Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Summary:
Katniss has another birthday, sees an old friend and gets a new job.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was the morning of my 27th birthday that it all hit. The utter and complete loneliness clouded my vision. I was alone in an empty house echoing with the sounds of my own sobs. I sat up knowing that sleep would elude me. I went to the cracked bedroom mirror and stared at my reflection. I was tear-stained and heavy eyed but my appearance had seemingly changed little in the years since I had been a girl. I was thin, my hair still in its customary braid or more often now pinned to the nape of my neck and my face was always lined with my customary scowl. But now the scowl had been replaced with trembling lips and hands that struggled to remain steady as I brushed my hair and braided it.
The war had come and gone and I found myself on the other side completely alone. Prim was dead, she had been killed in a bombing in the Capitol at the end of the war, and without her I was a broken, cast off thing. My mother was grief stricken and had moved to District 4 to take a position in the hospital. She had taken Prim’s baby boy with her where he would grow up by the sea barely knowing his own mother. I tried telling myself that even if she disappeared on me he would be okay. Prim’s husband Clem was there in District 4 as was his hoard of relatives who doted on little Archer. I still wondered why I had returned to 12. Perhaps it was because in 4 I felt alone in a crowded room. I was strange old Katniss Everdeen. I had never married, was particularly bad tempered and disliked most social interaction. In 12 everyone largely expected me to act this way. In 4 I was an outcast.
Gale had briefly returned to 12 but now that he was a celebrated war hero he spent most of his time in District 2. He and Madge Undersee had apparently made a match of it despite the fact that he had been married at the time to Leevy Brewster. I would have worried about Leevy, who when all was said and done was a very nice woman, but apparently most shocking of all she was with that crazy Victor from 7 Joanna Mason. Apparently, she and Gale had parted on amicable terms, which was fortunate considering their children. Back when we were kids Gale had seemed to hate Madge but I supposed many years and a war later had changed his opinion. Madge had also been important to the Rebellion. The Capitol in the last assault had even briefly captured her.
I didn’t know what I thought of it all. It felt as if everyone had moved on with his or her life except me. I was trapped in an endless cycle of grief. Prim had died more than a year ago and it still felt unendurable. I wished there was someone to share my grief with. I was so lonely, so lost that I found myself slipping out of the house to the woods even though I really didn’t need to hunt. Cooking for just one person, especially one person who wasn’t very hungry didn’t require as much as before. Buying food was less expensive now that people could trade between districts. I made fewer trades and had more competition.
The woods had been my refuge when my father was alive and even afterward with Gale. When I aged out of my Reapings Gale asked me to marry him. I was confused but I told him I had to wait until Prim was safe despite the fact that I couldn't volunteer for her. When he asked again I accepted. But it turned out that my fear of marriage and children was greater than my love for him. Each day as we came closer to the wedding I found myself unable to sleep filled with terror. I dreamed of dead children and my father's death in an endless loop.
We began to argue constantly over every detail of the wedding. I was a healer’s daughter and I knew where children came from and the type of protection that District 12 offered. I knew it was far from fool proof and that even the most careful of people generally ended up having at least one child. Gale wanted children and I was too afraid. He wanted me to love him the same way as he did and I couldn’t. He didn’t understand my hesitancy. My terror grew day by day. I stopped being able to eat.
At last one day it all came to a head. We had been arguing over some minor issue when suddenly he asked, “Do you even want to marry me?”
I blurted out before I could stop myself, “No, I don’t want to get married at all.” I placed my hand over my mouth the moment the words passed my mouth and struggled to keep them back. “I didn’t mean that. It just slipped out.”
“You did mean it. I know you are scared sick. I know you are upset. I just kept thinking we could make it work. But marriage is a serious thing. Around here it is for life. If you are unsure I need to know now.” His voice was surprisingly calm considering how angry he had been a few moments ago. I fought back tears. As much as I wanted to lie I was a terrible liar. And Gale deserved the truth. I had strung him along far too long.
“I’m so scared. Of marriage. Of kids. Of love. I don’t think I can do this. I’ve tried so much. But I just can’t do this.” I felt relief at the words. As ashamed as I was of admitting my fear I also felt liberated.
“Catnip, I always wanted you to be happy. And you aren’t happy. I always thought we could make it work. But I guess I was wrong. You don’t love me the way I love you.” His voice was sad but more confident than mine.
"I do love you," I repeated. But the moment the words had passed my lips I cringed realizing what he meant. I didn't love him the way my mother loved my father. Perhaps a small part of me had been in love but it hadn't been enough.
“No, you don’t. If you did we would be having a different conversation. Someday you’ll know what I am talking about.” His voice was almost amused but I could see the pain in his eyes. I grew angry. How dare he insinuate that I was some stupid girl who didn’t even know what love even was?
He didn’t give me a chance to retort but stood up abruptly bringing me up with him. Then he leaned over and kissed me one last time. It tasted of regret and heartache. Without a backward glance, he left me standing there. I sighed and went home before calmly telling my mother that the engagement was over. I think she was both disappointed and pleased. She had seen my increasingly agitated moods and known I was unhappy but she had always liked Gale and thought he would make a good husband. Both she and Prim worried I would spend the rest of my life alone.
I began to regret my decision in the years that followed. I was alone and that soul killing loneliness made me long for the good old days when I had hunted with Gale and we had been close. He married only six months later and between his marriage, his new child and the mines we rarely saw each other. When we did see each other it was stiff and stilted. I knew he hadn’t really gotten over me and I wasn’t about to foster rumors that I was breaking up a marriage. I was jealous of Leevy, not of her marriage for I had rejected that, but of having someone to share her life with.
