom door to find Johanna leaning on the doorframe, hair standing crazily on end and a self-satisfied smile plastered on her face.
"You have no respect for privacy," Katniss reproaches her, holding up the sheet with one hand.
"Oh, Peeta!" Johanna responds promptly, in a falsetto imitation of Katniss' cries from last night and this morning, and I feel my face instantly flame. Katniss groans, pleadingly. Johanna is laughing. She peeks over Katniss' shoulder and sees my face and then the laughing deepens even further. Some far corner of my brain that's not humiliated into oblivion registers that at least Johanna is starting her day with a laugh, since it's the only one we might get that day.
I'm right about that.
Once the blood drains from Katniss' and my faces, we descend to breakfast. Katniss, Johanna and I all inexplicably dress in black—black pants (Johanna's are army-fatigue print, which probably speaks to her mindset), black button-down shirts, combat boots for Johanna, Katniss' soft leather ones for her, sturdy black shoes for me. We took a quick shower in one of the Capitol's masterpiece showers, opting only for the necessary bits, though I'm exasperated that just watching Katniss soap her body inexplicably aroused me once more. Breakfast is set out on the sideboard. Regrettably though unsurprisingly, Hazelle and the kids are absent this morning. Present are Haymitch, looking drained and coveting a goblet of something red that's taking the place of actual food in front of his place, Gale, whose face is a stormcloud…Gee, I wonder why…shoots by in my brain, a thought like a shooting star, Paylor, who is talking animatedly with Plutarch, Fulvia, Beetee and three or four new people I don't recognize. Clearly this is a working breakfast. We hesitate imperceptibly on the stairs in lockstep, but where else is there to go? This will be a fun day.
"Ahh, there's our little Mockingjay!" croons Plutarch merrily, in a tone that makes Johanna's smile drop off so fast I think it might shatter on the floor.
"Morning," Katniss says neutrally, and brushes by them, beginning to load up a plate with eggs, potatoes, rolls, fruit. I file in behind her and snag a couple of hot chocolates for us without even thinking about it. Johanna, Katniss and I line ourselves up beside Haymitch, with Katniss in the middle. I'm glad for this.
"We have a big, big day ahead of us!" says Fulvia, and my stomach lurches, as I remember Effie's voice saying those very words to us not so long ago…or forever ago? Hard to tell. Katniss' nails are already digging into the edge of the table.
"We're thrilled," says Johanna in a monotone. Haymitch shoots her a side-eye that she either doesn't see or chooses to ignore. Fulvia is passing around itineraries. Katniss brushes hers aside and begins to eat, but I pick up mine, an itemized list on a piece of paper that, to this day, seems luxurious to me. I begin to scan it.
0900: Breakfast (Ministry House)
0930: Debrief of current state of affairs in Panem (Capitol Building Meeting Hall)
1030: Report out from the districts (Capitol Building Meeting Hall)
1100: Council convenes (Capitol Building War Room)
1300: Break for lunch
1600: Council closes
1600-1700: Propo preparation (Return to Ministry House)
1700-1900: Propo shoot (Monument Square)
1900-1930: Mockingjay's Address to Panem (Monument Square Podium)
1930-2100: Dinner at the President's Manse
Dear sweet Jesus, I think. Twelve hours of meetings, lectures, reports, filming and….a speech? By Katniss? My mind registers some consternation at this. We haven't been here a day and they're going to ask her to give a speech? I remember Haymitch's words of warning: Things are likely to happen rapidly and maybe unexpectedly. Is he ever wrong? I'd like to have some of that foresight to go along with all this instability and bad memories. I tally the numbers on the sheet of paper. Five hours in council. Then preparation to shoot a propo? Propos about what, exactly? By who? Katniss? Me? All of us? I have more questions than I can conjure, looking at this. But Katniss only gives it a cursory glance and goes back to eating. From the look on her face, I can tell not only is she unsurprised, but she's borderline bored by it. Johanna is neatly and efficiently folding her sheet into a paper airplane. When Plutarch's back is turned she aims it at him, and Haymitch's hand shoots out and pins it back to the table. Not now, I watch him mouth to her. I can't help but echo the thought. I know this is her way of coping, but we need as many functioning adults on board as we can get.
Everyone is taking their seats, and Paylor is impatiently waving the ones who linger to the table. She waits until everyone is seated and waiting, forks and spoons neatly left on plates to be collected by the roaming attendants in green—my plate is still partially full, since I got distracted by the itinerary and because my stomach has been churning anyways—to speak.
