Chapter Six

Lost But Not Forgotten Dreams

Even after all the years that had passed, her voice was still as familiar to his ear as though he had last heard it only yesterday. It set every last one of his nerves on edge and Peeta found that his fury burned through his body like wild fire, causing his skin to tingle almost painfully. He ground his teeth together reflexively whenever she spoke his name, not caring that he was ruining months of expensive Capitol dentistry in the process. Instead, he gestured to the empty tumbler that sat on the night stand at his side and waited impatiently for the painted Capitol whore that occupied the other side of his bed to refill it from the decanter she clutched. When she failed to move fast enough, Peeta growled at her and ripped it from her hands. He poured his own drink with a sneer, eyes still trained on the face of the Mockingjay as she spoke to the camera, taunting him with her weak rebellion promises.

More than a little nervous in the new President's company, the woman sat quietly and obediently back against the mound of pillows, drawing the covers up to shield her naked breasts from view. Peeta barely seemed to note her presence any longer, instead far too focused on the figure of Katniss, who almost seemed to hold the viewer in her steely eyed, determined gaze.

As the propo. drew to an end, and Katniss Everdeen signed off with the usual District 12 salute that had by now become synonymous with the rebellion, Peeta knocked back his latest glass of liquor and drained it. He drank more and more these days, since the death of Snow. He wasn't exactly sure as to why this was, but he assumed it had something to do with the loss of the one person he had finally come to trust to never dress up the truth with lies they assumed he might want to hear. Snow had been nothing if not brutally honest with Peeta, even before the Games had begun. He had always known where he stood in the old President's sights, and that had been what Peeta had ultimately come to respect most about the man.

He tested the weight of the empty tumbler in his hand as his thoughts drifted once more to the Mockingjay. Whilst his mentor had continually instilled in him a deep loathing and contempt for the rebellion and its infamous figurehead, Peeta couldn't help but wonder what might have been.

Occasionally he allowed himself to daydream, conjuring up in his mind a world where Katniss had not been rescued from the arena, but where instead he had been given the precious time he needed to secure her real affections. Perhaps they would have been victorious over the other tributes; perhaps Katniss would now be beside him, the first lady of Panem, and they would have been united in their common desire for revenge and by a love Peeta had coveted since he had first spied Katniss back in the drudgery of District 12.

But Katniss had never really been his for the taking. Her affections were a desperate ploy for survival and, although Peeta had tried to turn their friendship into something more, he knew that deep down the young woman's heart had belonged to someone else.

So it was with great satisfaction that Peeta remembered the fate that had befallen Gale Hawthorne, and it brought him even more pleasure that he had been the indirect catalyst of the young man's death. Images of Gale - bloodied and face contorted in pain - were a soothing balm to the jealousy that still ripped through Peeta's heart.

Of course, eight years later, he assumed Katniss' grief had subsided. She certainly seemed vibrant enough in her broadcasts and, though it pained him to observe, the young woman still possessed an unassuming beauty that held him transfixed. A pair of Seam grey eyes haunted his thoughts far too frequently, and the Capitol prostitutes were a poor substitute even with the lurid fantasies he paid them to facilitate.

With a discontented sigh, his upper lip curved into a snarl and he hurled the glass against the bedroom wall. The woman beside him watched the dregs of amber liquid trickle down the wall with horrified eyes. He gathered a robe from the bottom of the bed and pulled it hurriedly around his shoulders.

"You can go," he spat, dismissing the dark haired girl without so much as casting a glance in her direction.

She awaited no further instruction and scrambled to gather up her discarded clothes, pushing her braid behind her shoulder as she pulled on her dress then her shoes. She made her escape with her underwear clenched in her fist, and the door closed behind her with the gentlest of clicks.

Peeta stared around the room, his stomach turning in disgust at the sight of the crumpled sheets. Striding toward the screen on the wall, he ripped the unit free and hurled it to the ground in temper. It exploded in a shower of glass and angry sparks, and Peeta grunted as a high, lilting voice mocked him from within his own mind.

'Fire is catching.'

The sparks bounced and skittered across the tiled floor before extinguishing themselves, although Peeta's eyes never left the spot where they died.