The Revolution had broken out nearly two years ago. Prim and her husband had immediately signed up to help the Rebels from 13 leaving my mother and me with the care of her infant son. I knew Prim's healer nature couldn't stand the idea of dying soldiers without care. She went on an expedition led by Haymitch Abernathy, Gale, Madge and most surprising of all Peeta Mellark. They had all been part of this secret Rebel network that had been sparked into action by the death of President Snow. District 12 suffered few effects of war. The Capitol had dropped a few bombs but had largely ignored us. We were not really worth the expense of bombing.
I was stuck behind with a baby and my mother to feed. At first, the Peacekeepers were so menacing that we had to stay in our house nearly all the time. But as the Rebels gained territory the Peacekeeping force was diverted to more important districts and we were left with a skeleton force of old Cray and Darius. This was a lean year but at least there were no Reapings.
As happy as I was that the Capitol had been overthrown and the war was over it had exacted a terrible cost. The bombing of the City Circle cost me the dearest person in the world to me. The President of District 13 had made her brief tenure as President particularly memorable by proposing a final Hunger Games this time with only Capitol children. A crazed Capitolite killed her with a gun on the very day that the firing squad executed the hapless former President De Witt who had only held that office for a week before the Rebels took it. A woman from District 8 named Paylor had taken over. Gale had worked with her and said she was a good leader and would make a fine President. I hoped he was right.
I made my way from the woods armed with my squirrel I had shot. I knew the Baker would like it. The old Baker had died not long after I had graduated and his two older sons had moved with their families to other districts. But Peeta Mellark had come back and set up the old bakery just as his father before him. I always liked talking to him. In all the years we had known each other we had developed a tentative friendship. He had saved my life once and I had never forgotten it. He was one of the few unattached men in 12 now and I saw the girls simpering at him, many of them nearly ten years younger. He seemed to have only grown more attractive as the years went on notwithstanding the artificial leg he had gotten during the War.
I rapped on the back door even though his mother had been dead for several years and there was no need to be frightened. But he often invited me in for tea and we would sit and chat for a few minutes. He opened the door almost immediately and smiled so broadly at me I could see why all the girls were crazy about him. The military training had only increased his already muscular form and his face bore a long scar running near the eye that gave him a slightly dangerous appearance. I knew better of course. He was one of the kindest people I knew and would never hurt an innocent person.
“Katniss, come in. I was just wondering if you would bring a squirrel by. I wanted to talk to you about something important.” He ushered me into the neat kitchen and poured me a cup of tea before I could protest. The truth was these chats were the highlight of my week. I knew he was lonely, probably just as lonely as I was, and that explained the way that we seemed to be able to connect even with my lack of ability with words.
His wife Delly had died years ago when we had been still teens. It was quite a tragedy really and I supposed that was why he would look at me with a sad expression sometimes. He must have really loved her a lot. Delly had never been a friend of mine but I had remembered how she had looked so happy and healthy with her rounded stomach and glowing features. She had always been so happy to see me as if I was a friend of hers. I had gotten her roots for her morning sickness and listened to her prattle on about her pregnancy. The next moment she had been dead. Apparently, she had something my mother called preeclampsia. In the Capitol such things were easily treated in the hospital. In District 12 the town midwife had been young and inexperienced. But old Mrs. Mellark had utterly refused to have my mother called in despite my mother’s vastly higher level of experience and skill. By the time Peeta’s brother had been able to summon my mother when the witch was asleep it was too late. Delly and the baby died a few hours later. I went to the funeral despite not being friends with Delly and Peeta. I glanced over at Peeta and saw his pale face and tear rimmed eyes. He saw me with a look of shock but instantly composed himself. I always thought this story was part of what made me refuse to have children. If Delly with all the town medicine and wealth and seemingly perfect health died in childbirth what would stop an underfed girl like me from dying as well?
I accepted the steaming hot tea and noticed that as usual, he drank his unsweetened. I sank down in the chair wanting to unload all my problems to him. He was a sympathetic listener. But I couldn't burden him with my cares. Instead I commented as I blew on my tea.
“You seem to have a long line of admirers. All that war hero business has definitely made you popular.” I glanced up wondering what he would reply. I didn’t think he would be interested in one of those girls barely out of school.
" Really? Well, that is all silly. I fought in a war. Big deal? What was I supposed to do? Sit and wait for the Capitol to be defeated magically?" He flashed me an annoyed glance before drinking another sip of tea.
I didn’t add that his looks definitely added to the appeal. He hadn’t been conventionally handsome when we had been young but the years had given him a maturity and strength that was very appealing. And he was so willing to talk to people. His voice was soothing and low and charming. I understood why the Rebellion had featured him prominently in the propos. He had charisma in spades.
“I understand that the whole thing with …. Would make you reluctant to marry again.” I replied.
“No, that’s not it. I have loved one girl all my life and if I don’t have her I don’t intend to marry again.”
I gasped. He said “have her” and “marry again”. He couldn’t possibly have been referring to Delly. But who was this mysterious girl? I wondered how many years he had waited for this girl. I couldn’t help comparing that to Gale who hadn’t waited more than a few months before marrying Leevy.
“But…Delly.” I couldn’t stop myself from saying the words though I wanted to call them back instantly. I had no right to interfere in his private affairs.
“I loved Delly but I wasn’t in love with her. She was my best friend growing up and a very sweet, lovely person. But the marriage was arranged between our parents. I think she was happy. She was the sort to be happy under everything. And our marriage wasn’t terrible. We were both happy about the baby. But then she suddenly died and the baby died. And I couldn't help but think it was my problem. For not loving her enough." His voice grew lower and lower as he spoke and I couldn't help taking his hand. As a rule, I am not a very affectionate person but I couldn't help it. He had been so kind to me so often that I found myself wanting to comfort him.