"Welcome," she says softly, and she's smiling. I don't trust that smile and I don't need to look sideways to know that I'm not the only one. Really, who can blame us? Katniss' hand, small and cold, reaches for mine under the table and I hold it. "Thank you all for coming out to us. We understand that it could not have been an easy decision, but felt that it is of utmost importance that you be a part of the process of decision-making that has been ongoing since we've secured a new government here in the Capitol. We have important decisions to make that we would not want to do without your input—because it is unique and valued, and because you have been such a central part of the war effort and the collective consciousness." I understand this to mean, at least in part, that the people of Panem expect to see us and we've thus far been absent. I'm not wrong about that, either.
"The people of Panem have greatly longed to hear from all of you, particularly, of course, from you, Katniss. They have great respect and love for their Tributes and their Mockingjay and are invested in your happiness and success…"
…I hear something low from Johanna that sounds like bullshit…
"…however, we understand that it has been necessary for you to get some much-needed rest and healing in your home districts. We honor that this healing is still ongoing, and will respect your need for slight alterations in schedule, should that be necessary. We appreciate your full cooperation in these matters, of course."
It's not lost on me that the genial statement about alterations is directly followed by one that sounds more like a threat. I feel that I can almost read Haymitch's thoughts, because I know he's noting this, too.
"That said, we have many things to accomplish today and big discussions that need to be undertaken, about difficult subjects. We will be relocating throughout the day to a variety of sites around the Capitol, but at your request, we have tried to limit them to sites that will be less…triggering."
This is the first time Katniss speaks, and it is to interrupt. "It says here, 'President's Manse,'" she points out. "Is that the former dwelling of Snow?"
Paylor clears her throat and looks uncomfortable. "It has been…renovated quite a bit since you last visited," she equivocates. Katniss' eyes narrow.
"We have done our best to take into account your preferences," says Paylor. I note that several others around the table, not among the four of us, are looking uncomfortable, too. Gale sits as stone-faced as ever. Beetee too looks impassive but the new people are disconcerted. I try to place them, but fail. "We are having you speak in a part of the Capitol that was not a part of your…experience…here, which is called Monument Square, where you will be centrally noticeable and heard, but which is not connected to any….ah, bad memories that you may have."
"I'm not going near the President's Mansion," Katniss responds flatly. "I can see the place where my little sister was murdered from there, in case you didn't remember."
The silence in the room is thick and we're exactly five minutes into the day.
"We will be having the dinner in a part of the mansion that is not adjacent to that view of the city, nor will it be familiar to you from your time there," Paylor pushes on. "We have relocated our meetings to the new Capitol Building that is situated slightly back from the city center. Many parts of the city have been rebuilt as such that they will no longer even be recognizable to you."
"Oh, they'll be recognizable," says Katniss. I can see her weighing her options, picking her battles, inside her head. I squeeze her hand for comfort. "I'll make the decision of whether or not I'm able to attend at a later point, if it's alright with you."
It isn't, but what can they do about it? President Paylor looks dissatisfied, but clears her throat and moves on. The other three of us sit silently, watching and waiting.
"I would like to introduce some members of our leadership team here that you might not be aware of," says Paylor, gesturing to the three people beside her, "And I think a round of introductions is in order." She turns expectantly to a man beside her. He has dark brown skin and his hair hangs in long braids down his back. He looks stately. He nods his head to us and introduces himself as Randolph, Chief Minister of Reconstruction. "Randolph is in charge of the lesser Ministers who are working under him—that would be the Ministers of Transportation, Food and Health, Labor, Human Services and Rights, Commerce, Media, Education, Weapons and Technology Development, and Security," she lists. "Obviously it would have been difficult to convene with all of them at this time, however, we would at some point in the near future like to convene again with all present."
…I hear something else from Johanna's direction that sounds like don't bet on it.
Next to Randolph, a woman with flaxen hair pulled into a knot so tight it looks like it's pulling back her forehead, and three piercings lined up in each ear, introduces herself as Flora. She is the Secretary of State, the one responsible for traveling to each district and returning with updates, and keeping them abreast of what's happening in the Capitol. Apparently she helps write speeches and direct what's shown on our televisions these days, as well. She has perfect teeth and looks to be in her mid-thirties. Katniss is doodling in some leftover jam with her fork, but she looks up after this last has been announced. The woman sitting directly to Paylor's right is enormous, heavily muscled, middle-aged, with deep-set eyes that are serious, wary and wise. The President begins to introduce her. "And this is my interim Vice President…"
"Commander Lyme," says Katniss in greeting. This means nothing to me but I see Johanna scrutinizing her face, and then she nods as if in recognition. Haymitch gives a small smile. "It's good to see you again," says Katniss in an even voice, and I know without looking that she's not being flattering. She likes this woman.
