I had some serious difficulties with naming this chapter, but the next one was a lot easier. I've started writing on the next chapter, and it might be divided into three pieces, considering it's a pretty huge arc in their lives, but yeah, we'll see.
I hope you'll like this chapter, and keep the reviews coming. I love them, and I love you for reading this.
"We don't have to do this," Peeta said gently as he walked up beside me, and I let out a sigh.
I didn't want to do this, and Peeta didn't either, but we had our duties as tributes and Victors. And from surviving the War. Parts of it would be good – meeting everyone again. But it would hurt.
"But we do," I told him, staring out over the ocean of District Four. We had arrived earlier today, and we were already late to the feist. Officially, it was a meeting for those who survived the rebellion – the victors and the soldiers. My mother would be there. Gale. Paylor and Plutarch. Beetee, Johanna, Annie. Probably more people that I didn't even know the names of.
I was surprised to get the invitation now. It was such a strange time. Five years had passed a few years ago, but ten hadn't. We were in the middle. This year marked seven years. Seven years since I had met so many of them. Some of them I talked to frequently, some I hadn't talked to in a few years. Some I hadn't seen since I left The Capitol all those years ago.
Peeta's hand brushed against my side and I felt a small smile appear on my lips. I could do this, with the help of him. Having Peeta on my side always helped. It made me stronger.
We stayed a few more moments, watching the sun fall over the horizon, turning the sky into a beautiful orange color. At a distance, I could see a man teaching his child to fish in the shallow water. It was easy to understand why Finnick had loved this place so much.
"Did I tell you that you look beautiful?" Peeta asked as we started to walk, his hand taking a good hold of mine. I squeezed it, holding my shoes in my free hand. I could feel my dress brushing against my skin in the light wind, and I enjoyed the warm July sun warming my face. The breeze made sure that my let out hair didn't stay in place, and I could feel my heart beating hard against my chest.
"You didn't," I smiled as I looked at him. His eyes were warm, his smile genuine. Wearing a blue button up shirt, his pants were pulled up a little bit to avoid the water. I knew he would pull the legs down as soon as we got near other people, not wanting everyone to see his artificial leg.
He was the beautiful one.
"Well, you do," he said, stopping us at the fence to Johanna's house. She was the only one still living in a Victory House, and those houses were the only ones big enough to fit all of us. "Are you ready?"
Letting go of his hand for a short moment, I pulled on my shoes and nodded before I followed him through the fence and around the corner of the house. I grasped his hand harder as I saw the people in the garden as he did the same with my hand. Before I even had the time to look around, I heard Paylor's voice from beside me.
"Finally, you're here. Let's gather in the living room, shall we?"
Peeta and I looked at each other, but we didn't question Paylor as we followed her inside. In there, I could already see every alive Victor that Panem had ever seen. I was surprised to notice that Haymitch had the decency to not be too drunk already. He was drunk alright, but at least he could stand up steadily with one hand on the wall. I took a seat next to Johanna as Paylor spoke.
"I know that officially we're here to gather with the survivors of the rebellion. At least a few of them. But we have a more pressing issue."
"What?" Peeta wanted to know when she didn't continue and she took a deep breath.
"Apparently, some citizens of Panem are complaining. Have been for years, but I've ignored it because there was never really anything to do about it. Now it's getter louder, and I came up with an idea."
"What are they complaining about?" Johanna asked, clearly annoyed. We all wanted to know.
"They think it's not fair that the Victors still have their fame and fortunes. They think that those were the days of Snow, of the Games. And since neither exists anymore, they think that we should all live equally poor. Or rich. They think that we got our happily ever after, and they didn't. But they don't know what we do. They don't feel what we feel. They don't remember what we remember. I think we need to do something about that."
"Like what?" Haymitch's words were slurred, but everyone heard them.
"A collage. If everyone agrees to it, I would like a camera team to follow you around for a few days and nights. So that people can see that we're not all happy. So that people can see that we struggle just as much as they do, if not more, but in a different way."