“It isn’t your fault. It never was your fault. It was the Capitol for not providing us with any decent medicine and it was just one of those awful things that happened. You couldn’t possibly have known Delly was going to get sick. She was perfectly healthy up until it happened.” I spoke firmly and a little sharply as if I needed to impress the truth of my words into his heart.
“I know. And thank you Katniss. You are the only person I have ever told this. It means a lot to me.” He squeezed my hand gently. I was rather surprised by this admission. But then again the town spinster who spent her life perpetually alone might be a reasonable confidant.
“Well, is this mystery woman married? Perhaps you have a chance yet?” I questioned. I suddenly hoped that this woman was unavailable although that was incurably selfish of me. If anyone deserved happiness it was Peeta. But the idea of being the only one truly alone was frightening.
"No, she isn't married. But I don't know. She is pretty opposed to marriage. And she is so beautiful that I’m sure that if she wanted to she could have anyone she wished. ” He voice was almost teasing and I racked my brain trying to think of this woman. There were few unattached women in District 12 except for women noticeably younger or older than us. Was it Bristel Ivy? She was single and I highly doubted she would marry. She was an old mining buddy of Gale’s and a frequent visitor to Rippers for alcohol. I rather liked her independence and determination. But the idea of mild, kind hearted Peeta desperately in love with Bristel struck me as incongruous.
“Well,” I said with more confidence and cheer than I felt, “I’m sure that you can woo her with cheese buns. No woman could resist them.”
He chuckled, “Well I have your word on that and I don’t think I value anyone’s opinion more highly.”
He reached over and pulled a plate off of the counter and set it in front of me. On it was a small cupcake frosted all over with white frosting and a small katniss blossom painted on the top. The katniss blossom is rather plain but under Peeta's skillful fingers the ordinary flower looked stunning. I nearly cried at the sweetness of the gesture. I had felt so alone for so long. I had missed Prim and her bright laugh. Food had always been my one weakness. If other people sold their souls for sex or drink or drugs I would probably do it for something like cheese buns or cake. Of course, we were far too poor to afford any of it. But ever since Peeta had been back in 12 he had pressed some food on me every time I came to trade beyond the usual plain bread in exchange for a squirrel. He said the bread was stale and with only one person it would go to waste but I always wondered if he was just being kind. I normally abhorred charity but the few times I had accused him of this he had gotten so angry that I had submitted to this treatment without more comment. Peeta almost never got angry but when he did he had an ability to shut me up that few people possessed. A few simple words in that sharp tone he got made me back pedal to a surprising degree.
"I seem to remember that it is a certain someone's birthday." He smiled at me as he lit a tiny candle and pushed the plate towards me. "Make a wish."
It was a childish idea but I humored him because he had gone to the trouble of baking this for me. I supposed that he had so few friends that he was even willing to count a lonely woman like myself as one of them and willing to bake her beautiful treats. I could only imagine how he would spoil that mysterious woman he had loved so long. I didn’t want to think of that. I thought of my despair this morning and silently wished that I would be less lonely. I doubted I could ever be happy with Prim gone but I wanted this aching pain to go away.
I blew out the candle and took a small bite of the delicious treat. I gave a little moan of satisfaction. It was rare that I got to taste cake and even rarer that it was something like this. The cake was rich and buttery with a strong vanilla flavor and the frosting was creamy and sweet. I looked up and caught him staring at me with the strangest expression on his face. I blushed feeling ashamed of myself. What must he think of a grown woman nearly thirty behaving this way about a cake? But then I automatically handed the fork to him to try. I didn’t know why I did that for surely he knew what his own food tasted like but he had stared at me a little longingly and perhaps he wanted a taste. He complied and ate a tiny bite but I noticed that his eyes didn’t leave my face.
He leaned over suddenly and swiped a finger across my lip where a bit of frosting stuck. Of course, that must have been why he was staring. But the sensation of his calloused finger sliding across my lip sent shivers down my spine and made my lower stomach clench. I found my face heating up even with this gesture. It had been so long since I had been touched. I had been kissed once after Gale but that had been at Harvest Festival and the man had drunkenly accosted me so I didn’t count that. I had been kissed many times by Gale but I don’t really remember them very much. In years past I played them over and over in my head but I always thought it was more the sensation of being safe and cared for than the physical act that I longed for. I had sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with me. My mother had made a few comments over the years asking if I liked women. It had taken me a long time to figure out what she even meant as marriages between same sex couples had been strictly outlawed by the Capitol. I had rejected that notion but I had still wondered if my lack of sexual desire was abnormal. Any sexual urges I had were undirected and vague and easily overlooked in the scheme of things. Now I realized that this sensation must be what people talked about. It was terrifying experiencing such a thing practically for the first time in one’s whole life at my age. It was even more embarrassing considering that Peeta Mellark liked some mysterious woman who was definitely not I as I was not beautiful. I counted him as one of my few friends and I had to go about developing these physical sensations. I wondered suddenly what it would be like to have his lips against mine instead of his finger.
He moved back in his seat and I forced my eyes away trying to quell the burning in my cheeks. I took another bite of cake but noticed that my hunger for food seemed to have diminished. Still it distracted me enough to calm myself down and think more logically.
"I wanted to talk to you about whether you would be willing to work here for me. I know you hunt and believe me I can work around that schedule. But I really need someone to run the books. I'm terrible with math and finance and I seem to remember you always were good with numbers. I sometimes need help at the front counter or restocking things. You won't need to do any baking if you don't want to." His voice had returned to normal and he was not looking at me but his words were so business-like that I decided he had not noticed my strange reaction.
“Well, uhh, sure. I mean if you think I would help. I haven’t ever done anything like that.” I replied rather stupidly. I had been good with math in high school. It had been one of the few subjects I enjoyed. It was blissfully free of Capitol propaganda and was simple for me to understand. It was logical, regular and lacked surprises. Follow the right steps and you got the right answer. I could see why an artistic person like Peeta would hate it but I personally found it easy.
