Like last time, I'm going to get right to the story, but first there are some things I have to say…
Thanks for all the reviews. They make me happy (like usual).
My Microsoft Trial subscription just ended for my laptop, so sorry if I'm a bit late with this chapter. I have to type this on the family's computer, and it's hard to get privacy on here.
Also, I've just re-read Mockingjay (again) and have caught one huge mistake in my story. Hopefully, no one remembers that Suzanne Collins presented Madge as "dead" in the end of Mockingjay. She didn't really go into specifics, but there was actually no body to go along with the evidence…so I'm improvising.
And, as always, enjoy.
After Mockingjay
Chapter Four: All This Time
That night I sit in the living room, in the old rocking chair where I spent most of my first days back in 12. A fire is lit in the hearth, burning brightly. I almost wish to close my eyes and imagine myself devoured by the flames, becoming them and twisting into a new creature. Cinna's Mockingjay, its wings glowing brightly from flame and smoke…
I'm jostled out of my reverie by Peeta, whom I sensed at the doorway. I turn around and there he is, silhouetted against the darkness. I smile at him and turn around again to face the flames. I think. Would I really want to be that bird again? Would I ever want to be consumed that much again? No. I was already consumed, by this love that was too foreign to know.
I feel Peeta's hand descend on the top of the chair, and I wonder what is happening for a moment until he grips it harder, causing the chair to creak backwards a little. I tip my head up to see his gaze staring forwards into the flames, his eyes glazed over and faraway. His mouth is open slightly, as if he is about to say something, but can't find the words.
"Peeta?" I say, my voice quiet above the crackling of coals.
It lasts only a couple more seconds, but during that time I feel terrified. He snaps out of it quickly, shaking his head and releasing his death grip on the chair. I say his name again, and his blue eyes flash down to meet mine.
"Flashbacks," he says, his voice low. "They usually don't last long. I'm alright now."
For some strange reason, I feel tears collect in the back of my eyes. What did he see? Snow torturing him again? Distorted memories of me, memories that provoke him to cause me harm? Visions of the mutts that chased us through the underground? I'm almost afraid to ask. So I stay silent.
He must see my quietness as a sign of something, because he says, "Do you want me to get you a blanket? Are you cold?" Even though the fire's still blazing, he retrieves a blanket from the sofa and drapes it over me. I am still worried when he sits on the floor in front of me, removes my socks and begins rubbing my feet. I wonder if this is a distraction from the flashbacks, or he's simply restless.
I soon relax under his gentle hands. "I was thinking," I say, "That after this wedding, we should open-" My words are suddenly cut off by the insistent ringing of our doorbell.
Peeta stands up and so do I, the blanket falling to my feet. I contemplate immediately who would be ringing our doorbell at this hour. Just by looking into Peeta's eyes I can tell he feels the same way.
We walk down the hallway together, our shoulders bumping into each other's until we reach the door. Peeta pulls it open, and a draft of cold air seeps in, revealing the person outside. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Doctor's hands, callused and crafty.
My mother smiles at me, holding up a black bag. It's clear from the lines around her mouth and the dark circles under her eyes that she's still grieving for Prim. "Hello Katniss honey."
I don't really know what happened next. One second I'm rooted beside Peeta, and then the next I'm in my mother's arms, knocking the black bag from her hands.
She pats my hair, and I feel my shoulder getting wet from her sudden tears. It had been so long since I had seen my mother, so long since I had felt her caressing hands over my hair. I remember to the day of the reaping, so long ago when she styled my hair, never imagining that I would volunteer for Prim. Never imagining that we would both loose the one thing that held us to sanity.
When we pull apart, my mother picks up the bag I knocked down, and then hands it to me. "This is for you." She says, a glow in her eyes.
Peeta beckons her towards us, standing in the house. "Come in."
She does, taking off her shoes and hanging her coat on a hook by the door. I clutch the bag against my chest, feeling something soft in it.
We go back to the living room, where my socks and blanket are still on the floor. My mother sits on the couch as Peeta retrieves them and places them on the chair again. I sit next to him on the couch, facing the fire and my mother.
"Open it," she says, motioning to the bag.
I do what she says, and gasp at what's inside. I stand up and pull out the beautiful white wedding dress. I can tell just by the way it's shaped who designed it.
"Cinna left a couple dresses back in the Capitol," she says. "I had Paylor send me the one you loved the most."
I am too shocked by my mother's gesture to think about Paylor, the new president of Panem. I run the silky fabric between my fingers, feeling memories rise in me until they are spilling, bubbling over the top.
I lay the dress on the back of the rocking chair, drinking in the sight of it. It's a creamy ivory white, with pearls around the collar. Lacy sleeves float down, also decorated with studded gems. The fabric cinches at the waist, and the bottom is laced with silvery designs. For one moment, I think I see the thread form of a bird in the designs, but it disappears as the image of the dress wavers behind the wall of tears forming in my eyes.
I feel Peeta stand behind me, admiring the dress like I am. I know it's bad luck for the groom to see the dress before I'm walking down the aisle, but I don't care. This is the last form of Cinna left, and I want to share it with everybody. Let everybody know who he was and what he had done for me. Suddenly, I'm glad that the wedding is being televised.
I wipe my eyes and look at my mother again. I can see tears in her eyes as well. "Thank you." I say.
She nods, smiling through the sadness.
After I put the dress carefully back in the bag, I settle back down on the couch with Peeta, and we talk.
For how long we talk, I don't know. We talk about the hospital she's opened up in 2. How it's thriving, and that they're planning to branch off into other Districts. We talk about how she's doing in 2, where she lives, who she's spending her time with. And then we talk about me. What I've been doing. How I'm coping being back here. How Peeta and I are faring together.
And when we bid her goodbye from the doorstep as she leaves, I feel as if I've bonded with my mother again. We promised to talk on the phone, and to check in at least once a week. I know that promise might be hard to keep, but it was worth it.
As soon as her car leaves, I feel light on my feet. I realize that I haven't slept in a while, and it's almost midnight.
Peeta immediately scoops me up in his arms. "Ready for bed?"
I nod and rest my head against his chest.
I'm asleep before we're even up the stairs.
Wow, that actually didn't take long at all. I think this is actually my quickest update. (That, and the fact that I've been sitting here for the past hour and a half, writing this).
Please review if you like this story, and don't be afraid to tell me some pointers.
Thanks!
-Laura