"You as well," says Lyme softly. "Good work, Soldier Everdeen." Katniss hasn't been addressed this way in some time, but she nods in thanks. I'm still trying to place the woman, so I resolve to ask Katniss later. Her face nags at my mind. I think maybe she was a Victor, once upon a time. That would explain Johanna and Haymitch. At least there's a pick that Katniss approves of in some way.
We do a quick round. Plutarch introduces himself as head of the Senate, an archaic word that they use for the group of citizens that has convened to help make decisions about the fate of the districts—I learn that there are three from each district, who were voted on by their people, and three from the Capitol, for a total of 42. Fulvia is his second-in-command, which is a promotion for her. Gale introduces himself as "Gale Hawthorne, second-in-command, Weapons and Technology Development," and I try very hard not to smirk. Beetee, of course, is Head of Weapons and Technology. Katniss has returned to focusing on her plate. I wonder if this is her way of trying to block it out. I know that she's still taking it all in, but her face is unreadable. Everyone knows Paylor, of course. She nods to us and inexplicably, we all introduce ourselves only by name and district, without any accolades, "Soldiers," "Victors" or the like. "Katniss Everdeen," says Katniss, shortly. Even Johanna restrains herself.
"We'll be moving over to the Capitol building now," Paylor says brusquely. Everyone rises and pushes their chairs back, and Katniss refuses to let go of my hand. I look down to her face and tuck a stray strand behind her ear.
"Are you okay?" I ask her. Never have I wanted more to be back in our house, having breakfast before the day begins, with her perched on my good leg in the sunny kitchen while Buttercup waows around our ankles. She nods but looks unsteady. I'm worried for her. I can't help myself. I bend down and touch my lips lightly to hers. She sighs. I get a mental image of us in bed tonight, only she's on top, riding me. I shiver. She smiles, as though she can read my mind. I wouldn't put it past her. I wish we had more privacy.
We take a circuitous route to the new Capitol building, which is relatively modest given the Capitol's preference for frippery. I suspect that this is a space that they'd have preferred to reject in favor of something grander, but we are not covering the area that our team covered in those last fatal days of Snow's regime as we fought through the pods and watched our friends and comrades die. I suppose if you stretched on your toes you'd be able to see the top of the President's Mansion over the ash trees that line the streets, but we're obviously not looking for that. There is still evidence of rebuilding—wooden boards over windows, the occasional pile of rubble in the street, a few half-demolished dwelling. Katniss mostly watches our shadows as we walk. It's disconcerting, this quietness from her. Waiting and watching, I suppose. Like she does in the woods. We climb a broad, flat set of stairs and disappear into the shadow under the eaves, like the justice building in district 11, where Katniss forgot her flowers and we spoke to Haymitch in the dusty, unmonitored dome. The lobby is stately, sparsely furnished with ostentatious couches and vases of flowers I don't recognize. Paylor leads our little party to the left. Gale and Beetee are talking animatedly while Paylor converses with her crew. Katniss and I lag a little behind. Haymitch, at one point, steals a glance at us and mutters, "Remember what we talked about. Hang in there, Mockingjay." He must have noticed Katniss' pale face and her silence. She only nods. Johanna is playing with a knife that she's flipped from a holster in her belt. I wonder how it is that they've let her bring that into the building.
This intuition must be spot-on, because when we reach the tall metal doors that separate off the room we must be entering, Paylor spots Johanna. She shakes her head. "Johanna, weapons are not permitted into closed meetings in State buildings. Please leave that with the desk attendant."
Johanna's eyes flash fire in an instant. She flips the knife closed again. "I'll put it away," she says coolly, storing it back in her belt.
"Johanna," Paylor begins.
"Leave it," orders Haymitch in a voice that carries, so heads turn even when they weren't paying attention a moment ago. He stands next to Johanna and I wouldn't go so far as to call his tone defiant, but it's uncompromising. Paylor looks aggravated, and I know that she's worried, like Coin, about being undermined by our disobedience.
"I would really prefer…" she begins tentatively.