"Great. Well, as soon as you can get started I would really appreciate the help. I am not very good with accounting and the tax system has changed with the New Capitol. Just having one person and few high school kids help hasn’t been enough. I’m swamped in work.”
“I could start tomorrow if you want. I’m not very busy right now. I’ll have my nephew visiting in the summer but I’m sure we can work something out then.” I was glad to be able to help him after all the times he had helped me. He did look stressed and tired and no wonder with all that work hanging over him. Besides it would be good for me to get out with a regular job with new associations. As much as I loved the forest I knew that it brought back memories. And sitting at home thinking about Prim would be worse. I needed to be strong for my nephew so someday when he was older I could tell him all about how wonderful his mother was. The idea that he might not know who she really was made me sick.
Still as I made my way home I couldn’t help but wonder if I was making the right decision. Peeta Mellark could be very dangerous to a lonely woman like me. He was handsome, kind, considerate and seemed to be genuinely interested in what I said. We got along beautifully and as my strange reaction earlier had proved something in me had shifted over the years. I couldn’t afford to fall for someone who loved someone else. Besides even if he did care for me I couldn’t give up my fear not even after the war had been fought.
Notes:
I am thinking this story will be about 3 chapters. The rating won't go up. I can't write smut. I may add a little Gale/Madge but I'm not sure. Also we may see Finnick, Annie and Johanna sometime. I won't kill off Finnick because in the context of this story the Victors really didn't lead the Revolution. In canon Katniss had to lead the Revolution for plot reasons but I have always thought that was a bit unrealistic. Most Revolutions are led by political or military leaders. Basically President Snow dies of natural causes but has no clear successor because he kept killing his rivals. The Capitol officials keep fighting for power leaving a power vacuum and multiple assassinations and forced resignations. Finally Plutarch becomes President and institutes a series of conservative reforms including a volunteer only Games. This attempt at reform only loosens the political dissenters who launch the revolution under this more open policy. Coin takes over briefly but is killed by an angry Capitolite. Paylor, who has been a member of the Revolution and a prominent military commander is appointed as President and then elected later. Many of the District 12 characters are spared since it was never bombed. Obviously many of the other Districts were harder hit by the war.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Summary:
Katniss goes to work at the bakery and has a date for dinner.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning I realized that Peeta had not been exaggerating his troubles when it came to the business side of the bakery. I went to work right away and spent hours trying to straighten out the messy scrawls and numbers that wouldn’t add up. The papers strewn about the office were stacked in neat piles but they were completely disorganized. Despite my dislike of Mrs. Mellark I suspected that when she was alive there had been more order in the management of the bakery. Peeta Mellark might have many talents but keeping accounting books was not one of them. I had never had a job in which I spent time at a desk and I quickly wished to be outside instead of the rather stuffy old office. But it was a job for a friend and I was being paid good money for it.
I spent little time interacting with the other workers for the first few days. I supposed I made the two young teenagers working for Peeta a little nervous. I had trouble wiping off the scowl off of my face even when I wasn’t angry. The girl was a Seam girl named Aster who had trouble raising her voice above a whisper. The boy was from District 11 and named Oakland. He was tall and imposing but soon warmed up to me enough to be an invaluable aid whenever I needed helping getting something off the top shelf of the office since I had trouble due to my short stature. It was nice to see these young people growing without the threat of Reapings and the chance to travel to another district and settle wherever you wanted to. I suspected the boy would be a good hunter as he was from the agricultural district. He reminded me a little of Gale but without the anger and bitterness.
“How is it going? Is it too messy?” Peeta placed a cup of tea on the desk as I sighed and stretched the knot out of my neck and shoulders from leaning forwards. He was standing so close I could smell the familiar scent of cinnamon and dill that always clung to him. It comforted me reminding me of safety and stability and home. He was always absurdly nice to me as if I was a guest instead of a paid employee. I supposed that he treated me differently than the kids because I was older and something of a friend to him.
"It's coming along," I replied cautiously not wanting to hurt his feelings and tell him how bad things were. I didn’t understand why I was so protective of him. Perhaps because I had been forgotten so many times that I didn’t want other people to feel the same way. And he was kind and I have always been susceptible to kindness.
“Good. I knew I found the right woman for the job. You know you could go anywhere in the country and find something to do. I’m lucky to have you.”
I laughed mirthlessly thinking of how out of place I felt everywhere, “I was terrible in school and unless hunting counts as an occupation I would be useless. I tried living in 4 with my mother. It was too different.”
“I understand. 12 is our home. There is something about it. But you always sell yourself short.” He saw me still rubbing on that spot on my shoulder that still pained me. I had once hurt my shoulder hunting and spending too much time writing generally landed me with pain that radiated down my hand. “Here, let me.”
I didn't protest when he pressed his hands against the spot and massaged the pain away. It had been years since I had gotten a back rub. My mother used to use a medicinal cream occasionally after a hard day of hunting. But it had been so long and I was so starved for human contact that I gave a huge sigh of relief. It felt so nice. I had to admit that a part of me recognized that my reaction was more than how I had felt when my mother did it or even because I was lonely. I wondered how he had learned this? Had he massaged Delly's shoulders or the mystery woman? At any rate, I felt as if all the knots in my shoulders were being carefully kneaded away. Warmth, soft and tender, flowed through my veins giving me a sense of ease at the same time filling me with a strange tension.