I liked the idea. I didn't want people to know that I struggled, but I didn't want another war. I didn't want more people dying. And Paylor was right, they didn't know how we lived, or felt, or even struggled to get out of bed some days. But I couldn't say yes without talking to Peeta. It was his house too, his home. His private life. We had turned down so many interviews, so many appearances, because we wanted our personal lives to be left alone. We wanted to be left alone, forgotten. We wanted to be able to be ourselves without the entire country watching over us. But to the people, I was still the Mockingjay. A piece of history. And history always found a way to be remembered.
After a moment of silence, people started to speak up. Beetee was first to give his acceptance, but after him came Johanna. Annie agreed as Haymitch did. Then it was just me and Peeta left. With one look into his eyes, he knew what I wanted.
"We'll do it," he nodded and Paylor did the same.
"I'll put up a team, and we'll start here in District Four next week. Then we'll move District by District. We'll talk more about this later. Now let's get something to eat, okay?"
Haymitch came up to us as we started to walk outside again, to the rest of the guests, and his breath was heavy with alcohol. Would he even remember this tomorrow?
"This should be interesting, sweetheart," he slurred, and I looked at Peeta. He understood what I wanted, and he nodded before letting go of my hand and leading Haymitch away from everyone else. Haymitch would pass out soon enough anyway, so he might as well do it on a bed.
Walking outside, I could see my mother chatting with Gale, a beautiful woman standing next to him with a young child in her arms. She was pregnant again. His family was beautiful. I was about to walk over and announce that I was here when a voice stopped me from behind.
"Katniss," Ceasar said, and I stood still with my back against him. I didn't want to see him. It would be too painful. "Could I please talk to you for a minute?"
After a moment, I decided that it would be the right thing to do. To let him talk to me. I had promised myself that I would be nice today. No fights. So I turned around and gave him a slight nod.
He looked rather natural, and I had never seen him like this. Rarely any makeup, his hair was jet black. Despite the warm weather, he was wearing long pants and a long sleeved shirt. I could see the sweat on his skin.
"I'm sorry about everything. I know that you hold me partly responsible for what happened to Peeta, but I was just as much a piece of their games as you were."
"Somehow, I don't believe that," I said, keeping my voice controlled. I was about to walk away when he grabbed my arm. He knew that I could hurt him, which is why I didn't.
Hesitating before letting go, he started to pull up the sleeves of his shirt. My eyes followed the movements of his hands, and at first I didn't understand what I was seeing. What he wanted me to see. But then I could make out something on his skin – letters written in black ink. Hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. Both of his arms were filled with names.
"What is this?" I asked in a disbelieving voice.
"The names of every tribute I have ever interviewed," he told me. "I have yours and Peeta's right here." Twisting his right arm, he showed me a spot on his wrist and I could make out both of our names on there along with every other tribute from that year. "I sincerely am sorry, and I sincerely like you. Both of you. And I hope that your lives will be filled with laughter and joy."
Then he turned around and walked away from me, pulling his sleeves down as he did so.
For a while I just stood there, trying to understand what had just happened, but then I heard Peeta's laughter and I turned around in the direction of the sound. I could see him playing with Noah, and they both looked so happy. I felt my lips curving into a smile as I watched them play and heard them laugh.
"So, when are you and Lover Boy over there having kids?"
"I don't know," I answered Johanna, my voice distant.
I knew that Peeta wanted kids. He had always wanted them. But I had never wanted them. I had always been so scared, so broken. I couldn't take care of a baby, could I? I would never make a good mother.
But what would happen if I didn't give him a baby? Would he grow to hate me eventually? Would he leave me for someone else, someone who would give him babies? I knew that he would never do that now, that he loved me, but what if he hated me? Peeta deserved someone who was willing to give him a son, or a daughter. But he also knew that I didn't want children, and probably never would. And yet he had married me. Yet he was so loving, so caring, so gentle. So selfless. He had never walked out when I screamed at him that he should just leave, find someone healthy that could love him, that would give him what he wanted. All he ever said was the he didn't want a baby, he wanted my baby. And if I didn't want one, he'd be okay with that.