"No," snaps Johanna. "I said no." She brushes past Paylor into the meeting room and flops into a comfortable-looking swivel chair beside a glass-topped table in a room surrounded by monitors and electronic equipment, like their labs in 13. Paylor looks slightly mutinous but then relents, choosing, I guess, to pick her battles, as Katniss has done. The rest of us file past Paylor and take seats beside and around Johanna. I make sure that Katniss is between us, protectively. The others take various seats and the day really begins.
The first part of it is not so bad. Paylor sums up the major points of where we're at in the rebuilding phase. Some of this we know. They've set laws granting all citizens the right of marriage, safe and comfortable dwellings, regular work and fair pay, education until age 22, adequate allotments of food and necessities at reasonable prices and the right for citizens to trade…this bit is still being hammered out because, due to unstable means of transportation, the rebuilding of all that was shattered means that what we get and when is still spotty…freedom of speech and expression…Haymitch snorts when she says this but she ignores him…travel, and healthcare, as hospitals are being constructed in each district. Slowly, citizenry have been allowed to relocate to districts of their choice, if for whatever reason they feel they are unsustained, unwelcome or unhappy in their own districts, many of which have struggled to reach some state of independence with the vast amounts of destruction. This movement makes it difficult to get an official count of the population, but it's happening slowly enough that tallies from the districts have been gathered before any real mass migration has been accomplished. In some areas supplies are still being rationed until supply lines can be completely stabilized, so there's a very unequal distribution of who has what resources—in this way, the fact that we've lost so many citizens works in our favor, because it means less people to care for, though this is cold comfort. The rebuilding phase is at various levels of success in different places around the country. Additionally…and I'm surprised by this…Lyme and others have been attempting to regain contact and allyship with neighboring nations, which was not even a topic of discussion previously, at least not with us. The main players in the war—heads of State, Snow's personal cabinet, the Capitol's high-ranking military commanders, head Peacekeepers and Gamemakers are in protective custody, awaiting their fate. Few of them have shown remorse. Short-term goals are establishing reliable means of communication and transportation for all districts, building hospitals and rebuilding dwellings that were demolished in the war, providing assistance for women and children who lost their means of support, and establishing an interim government that begins to pass basic civil rights laws for the citizenry. Long-term goals include establishing a countrywide militia, democratically electing a permanent government, and developing districts, like 12, that have lagged in infrastructure, technology and resources they were deprived of by the Capitol.
Paylor stops there and hands the floor over to Lyme, who briefly updates us on the status of the districts. Predictably, 2, 8, 11 and 12 were hit hard—2 in part by us, when we brought down the Nut in a way that is still requiring intense cleanup—and are consequently still struggling to rebuild and maintain populations, since many from these districts have migrated. Other districts are in various stages of disrepair. I'm surprised to hear that several of the interim Heads of State in the districts are former Victors, and nearly all are either Victors or decorated military personnel. 13 is heavily involved in the rebuilding process in particular, because of the wealth of knowledge they amassed over the course of 75 years about how to do it effectively.
"An accurate population count is almost impossible to gain," Lyme restates, "But our census-taking has indicated that Panem probably has a population, post-war, of about twenty thousand, including the injured, some of whom are now disabled." The silence shifts into a state of shock, and I see even Johanna's eyebrows rise. This is terrifically low, maybe half of what we had before, and a minute fraction of what the country encompassed before the dark days. For the first time, I realize how truly close we have come as a country to decimating our population, perhaps beyond repair. Lyme nods into the silence, looking unflappable. "We are thankful that there was no nuclear attack," she says, somewhat grimly, in closing.
Lyme takes a seat and I look depressingly down at our schedule for the day, which is being projected below the glass tabletop for easy reference. Time to move in to the bulk of the conversation, the place where we will have to begin talking, rather than being lectured at. Our bodies have grown increasingly tense on this side of the room…my muscles are in knots and I feel Katniss' leg jiggling under the table. Johanna has surreptitiously pulled out her knife again and is flipping it open and closed under the table with a practiced hand. Haymitch, two down from me, scratches at one arm, then the other. I bet he wishes he could do this part drunk.
"At this point," the President breaks in, "We will adjourn for a ten-minute recess, and then will convene at the top of the stairs, to the right, in the War Room, for the bulk of our time together today. Please be prompt." We rise and I feel my back crackle as I stretch. Three hours down, ten million to go, it feels like. All of us make a beeline out of the room, wanting as much time away as we can get. Outside the door, we gather around Haymitch. We had made a note to check in every day, and so far today we haven't had the chance.