I had been feeling that quite often recently. It was hard working for someone that I felt an inexplicable bond with. It had been growing all this time so slowly I scarcely noticed it. I had not really become friends with him until his mother died not long before the revolution. But recently we had spent a lot of time together in the comfortable kitchen drinking tea and talking about unimportant gossip. I had begun to watch him at his work or when he was sketching. I noticed those eyelashes, light colored and so long it was a wonder they didn’t tangle together, and the way his muscles moved as he worked. It had been so long since I had noticed someone that way and somehow it felt more intensely than I had ever felt before. Perhaps because I was older, or more willing to accept the feeling or maybe because there was something so warm and tender about him that I was drawn towards him. It scared me. I didn’t want to feel this way. But another part of me felt a little excited. It was nice to feel something again after so long spent in pain and alone.
I opened my eyes, which had fallen shut for a moment, I was suddenly tired and extremely relaxed, and said, “I should be heading home and put dinner on.”
I was not a very good cook and as I was cooking for only myself I sometimes forgot to eat until I was ravenous and shaky with hunger. I usually made simple stews and soups and served it with bread and dandelion green salad. My mother had been a good cook and I admitted that I missed her cooking. I had never been close to my mother but I wanted her company.
“I put a stew on with one of your squirrels. Why don’t you stay for supper?” he asked and I hesitated. I hadn’t ever had dinner with someone before like this all by myself. I had chats over cookies or picnics in the woods. But I was an intelligent enough person to know that inviting a single woman over for supper had significance greater than those more familiar things. Even Gale and I had never eaten alone except when we were in the woods. Part of me was frightened. I couldn’t afford this kind of intimacy.
But I replied, "I could. But I don't want to put you to the trouble." I stood up and tried to smile even though smiles were hard to come by on my face. Somehow smiling at Peeta wasn't too hard. He was always so affable that even very sour people like me were forced to thaw.
“Great. Just let me go and heat up the cheese buns and it will be ready.”
I began straightening the papers before going to the tiny cracked mirror in the corner of the room and smoothed my hair and blouse. I have never cared for my appearance at all but I hardly wanted to look as if I was a freak. I was suddenly nervous which was ridiculous considering how many meals I had in that very kitchen. I forced myself to walk in and instantly was struck with the savory, cheesy scent of the buns. They were my favorite and I suspected that Peeta knew it and made extra for my benefit. Since I could never catch him at it and if I were to confront him he would be offended I was always forced to accept his explanation that they were stale.
The table was set neatly with the old cracked china that had clearly seen better days. Mrs. Mellark must have been proud of her china a long time ago when she got it. I remembered Madge's family's beautiful china that had been destroyed when her house was bombed. Of course, now that she was a big shot in the Rebellion she could probably afford Capitol china. I was glad I didn't have to worry about that. But the fact that Peeta, after being up since 4:30 was making me dinner and cheese buns that were clearly not stale, touched me in a way that seemed out of proportion to what was happening. I felt a debt of gratitude. I had tried thanking him once for the bread when we were kids but he had shrugged it off. I hadn’t forgotten it though and I was continually on a lookout for ways I could pay him back.
“I’m going to run down to the meadow and get something.” I murmured before taking off rapidly towards the spot that I had first picked those dandelions and discovered hope.
I found them easily and gathered a whole armful, which I tied together in a bundle with the bit of cord I used to tie off my braid. I hurried back and found Peeta setting the stew on the table. I flushed a little with embarrassment. How stupid must he think me? He would laugh at me putting weeds on his table and I hardly thought he would want to eat them as a salad when he had a perfectly good garden out back with tomatoes, carrots, peas, and lettuce. He could hardly understand how important dandelions were to me. How they represented hope and how they always reminded me of him and that never failing optimism and kindness.
"I thought these would look nice on the table," I muttered under my breath.
“Oh yes. Thank you.” He said as if I had brought him some rare exotic Capitol flower. I saw him go to the cupboard and pull down a small jar and fill it with water and set it on the table. I placed the bunch in their and thrust the tie in my pocket forgetting that my braid was slowly unraveling.
“I have always liked them. Dandelions I mean. They are good to eat. One day, after well… the bread, Prim and I went to the meadow and picked them. They have always made me think of hope.” I found myself speaking against my will and I hoped he wouldn’t think I was crazy. Sometimes alone in my house I felt crazy.
“Thank you for telling me that. And for bringing them. Normally I don’t have such nice decorations on the table. I’ll have to paint this.” He reached over and gave my shoulder a soft pat and smiled at me.
I nearly laughed at the idea that he would be so starved for companionship that he would want to paint a bunch of weeds but I supposed artists were strange people who found beauty even in ugliness. I sat down and took a bite of stew. Not bad though I actually thought that I made better. Of course, it was one of the few dishes I could cook so I had more practice. The cheese buns were a different story. They fairly melted into my mouth and oozed with cheese. I managed to just barely avoid my embarrassing reaction with the cake.
“So is the stew up to your standards?” he questioned as I took a sip of water and tried to pretend this sort of thing wasn’t new to me.
"Yes, of course, though you have never tried my stew so you can't compare it," I replied.
"Hmm… well, that will have to be fixed. Perhaps someday I can bribe you with cheese buns to make it." He laughed along with me at the ludicrous notion that I would turn down cheese buns.
"You have to come over and have supper sometime," I answered before I could stop myself. Why did he have the effect of making me forget myself? I hoped he wouldn't take my invitation the wrong way.
“I’d like that.” He said gravely and I relaxed. He clearly hadn’t taken inviting him to my house as anything odd or strange. I was more and more aware of how people might view our interactions. There was something different about this. I was not inviting him over for survival or even because I wanted to pay back a debt. I simply wanted the company.
We talked about the bakery, Aster and Oakland and the new government. I talked about Archer and how proud mother was that he had started to learn to swim. He teased me about how he thought Oakland had a crush on me. I supposed that joke was fair game considering how I had teased him about the girls in the bakery.