Breathing deeply and erratically, he took a moment to ground himself - to imagine how Snow would chide him for his tantrum, if he were present. No; it would do no good to simply stew and wallow in old memories. Snow would call for action, not reaction, and Peeta forced himself to remember as much as he all but crawled back over to the bed.

Flinging himself down in the centre of the mattress, and spreading his arms wide either side of his body, Peeta closed his eyes and basked in the stillness. He would do well to remember that the 'might have beens' belonged firmly to yesterday, and tomorrow called for a whole other manner of thinking.

With a smile that reflected a twisted sort of serenity, Peeta began to drift towards a deep yet far from peaceful slumber, where his dreams would be painted by the blood of the Mockingjay and all those she held dear.

x-x-x

The woods were quiet and still, and only the occasional breeze shaking the branches of the tall, willowy trees shattered the almost perfect silence the lovers found themselves cocooned in.

With their little daughter safely in her grandmother's care, Gale had insisted upon taking Katniss out above ground that evening. The demands of the day and the news their meeting had revealed weighed on the shoulders of the Mockingjay, and Katniss had been in an quietly contemplative mood all evening.

But now, as the pair lay on a mound of blankets, tucked away in a clearing beneath a sky full of stars, a sense of peace had again begun to descend upon her.

Katniss released a small yet contented sigh, as she used her husband's broad chest for a pillow and traced the map of the starlit sky across his stomach. Gale's lips brushed the top of her head and she smiled up at him in reply, listening for the familiar sounds of the forest. The breeze rustled the leaves and ghosted across her skin, warm and gentle. For once she felt perfectly at home, wrapped in her husband's arms in a world that had always belonged to them.

She glanced up as she felt Gale shift suddenly beneath her, and she watched as he reached behind him to pluck a yellow petaled flower from the grass that surrounded the tree trunk.

"I promised Briar we'd pick her some wild flowers," Katniss stated, suddenly recalling her earlier conversation with their daughter, who had felt irrevocably slighted by her parents' sudden need for 'grown-up time'.

"Mmm-hmm," Gale murmured, examining the flower only briefly before he trailed the petals along the bridge of his wife's nose. Katniss laughed in response and swatted him away, but she held still as he slid the short stalk behind her ear.

Gale couldn't help the adoring smile that settled on his features, as he gazed into her face and recalled the day some seven years before when she had walked towards him in a borrowed white dress, with a crown of flowers in her hair and a smile that still made his heart skip a beat.

"Sap," Katniss accused good-naturedly, rolling above him and propping her chin on her arms.

"Well, I heard a rumour you liked me," he answered with a shrug of his shoulders, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Captain Hawthorne," she replied, feigning indifference even though her grin betrayed her.

Extending one hand, Gale grazed his fingertips gently over the crest of Katniss' cheek. She leaned into his touch and in response let out a soft murmur. Even during her darkest days, the woods had never failed to bring Katniss a sense of peace and calm; to instill her person with the idea that everything would work out in the end the way it was intended to. Whilst Katniss could never claim to know that this would be for the better, she was comforted by the thought nonetheless - the notion that her every move and action were directed by something greater than even the Capitol, and that her purpose would be fulfilled no matter what. Her father had always believed the same, and Katniss recalled him talking to her as a child, when her mother's belly was still swollen by a growing Primrose, and telling her that her new sibling's path was already being mapped. She hadn't truly understood at the time but, after a stint in the Games that rightly should have claimed her life, Katniss thought that she finally knew what her father had meant. She wasn't certain that she believed in a God or anything so seemingly concrete, but she most definitely felt that her path had been directed towards the woodlands in which she lay - in the arms of the man she adored - from the second she had sucked in her first breath.

"Penny for your thoughts," Gale teased, moving his hand to the small of Katniss' back and beginning to draw circles there with his thumb.

"They're worth nowhere near that much," Katniss replied, grinning as she flung herself at Gale and attacked his lips with her own. The kiss was heated; the kind that made Gale's heartbeat hitch and the nape of his neck grow warm. He felt longing sweep through his body only seconds before he choked out a groan at finding Katniss' knee suddenly pressed gently but firmly between his own legs.

