A/N: edited 12/01/15
Double chapter!
Chapter 35: Rising Sun
Katniss
I wake in the middle of the night, frantic and breathless, caught up in the remnants of a nightmare in which I was trapped in the mines as well as Peeta, shaking, cold and terrified, the ghost of my father standing in the shadows.
"Peeta?" I whisper, sliding my hands over the mattress, finding an empty bed. It's still slightly warm. My head immediately races to the worst conclusion- that he's gone against what he promised me and has slipped away in the night to work in the mines. The warmth lingering in the bed is a reassuring sign. Perhaps I'll be able to catch him before he leaves.
"Peeta?" I say again, a little louder, throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed. Stepping out into the hallway, I spot the golden light spilling out from underneath the bathroom door but don't allow myself to feel any relief until I'm absolutely certain. I knock on the door softly and hear the bathroom sink running.
"Katniss?" Peeta's voice is like birdsong on a winters day; comforting and happy and alive while everything around it is dead. Peeta unlocks the door and lets me in. "I was just going to the toilet. Don't worry."
"I panicked," I mumble, coming up behind him and resting my head on the line of his spine, my hands creeping around to rest on his bare stomach, my fingers threading through the fine golden hairs that lead down below his belt line. "And I have a right to worry."
"I really am sorry," he says, drying his hands. "You don't understand… the things you think when you're down there. I was so scared that you weren't okay."
I furrow my brow. "And you think I wasn't scared for you?"
"I wasn't thinking straight."
"I know," I say. "But you shouldn't have been worried. I can hunt and trade. You can work at the bakery. There's always going to be times when we have to budget everything, but that's part of life. You can't cushion me and this baby from everything."
Peeta is beginning to look depressed and ashamed, so I lead him back to bed, pulling the covers over his body and allowing him to think before he speaks again. I begin to think that he's fallen asleep when he says:
"I'm sorry, Katniss," and the hurt in his tone is so strong it makes my own heart ache. He needs to learn to stop apologising for everything he thinks he's done wrong.
"Just never leave me again," I tell him, pressing a kiss to his heated skin and pulling him close, holding him like he holds me (as best as I can, anyway, with a bump in the way). Neither of us say anything more, the silence between us being everything we need to say.
I spend the next few days yelling at my husband, and the emotional and motherly personality that has appeared over the last month or so is pushed aside so that grouchy, scowling Katniss can return.
"I'm so fed up with everything!" I cry. "I waddle everywhere and my feet hurt all the time and I can't go hunting or into the woods because my stomach is too fucking big to fit!"
"You've got under two months to go, Katniss." Peeta tries to reason with me.
"Two months!"
"And you don't waddle that much," he says with a smirk, passing me a clean dish to dry. I slam the plate down, turn on my heel and leave the room.
We spend the next hour arguing.
I can't believe Peeta hasn't gotten sick of me yet- all I do is complain, shout at him, and eat his food.
The people who don't know about Peeta's work in the mines give him curious looks at school, eyeing the gash on his head and his bruised hands. Apart from a few dizzy spells and headaches, he's recovered pretty well. School has been taking its toll however, and when I get home I'm falling asleep on the sofa pretty much right away. More than once Peeta has had to carry me to bed.
Almost a week after the mine accident, I'm in Gym class, leather ball in hand, getting ready to throw it across the net, when Effie Trinket enters the room, her bright clothing lighting up the dreary concrete surrounding us. Today the theme of her outfit seems to be the ocean- the skirt she wears shimmers like fish scales, and the headdress that sits nestled in her coiffed curls looks like a shell from District 4.
"Miss Trinket," Coach Marr greets, holding his hand up in my direction to stop the game from proceeding.
"Mr Abernathy and I need to talk to Miss Everdeen," Effie says, scanning the room to find me. "That shouldn't be a problem, should it?"
"No, not at all." Coach Marr nods his head. I toss the ball to Madge and follow Effie, struggling to decide whether I'm glad to not have to do Gym, or annoyed because I have to be in the presence of two crazies like Effie and Haymitch.
"Mr Abernathy is waiting in my office. Go and sit down in there, and I'll go and get Mr Mellark," Effie instructs, pointing down the hallway. I nod and she twirls away, her heels clacking loudly down the corridor. Hesitantly, I make my way to the office, knock three times, and wait for Haymitch to answer.
"Why the hell are you knockin'?" his gruff reply sounds. I grit my teeth, already irritated with the man, and push open the door. Haymitch is sitting in a large chair boldly drinking from a glass, swirling the amber liquid around after every gulp.
"Mr Abernathy," I say with a scowl.
"Miss Everdeen... or is it Mellark?"
"Katniss is fine."
A smile flickers over his face. "Sit," he says, motioning to one of the over-stuffed, Capitol-imported chairs that sit opposite Effie's. I do as I'm asked, glad to rest my aching feet. "Christ, sweetheart, you sure it's just the one kid?" Haymitch asks me, eyeing my stomach like he's never seen a pregnant woman before.
"I wouldn't know."
"How long do you have?"
"Just under two months," I tell him, and he lets out a long, low whistle, clearly finding my entire situation highly amusing.
"That boy has his work cut out," he chuckles. "You and a kid?"
I fold my arms over my chest. "I'd tell you to shut up if you weren't a teacher."
"Girl, you really think I care?"
"No."
"You're smarter than you look."
I narrow my eyes. "How drunk are you?"
"And you've got about as much charm as a dead slug." I lock my jaw, biting back a response. Haymitch smirks. I don't look around when the door opens, but Peeta squeezes my shoulder before taking a seat on the seat beside me. Effie perches in her own seat, reapplies her lipstick, and then addresses us with a dazzling smile.
"As school councillors-" she begins. Haymitch snorts.