“That’s silly and you know it. I’m way too old and plain for that.” I scowled at him across the table wanting to wipe that knowing smirk off his face.
“You’re 27 not dead. And Oak is nearly 20. But I hope you don’t fall for the boy. I would hate for the best huntress in District 12 to leave for 11.”
I paused for a moment suddenly aware of something. The fact that Peeta thought I was attractive enough to get the attention of a good-looking boy meant that he must think of me as reasonably pretty as well. I never thought I was pretty. Not like Prim had been with her long blond hair and lovely eyes. Not even like Delly who had been all curves and smiles. I was angular and flat chested with plain features. Perhaps in fancy clothing, I might look good but surely someone who had been out of the district had seen so many far more beautiful women, wouldn't take a second look at me. I instantly dismissed the notion that the mystery woman was I. I definitely wasn’t beautiful in the way that woman was.
"Well, you don't need to worry about that," I replied.
“Good. I might not get squirrel stew anymore.” He sent me a look over raised eyebrows as if daring me to contradict him. I was not good a mental games or making conversation.
I insisted on helping wash dishes. Peeta had gone to the trouble of making dinner and the least I could do was help him clean up. I marveled at the water that ran hot right out of the tap. At my house, the water was always cold and in the winter usually froze requiring me to go and melt snow to have anything to drink at all. I noticed the closeness of our bodies as we washed and dried the dishes. He leaned over me to grab a scrub brush from the sink and I flushed at the contact. His breath felt warm against my neck and I suddenly wondered what it would feel like if he were to kiss me right there. The thought flashed through my head and I tried to dismiss it as he moved to the other side of the kitchen to put a dish away. It was strange and definitely inappropriate. I had never really done this sort of thing before. Even years ago when I was engaged I had never had such impulses. I had usually been on the receiving end of kisses and the times I had actively initiated them they hadn’t been about kissing. They had really been about affection and cheering up not this strange melting feeling in my stomach. Did most people walk around feeling this way? Was it strange to feel this practically for the first time at my age? Even so, this feeling had come on slowly. It had come so slowly that I hadn't even noticed it. It seemed to grow out of a friendship I now valued more than most things in life.
“Shit.” I heard a muttered curse and turned around to see that the boiling hot teakettle had spilled and Peeta was wincing at an angry looking burn on his finger. I had always hated burns worst of all. Even tiny ones hurt like hell. I was a little surprised that he had had an accident in the kitchen. He was normally so careful. Perhaps he was distracted.
“Let me look at it.” I was no healer like my mother but I had spent so many years helping her that I was able to treat basic things. I still got sick seeing blood or sick people but at least I no longer threw up when I saw disgusting things. Prim had always been able to do all those things without batting an eyelash. I couldn’t think about her now though or I would come apart.
“It’s fine. I get burns all the time.” He repeated as I studied the burn. He was probably right but it would still hurt and be difficult to work the next day with an injured hand.
“Nonsense. I have some good burn medicine my mother sent me. It isn’t quite Capitol grade but nearly the same. I can go and get it.” I made a move towards the door but he stopped me.
“It really isn’t necessary but I can walk you home and you can put a little on if you don’t mind the bother.” He smiled in the self-deprecating manner that reminded me of the mother who had spent so many years destroying her children. It was hard for me to forgive my mother for what she had done but at least she had never been cruel. I could only imagine what I would have done if Mrs. Mellark had been a Seam woman and my mother.
"Well, all right," I replied reluctantly. I hated the idea of needing a man to protect me. I was perfectly capable of protecting myself. Still it would be nice not having to take the extra walk to the bakery and back. I didn’t feel as if he was patronizing me. If I had I likely would have stormed off in a huff.
I was a little ashamed to let him in my house. It was so small and dingy compared to the bakery. The coal dust coated everything. The rooms were nearly bare except for the picture of my parents on their wedding on the mantel. There was a picture of Prim, her husband and baby that she had given me once. My mother couldn’t stand the sight of them and left them. I could only imagine how ugly everything looked.
I went to the cupboard and took down the first aid kit my mother had stocked with little tubes of medicine she said were handed out in the hospital as samples. Apparently this kind of medicine was cheap and common in the wealthier districts and the Capitol. I found the burn cream and sat on the couch beside Peeta and began patting it on with a clean bit of cloth.
“ That feels great. I can’t believe some of this medicine they have now. The Capitol hospitals have everything. And we sat here a died with infected cuts and starvation.” I hear the bitterness in his tone for an instant and it catches me off guard. I always thought of him as unfailingly cheerful. I always forget that he lost a wife and child to something that would have been easily treated in the Capitol. Even his parents probably would have lived longer. Not to mention he went through a war and lost a leg. It reminds me more of Gale and his rants against the Capitol. Then again Peeta and Gale worked together with Haymitch and Madge and many others in the Revolution. Perhaps some of that rubbed off on him.
“Do you know they used to take this medicine and vomit up their food so they could eat more? While people in our district starved. While little girls sat under apple trees slowly dying. Sometimes I wondered if the war was right. So many people died. But then I remembered that and I realize that we did what we had to do. Still the methods…I’m not sure.” His voice trailed off and he looked away to the spot on the floor where the roof leaked and left a permanent stain.
I thought of Prim and the ongoing investigation over who dropped the bombs in the City Circle. I thought of the rumors of the thousands of people killed in the mountain called the Nut. I thought of Coin and her proposal of more Hunger Games. I thought of how I hadn’t cared at the time about who died as long as it wasn’t someone I knew or cared about personally. I remembered the hospital that had bombed in District 8 on live television. That had been the moment that I had wholeheartedly supported the Revolution.
“ I think about Prim. I couldn’t save her. I tried to stop her from going but she was determined. And she said she would be safe. She was just a medic. It was Clem who was in danger being a soldier. But then she is gone and I don’t even know who killed her. I couldn’t save her.” I feel tears prick my eyes and try to avoid crying. It is useless because thinking about Prim always made me cry.