She smiled against his lips as he quickly took the hint and rolled her beneath him, their kisses rapidly escalating as hands tugged at the drab, district issue clothing to reveal warm, soft skin. Katniss wound her arms around his neck and hummed in approval as his mouth dragged a path down her throat and then descended between the valley of her breasts. Her hips bucked against his and the resulting groan from her husband made her grin triumphantly.

Arching a dark eyebrow, Katniss bit back a giggle as Gale settled against the cradle of her hips and she slid her hand down his back to press him closer. The tips of their noses touched and Gale brushed tender kisses against her lips whilst she reached up to press her palm to his jaw.

For the time being at least, she was content to lose herself in the moment; to concentrate only on his touch, the scent of his skin, and the plethora of emotions each of his kisses ignited within her.

"You're my favourite person in the world, you know that?" she whispered, as if the weight of the rebellion had momentarily been lifted from her shoulders.

"Well I hope so," chuckled Gale, his eyes locked on hers. He pressed a kiss against her palm before inclining his head and claiming her lips.

Her fingers combed through his hair and, as they broke apart for air, Katniss smiled contemplatively.

"I kind of like this; nobody knowing about 'us'..." she began, sighing airily as his fingers made quick work of the clasp on her bra and she arched into his touch.

"Uh, okay..." Gale began, confused yet finding himself torn between investigating further or allowing his lips to follow the path his hand was now slowly mapping across her chest.

Katniss laughed and swatted playfully at his shoulder.

"No, I mean... I like that nobody in the outside world knows, that it's not something they can exploit. It's simple and good and... ours. It's just..."

Gale nodded, his lips inches from hers as he reached for her hand and laced their fingers together until their palms met, "Love."

Katniss peered up at Gale through a fan of dark lashes and, her warm fingers wrapping around the nape of his neck, she dragged him closer to cover his lips with her own again and again. Overheard, the constellations in all their glory provided the perfect backdrop to their lovemaking.

x-x-x

Katniss wore her hair loose the next morning, allowing it to cascade down past her shoulders in heavy waves, earning a hum of approval from Gale when he first laid eyes on her as he stepped out of the shower. She had carefully and dutifully weaved the wild flowers they had picked into Briar's single braid, and the deep crimson hues and brilliant oranges stood out perfectly amongst the little girl's curtain of dark hair, making her gasp when she first spied her reflection in the mirror.

The Mockingjay and her family had walked to breakfast hand in hand, Briar chatting ten to the dozen as she fired question after question at her parents about their trip above ground. It was rare that the child was allowed to venture topside, a fact which pained both Gale and Katniss immensely. Although they had grown up under the harsh glare of Capitol rule, they had enjoyed the relative freedom of the countryside and breathed fresh air into their lungs daily, and it brought them both a sense of failure as parents when they considered how very little Briar had felt the warmth of the sun on the crown of her head. They told themselves that, when the rebellion was over and the threat from the Capitol had been squashed, there would be a cottage somewhere in the woods where they would paint the name Hawthorne above a bright blue door.

Katniss smiled absently at the images that idea conjured; of cloudless skies and lush green meadows, where Briar would be free to roam and play, perhaps in time with a sibling or two. They were small dreams, but to Katniss they were everything she had ever wanted. A peaceful and unremarkable existence, filled with love and laughter and the freedom that had evaded her for all of her life.

"Did you two have fun last night?" Hazel inquired, glancing between the couple as they sat side by side on the bench. Katniss cleared her throat, suddenly shaken from her thoughts, and a blush rose up her cheeks as she and Gale exchanged smiles, whilst Hazel and Mrs. Everdeen did likewise.

"Uh, yes. Yes, we did, thank you for taking care of Briar," Katniss answered with an appreciative smile at her mother in-law, who only shrugged as if it was the greatest honour in the world.

"Oh, you know I love having Briar stay over."

Hazel shot her grand-daughter a beaming grin which the child eagerly reciprocated around a mouthful of toast.