"I'm no councillor."
"I am a councillor," she amends, throwing Haymitch a glare that is surprisingly fierce for someone wearing so much glitter. "Which means that I'm aware of certain goings on in the district," she leans forward, rapping her manicured nails on the mahogany desk. "For the sake of having our records correct, we need to have up-to-date information."
"You want to know if we're married or not?" Peeta asks.
"Oh, no. We are aware of your marital status," Effie laughs airily. Haymitch rolls his eyes.
"We want to know if you're gonna be able to take the exam at the end of the Games," he explains.
"We have taken into account your condition, Katniss, and we want to make sure that you'll be able to take the exam. It's a very complicated affair to change the date of the exam, or to let you do it on another day. We'll have to get an official to come out here all the way from the Capitol and-"
"I'm due a week after the exam," I say, cutting Effie off. "What's the problem?"
"Sweetheart, you don't think that monster is gonna crawl outta you on schedule, do you?" Haymitch asks, leaning back in the chair.
"About four to five per cent of babies in District 12 are actually born on their due date. Many are born early or late," Effie interjects, smiling kindly between Peeta and I. I grimace. This is not what I want to be talking about with a Capitol nutcase and the district drunk. Sparing a glance at my husband, I note how he too looks fed up; slumped back in his seat, but his eyes are bright. He senses my eyes on him and faces me, taking my hand in his and grinning. Haymitch's eyes fix on our joined hands and I scowl at the suspicion I find there.
"We're simply taking precautions," Effie smiles. "This is a very important exam- I don't think I can stress this enough. The Baby Games is preparing adolescents for parenthood but in a fun and educational way, and if you don't do well, it makes your chances of having your child accepted and acknowledged by the Capitol much lower."
"No offense, but it's a bit late for the Capitol to reject the baby," Peeta says, looking at me. Effie purses her lips.
"I'm aware of that, Mr Mellark, but this is important nevertheless. The Baby Games teach you valuable skills that will help you in the future. Since the two of you have decided to start a family at such a young age, it is much more valuable to you and I really think-"
"Wait, Trinket-"
"Mr Abernathy, I believe that it is much more professional to-"
"Sure, sure," he waves his hand dismissively. "How much about these two do you know?"
"What do you mean?" she asks, looking from Peeta, to me, to Haymitch, and back to Peeta again in confusion.
"Tell me what you know about the relationship between these two."
"Oh, well, they've been friends for years!" Effie exclaims, smiling widely as if it is some epic love story. "I was made to believe that you simply fell in love. I thought it was a little inappropriate for you to want children at such a young age, but you clearly love each other."
"It wasn't like that at all..." I say, glancing at Peeta.
"What?!" she squawks, flustered.
"Oh, boy," Haymitch laughs, clapping his hands together. "They got drunk and she-" he points an accusing finger at me. "-ended up pregnant." I sink back into the seat, my cheeks burning at Effie's scandalised expression.
Peeta sits upright in his seat. "How do you know all this?"
Haymitch looks at him like he's an idiot. "The people in District 12 thrive on gossip alone. Rumours reach even myself eventually."
"This changes everything!" Effie gasps. "How irresponsible of you! Especially you, Mellark. I've heard so much about you- always positive too- and then you do this?"
"It was an accident," I snap. "Don't yell at either of us, especially since it really isn't any of your business!"
Peeta places a placating hand on my arm but I shake it off. "Look, I'm going to do the exam. Thank you for your concern. Can we go now?"
"You're a brave, brave man, Mellark," Haymitch sighs as I stand, fuming. I'm sick of people giving Peeta pitying looks, and disgusted looks being thrown at me. I know that the way in which the relationship between Peeta and I came around wasn't exactly conventional, but no one should be judging anyone, especially in a district like this. Many people -Merchants especially- are married after school finishes at seventeen to secure family ties and jobs. Many parents arrange marriages between their child and another in order to marry into a wealthier family. I reckon that Mrs Mellark wanted her sons to be married to a beauitful blonde-haired, blue-eyed Merchant girl. I can imagine Peeta with Delly easily.
I bet Peeta's mother didn't think that her daughter-in-law would end up being me.
"Can we go now?" I repeat when I don't get an answer. Haymitch is still grinning and Effie looks shell-shocked.
"I expect that you'll both get high scores at the end of this project?" she forces out.
"You can rest assured that we will," Peeta tells her, giving her a winning smile.
"You're free to go," she nods her head. I turn and leave the room, storming out into the corridor with Peeta on my heels. I can hear Effie's scolding and Haymitch's belly-laughs even with the office door firmly shut.
"Katniss, hey. What's wrong?" Peeta asks, grabbing my arm and pulling me to him.
"Nothing."
He smiles at me. "Tell me the truth."
"Why the fuck are you smiling?" He chuckles. "And, if you must know, I'm pissed off because everyone gives you pitying looks, and they all glare at me! I just want them to mind their own business for once and leave me alone."
"You normally ignore them, Kat. How has it changed now?"
"How has it changed? It's changed because we're getting called out of lessons now so that the Capitol freak and the district drunk can rattle on about stupid, useless tests that bear no significance to us at all!"
"Look, you're right about me being the district drunk, I'll give you that. But Effie isn't that much of a freak. She's definitely toned it down since being relocated here," Haymitch's voice is booming in the empty corridor. I hadn't even realised he was here.
"Sorry." I mutter, my cheeks flaming. He rolls his eyes,
"Mellark, I need to talk to you for a second," he says, motioning for Peeta to follow him. They walk a small way down the corridor, and I watch as they speak in hushed tones. Haymitch is looking more serious than I've ever seen, and Peeta looks shocked. When he returns to my side, he is in deep thought. "What was that all about?" I ask, watching Haymitch amble away down the corridor.