“It isn’t your fault. You kept her baby safe which is more than I can say.” I could feel his arms slip around my waist and I felt so far away. Grief would take me like this. One moment I could be fine and the next lost.
“I’m so weak. I never used to do this.” I used to be able to suppress my feelings and go on. But sometimes I felt as if I was internally collapsing. My grief and loneliness were just too much.
“You aren’t weak. Katniss Everdeen, listen to me. You are many things but weak isn’t one of them. Bad tempered, stubborn, angry and scary maybe but not weak.” He spoke so sharply I was startled but it had the effect of giving me the time to wipe away my tears and try to compose myself. He touched my hair that had come out of its braid and hung limply around my face like a curtain.
"I don't know why I keep falling apart around you," I replied trying to untangle myself from him before I said something stupid.
“Maybe because I have that effect on people. It is a miracle you’re still willing to talk to me.”
I know the comment was meant as a joke to help me save face. Heaven forbid Katniss Everdeen ever show emotion. But it also makes me think because it was sort of true. He was one of the few people I could be myself around. And ever since the war the only one in District 12 who truly understood me. For some reason, the defenses I had been putting up for years started to crumble. And I was terrified of that.
"Don't flatter yourself, Mellark," I replied in an attempt at humor. I am not good at being funny but it is less awkward to laugh than cry. It comes out more pathetic than funny though. I despise the thought and immediately frown.
“I’d better go before it gets too late.” Peeta rose from my weather beaten old sofa and went towards the door I dutifully taking the few steps following him.
I had a sudden urge to ask him to stay. I was so lonely and he had a way of making me feel as if I wasn’t alone. As if there was still hope in the world. But I was not stupid. Such a request was ludicrous, absolutely inappropriate and embarrassing. It would be easy to take advantage of his kindness and most likely his own loneliness. I was sure I wasn’t imagining the sudden spark in his eyes as they fell on me for an instant. I felt it again, the sudden tugging in my heart and body, that seemed to draw me in gently and intangibly. I wanted something to make me forget, more than that to remind myself that I was alive and capable of feeling, and I knew how easy it would be to do something stupid because I tended to act on impulse and not think things through. It wouldn't have been so scary if I could have convinced myself that it was nothing more than hormones and loneliness. But I knew it was more. I had never wanted any of this before. And there was something that told me that my sudden longings were even more emotional than physical.
“Good night.” He said gravely before closing the door. I tried to say it back but I’m not sure if I managed. My throat seemed to have closed up and I flung myself on my bed without bothering to undress.
I lay there until morning hovering between sleep and wakefulness. My brain seemed to alternate between grief, a strange sensation of desire and plain loneliness that left me confused and tired. I never thought it was possible to feel so many conflicting emotions at the same time.
“Damn you, Peeta Mellark. Why do you have to do this to me?” I muttered angrily to the mirror the next morning as I tried to muster enough energy to start my day. I had been surviving, not well but surviving, until he started inching his way into my life. It was clearly all his fault.
Notes:
I decided this fic will be four parts instead of three as I am adding an epilogue.
1. My Katniss seems a little softer than canon Katniss. I hope she isn't too soft. But she is considerably older and I would hate to have a character who is 27 acting like 16. Plus she hasn't been Reaped so her life was less painful. I hope I have stayed in character. Same thing for Peeta although he seems a little easier to capture.
2. Katniss is demisexual in my universe. As a demisexual myself that is part of what I find compelling about her. I headcanon her as demisexual in the books too. She basically fits all the classifications. So her slowly experiencing sexual desire is part of her demisexuality. It is unfortunate that many people don't understand being demisexual or asexual and attack people for being prudish, repressed, stupid or confused. It is hard enough being ace or demi today. I can only imagine what it would be like if you lived in Panem without access to any information about sexuality or gender.
3. Gale's position in the Rebellion is different than in canon since he is involved but from a small district that didn't garner much notice. One thing that annoyed the heck out of me in canon was how he got such a high position at the end of the war despite his lack of real military experience and discipline. In this version he had to work his way up over the years working in the underground rebellion. Also he and Peeta worked together along with Madge and other rebels. While I wouldn't say they were friends they definitely weren't enemies. There was no reason since Katniss wasn't involved with either of them at the time.
4. I always assume that sexual morals in District 12 are pretty strict. Partly due to the fact that marriage was likely subsidized by the government during the Games to encourage reproduction. And birth control was unavailable. Obviously LBGTQA folks would be attacked. Prostitution seems to be relatively common but only acceptable when it comes to Peacekeepers since that wouldn't affect the family unit compared to having a husband or father seeing a prostitute. Even in the Capitol morals seem really strange. Effie was freaking out about teen sex even while Victors are being sold.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Summary:
Katniss gets jealous, has a bad day and finally big secrets are revealed.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
I thought it would be easy to pretend that the "incident" as I termed it had not happened. I thought it would be simple to dismiss it as a product of tiredness, attraction, and loneliness. But I found myself thinking about it in odd hours, which was extremely out of character for me. I never spent time dwelling on this sort of thing. I had never been one to obsess over romance or relationships. Perhaps it was because for the first time in my life I had time to think about things other than survival or my family.
I wished there was someone I could talk to about these feelings that had been slowly growing and had suddenly taken root and seemed hard to dislodge. I would have loved to talk to Prim. Even though she was younger when it came to romance and love she was definitely older and more experienced. Talking to my mother was impossible. I was too embarrassed. We simply weren’t close enough and I still half way resented her for leaving me behind in District 12 even if it was a little unfair to blame her considering District 4 was better for Archer. I had never forgotten the “talk” she had given me when I turned 16 about sex and how it sent me flying into the woods to shut out the blunt words. She hadn’t understood why I had been so embarrassed or frightened. No, I knew talking to my mother would be definitely the wrong idea.