I didn't deserve him.
Johanna said something else, but I didn't listen as I turned around and left for the ocean again. I didn't feel like being around all those people. It hurt to see Gale again. To see my mother. They both reminded me so much of Prim. I knew that this was supposed to be nice, happy, but for me this group of people would always remind me of everything that I wanted to forget.
Taking my shoes off again as soon as I reached the beach, I felt the sand in between my toes and as I reached the shore I slipped out of my dress and slowly walked out into the water. Despite the night, it was fairly warm and nice, and I swam out far before I stopped and turned around. I could see the lights from the houses on the beach, could hear the laughter at the party I had just left.
But I ignored it all and took this moment to think about Finnick. This is where he was – or at least his spirit. There was never a funeral, never a full body to bury. The mutts tore him apart too much for that.
He lived in his Noah – in his laughter, in his personality, in his heart – and sometimes it still hurt to see him. Finnick became a good friend, he was someone I could rely on, so it was inevitable to not think of him as I could feel the salty water against my skin. It was inevitable not to miss him.
I owed him so much, and I wished there was some way for me to pay him back.
But there wasn't.
I could see a silhouette walking on the beach then, toward the water, and I recognized it as Peeta. He had probably seen me walk off, and he probably figured that he had given me enough time to be alone. And he had. I didn't want to be alone. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted him.
Swimming back, I slipped into my dress before I sat down in the sand next to him. His arm instantly came around my body and I rested my head against his shoulder.
"You okay?"
"I'm better now," I said truthfully and I felt him pressing a kiss against my temple. "I want to go home."
"There's a train first thing tomorrow, but we might have some difficulties getting Haymitch on it," he murmured, a small chuckle in his voice. I could feel myself smile with him, even though I was worried about Haymitch sometimes. It couldn't be healthy to drink as much as he did. I wish there was something we could do to make him stop. But we had tried it all, and Haymitch would drink for as long as he wanted to. It was his way to deal with the nightmares.
"I don't want you to hate me," I whispered and Peeta pulled me closer. "I saw you with Noah, and you're so good with kids, and I know that you want them. But I don't think I do, and..."
"I could never hate you," he interrupted me and I heard how sincere he sounded. His words made me relax a little bit, making me believe him. Maybe it would be enough with the two of us.
Haymitch was surprisingly sober, given what we were supposed to do. Supposed to watch.
It had been three months since we met in District Four, since Paylor told us about the situation. Three weeks later they had set up a camera in every room of our home, and one team followed us around on the days for an entire week. Even though they wanted to, I refused to let them come with me when I hunted. They made too much noises, and I would never be able to catch a game with a camera in my face.
Another team followed Haymitch around, and he hated it just as much as we did. But we knew why we had agreed to do it, and after a while I got used to the cameras following me around. There were many things I could not do though, with the cameras so close, always watching us.
Now, taking our seats on blankets on the ground, we waited for the documentary to debut. Paylor had told us that it would last for about two hours, and that every citizen in Panem had been told to watch. I don't know how we managed, but every person in District 12 fit in the town's square. In some ways it reminded me of the Reaping Day, how everyone was collected like this. But there was another atmosphere now. We all knew that no one would be reaped, no one would die.
Peeta wrapped his arm around my shoulder as I rested against his side, Haymitch sitting beside us with a bottle in his hands. Next to me sat Cinna, and next to him was Effie. Effie was probably the only one in our little group that was even a little bit excited. Peeta, Haymitch and I were only here because we had to be here, we didn't want to watch this. Didn't want to get reminded. It would hurt. I had no idea how they had puzzled this together. They might have put in some clips from the Games, or District 13. I knew they had cameras there, especially in the hospital. I was mostly scared that they would show bits and pieces of Peeta's torture. That was something I did not want to see.