"I can't talk about it here."
"Why not?"
"It's important... and dangerous," he mutters. "I'll tell you when we get home."
"Are you alright?" I ask, noting how he seems to be a little shaken. He nods his head.
"Uh, yeah. I just heard about things in the mines... I never thought they were true," murmurs, sounding scared, disbelieving and in awe at the same time. At my frown he just smiles at me which does nothing to quell the curiosity blooming inside me. I survey the corridor, ensuring that it's deserted.
"I'm sure whatever it is will be okay," I say, wrapping my arms around his neck, and peering at the clock on the wall behind him. "We've got a few minutes until the end of the lesson." I whisper into his ear, my lips brushing against his skin. His hands dip down, ghosting over my ass before settling on the hem of my shorts.
"Those gym shorts really suit you," he replies before pressing his lips to mine. He pushes me back against the lockers, his arms snaking around my waist to lift me up. I grin against his mouth, and he deepens the kiss, his lips moving slowly against mine. We break away at the sound of the bell and depart ways, grinning at each other like idiots. His smile makes me forget the meeting with Effie and Haymitch.
Peeta
That evening, after we've eaten dinner, I bring Katniss up into the bathroom, lock the door, and turn on the shower and sink to full power. Katniss stares at me in confusion.
"What are you doing?" she asks. "You're wasting water!"
"There are microphones." I whisper.
"What?"
"Keep your voice down!" I hiss, stepping closer to her. "The Capitol. They've installed microphones into every house in Panem."
Her eyes narrow and then widen. "Why?"
"When I was in the mines, people were talking about the Capitol losing power. About the districts rebelling against them. People are fed up, Katniss. They want things to change."
"Of course they want things to change!"
"This means war. This means an uprising."
"Against the Capitol?" Katniss asks, incredulous.
"Yes, against the Capitol. A five-year-old boy was shot in District 11 a few days ago for telling a Peacekeeper that the Capitol wasn't in control."
"They shot a five-year-old?"
"Yes, and it's getting worse. People are fighting against everything," I take a deep breath, my heart pounding. This is too much information to process, and I'm still struggling to come to terms with it all myself, let alone loading it onto Katniss as well. "When I was in the mines I was told that there are secret groups of rebels up and down the country that are working to bring the Capitol down."
"Is this what Haymitch was talking to you about?"
"Yes. He knew that I was in the mines, long before anyone else did. He's part of a rebel group. So is Effie. He wants me to make sure that I'm prepared for anyone who might come knocking."
"Why would people come knocking?"
"You know how you haven't seen Gale for weeks? Or any of the Hawthornes?" Katniss nods. "They're in District 13."
Her mouth falls open. "Bullshit. District 13 has been gone for years."
"That's what I thought. But Gale is there, Kat, I promise you. He's helping with the whole rebellion."
"Are they okay?"
"Yes."
"How long are they going to be gone?" Katniss asks, her eyes wide.
"I don't know."
"Why didn't he tell me?" she murmurs, looking away. "Gale would've said something. Anything."
"He probably just wanted to protect you," I say, and she nods, biting her lip. I stand there, feeling overwhelmed and helpless. All these rumours that have been circulating in my head have finally been proven. Up and down the country people have been disappearing without a trace. Haymitch warned me that it was manly young people with children, or large families.
'I've been warning so many people,' he had muttered. 'Telling them to keep it quiet, and to go without struggle if they're asked to leave the district.'
"Are we in danger? What about Mom and Prim? And your parents? And Fen and Rye?"
"I think we're okay. But Haymitch just wants us to be careful."
"I don't see why we're so important though," she says in confusion. "Why are we important, Peeta?"
"I don't know."
"Why don't you know?"
"I just don't, okay?" I snap, pinching the bridge of my nose. I don't mean to be short with her, but this feels like a dream and a nightmare simultaneously. "Don't repeat any of this to anyone, okay?"
"Okay."
"Promise me."
"I'm not going to say anything, Peeta," she says sincerely and I pull her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I know this is confusing, and frightening. I feel the same way. But Haymitch says that something big is coming."
"Are we going be okay?"
"Yes." I say, wishing that I could tell myself the same thing with such ease. My time in the mines has not only be terrifying, but informative. At first I thought that talk of an uprising was just wishful thinking, but when I found Haymitch waiting for me outside the mines one night, I was thrown in headfirst to a secret that has been gathering speed these past few years.
It started over a decade ago, in District 7, when a girl's family was killed. It was mysterious- the father was killed in an accident at the logging factory he worked at, though there hadn't been an accident there in over two years and the machinery that killed him had no faults when they were reviewed the following day. The mother and children were found with bullets in their skulls in the garden of their home. The eldest daughter was never seen again but was presumed dead.
Around the same time, a high profile escort from the Capitol was kidnapped from a train he was riding on as the vehicle passed through a void zone in between District 4 and 10. The escort was rumoured to be found several months later, wandering through the wilds, outside of the district boundaries, although nothing was ever confirmed.
More people disappeared, and then, around the time of the mine accident that killed Katniss' father, it just stopped. Everything went quiet. Life went on. It's been that way ever since, until last year when more people began to rebel.
I look at Katniss, who has sat on the toilet seat, her brow furrowed as she thinks. The world around us is on the verge of collapse, and I know that she's still trying to sort her head out, just like me. Although a rebellion would give the districts a chance at freedom and justice, the loss of life would be unimaginable as the Capitol has a large supply of weapons at hand. They would flatten us. And if they succeeded, everyone who as much thought about rebelling would be executed. That would make Katniss, myself, and our baby goners.
It's a terrifying prospect.
