A/N: edited 27/12/14

Short chapter of 3k words but that's life.

Chapter Nine: The Pin

Katniss

I don't want to open my eyes. If I open my eyes, it means I'll have to actually respond to the fact that my little sister has been sitting beside against the bathroom door for half an hour begging me to come out even though I've actually been in here all night, both my mind and body exhausted. I push myself upright from the cold tiles of the bathroom with a groan. My eyes are red and bloodshot, my back is throbbing, and my arms ache after lying on the hard ground throughout the night.

I couldn't bring myself to come out of the cramped room. Facing my mother. Facing my sister. Facing myself. Mom doesn't even know that I poured the Pennyroyal away. She thinks I've gone ahead and done what I promised her I would. Prim doesn't know that about anything. I lean my back against the door and rest my head on my knees, curling in on myself as if I could just disappear if I tried hard enough. Mom and Prim are arguing outside the door.

"Go to school, Primrose. Your sister isn't feeling too well," Mom's soft voice rings out. I bite my lip. I need to apologise to her for saying such cruel things. She was just trying to relate to me, to make me think things through, and all I did was deflect my internal anguish into her face.

"But that isn't fair!" Prim exclaims. "I don't thin-"

"Primrose Everdeen. Braid your hair and go to school," Mom says firmly. I can imagine Prim rolling her eyes but she acquiesces. I listen intently, my ear pressed against the door as the house falls into a tense silence. After a few minutes, the sound of Prim walking over the creaky floorboard alerts me of my sister's return, and she grumbles as Mom straightens her daughter's messy braids.

"Is Katniss alright?" I hear her ask. Mom doesn't answer for a long time.

"Yes. She'll be okay."

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's just got a stomach bug. I gave her some medicine. She'll be better soon."

"Tell her to get well soon," she says, suddenly sounding very much like the twelve year old she is. The sound of the front door slamming shut is the only sound that breaks the quiet. I grimace. I feel bad for letting Prim walking by herself, but I need to be selfish. She'll be okay. I need to focus on myself and the decision I've made.

"Katniss?" Mom's voice startles me. "Prim is gone now," She pauses. "You need to come out so I can help you. You're going to be bleeding for a few days and cramping." I pop the lock on the door and let it swing open, revealing my mother. She carries some towels and an old blanket and a weary expression. She stares at me in confusion, obviously anticipating to see blood instead of bare tiled floor. I look down at my feet.

"I didn't take it. I couldn't take it," I confess quietly. Mom says nothing for a long time, but bends down beside me, her knees cracking as she lowers herself down. She wraps her arms around me and I lean against her chest, expecting tears by finding nothing but comfort. I sigh against her arm, pressing my nose to the material of her dress. She still smells like bluebells, my Dad's favourite. I can remember her spraying her perfume on every morning before Dad came in from the mines or woke up to go to them, and he'd take her in his arms and inhale her like she was pure oxygen. It's been that long since we hugged like this, that I didn't remember what she smelled like. And despite her bony frame, her hug is still warm and motherly, something no one else can recreate.

"Oh, Katniss," she says in a half-sigh, half-sob. "My wild, beautiful Katniss."

"I was about to do it, and then I thought about what you said. That it's half of me. Half of him. I just couldn't do it," I hiccup. Mom sits me upright, pushing my messy hair back into place with a loving smile.

"I shouldn't have been so biased," she whispers. "I should've told you that I would've supported you regardless of which path you decided to go down."

"Mom-"

"I understand," she continues, not allowing me interrupt. "I understand how hard all this can be, but I'm here for you and you need to know that."

I close my eyes. That's what Peeta said. What is it with people I've been distant with my entire life telling me that they care? They shouldn't care, not about me.

"By doing this I've ruined his life." I whimper.

"By doing this, you've saved everyone from a lot of heartbreak. He would've found out eventually. At least now you know that you didn't get rid of his child without his consent," Mom's eyes cloud over as she looks down at her lap. I squeeze her hand. "Look at me," she half-laughs. "I'm the one being comforted by you when it should be the other way round."

"Last night… when you told me about Dad and the miscarriage. I shouldn't have said what I did. I didn't mean it. I was just scared about the future and angry at myself and you were just trying to help me."

"We do ugly things when we're frightened."

"And the most beautiful," I muse, staring at the ground. Mom rests her head on mine.

"If you are sure about going through with this pregnancy, I promise to you now that I will be a proper mother to you. I won't let you down this time."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry," she says. "For everything."

"I'm sorry," I add. "For doing this to you. To us."

"Accidents happen." Mom smiles ruefully.