Gale watched how his mother's face lit up at the very sight of her grandchild, and he smiled silently to himself as he took a sip of watered down coffee then settled his gaze on his daughter. Katniss spoke quietly into Briar's ear, drawing the tiny child into her side with a protectively maternal arm before she dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Briar continued to eat, oblivious as only a young child could be to the outpouring of love directed at her.

Feeling eyes upon her, Katniss looked up at Gale quizzically, a smirk blossoming across her features as he winked at her from behind the rim of his mug.

Mrs. Everdeen peered across the table at the little family with the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips. Though she had always suspected the depth of feeling that existed between her daughter and the young miner, it brought a particular kind of joy to her heart to watch them together and observe their clear adoration for each other. Of course, it also forced her to recall the handsome face of her own husband, and wonder not for the first time if he had looked at her the way Gale now gazed at their daughter. As much as she still felt the smothering presence of her grief, Mrs. Everdeen would never begrudge Katniss the happiness she had found; especially since there had been a time when she had feared that the young woman had been too closed off and guarded to ever allow herself to trust her heart into the care of another.

"Now, there's the beautiful young lady I was looking for!"

Whilst all of the adults assembled around the table suddenly peered up in the direction of the president with expressions ranging from confusion to reverence, Briar simply giggled impishly at the attention bestowed upon her.

"And how are we today, Miss Briar?" President Coin asked, stooping down as the child scrambled from her place on the bench and hurtled toward the white haired woman with the carefree haste only a four year old could muster.

Alma smiled, her entire being seeming to brighten with the gesture. She appeared to take genuine delight in her encounters with the smallest Hawthorne, and her promise to keep the child's existence a secret was a truly heartfelt one. President Coin cared very much for Briar, and when she had vowed to the couple that she would do everything in her power to keep their daughter safe, they knew that she would rather die herself than break her word.

"Good," Briar replied, her eyes following the fingers of the president as she gently touched one of the flowers that were woven into her hair.

"What beautiful flowers," she observed, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes for a brief moment. Since Briar's arrival, Alma so often found her own lost child flooding her thoughts. Of course there was not a single day that would go by where her daughter's face would not be present in her mind's eye, but having Briar around brought other memories to the surface that were both welcome and yet also painful.

"Mommy picked them for me when she had grown-up time with Daddy," Briar informed her, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she appeared not to notice the laugh that Coin bit back. She added proudly, "Daddy said I'm the pwettiest girl in the whole distwict, just like Mommy."

President Coin pretended to ponder that suggestion for a moment before she bent her head and spoke softly into the little girl's ear, "Well, you know... I think your Daddy might be right about that."

Briar giggled in response, turning to note with obvious pleasure that the eyes of her parents and grandmothers were firmly fixed upon her.

Addressing Katniss for a moment, Alma Coin gestured to a small package in her hand, wrapped in simple brown paper and fastened with a pink ribbon, "They're sugar cookies, is that okay?"

"Just as long as she doesn't eat them all before breakfast is through," Katniss said with a nod, shooting Briar a pointed look before she turned to the district leader with a grateful smile.

"And I thought maybe when you're done with them, Mommy could tie the ribbons in your hair?!" Coin stroked a tendril of the delighted child's hair from her forehead and deposited the package into the pair of waiting eager hands.

"What do you say, little duck?" Katniss coached, relieved when Briar uttered a very sincere 'thank you, Pwesident Coin' and then threw her arms exuberantly around the woman's legs. Whilst the latter wasn't strictly adhering to protocol, it didn't fail to bring a smile to each of the adults' faces, the president included.

Briar settled herself on the edge of the bench, her back pressed against Mrs. Everdeen's side for support, and set about trying to untie the ribbon on the top of the box. Her eye were wide with anticipation and her tongue poked out the side of her mouth as she concentrated. Katniss watched her daughter with a smile playing across her lips, amused at the eagerness that rolled off the little girl in waves. She had no idea how or where Coin had managed to procure a box a cookies, but she knew that the gesture was one that Briar wouldn't be forgetting in a hurry.

