Chapter Three-
I run hand through my messy hair as I groan, sitting up to look around the bright room. Once my eyes have adjusted to the light, I catch sight of Katniss sitting on the edge of my bed and holding a baby in her arms. She's paying complete attention to the baby she's cradling as I study her.
She's grown older and even more beautiful since the last time I remember seeing her. Her hair's grown longer and is now tied in a singular braid around the back of her head, her rose pink lips grown fuller and standing out more from her olive skin tone. She's taller as well, just like a grown woman.
"Good morning, Peeta," she says softly, her melodic tone the same.
"Good morning, Kat," I reply, frowning slightly at the sound of my deep voice.
She laughs when she sees the frown of my face and moves back to lean on the pillow with me. I automatically wrap an arm around her shoulders and place a gentle kiss on her head as she lays her cheek against my chest.
We stay like that for a few moments until I see her eyes flicker shut and her grip around the baby loosening. I reach my hand down for the bundle and Katniss sighs, muttering, "Don't worry, Peeta, I'm okay."
"No, you're not," I argue.
"Fine." She rolls over and places the baby where her head was. Then she grabs my arms and guides them around so that I'm holding the baby in the correct way. "Now take Prim out and get her some breakfast. A cookie or something, you know she'll like it."
I laugh and go to stroke her flushed cheek until she pushes my hand back around the girl. "Okay, okay, I'm going." I place a briefly place my lips against her forehead as she lays back onto the mattress.
She smiles up at me. "Thank you, Pete," she whispers. "I love you."
The words that leave her lips make my heart skip a beat as a huge, soppy grin covers my face and I lean back to her face, wanting her to prove it to me.
She laughs and pushes me back, reminding me, "Prim."
I sigh and stand up. "Later."
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she pulls the covers over herself and curls into a ball as she instantly falls asleep. My smile grows softer as I watch her side rising and falling, as I hear a gentle purr emanating from her lips.
After a moment or so I step away from Katniss, walking into the kitchen with the baby girl closely hugged to my chest. "Now then, Prim, how about a cookie?" I suggest as I sit her down on her little chair, before I turn away to search in the cupboards for the biscuit.
When I turn back around, I see what Prim looks like. I place the cookie in front of her as I sit on a chair and pull it up so I can see her more clearly. She has pale blonde hair and sky blue eyes, with soft pink cheeks; she looks so like me it is unreal. "You like it, angel?" I ask.
She nods. "Thank you." She's got the same sweet voice as Katniss though.
As she finishes eating the biscuit with an orange flower atop it, I rest my face on my hand as I lean my elbow on the table, watching her progress. She eats the sugary biscuit in exactly the same way as Katniss did on our second day of school.
"Thank you," she repeats, when the last crumb has been cleared from her plate.
I smile, lifting her up again in the way that Katniss taught me and taking her over to the sofa, where I sit us both down. She slides onto my lap and giggles as I begin playing with her, making my smile grow wider until I hear a scream from next door. My smile instantly drops as I put Prim onto the cushioned seat, instructing, "Stay there," as I walk away.
Cautiously, I walk back to the bedrooms and push the door open. I glance around quickly, my eyes almost instantly falling onto Katniss. I run to her side and, as I wrap my arms around her from behind her, she flinches and tries to move away until she realises it's me.
"Peeta!" she cries, turning around in my arms and burying her face against my chest.
I rub her back slowly, whispering comforting words into her ear. Slowly, she leans back and I catch sight of the blood streaming down her cheek that I didn't see before. "Katniss! What happened?"
She shakes her head as she takes my hand into hers, which also has a wound across the back of it, and presses my palm against her cheek. She cringes at the pain but tries to smile.
"Who did this?" I try to ask gently, looking deep into her grey eyes.
"No," she mutters, her voice cracking as her eyes travel behind me.
I know what's going to happen even before it has so I throw myself down, covering Katniss' entire body with my own as the beatings rain down on my back. "Don't listen, Kat, she's lying," I promise as quietly as I can.
"Peeta Mellark!" screams my mum. "How dare you go off with the Seam rat that I forbade you to go with all those years ago? How dare you get her pregnant? I bet it was all to shame me!"
"Katniss, don't listen." I shut my eyes to stop the tears from falling as I try and talk to her, reaching my hand down for hers. "I love you. I love Prim. Everything she saying is to make us hurt more."
"You don't even love her!" my mum continues.