The chatter among us silenced when Paylor's face showed on screen. There was no introduction to what was to come. She was just there, telling us her story. We saw her have nightmares, waking up screaming in the night with tears running down her face. She had no one by her side to comfort her, to promise her that everything would be okay. I grasped Peeta's hand, and willed him to be closer to me.
They moved on to Beetee. We saw him talk aloud to himself, finishing sentences that had not been there in the first place. But I knew that they had. He could probably hear Wiress in his head, finishing the sentences she never ended.
Johanna talked about her fear of water, of why she lived so close to the ocean, and then she talked about what Snow had done to her. We saw her take care of a fatherless Noah as Annie had her mental break downs. The only thing that seemed to be calming her was to repeatedly tie knots on a rope so old and torn it had to be Finnick's.
Then it was time for us. Haymitch first. We saw him drown himself in liqour to repress his daily nightmares. More than once did his life cross with ours. We saw Peeta and me trying to wake him up, and when we finally managed, he always pulled a knife at us.
"Sorry," Haymitch muttered from beside us, taking a zip from his almost empty bottle.
We saw us cook him dinner, clean his home, and help him with his geese. In his interview, he confessed that he'd probably be dead if it wasn't for us. I wanted to argue with him, tell him that it was the other way around, but just then I heard my own voice. Screaming for Prim, Peeta and my Father. They cut rather quickly to Peeta digging up some of his old paintings, the ones that showed his nightmares. He had stopped painting them like that. Now he only painted what he loved. Beautiful things. No more blood, no more tears, was painted by his steady, gentle hands.
Despite our separate interviews, they always managed to show us as a team. Peeta holding me tight after a nightmare, whispering calming things in my ear. They'd show the little things we did on a daily basis. How I never failed to hurry home from the woods to make sure that he was alright, and how he always baked me something special. How we always closed the bakery together. They even had a clip of me singing him back to sleep after a particularly bad dream that had woken him.
Peeta's and my interviews had been done as voice overs, playing over the clips that was showing. They managed to mix our words perfectly, so that it seemed that we were always taking about the same things. Then Peeta talked about the hijacking, and there was a clip from District 13. One that showed his rescue, how broken he was. One that showed me coming into the hospital, searching for his arms. One that showed his hand around my throat.
Peeta stiffened beside me, his head leaning down on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he whispered over and over again against the crook of my neck, and I could feel his cold tears against my skin. I fought back my own tears, hating to see him like this, and placed my hand on the back of his head, my fingers intertwining with his blonde, thick hair. I knew that it calmed him, and I had to do everything I could for him right now.
I knew how guilty he felt about that moment, and I knew that there was nothing I could do to change it. I had tried so many times, but he didn't believe me when I told him I didn't judge him for it. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't him. But he would always be guilty for that moment, just as I would always owe him for the bread.
"It's okay," I whispered back, pulling him closer to me. "It's almost over."
I didn't watch the rest, my eyes staring out into nothingness above his head. I could feel eyes on us, but I didn't care. All I cared about was Peeta, and how I had to be there for him right now.
Peeta's eyes stayed closed until Haymitch announced that it was over, and just as he rose his head, you could hear my scream reach out over the District. Reach out over the country. Then there was Peeta's calming voice, reasurring me that everything was going to be okay. He never told me that it was just a dream, because we both knew that it wasn't. And then the screen went black again.
Not a single word was said for a long time, everyone trying to understand what they had just seen. They hadn't been told, after all. I knew that there wasn't really any complaints in District 12 though. They saw Peeta and me on a daily basis. They bought bread from him, and I was one of the biggest meat suppliers. I always gave my meat to Rooba, who sold to everyone else to a fair price. They all knew why Haymitch drank, and they had seen Peeta's episodes when he first came back. And sometimes, I'd wake up thinking that my screams had woken the entire district.
They knew how much we suffered. And now they knew even more.
When someone finally spoke, the voice belonged to Haymitch.
"That sure was interesting."