"Do you ever think I'll be able to think of this as something other than an accident?" I ask. "Do you think I'll ever be able to love… it?"

"He or she, Katniss. Never it," I can see the cogs in her head turning as she stands and pulls me up as well. "And yes, I think you'll love him or her. You know, when I was pregnant with you, I had such bad morning sickness all through the nine months that I was sure I would hate you. I knew other people hated you, even though you were still inside me. But the second I held you in my arms, I knew that nothing else mattered. All the mornings I spent with my head down the toilet as with your father holding my hair – all the stares I got for marrying a miner – were insignificant."

"I gave you morning sickness?"

"And you kicked all the time."

"And Prim?" I continue, fighting the urge to laugh.

"Never moved, never made me ill. But when she was born, boy, did she cry." A laugh erupts from my throat and I stand on wobbly legs. She tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "I want you to spend a day or two in bed. Get some sleep."

"But I need to hunt. I need to go to school."

"We have food. Prim will bring your books."

"But-"

"Katniss Everdeen, go and get some rest," she instructs, fixing me with a stern look. With a small smile, I walk away, stretching my limbs as I walk. I pile all the blankets from Mom's bed onto my bed before flopping down on to the mattress, groaning in relief and snuggling under the covers. I can be selfish.

My eyes shut minutes after my head hits the pillow. I need to sleep. Sleep with give my body and mind a break, so that when I wake, I can sort my life out, one step at a time.

Peeta

My plans to confront Katniss about being in tears when I visited her remain as plans as the day wears on. I go through school with a feeling of dread and confusion – and it wasn't just because Denny was glaring at me every time I was within a five meter radius. There have also been people who have been making comments about Katniss and I, asking questions similar to 'how did it go after the party?' Having no clue as to what they're talking about makes it tiring. For the most I just nod and fake-laugh at their comments.

What's even more concerning is that Katniss hasn't been in school. I have no idea what happened after she told me to leave, and have had no word from anyone else about her well-being.

And now I'm back home at the bakery. Slaving over hot ovens for hours, selling to gossiping women who chatter and giggle incessantly in my ear about rumours they've heard on their travels. It's all very tiring, and by the end of it I want nothing but to hole myself up in my room and block everything out.

"Rye Mellark!" Mom's shriek radiates through the household. All eyes turn to the middle Mellark son, who is obviously panicking, trying to think of what he could've possibly done wrong or to Mom's disliking.

"Shit," he mutters, pulling his apron off and washing the flour off his hands in the sink before climbing hesitantly up the stairs. He's tried running before and now knows that facing Mom is better than leaving her to rage.

"What do you think he's done?" I ask quietly as Fen, Dad and I watch Rye disappear.

"Probably stashed something under his bed thinking Mom wouldn't sniff it out," Fen grins. He twitches his nose like a dog, mimicking Mom when she trawls the house (our bedrooms) for offending items.

"Don't be mean," Dad interjects, but he doesn't say that Fen is wrong. We listen in an uneasy silence as Mom screams and shouts. A muted thud is heard. "Does he ever learn?" he asks, looking up at the ceiling with raised eyebrows.

"Learn what?"

"That if you're going to hide something, you hide it under the floorboards," Dad rolls his eyes. I feel a grin on my lips.

"Why? What are you hiding, Dad?"

"Cake." We all chuckle at this and the house is relatively calm and quiet for a second but then-

"Mom!" We hear Rye exclaim from upstairs. "I swear I don't know whose it is!"

"Oh, I see," Mom's voice snaps back, and I wince. "You've lost track of who you've been fucking."

"I have a girlfriend!" Rye bellows back.

"Even more of a reason for you to stay faithful! Who do you think you are?"

"Where did you get it from?"

"I found it in the washing up pile."

"Where was the washing up pile?"

"Outside Peeta's room."

"So why did you assume I was the one at fault?" Rye asks.

"Because you're the one who can't keep it in your pants for ten seconds!" Mom screeches. "You can't be my son! I haven't raised a sex-crazed idiot!" Fen snorts in laughter. I grin, despite the fact that my brother is probably going to get a slap to the face.

"I'm not a sex-crazed idiot!" Rye shouts.

"Get downstairs…" Mom's voice grows quieter and my ears strain to hear her words, but to no avail. Rye stomps down the stairs, purposefully stepping down heavily on each step, the house rattling. Dad reaches out and stills a jar filled with grain before it can slide off the shelf.

Fen wolf-whistles when Rye enters the room.