"I do, Katniss," I complain. "You know I do. Don't listen to her-"
My mum must have heard something I said because she grabs me by the hair on top of my head and pulls me away from Katniss, slamming me against the wall with such force that it's only when I see her moving back towards my cowering love that what she's doing clicks in my mind. Unsteadily, I stand and charge at my mum, my impact not shaking her at all.
"You stupid boy!" she shouts, bringing down her weapon over my head.
I curse under my breath at the pain inflicted but try not to collapse as I swing my fist into the side of her face. Her face becomes raged filled but I push her to the floor, my own anger taking over. "You dare touch my family again and I will make sure that you are never survive as well off as this. You're not my mother." I spit the last word out like it's acid on my tongue, and then turn away.
"Peeta," Katniss calls, opening her arms for me to fall into them. "You're my knight in a baker's apron," she adds when I sit next to her so she can wrap her arms around me.
I shake my head. "I'm sorry, Katniss, you shouldn't have to go through that," I apologise. "She just could never accept that I love you. Someone who was much more of everything than she was."
She smiles gingerly. "I love you too." She leans forward on her words and presses her lips to mine, my eyes fluttering shut her touch.
I wake up and the first thing I hear is shouting downstairs. I roll over and cover my head with my pillow, unsuccessfully attempting to block on my mum's tidal wave of insults which were made for her failure of a son: me, but shouted at my dad.
I sigh and eventually sit up, looking out of the small window behind me. The sun is halfway towards the pinnacle of its journey, suggesting that it's nearing eight o'clock. The sky's already a clear blue, very few clouds, which is unusual for this time of the year. I can tell that today would be the perfect day to go out with the friends that I haven't yet got. Plus, I'll be starting work today.
As I stand up and walk to the corner of my room, I look back at my bed and groan. There is blood around where my arms were whilst I was asleep, so I must have been tightly gripping them throughout the worst parts of my nightmare. Shaking my head, I quickly make my way into the bathroom and grab the cloth out of the cold water bucket to wash the worst of the blood of my arms. When I return to my room, I throw on a clean shirt and a pair of trousers, just so I make myself look kind of presentable. Then I run my hand through my hair in an attempt to smooth it, before I shove my hands in my pockets, quickly making my way downstairs.
I take a deep breath as I open the door to the kitchen, walking in and instantly being answered by, "You lazy excuse for a son."
"Sorry," I mutter, ducking away from my mum as my dad pulls her back for the first time. "I couldn't get to sleep last night so I must have overslept this morning."
"I don't think it's morning anymore, boy!" mum shouts.
I bite my lip to stop myself from pointing out that it's only just eight. I know her argument will be that she's already been up for over three hours.
"Know though that we wasted another load of food on you last night," she continues. "You're too selfish to realise that we are just throwing away money when you don't eat."
Again, I stop myself from answering because we eat leftovers anyway and me not eating is saving money. I just look down at the floor and mutter another apology.
She grumbles another offensive insult towards me under her breath as she grabs an apron and throws it in my chest. "Go to the front of the shop. It's about to open now and you can serve. There's a list of prices on the side, next to the till. James will come out and watch you, to make sure you don't do anything stupid." Her emphasis on "stupid" makes me want to curl up into a ball away from her, and hide from everything and everyone who wants to hurt me.
"Okay," I agree, walking back out and to behind the counter, where I pull out a stool so I look taller.
I study the price list as James walks out of the kitchen behind me, saying, "I'm not going to do any work. You can do it. I'm going to sit on the stairs for an hour at the most and pretend to watch you. I'll go out with my friends after that."
I sigh and nod my head. "I didn't expect anything else," I mutter under my breath, quiet enough so he can't hear me as he climbs up the stairs and finds a comfortable place to sit.
Once I hear James settle down behind me with a magazine or something in his hands, I sit in silence for someone to come in, playing with my apron tie around my waist as I wait. I shouldn't be nervous really because I have everything laid out in front of me; all I need to do is take the money and give them the change. It's not the difficult. And I supposedly have James there to support me, in case anything goes wrong.
As soon as I hear the bell above the door ring, announcing the entrance of a customer, I snap to my feet atop the stool and have it fall beneath my sudden movement, with me on top. I land on the ground with a small "oof," laying stunned on the floor for a few moments because I had the breath knocked out of me. Eventually, I push myself back to my feet as I remember what I was meant to be doing.
"Sorry," I mumble, my cheeks blushing a little. I stand on my tiptoes so I can see over the top, but not on the stool again after my disastrous last attempt. "It's my first day and I suppose I must be a little too eager."