Four days later, early on Sunday morning, there's a knock on the door. I reluctantly climb out of bed and go downstairs, and it takes me a few tries to put the right key into the lock. It's way too early to be doing anything. I open the door and find two Peacekeepers standing there, in full uniform, with loaded guns over their shoulders and visors buzzing with the sound of other keepers talking to them.
I suddenly feel very defenceless in a wrinkled blue shirt and pants. My heart drops, however, as the heaviness of sleep that rests on my mind begins to clear, and I wonder if we were heard talking about the rebellion that is bubbling beneath our feet. Is this it? Am I about to carted away to be executed for treason? I grip the door handle tightly, ready to slam it shut at a moments notice.
"Peeta Mellark?" One of them asks from behind the helmet, their voice tinny and robotic through the speaker.
"Uh... yes?"
"May we ask how many people are living in this house?"
"Myself and my girlfriend," I say, shifting my weight from one foot to another. "Why?"
"We need to come in and ask you some questions."
"Is it really necessary to do this so early in the morning?"
"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to step aside," the Peacekeeper says, stepping forward and pushing past me before I can stop them. I follow close behind, and Katniss stumbles down the stairs. My eyes shoot down to her left hand. Her wedding ring. I quickly take her hand and smile, begging her with my eyes to act normal as I slip the ring off into my palm and tuck it into the pocket of my sweats.
"What's going on?" she asks, scrutinizing the Peacekeepers that are walking into the kitchen. We follow and watch as they begin opening cupboards and checking around the room. What are they looking for?
"Sit down." Katniss and I pull out chairs and sit. "We're going to ask you a series of questions, and we want you to answer them truthfully. Any resistance will mean that you must come down to the Justice Building."
Katniss and I stay silent, and the other Peacekeeper begins to speak as his partner disappears into the house. I note how his gloved hand rests on his gun. What do they think we're going to do? Club them to death with a fork? "What are your names?"
"I'm Peeta Mellark," Katniss opens her mouth to answer but I cut in front of her. "And this is my girlfriend, Katniss Everdeen." Katniss shoots me a puzzled look.
"Ages?"
"Seventeen."
"Sixteen."
"Do you know Gale Hawthorne?" he says, this time directing his question to Katniss. She stiffens, looking down at the table.
"Yes."
"How do you know him?"
"Our parents were friends. We grew up together."
"How about his family? Can you tell me about them, please?"
"Why?"
"Just answer the question."
"I want to know why you've woken us up so early and begun interrogating us!" Katniss snaps, and I bite down on my tongue. She needs to calm down and not arose any suspicion. This is bad enough. "Tell us what's going on. We have a right to know."
"That's classified information."
"In case you hadn't noticed, I am pregnant," she scowls. "I need my sleep."
"Ma'am, do you need to come down to the Justice Building?"
Katniss sits stubbornly for thirty seconds, refusing to say anything.
"Kat, come on," I murmur, taking her hand again.
"Listen to your boyfriend," the Peacekeeper says. Katniss locks her jaw.
"Kat-"
"I know that he has two brothers, a sister, and his mother. His father is dead," she forces out. I squeeze her hand tightly in mine. I know that she feels like a traitor for saying this, but it isn't like the Capitol doesn't know. They have extensive records of everyone in Panem. They're just looking for weaknesses in their castle.
"And have you spoken to them recently?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I had an argument with Gale."
"What was this argument about?" Katniss scowls at him, rubbing her arms, goose bumps prickling her skin. I stand, reaching for the shawl that sits on the side cabinet to cover her in the cold kitchen only to hear the sound of a gun being removed from safety mode. The sound turns my blood to ice.
"Sit down, sir," the Peacekeeper says, his voice cold and menacing.
"Get that gun away from him!" Katniss exclaims, standing up.
"Sit down, sir," the Peacekeeper repeats, and even through the crackling speaker I can hear the threat, loud and clear. I turn slowly, shawl in hand, and pass it to Katniss. We sit down. Katniss pulls the shawl over her bare arms. The Peacekeeper clicks the gun back into safety mode as his companion enters the room.
"All clear," he reports. I can see our reflections in their visors, warping as they move their heads.
The original peacekeeper continues asking questions. "What was the argument about?"
"About my relationship with Peeta. He doesn't agree with my decision to be with him," Katniss says shortly, bitterly. "Is that all?"
"What do you know about their disappearance?"
"I know nothing. I went to visit and try and work everything out with Gale and their house was empty," Katniss says, the lie coming out smoothly and without a hitch.
"You didn't have any indication of where they went?"
"No. Why would I? I haven't spoken to any of them since the argument, and being so far from the Seam, I don't get to see them as often as I did."
"Surely they would've told you, Miss Everdeen, especially considering that you are a family friend."
"I don't know where they are, when they disappeared or why," she pauses, her lip trembling, tears welling up in her eyes. I frown, running my thumb over the back of her hand in a reassuring gesture. She hasn't spoken much about the Hawthornes, and I suppose now it's starting to come back up. I should've asked about it earlier, instead of letting it build up like this. "All I know is that I want them to be found. I miss them all. They're like family to me." She sniffs, but the peacekeepers are stoic, unaffected.
"How about you, Mr Mellark?"
"I'm as clueless as Katniss," I shrug.
"Are you sure?"
"Very. I haven't exactly been on friendly terms with Gale either."
"Is that all?" Katniss asks, her free hand resting on her stomach. I can see her gritting her teeth.
"Yes, thank you."
"Please notify us when you get any information on the Hawthornes," I add. "We don't want them missing the baby being born."
"Thank you for your time," the other Peacekeeper says, nudging his colleague. "We'll show ourselves out." I nod my thanks, and we wait with bated breath until we hear the sound of the front door slamming shut.
"Oh my God," Katniss whispers. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding.