"Fuck off," he growls, before turning on his heel to face me. "She wants you," he says, jerking his thumb towards the staircase. My brow furrows. This can only end badly. I pull my own apron off and wipe my hands on a rag, trying to rid them of the flour that is ever-present in the pores of my skin before heading upstairs.

"You're a beast," Fen taunts Rye as I climb the stairs. A sly smirk appears on my lips.

"Wipe that grin of your face and explain to me this is." Mom hisses as I walk down the corridor, holding up a small, circular pin with hate in her eyes. I take it from her, running my fingertips over it. The pin looks old; the golden metal it's made from is dull. A bird in flight is in the middle, but what strikes me as strange is that grasped in its beak is a single arrow. Odd.

"It's a pin. I don't know what type of bird it is."

"I know it's a pin, you insolent boy!" Mom cries. "I want to know why it was the in washing pile, outside your door."

"I don't know. I've never seen that pin in my life."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No-"

"No, what?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Tell me where this pin is from," she says, stepping closer like I'm her prey. She certainly makes me feel that way with her beady eyes and sharp words.

"I honestly don't know," I say, watching her carefully as she narrows her eyes and gets ever closer to me.

"You like drawing, don't you?" she asks. I nod, my eyes darting around to see if she's got any of my art stuff nearby, ready to rip up or burn to get her own way or punish me like always. "Drawing is something little girls do. This bird pin seems unfit for a boy," I tune out then, my eyes going wide. I do recognize that pin. "Are you a girl, Peeta?"

"No, I-" I start, feeling like I've just been hit by a truck. I'm so dazed I can barely focus on what Mom is saying to me.

"Because last time I checked, you were a boy. A boy!" she spits, her hands curling into fists.

"Mom I-"

"At sixteen you should pursuing suitable things. Not drawing pretty pictures!" she flies into my room, and pulls the pencil tin Dad bought me out from under my bed, pushing past me and hurrying down the stairs. This jolts me out of my daze.

"Wait, Mom. No. What are you doing?!" I shout, flying down the stairs after her, my heart pounding.

"You are not a girl, Peeta!" Mom screams, bursting into the kitchen.

"I know, I-"

"And only girls like to draw!" she finalises. "Now, I'm going to give you one last chance," Her eyes are wide and furious, fixed on my face. "Where did you get that pin?"

"I don't know!" I lie, reaching out desperately for my pencils. Dad runs in and comes to a quick stop, eyeing his gift to me and the oven fires and his wife's shaking body.

"Did someone give it to you?"

"Please," I beg. This isn't fair.

"Where did you get it from? Tell me, now! You can't afford silly things like this."

"I haven't seen it before!"

"Aymee, he doesn't know. Stop before you push things too far," Dad says, stepping forward.

"I bet you brought someone over here when we were visiting Great-Aunt Grace! And they gave you this then!" My mouth drops open. I survey the room. Mom is glaring, her lip upturned. Dad is staring, watching his youngest son and wife fight. Rye and Fen are watching, their eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappear into their hairlines. But they don't do anything in my defence. I don't blame them. Instead, all four Mellark men stand there, watching this volcano of a woman explode and burn everything around us.

"I'm telling you the truth," I say as calmly as possible. "I don't know where the pin is from."

"Liar!" Mom yells. "Liars, all of you. I don't deserve to have sons like you. Fenton is the only one who doesn't mess around but that's only because he's as spineless as his father! You're nothing but a sex-crazed pest," she points an accusing finger at Rye. "And I thought you were just a complete idiot who want nothing in life except to draw and ice cakes!" she turns to me. "But now I see it all clearly. You're a sex-crazed pest too! What have you been hiding, Fenton? Are you filthy like your brothers?"

"Aymee!" Dad shouts, slamming his fist on the table, causing all of us to jump. "Enough!"

She barrels forward without stopping like a derailed train. "Tell me, Peeta. What did you exchange for this pin? Whom did you exchange with?"

"I didn't! I-" I say. Mom's face seems to split in two. She makes her decision. I watch in horror as she undoes the catch on the tin and tips the pencils into the oven fires, dropping the tin to the flagstone floor before storming out of the room. I run, pushing my hands straight into the flames, feeling the heat lick at my skin as I try to pull my treasured belongings from the ovens.

"No, Peeta!" Dad bellows, staggering towards me. "Don't be stupid!"

"But I need them!" I exclaim, struggling away from my father's grip. Fen joins my Dad and they pull me away from the fires and it's only when I'm sat on the floor that I feel the crippling pain that shoots through my hands and arms. I look down at my blistering red skin. Rye dunks my hands in the bucket of water we keep to put out any fires and my hands hiss. I whimper.