Nodding at Katniss, Alma Coin turned on her heel to return to her own table when four soldiers dressed in full uniform stormed into the cafeteria with evident purpose in their strides. The President's face fell and she watched through narrowed eyes as the men split up and at once pursued separate paths towards a bench at the back of the room that housed a single occupant. The woman, who had been seemingly engrossed in staring into the bottom of her bowl of porridge, raised her gaze quickly as she felt the attentions of everyone in the room suddenly upon her.

Katniss watched in shock as Mona clambered almost unsteadily to her feet, her eyes darting about the room as though seeking an avenue of escape. She let out a low, choked cry as each arm was seized by a soldier, before she was physically hauled out from behind the bench. Heavy metal handcuffs were fastened around her skinny wrists before she could utter a protest, and Gale stepped surreptitiously in front of Briar's view as the soldiers began to drag a writhing Mona out of the cafeteria.

Briar remained oblivious to the scene, too caught up in pulling the silky yard of ribbon through her little fingers to notice the commotion taking place behind their table.

Katniss noted a faintly guilty expression flitting across her mother's features, and Mrs. Everdeen busied herself with pressing a kiss to Briar's cheek rather than meet her daughter's probing gaze.

The doors of the dining hall closed resolutely behind the guards, and the gentle hum of chatter once again filled the hall; although it was safe to assume that every conversation taking place between the district citizens was now concerning the apparent arrest they had just witnessed.

Katniss noted that President Coin had managed to slip away unnoticed, and assumed she had gone to take charge of proceedings - although over what, the Mockingjay could not be sure.

"Mom?" Katniss finally coaxed her mother to hold her gaze, and the older woman circled her finger around the rim of her mug with a heavy sigh.

Checking that Briar was otherwise occupied, Mrs. Everdeen leaned across the table, her voice little more than a whisper.

"Yesterday, when Prim and I were watching Briar..." she returned her eyes to her fingers as they curled around the handle of the cup, "we caught Mona stealing supplies."

"Morphling?" Katniss guessed, receiving a nod from her mother. "So you reported her?"

"What else could we do, Katniss?" her mother demanded, shrugging sadly, "I feel so bad for the poor girl, but this isn't the place for her. Not here, not like this. We all live so close together, if one person... if one person falls like that..."

She didn't finish her sentence and instead took a sip of her now cold coffee.

"What will happen to her now?" Katniss asked, glancing up at Gale as he seated himself beside her and draped his arm around her waist.

"I guess they'll deport her from the district," Gale replied, feeling a certain degree of pity for the young woman, who was as much a casualty of the Capitol's rule as anybody else in the room. Unfortunately for her, that had taken the shape of an illness and addiction, which would not be tolerated in District 13 under any circumstances. Such issues were cited as a weakness, and they did not want to pollute the community they had worked so hard to forge over the decades. Mrs. Everdeen had been correct; just one person could have the effect of toppling the proverbial dominoes, and putting the entire district and rebellion in jeopardy.

Katniss nodded, reaching across the table and curling her fingers tentatively around her mother's rough, work-weary hand. "You did the right thing."

Mrs. Everdeen smiled tightly in response, obviously not wholly convinced that she had indeed acted in the girl's best interests. But rules were rules, and the idea of having such a person privy to their military operations or indeed the secrets the district worked so hard to keep was not a particularly comforting thought.

Katniss found herself suddenly roused from similar thoughts as Briar clambered clumsily up onto her knee and threw her arms around her mother's neck in request of a hug. Katniss happily obliged, smiling as she kissed her daughter's cheek repeatedly and wrapped her in a fierce embrace.

"I love you so much, little one," she murmured into the child's ear.

"Love you too, Momma," Briar chirruped happily, leaning her head against Katniss' chest and enjoying the closeness to her mother for longer than she usually tolerated. Whilst Briar enjoyed affection and reveled in her parents' attention, there were usually games to play and things to explore, and her father's patient nature had not been one of the virtues she had inherited.

Holding her little girl tightly, Katniss' thoughts drifted into a far darker and unwelcome direction. For a moment she was overcome by a sense of panic and fear that she thought she had long ago left behind in the arena.

The new president of Panem would have undoubtedly seen their counter broadcast, and it would be only a matter of time before he responded.

It was Peeta's move now. All they could do was wait.