"Are you okay?" I ask her, slumped back in my seat, suddenly feeling like I didn't wake up half an hour ago after a full night of rest.
"Fuck, I think so. I think I had another one of those practice contractions though," she grimaces, rubbing the side of her belly. "It really hurt."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"It was a little tense," she says, as if I need reminding. "That's why I was tearing up. Not as much because of the Hawthornes, but because your child was stabbing me."
"You should've said something, Katniss."
"It's fine," she shrugs, standing up. "You want something to eat?" I nod, standing as well. We begin to wash some dishes, clattering around and making much more noise than usual. Katniss begins to sing, a happy, gentle song from her childhood, and use this opportunity to talk.
"So now Peacekeepers are being used to find out information," I say softly, and she nods. "That makes it so much more real. Do you think they suspect anything?" She shakes her head. "I mean, we don't actually have information for them. I'm pretty sure they'd know if Thirteen was alive or not." She shrugs, placing a plate down on the counter with more force than necessary. "You'd leave in a heartbeat, wouldn't you?" She shrugs again, and traces a 'P' on the countertop with her finger. Prim. Of course.
I pat my pockets, and pull out her ring again, slipping it on to her finger. She raises her eyebrows at me. Why didn't you say we were married?
I start running the tap, washing the suds down the drain. "Because we aren't. Not yet anyway since you're still sixteen. My Dad bribed the official who married us to not file the documents away to the Capitol until after your birthday."
She nods and smiles, bumps her hip against mine, and stops singing, sliding two clean plates towards me.
"I want eggs for breakfast."
Katniss
Eight months arrives before I can get a grasp on what's happening. In exactly a month, this baby will be gone from my body. I'll be holding a squirming infant in my arms. It'll all be very surreal and I don't believe that I'll be able to come to terms with everything for a long time. I'm sure Peeta will take to being a father with ease. It fills me with hope to think that our baby will have at least one parent capable of looking after him or her properly.
After the Peacekeepers interrogated us, I laid down in bed, staring at the wall, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Everything is coming together at the same time as it's crumbling beneath my feet. Simply the thought of having the Capitol brought down makes me delirious, but it also sends a shiver down my spine that gives me hope. But at what cost? A rebellion? An uprising? It would send Panem into chaos, the number of lives lost would be too large to comprehend, and it would take decades for the system to recover. After such a disaster, would living in a country free from President Snow's oppressive rule be worth it?
It must be. Seventy-five years of oppression has allowed the wealthy to become wealthier and the poor to become poorer. The gap has been steadily widening over the years but what the Capitol doesn't know is that the wider the gap, the less control they have over us. Everyone has a limit, and I have a feeling that we're about to find ours.
I'm just a girl from the Seam. I can't make these decisions.
My mind drifts toward the Hawthornes. I can't believe they're in District 13, the district we were told was forever gone, wiped from the surface of Panem. I can't believe that after all this time they've been hiding underground. That the Capitol was stupid enough to think that they wouldn't be working to bring the system down from the inside as they hid beneath the surface. How many people are there? It's mindboggling to think, but then again, I've never known more people than the eight thousand or so in Twelve.
I wish I could have known that the Hawthornes were going, so that I could've said goodbye or at least known about what was happening. Maybe that's why they didn't say anything. Perhaps they knew as little as I did. I wonder if I would've gone with them had I know, taking my family and Peeta's family with me, disappearing to somewhere that seems so much safer than this district.
I wonder if Peeta would've left with me.
He brings me cheese buns and eggs for breakfast. I sit in bed; my back propped up on the pillows, and eat in silence, mulling things over in my head. How many people know about this? Have I been walking around in the midst of a resistance that has been bubbling around me, completely unaware?
I climb out bed a few hours later, having read some more of a book that Madge recommended me, making sure to keep the spine as crease-free as possible. It's a silly romance, set hundreds of years ago, where a boy and a girl fall in love despite being arch-enemies. I've just reached the part where the girl's nurse is helping her organize a secret wedding to her lover, despite only being about fourteen years old, when I smell the strong tang of fresh paint. The book hits my knees and I sniff the air. I climb out of bed, book in hand, and creep down the hallway, following my nose.
"Fuck," Peeta curses, stepping back from the wall farthest away from the door of the room reserved as the baby's nursery, paintbrush in hand.
"What are you doing?" I ask him, stepping towards the window and pushing it open to let the cleaner air circulate, trying to wash out the smell of paint. It's make me nauseous.
"We've got under a month until the baby comes, and I want everything to be perfect for him or her. I thought that starting with a painted bedroom would be a good idea," he explain, turning to face me. He has a streak of sunshine yellow paint on his cheek. "But every time I try to get the colour right, it turns out a little too light or dark."
"It doesn't have to be perfect."
"I know," he sighs, looking back at the wall, which is covered in varying shades of yellow and green and blue. "But I want it to be."
"What are you painting?"
"I thought I could paint flowers... something nature-y. I know you like nature."
"And you like baking. So why don't you draw a giant cake?" I raise an eyebrow. Peeta gives me a look and laughs.
"I'm being serious, Kat."
"So am I." I reply, hugging the book to my chest.
"What are you reading?" he asks, stepping forward. I hold the book out for him to see.
"Romeo and Juliet? Never heard of it."
"Madge lent it to me... said it was her favourite romantic tragedy," I explain, turning the book over in my hands, admiring the fine detailing of the cover. "In my opinion, it's a bit... fluffy."
"Fluffy?"
"There isn't much plot to it. It's just focussing on how in love these two kids are. I think it's a good story, but a bit too romantic for me."
"How can anything be 'too romantic'?"
"Of course you'd say that," I roll my eyes. "You're a big softy."
"Romance is beautiful."