"You need your hands too." Fen says softly.

"I can get you new ones." Dad says.

"It's not fair."

"I know," he says sadly. Is this what he expected when he married my mother? Three sons who were driven to insanity by her controlling, fury-fuelled ways? "You'll need to go to the Everdeens and get some burn ointment." I stare at my hands. I know where the pin is from. "Why on earth did you do that?" Dad asks me. I shrug, looking down at my hands as they sizzle in the dark water.

Rye walks to the Seam with me while Fen looks after the bakery and Dad does damage control with his wife. Rye carries a paper bag containing a fruit and nut sweet loaf and a plainer wheat loaf, along with some of our remaining cookies from the last few days as payment for whatever Mrs Everdeen can do for me.

My hands are wrapped in thick bandages, though I'm not fazed by it. As bakers, we've become accustomed to burns and other injuries, whether they were accidental or not, and have a good knowledge of how to deal with them.

"They hurting?" my brother asks me, looking down at my hands.

"Like hell."

"You going to tell me where you get the pin from?"

"Not now," I tell him, and he nods solemnly. Rye backs down and pushes it no further for which I'm grateful. I can now think. It's like the pain has jolted my memory. Katniss was wearing at the Reaping Dinner. And at Bron's house. It was pinned to her jacket. My head reels as I try to think of how it could've possibly ended up in my house.

Rye seems uncomfortable as he climbs the steps of the Everdeen house, his blue eyes moving over every crack in the wall, over the peeling paint covering the wooden walls. He knocks softly, as if he's afraid that knocking with any more force will bring the house down.

"Oh, hello," Primrose Everdeen greets us, staring up at my brother before her eyes flicker to me. "Do you want my mother?"

"Oh, uh…" Rye flounders.

"Yes, please." I say.

"Come on in," Prim opens the door even wider. Rye ducks through the door way and I follow close behind. "Mom?" Prim calls out in the direction of what I assume are their bedrooms.

Mrs Everdeen appears from a back room, her face lined with worried creases. "Prim, Katniss is fine," she says, before looking up and noticing her two guests. I frown. What's wrong with Katniss? "Oh, hello gentlemen. I didn't see you there," she says, placing an empty bowl on the kitchen counter.

"Hi." Rye says awkwardly.

"How can I help you?" Mrs Everdeen continues, stepping forward and grasping Rye's hand and shaking it. She reaches out to shake mine too but pauses when she sees my bandaged fingers. "Oh, my dear. What happened?" she asks, taking my forearms and examining them with a calmness only achieved after years of seeing countless cases of burn victims.

"He got them caught in the flames of the oven," Rye explains for me when I say nothing. Katniss' mother frowns; narrowing her eyes, but says nothing to question Rye's words

"You did well in bandaging them up, but I'm going to have to look at them to assess the damage," I wince as Mrs Everdeen sits me down and begins peeling off the bandages, making me wince as the tender skin is stretched by the movement of the bandages. "It isn't too bad. Nothing a layer of ointment and fresh bandages won't fix in a week or two."

She cleans my hands with a gentle, motherly touch. It's odd having her caring for me like this. My own mother has never been very maternal, preferring to yell at me to stop crying whenever I ran in with a grazed knee. The soft words coming from Mrs Everdeen are calming; reassuring me that I'm okay. She walks me through every stage of her work, showing me the burn cream and applying it all over, before pulling out some more bandages and wrapping me back up.

My hands are still sore, but Mrs Everdeen says that there's a numbing agent in the cream that will decrease the discomfort if I do as I'm told when applying it. She secures the new bandages with a silver clip and tells me to replace them in the morning, and to not overwork my hands.

She's just finished giving me instructions when a new voice comes into hearing. "Mom?" A soft voice calls out. I look up at the same time as Rye to see Katniss stumble into the room, a blanket around her shoulders and her face flushed.

"Just Peeta and Rye," her mother reports, unfazed. Katniss' head snaps up. She looks at me and our eyes lock for half a second, her mouth drops open, and she flees back to wherever she came from. Everyone is stunned into silence for a moment, before Prim follows her sister, calling her name.

"Is she alright?" Rye asks. Mrs Everdeen looks up at the two of us with sad eyes.

"Yes. She has food poisoning."

"Send her my best wishes," I say, staring at the doorway Prim and Katniss vanished through.

"Of course," she nods. Rye passes her the payment of bread and cookies. "Thank you father for being so generous."

"We will, Mrs Everdeen," my brother says, pushing me to the door. "Have a good day."

And then we're gone. And my concern for Katniss grows ever bigger.