I hear a snigger from behind me with the words, "Or it's just you're awful at this job," added by my brother. I turn around to glare at him but he just laughs again, standing up and throwing the magazine on the stairs as he jumps down to the shop and then quickly leaves.
"Don't worry," the customer reassures me.
I turn back around from looking at the stairs to look at the man who owns the deep voice. He is obviously a coal miner from the Seam, that I can just tell from his clothes: dark, grubby overalls; old, worn-down boots; a grey, crumpled t-shirt; and a greasy jacket. I look up to his face now and the see the usual dark hair and grey eyes of a Seam person, the lines of his face filled with coal dust, however his eyes are kind and warm, not distant and cold like most people from where he lives. Something about him is familiar, but I can't think what it is.
"Thanks," I groan, running my hand through my hair without thinking. "How can I help you then?"
"Well, I originally came here to ask your father for a trade," he begins. I nod and start to walk out to the kitchen until he calls, "But I'd like to speak to you first."
"Okay," I say, turning back on my heel to face him. It's still really annoying me that I can't place where I know him from yet.
"I'd like to thank you," he admits.
I raise an eyebrow. "But I haven't done anything."
"You may think that but I definitely think that you have," he disagrees.
"I don't understand what you're saying that you think I've done," I mutter. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I know who you are to have assisted you before."
"You may not know me personally but you've done something that's helped me for sure," he tells.
I frown. I dislike how he's talking in riddles and not telling me straight off why he needs to thank me for something.
He chuckles lightly, throwing his head back as he makes the sound. I recognise that movement too, for some reason. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"
I sigh, annoyed at how he's only just worked that out or at least decided to say. "No, I'm afraid that I don't think I know anyone from the Seam."
"Have you ever been to the Seam before?" he asks.
I cross my arms behind my back as I grip my shirt in my fisted hands. "Only last night for a couple of minutes. I didn't pay any attention to anything around me. I just dropped Katniss home and- Oh…" It hits me now why I recognise his look, the sound of his voice, his movements, and why he was thanking me.
He smiles as he stands in front of me. "Thank you for bringing my baby home yesterday," he assures me.
"I… Erm… Well, it was nothing really," I stammer, my hands' grip on my shirt instantly loosening as I pull down my sleeves to cover the bruises and cuts from yesterday. "I didn't want her to hurt herself getting home."
"Even so, whatever your motivation, I appreciate that you'd think of yourself over and above yourself," he replies.
"There was nothing about me to think of," I lie, my eyes drifting away from his face and onto a spot on the floor. I scuff my shoe along it as I continue, "I didn't need to be home at a specific time or anything."
He sighs, as if he knows that I'm not telling the truth. "You know, my wife's a healer if you want-"
"I know," I interrupt, biting my lip at my rudeness towards an older person. "Katniss said yesterday at lunch. She said she knew all about wounds. But it's okay, it's just a scrape from when I fell yesterday on the way to school. Anyway, she has more important things to do, like looking after your youngest daughter."
He smiles at the thought of his daughter. "Prim? Well, Katniss can look after her too."
"It's okay, sir, let Katniss be free of caring for her sister. You don't have to worry about it," I remind him.
He sighs again, knowing that I won't give in. "May I speak to your father now?" he asks, changing the subject.
I nod slowly, before I finally head into the kitchen where my parents are. "Dad, someone would like to speak with you," I call, unsure of where he is.
"What's it about?" he answers from the back of the kitchen, hidden behind a wall of pots and pans.
"I think it's for a trade," I guess.
"Well, I'm kind of busy right now, son, so ask him what we usually get," he suggests. "If he doesn't know and it's good meat, two medium loaves. If it's not as good, one medium."
"Okay!" I shout. I shut the door behind me as I walk back to Katniss' father. "He's busy now, but what do you usually trade for what you've got?"
At first, he just lifts his game bag from his shoulder and onto the counter, emptying three squirrels onto the side.
"How much?" I ask.
"Well, your father might trade maybe a small and a medium loaf for this," he begins. "Depending on-"
"One small and one medium it will be then," I decide. I slip back behind the counter and bend down, grabbing a small loaf and one slightly larger one as soon as I see them. I place them on the counter as I stand up and say, "That'll be three squirrels then."
He laughs as he hands them to me. "Thank you." He picks up the two loaves and replaces the squirrels in his hunting bag with them.
"Pleasure doing business with you, sir," I reply, offering out my hand for him to shake.
He does so with one hand, ruffling my already messy hair with the other. "Look after my little Katniss," he begs, a smile in his voice.