"A little bit of romance is fine, but if the characters are falling over each over, forgetting themselves, willing to –oh, I don't know- die for each other or something, it's a bit weird. I mean, this Juliet girl. She's fourteen and Romeo is, like, eighteen," I flip through the book idly, skimming through the pages I've already read. "Not only is the age gap a little weird, the whole situation was going to undoubtedly go downhill from the moment they saw each other. I don't understand why they can't see that it's going to end badly."
"Katniss, I think that's the point of the book," Peeta chuckles. "These two characters, Romeo and..."
"Juliet." I interject.
"Romeo and Juliet are in love. From the cynical review you've given me, it's clear that they love each other so much, that the real world pales in comparison to what they feel for each other. That's romance."
"That's stupidity."
"But don't you think it's lovely? In an ironic way, almost, but they love each other that they'd jump in front of a bullet for each other."
"Stupidity..." I singsong.
"Maybe, but wouldn't you do the same for me?"
"That would kill me and the baby," I scowl. "Don't be selfish, Peeta."
"Well, I'd take a bullet for you, any day," he grins, stepping forward, closer to me, and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. I close my eyes, stretching forward for a kiss, and he drags his paintbrush down the side of my face instead. I gasp, my eyes snapping open, and watch as he moves the brush over my skin leisurely, a serene smile on his lips.
"You're an idiot."
"A romantic idiot."
"We're going to the meadow for lunch," I say, glancing over at the window, feeling the paint on my face crinkling as my skin moves. "Get your shit together." I take his brush and paint a moustache over his upper lip, curling the ends, and nodding my head. The yellow definitely suits him. He just stands there and smirks. "We leave in fifteen minutes."
Peeta
Of course, Katniss take almost half an hour to get ready, messing around with her clothes, throwing a fit when her beloved pants finally refuse to button up.
"Stop laughing!" she hisses, her arms folded over her chest. She's standing at the top of the stairs, wearing panties and a t-shirt, her hair in loose waves over her shoulders, paint still staining her skin. I'm having a hard time looking at her without gazing at the endless expanse of her toned legs. "Peeta! What am I going to wear? I can't wear pants. I'm not wearing any of your clothes- I look ridiculous!"
"A dress?" I suggest, my brow creasing in amusement. "You don't normally wear dresses."
"I've only got the blue one and a pale green one. And it's still cold outside."
"Wear the green one. I haven't seen you in that one."
"I'll try, but I don't know if that will fit," she sighs dramatically and turns away. I shake my head and go into the kitchen, looking through the basket of food I've been preparing. I can hear cursing and banging from upstairs, and almost don't notice the absence of sound when it stops. Closing the lid of the wicker basket, I bring it to the front door before climbing the stairs. Katniss is standing in our bedroom, trying to reach round for the buttons that lie up the back of her dress, squirming and swearing under her breath when she discovers that they're just out of reach.
"Jesus fucking Christ," she mutters, giving up on the dress and turning around. "Peeta- oh!" she yells, her voice faltering at the end when she sees me.
"Do you want some help?" I ask, fighting and failing to keep the smile from my face. She scowls and turns, eyeing me in the mirror.
"You were just standing there watching me struggle, weren't you?" I chuckle and gather her hair over her shoulder, my fingers threading through the dark locks.
"Not for long," I say. "I'm surprised you didn't hear me coming." Katniss says nothing and simply shrugs her shoulders. I button the bottom button of her dress, which sits in the small of her back, against her spine. I watch her skin prickle with goose bumps as my fingers graze her and when I reach the top button I press a kiss to the back of her neck. She catches my eye in the mirror and smirks.
It's March, and the last of the winter chill has headed north, leaving behind a breezes that wafts through the district. The forest in coming back to life, the baby leaves practically see-through in the golden sunlight and the sky is endlessly blue. The clouds that skid across the sky are large and looming, but rain is not in sight. Katniss insists on wearing her boots, and grips the bottom of her dress tightly in case of a rogue breeze.
The meadow is in full bloom. Dandelions and daffodils and various other flowers that I can't name but Katniss most likely can are dotted among the grass. She leads the way confidently, and chooses a spot as far away from the Seam as you can reach, without going outside the fence. I lay a blanket down and we sit down. Katniss pulls out the food as swiftly as possible, her stomach rumbling loudly, and has devoured half a sandwich in about a minute. The fence begins to buzz halfway through our meal, and I lean back on my hands, Katniss' head in my lap, and observe the rattling, chain link fence. The other side of the fence looks harmless. In fact, it looks exactly like the meadow on our side of the border.
"I thought they never turned it on." I murmur.
"Sometimes they do."
"Have you ever gotten stuck on the outside?"
"All the time."
"What is it like?" I ask curiously. "Being stuck outside. Do you ever think of just walking and not turning back?"
"It's like home to me. The forest saved my family. Being on the outside it like being on the inside- but it feels calmer. Safer, really, because outside you are your own person, with your own rules. Outside the Capitol doesn't rule over you."
"Must be nice."
"It is," she smiles, opening her eyes again. I'm instantly mesmerised by the grey spheres, and notice how the gold and blue flecks flash in the sunlight.
"I like it here. It's peaceful," I comment, lying back on the blanket. Katniss shifts so that her head is resting on my stomach.
"It's useful too. You can eat so many things here. And make paints."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Dad used to make them for Prim and I when we were little. Used to let us paint on the side of Lady's pen," she chuckles at the memory. "We can collect some flowers and roots if you want. Maybe it'll make the perfect yellow that you're so intent on looking for."
"I should paint the meadow." I say suddenly.
"What?"
"I'll paint the meadow. In the baby's room," I explain, sitting upright. "With dandelions and daffodils and primroses and katniss flowers."
"That'll be nice. Will you be able to paint it in time?"