"Anything come up for anyone, or do we feel like we need to debrief again? Now is the time," he says shortly. Our collective is quiet. Then Katniss speaks up.
"I'm not sure I can do this," she says. She's not looking at any of us, but out the window beyond us. Johanna wraps a protective arm around her shoulders. "We've got you," she tells Katniss. "If you need to step out, do it. Don't ask their permission." Katniss nods uncertainly. It hits me that she's at the edge of tears and I'm angry at them for bringing her, once again, into their mess.
Haymitch sighs. "I know, sweetheart," he says. "We have to try, okay? I know we don't want to be here but this is our chance to use the influence we have, and we shouldn't waste it. Do you feel okay about what we sketched out?"
"Yeah," Katniss said, "But when I see all of them lined up, it feels like an us-against-them thing, and I don't have the energy for any more wars."
"Lyme is our friend," Haymitch points out. "And the others might be swayed. At the very least, they have to hear us out, and we'll be a strong presence because of our history with them, especially you, Katniss. I'm sorry that you have to be put in this position, but that's the reality of it." I see her swallow and she nods.
"I need some air," she says. "Can I just get some air?"
"Of course," says Haymitch, and he steps aside for her. I hang back uncertainly, but she looks back over her shoulder at me and extends her hand wordlessly, so I catch it and walk outside with her, into a balmy spring day. She leans her back against the Capitol building. I lean in front of her and put both my palms against the wall to either side of her. The streets are unbelievably quiet and I think again about Lyme's statistic. 20,000. Jesus. Katniss closes her eyes. I can smell the flowers that nod in the breeze along the steps. I lean in and kiss her forehead, her cheeks, the top of her head, the tip of her nose. I cup her cheeks in my hands and stroke them with my thumbs. She covers my hands with her own and exhales.
"Do you think I can do this?" She asks unsteadily. I nod. In fact, I'm not sure, but I know she needs me to say yes to this in order to go back inside, and Haymitch is right, although I feel this is some sort of small betrayal: we need her. Her voice is the loudest among us. "You've done harder," I remind her. She nods slowly back. Her eyes stare into my own and inexplicably soften.
"I couldn't do this without you," she says. "Sure you could," I answer her. "Don't underestimate yourself." I know that it's only the closeness that's come out of months of back-and-forth that allows her to drop her guard enough to reveal this insecurity to me. It's flattering, but I do believe that in the end, she could have done it alone, if she'd had to. Katniss is made of steel wire, even now. She leans in for a kiss.
The kiss starts chastely enough but blooms when she wraps her arms around my neck. Her mouth parts against mine and our tongues meet. We're still hungry from last night, from this morning, we're clinging to the luxury that's pulled us through, the comfort, the wanting that grew from need. We're looking for a way out, if only for a moment. It's effective, if temporary. I pull her to me and she laughs softly when she feels my physical want for her, again. It does me good to see her laugh. I stroke down the side of her left breast, so lightly, tickle the tips of my fingers under the bottom of her soft shirt. I kiss down her neck and she closes her eyes in the sun.
The front door opens with a bang and we jump, but I don't lift my head in time before Gale steps out, his posture military-perfect, hands clasped at the small of his back. He obviously didn't expect us, because he scowls when he catches a glimpse of Katniss' closed eyes, of my roving hand that quickly pulls back. Katniss turns and I wrap my arms protectively around her from behind, her back against my chest. She doesn't resist; in fact, she melts into it, although I feel myself doing that petty masculine posturing thing again.
"Hi," she says, matter-of-factly.
"Hi," Gale says shortly, "Sorry to disturb. You're needed." He turns and goes back inside. He didn't sound very sorry to me. I sigh in unison with Katniss. She takes my hand again and I hold it tight as we open the doors and step back into the cool shadows.
"I've got you," I whisper, as we join Johanna and move towards the stairs in lockstep dread. Johanna kisses her cheek sweetly. She smiles gratefully at us, and I have the time to be glad, despite it all, that this has brought us, such disparate figures, each with our own pain and sorrow and defiance and determination, together as a fellowship, probably forever. Confidence creeps, just a little.
Still, I can't help but think, it's going to be a long day. I resign myself, and we move with finality into the cavernous War Room…maybe, I think sorrowfully, just to wage one more kind of war. It never ends.