I blush a little as he walks away, luckily too soon for me to answer. Shaking my head in the hope that it will clear my cheeks of the flush, I pick up the squirrels and quickly make my way through to the kitchen, where I soon vacate the room after leaving them on the side.
As I take my seat again behind the counter, I hear a shrill voice shout, "Peeta Mellark!"
I cringe, calling back, "Yes."
She storms out of the kitchen into the shop, already in a bad mood, though I haven't yet done something awful. "What did you trade for those squirrels?" She spits the last word.
"A medium loaf and a small loaf," I admit quietly, keeping my eyes away from her face. This is why I don't see the slap coming, causing me to cry out in pain as her hand makes contact with my previously wounded cheek.
"Have you seen how much meat is on those?" she screams. "There is hardly any. That's barely enough to feed us for a day. A small loaf was the maximum you should have given." She storms back into the kitchen, luckily before she can beat me even further.
I frown as I feel a trickle of blood run down my neck, getting up and walking to the small sink in the corner. I get an old rag and run it under the cold water, mopping up the stream of blood before returning back to my seat as I press the rag to my cheek.
"Are you alright?" asks a worried voice as the door to the shop opens again.
I sigh. "I'm fine, sir," I lie, turning to face Katniss' father again. "It just obviously wasn't as healed as I initially thought."
He shakes his head, probably knowing how I'm like this. "I was walking home and thought I'd maybe get my daughters something," he explains, walking towards the counter once more.
"Yep," I mutter, watching. "Whatever you want."
He kneels down and studies the case of baked treats for a while, before standing back up. "The cookie with the orange flower on top, and the plain green one," he tells me.
I nod, jumping off my stool, resting my cheek against my shoulder so it's holding the rag in place, allowing me to use both hands. As I stand up and put them in a bag, the material drops and I groan, not bothering to pick it up though as I collect his money.
I put it in the till and wait for him to leave again, until I look up and catch his eye. "I'm taking you to see my wife, Peeta," he instructs.
"No," I beg more than tell.
"You can't leave it like this," he argues.
I shake my head. "I can't go anywhere."
"But you can't stay here," he reasons. "Go and tell your parents that you need to run an errand."
I bite my lip, knowing that it's probably not a good but I don't have another choice. "Okay," I finally agree. I quickly pop into the back and find Matthew, without running into mum. "Will you look after the shop?" I ask in a rush.
He raises an eyebrow, his eyes also glancing to the cut on my cheek. "Why?"
I know he'll find out eventually so I admit, "I'm going to have this," I motion at my cheek, "and these," I motion to my arms, "checked out. But if mum asks, I'm running an errand." Before he has the chance to answer, I have made it back to Katniss' father's side. He looks at me and I just say, "Run," terrified of what will happen to me.
Surely confused but not asking, he moves out of the shop, me following at a jog. As soon as we hit the street, we break into a run until we reach the Everdeen's house in the Seam. I stop outside it, leaning over to catch my breath for running fast to keep up with Katniss' father. He leans against the wall, catching his breath too as we watches me.
Finally, my breathing back to normal, I stand up and look at the man in front of me. "I'm sorry," I begin. "I just didn't want to see what mum would do when she found out that I had left the shop."
"Surely your brother would be covering you," he reasons.
I shake my head. "Probably not."
He shakes his head too as he motions me forward to follow him into the house. Silently, I follow him through the door into the darkness that meets us as the door is shut behind us. As I realise where we are and who I'll soon meet, I bite my lip and run a hand through my hair. I bring my hand back down and it brushes against my cheek, causing me to catch my breath. I see Katniss' father look back towards me but he doesn't say anything as he makes his way up the stairs, me following him as he goes.
"I'm home," he calls as soon as his feet hit the landing.
I pause on the stairs behind him, blending into the shadows so I don't interrupt his reunion to his family.
Soon enough, I hear the soft pounding of delicate feet and an excited squeal of, "Daddy!" as his eldest daughter runs out to meet him, throwing herself into his arms. He catches her and spins her around to her laughter, as she buries her face against his neck. "Good morning," she mumbles, her mouth covered by his dirty jacket.
"Good morning, sweetie," replies her father, stroking her back as he stops spinning her around. He places her on the ground, with a kiss on the top of her dark hair, as he stands back up to greet his wife with a kiss on the lips. "How was she last night?" is the first thing he directs to her, gazing at their youngest in his wife's arms.
"Fine," the woman answers, smiling as she looks at her youngest daughter as well.
"Excuse me, but what are you doing here?" I hear someone ask.
I look away from the mother, father and youngest daughter to meet the grey eyes of the older sister. She's staring at me with a slight scowl on her pretty features, her hands resting on the waist of her orange dress.