"Are you underestimating me and my painting skills?" I ask. Katniss rolls her eyes.
"Go find dandelions. They make a nice yellow colour," she orders, stretching her limbs.
"Aren't you helping?" I ask, standing up.
"Nope," Katniss shakes her head and yawns. "I'm staying right here and having a nap. Unless you need help with deciding what a dandelion looks like, Bread Boy." She shields her eyes from the sun with her hand and peers up at me. I raise an eyebrow. She gives me a smug grin, knowing that she's won. I pull my jacket off and chuck it at her, before turning away and searching through the meadow.
And that's how we spend our afternoon. Katniss dozes off, her nose pressed into the material of my jacket, and I wander around the meadow, plucking dandelions from the grass, collecting enough for what I think will provide me with a good amount of paint. Several times I catch myself just standing there, dandelions in hand, staring at the fence, watching the trees shifting and swaying. Some of the vegetation towers high into the sky, the green contrasting sharply with the blue sky, while others barely peek out from the grass, brightly coloured flowers blooming.
I see a squirrel darting up a tree- a flash of red in the swamp of green and brown- and I find it strange to see a live squirrel. The only squirrels I'd seen previously were the ones in school textbooks and the dead ones that Katniss shot. The little creature is adorable. I find it difficult to understand why Katniss would willingly shoot the animal, though I can see how it being a free source of food would entice you.
It's how strange how close freedom is. Just two meters forward, and I'd no longer be in Panem. I'd be in the wilds. I'd be running for my life.
Katniss snacks on an apple as we walk back to town, and when we get home she lays out all the dandelions to dry as I make dinner. She ransacks the pantry and cupboards, making a list of all the things we need to make paints that we haven't got. She babbles constantly all the way through dinner, talking about the Hob, Prim, her mother, her father, what she thinks of the grocer's eldest son, her favourite tire swing in the Seam.
"It's just a mangy old tire tied to an oak tree with some rope, but it's loads of fun. Dad made a rope swing out by this beautiful lake in the forest. It didn't have a tire, but it was fun to swing into the lake from. I wonder if it's still intact. I haven't been to the lake in so long."
I wash the dishes and she dries them –a routine we quickly established- and even then she continues to chat. I nod along, agreeing and disagreeing when the moment is right, but I don't try to add my opinions. It's nice to see Katniss talking so freely. Usually she's very closed off, but today she hasn't stopped talking. Most people would see it as annoying, but I think it's intriguing. It helps me learn more about my wife as an individual.
Hours later, when she finally drifts of to sleep, I find myself staring up at the ceiling of our bedroom and basking in the silence.
The following morning we both wake early. After breakfast we head down to the Seam to the Everdeen household to borrow some old sheets.
"Why'd you need them?" Mrs Everdeen asks as Katniss hands me the sheets from a chest of drawers in their kitchen.
"We're painting the baby's room," Katniss explains. "We don't want the floors getting dirty."
"Do you mean Peeta's painting the baby's room?" Prim pipes up, picking up Buttercup from the floor and grinning at her older sister.
"Oh, ha-ha Prim."
"But she's right," I whisper, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Prim grins. Katniss shoves me. Mrs Everdeen hides a smile behind her hand.
"Make sure you keep all the windows open. You don't want to inhale the paint fumes," she advises. "And invite us over when you've finished."
"We will," I nod my head. "Thank you."
"You're very welcome," she smiles. Prim hugs me before I leave, and Mrs Everdeen gives us a jar of dark, blood-red paint that she had sitting at the back of a cupboard. I carry the sheets and follow Katniss down the road. She veers off left, heading downhill in the opposite direction of town.
"Where are we going?" I ask, following her.
"I want to see the Hawthorne house. See what state it's in," she says determinedly, her jaw set. "I have to."
"Are you sure?" Katniss pauses for a second, staring off down the heavily wooded road before finally nodding. Everything is eerily silent as we walk down the empty street. Despite the nice weather, there are no children playing in the road. Loaded washing lines creak in the breeze, and the birds tweet in the leafy canopy above our heads, but it's very quiet. "Does this seem weird to you?"
"It's always been quiet along this street –it's mainly older people living here- but yeah, this is a little odd," she agrees, looking about the streets in concern. I find myself continuously glancing behind me, the hair on the back of my neck prickling, and as we get closer to the Hawthorne house, I begin to feel more and more uncomfortable with the situation.
"Kat... I don't like this. It's too quiet." I whisper.
"I just want to look. We'll be ten minutes at the most," she reassures me. She stops in front of the Hawthorne house. It's a small building, in slightly better condition that many of the other houses in the Seam, with painted shutters and a tidy garden, but it's obvious that young children live –or lived- here. A few toys lay in the grass outside the house, and the lopsided front gate swings freely in the wind. Katniss steps forward, her boots crunching on the ground as she advances towards the house. The porch steps groan under our weight.
"The door is open." I say softly.
"Someone probably broke in," Katniss dismisses the thought. "It's not uncommon to take from unoccupied houses." I take a deep breath and follow her through the doorway. The room we enter is cluttered. All of the walls have furniture or boxes pushed u against them. The curtains drawn over the windows are faded and patchy. I put the sheets for painting down on the couch, and Katniss disappears further into the house, into the kitchen. I go down the hallway and enter one of the bedrooms. The bed is unmade, but all the cupboards are empty. They cleared away their clothes before leaving. There aren't any photographs anywhere. They took all their most meaningful possessions.
"Katniss?" I call.
"What is it?" Katniss calls back, and I hear her footsteps getting louder.
"This doesn't feel right. I feel like I'm trespassing."
"You are trespassing."
"I'm being serious," I say and she squeezes my arm. "I really don't like this." I follow her back out into the hallway, and she darts in and out of the other rooms.