I blush as I look back at her father, hoping he will provide his questioning daughter with the answer I can't give.
"I invited him, Katniss," he explains.
"Why?" Again, she aims it at me, her eyes no more forgiving than they were a second ago.
I take a further step up so my cheek is bathed in the dim light of the room, and her expression instantly softens. She drops both hands from her hips as she lifts one to the new wound, gently running her thumb along where it bleeds from. She looks me straight in the eye for a few moments, with her hand still on my cheek until she takes her hand away and walks towards her mother. She offers her arms out for her sister, who she takes into the other room as soon as she is placed into her hold.
I drag my eyes away from her as I turn to face her parents once more, saying to her mother, "I heard you're a healer."
She nods, holding her hand out for me. "Come on," she whispers. "Come into the kitchen where there's better light and I can see what I should do for you."
Slightly reluctantly, I take her offered hand and follow her, dropping her hand as I sit into the seat that she pulls out for me.
"Now then, what happened?" she asks gently, kneeling down in front of me as she turns my face to the side so she can see the cut.
"I tripped yesterday, and then I fell on it again today," I start to say.
"His mum hit him," shouts Katniss from the other side of the room.
I glare in her direction, annoyed at how calm she is in such a situation; she's just sitting on her bed, holding her little sister in her arms.
"It took a long time for him to tell me, but I know that's why," she carries on. She catches my eye as she then says, her cheeks turning a deep pink, "And I'm the reason why."
Her mother sighs, standing up and heading to the cupboard to get some ingredients out. For a few minutes, the whole house stays silent apart from the giggles that emanate from the other side of the room when the two sisters play after the youngest wakes. I watch with interest, knowing I was never like that with my brothers, so seeing a slightly less fortunate family enjoy what they have is beautiful.
After a few minutes, Katniss' mother returns to me, moving my face to where she wants it again. She gently applies the lotion to the cut on my cheek, it instantly soothing my cheek. "Anywhere else?" she asks.
"His arms," Katniss answers for me again.
I look back to her and her sister, smiling as I see her father presenting them with the biscuits he bought for them.
Katniss' mother rolls up the arms of my shirt, applying the lotion to them as well. "If you need any more help, you can always come back," she promises, causing me to look at her. "Katniss can always bring you here after school or something, if you need it."
"I don't think I should need to again, but thank you for the offer," I thank. "I really appreciate what you've done."
She smiles. "It's nothing. I've needed some work to do for a while. These two have been keeping me busy."
I laugh, reaching into the pockets in my trousers. I draw my hand back with a gold and a silver coin, and offer them to her. She shakes her head and begins to complain but I press them into her palm and plead, "Please take it. I can't pay you back otherwise."
Before she has the chance to argue again, I have jumped off the chair and walked down the stairs, only stopping when I hear footsteps following me as I reach the front door.
"Peeta?" calls Katniss, her gentle tread stopping just behind me.
I turn around, finding her closer to me than I anticipated. "Please don't say you've come down here to make me take the money back, because it won't work."
"No, I'm here to make sure you're not just giving me the money because you feel sorry for my family," she corrects, the seriousness obvious in her voice.
"I'm giving you money because your mother did me a favour," I tell her. "You saw it as well as I did."
She nods, looking away now. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" I ask, knowing what's coming.
"Your mum," she admits. "It's my fault she beats-"
"It's not your fault," I interrupt, my hand against her lips. "I chose to hang around with you for those first two days so I chose to take the beating for it."
"I'm still sorry," she mutters.
"Don't be," are my last words as I walk out the house, quickly shutting the door behind me.
Author's Note: So, I believe the general decision for this is to continue it as a story, not a series of one-shots. As this is the case, I will say that I won't be continuing this until I have finished one of my other stories. Maybe in the time I am writing those, I'll have time to write some more of this but I won't post it so I've got more for when I do.
Next, I'm not promising that all the chapters will be as long as these first three, but they may be; the first two were long because I was expecting them to be one-shots, this is long because I was keeping with the first two.
Finally, as this will be a story, would you like Peeta and Katniss' to stay as it is in the books or do you want them to become friends before? I'm happy to do either but, like the last decision, I will do whatever most want.
Anyway, I will thank all of you who have reviewed this story so far/favourited it/put it on your story alerts/just read it; getting an email and seeing how many hits it's had always makes me smile. I wouldn't mind some more though ;)
Oh yeah, how many of you have seen the Catching Fire set photos? God, they've made me so excited! :D