"They left quickly, but still had enough time to collect what they really needed," she observes, biting her lip. "But they left Daisy."
"Daisy?"
"Posy's doll. Gale saved up for almost half a year to buy it for her birthday," she explains, holding out a small doll with a painted wooden face and a bright pink, flowery dress. Her hair is dark, and tied back in two braids. "I can't believe they didn't bring this. Posy loved this thing."
"Take it home. When you see them again you can give it to her." Katniss nods and carefully puts the doll in her bag.
"You say it as if they are dead or something. As if something horrible has happened to them," she muses, her eyes vacant as she stares around the house.
"I'm sure they're okay."
"I know. But I wish I knew that they were going," she sighs, adjusting her skirt and drifting away. I stand there, rooted to the spot, and stare at the dusty ground. Finally I move, and I go into the kitchen. It's simple. The floor is tiled with black and white diamonds that make it look like a giant chessboard. In the doorframe there are little marks in the wood, I assume from where they've measured the heights of various Hawthorne children. There's a hole in the wall by the backdoor. I question how it got there, zoning out momentarily, before there's a loud crash.
"Katniss?" I call. No answer. I hurry to find her, and find a large wardrobe leaning against the wall, with a red liquid dribbling out from beneath it. Instantly my stomach drops. My blood runs cold. Is that blood? Did Katniss get crushed by the falling piece of furniture? "Katniss?" I call again.
"Get this off me," her annoyed reply rings out from below the wardrobe. I breathe a sigh of relief.
"Are you okay?" I ask, lifting the empty wardrobe with ease.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright," she says. "Just a little out of breath." I make sure the wardrobe is steady before finding Katniss sitting on the floor in a heap, with red all over her hands and soaking the bottom of her dress.
"No, no you aren't!" I cry out, dropping down to my knees. "Oh, God! It's going be alright. Does it hurt?" I ask, my pulse racing. Katniss coughs, clutches at her stomach, the red liquid squelching horribly between her fingers, and slumps back against the wall, trying to clear her throat. "No, Kat, no! It's okay. J-just... don't worry; you're going to be okay."
"P- Peeta," she coughs. "I'm f-"
"I'll go and get your Mom!" I exclaim, jumping to my feet. Katniss is hurt. The baby is in danger. I can't lose either of them.
She coughs hard and reaches for me, shaking her head. "It isn't blood."
"What?" I ask, staring down at her in horror. She bursts out laughing, clutching at her chest and coughing again.
"It's paint, you moron! The jar smashed! I was trying to explain!" I suddenly feel faint, sitting back and holding my head in my hands. "You should've known! You're the painter!"
"You- you ass!" I snap, conflicted between crying and laughing and being angry with her for making me so terrified.
"Your face... Oh, help me!" she chokes out between peals of laughter.
"I thought you were hurt!" I gasp, tugging on my hair with shaking hands.
"I'm sorry, I really am but that was... just you wait until I tell your brothers!" she laughs. "You should've let me stop coughing. I would've been able to explain." I laugh slightly, still shaken. Katniss crawls towards me to kiss my forehead, pressing her hands to the side of my face, covering my hair and skin in red paint.
"You really scared me, Katniss. I thought I was gonna loose both of you," I say, though I'm smiling at her. "Never do that again."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed," she says sincerely, still grinning manically, but forcing me to look directly at her. "I'm okay. I promise."
"Are you sure?" I ask, placing my hands on her waist.
"Yeah. The wardrobe fell on the wall so it didn't crush me. I was just a little winded from falling onto the floor."
"Thank God."
"Exactly," she smiles, pressing a kiss to my lips. "Now, help me up." I stand and help her upright, and she wipes more paint onto me.
"I've had way too much paint on my face lately." I grin, hugging her tightly against my chest. She laughs in my ear at the squelching sound of her soaked clothes making contact with mine and moves away to look down at me. She laughs even more. I go to close the cupboard doors, and my finger catches on the edge of a piece of paper. I open the door again and find a folded piece of paper tucked under a mirror on the inside of the cupboard door.
"What is that?"
"I think it's a message," I say, smoothing the paper out. Katniss peers over my shoulder to read it out loud.
Catnip. I hope you find this. I wanted to tell you that we were leaving. At first I thought the people were normal Peacekeepers. I thought they had found out about the hunting. But they were soldiers from 13. I had five minutes to get everyone's stuff together and write this. We're all safe. It's going to be okay, trust me. I don't know how long we'll be gone but I'll see you soon. If I miss your kid being born, I'll be pissed off though. Tell Mellark he's alright.
I'm sorry for yelling and fighting with you.
Burn this after reading.
Gale
Katniss is quiet for a long time, rubbing her fingers over the paper.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Yes. I know they're safe."
"You're going to burn it, aren't you?"
"No," she says, folding up the paper and putting it into her pocket.
"But he said-"
"Gale can't tell me what to do, especially via note."
"You want to go home now?" She nods. I take her hand. We walk out of the house in silence, and she shuts the door securely behind her and latches the front gate closed as well. "People are going to think we were in some horrific accident." She laughs, gesturing down to our sodden clothes and red hair.
"They should know that it's actually paint." I retort, bumping my shoulder against hers as we move away from the house.
"They left three weeks ago." A gruff voice tells us. We turn and find an old man sitting in an even older rocking chair, picking at some bones, feeding the leftovers to the stocky white dog beside him.
"The Hawthornes?" Katniss asks, and he nods.
"Yes. In the middle of the night. The little one crying about some dolly woke me and Jenkins up. Not long now," he says, looking down at his dog and scratching behind its ears, already appearing to have forgotten that Katniss and I are even here. "And then the whole world flies into chaos."