I could feel myself withdrawing again as I always did when things became uncertain. I was short with everyone at the bakery and got through my morning trades on monosyllabic answers. I knew I had probably hurt Peeta’s feelings, sent poor Aster into a state of abject terror and crushed any possible crush on the part of Oakland. But I couldn’t afford to indulge these kinds of feelings. I had to go back to the normal state where I viewed Peeta Mellark as a kind-hearted friend and someone I owed a debt of gratitude to. I couldn’t feel anything else for him.
But this resolution crumbled when I saw Bristol Ivy walk into the bakery. She was tall for a woman and broad shouldered from years of hard labor in the mine. She was now working in the building of the medicine factory and her skin, which had once been pale from spending hours in the mines, was deeply tanned. She was tough, no nonsense and blunt. It was nearly impossible to imagine her the woman Peeta Mellark had been in love with for years. It was almost as fantastical as him being in love with me. Still, there was a faint resemblance between Mrs. Mellark and Bristol, though neither would have been happy about the comparison and perhaps that was the attraction.
“Katniss, what are you doing here?” she asked me jovially in her gravelly voice which had been deepened by the miners.
"I work here," I replied shortly. I was never one for conversation and normally I liked Bristol. She was never one for gossip and when she spoke she always said her mind. But all I could think of was how she would absolutely destroy Peeta Mellark. It wouldn’t even be her intent. I supposed it took one to know one.
“That’s funny. I didn’t even know you knew how to bake.” She replied looking at me strangely.
"I don't. I do the office work and help run the counter." I was annoyed that she was questioning me in that weird way. Did she think there was something improper going on? Of all people, I would hardly imagine her to object.
“Yes, Katniss is doing amazing. I don’t know what I would do without her. This place was an absolute mess tell she came in and put things together.” I could hear Peeta come up behind me in the extremely loud way he had. He would be the world’s worst hunter.
Bristol laughed uproariously as if he had made a joke and ordered a carrot muffin. She promptly proceeded to eat the muffin while talking to us about how the medicine factory was progressing. Normally I would be interested in hearing about it. The improvement over mining for our district was something I could never be more thankful for. But all I could think of was Bristol's knowing smirk and the way she seemed to know everything. She was so loud and rude and I wondered that I ever thought her interesting.
I snuck a look at Peeta as she was talking wondering if he would be staring at her the way my father used to look at my mother. But unless he was a much better actor than I thought he was his face betrayed no hint of emotion other than a polite interest in a customer and genuine interest in hearing about improvements to District 12. Relief flowed through me though I told myself that I had no right to feel so. I was not in love and I shouldn’t be so selfish as to wish him to stay single just because I was single.
It was at that precise instant that Haymitch Abernathy and Thom Clark walked in still deeply engrossed in a conversation. It wasn’t really a surprise. Haymitch had been an important part of the Revolution, though why anyone would take the advice of an old drunk seriously I would never know, and Thom was the new mayor of District 12 after Madge’s father had retired. Haymitch knew politics more than anyone else in District 12 since he had spent so much time in the Capitol and in the Revolution. Thom, who was only a few years older than me, perhaps hoped that Haymitch could help him. Personally, I thought it was a lost cause.
Haymitch came in many days to buy bread since alcohol alone would not keep him alive. He probably couldn't cook to save his life and bread was easy to eat. I was surprised that Peeta greeted him cordially and seemed to have actual respect for the man. Then again I always forgot that they had worked together for years. I was even more surprised that Haymitch had much the same respect in his eyes. Peeta wasn't the type I could see Haymitch having a use for. I could understand him respecting Gale, all fire, and warrior spirit, but Peeta was a talker, a person who was genuinely kind and affable.
“So this is the best hunter in District 12.” Peeta introduced me as if my formally illegal profession was something rare and special.
"Hmm… wouldn't have thought you needed a hunter in a bakery. Unless you are planning to serve Rabbit pot pies." Haymitch studied me carefully with those sharp Seam eyes. I knew he had won his games by cunning and intelligence, not brute strength or good sponsors. I couldn't tell what he was hinting at. Both he and Bristol had seemed to find my working at the bakery amusing. I was getting madder by the moment and I felt like shooting them both with one of my arrows.
"I do the books. And man the counters." I replied biting the words out as I unceremoniously dumped the plate on one of those tables inside the renovated bakery. The old bakery had no place to stay but apparently, Peeta had based the plans on something called a café from the Capitol. I wasn't too impressed with anything from the Capitol but he said it improved business.
"Well, sweetheart, you probably drive all the customers away considering you are as nice as a hoard of Tracker Jackers. It's a miracle you haven't been fired."
I clenched my fists knowing that Haymitch was trying to get a rise out of me. I could see the hint of amusement in his eyes. Oh did he know how to make me angry! I hated the implication that I had been hired for something other than my skills. I didn't think Haymitch was implying that I was like those girls who used to go to Cray. More than likely he thought Peeta had hired me because he felt sorry for me. I suddenly realized everyone felt sorry for poor Katniss Everdeen who was all alone. The thought of being pitied by Peeta Mellark made me feel a little sick. All those chats over tea, the cup cake, the dinner invitation, the way he had comforted me after I had broken down. Had they been all motivated by pity? It made me so angry.
“Actually she has been helping me immensely. My skills at accounting are atrocious." I nearly rolled my eyes at Peeta's statement. I was sick of him feeling like he needed to defend me. I wanted to tear into Haymitch but he was a customer and I wasn't stupid. Besides, it would just make him happy.
I stalked into the kitchen on an imaginary excuse and took a few deep breaths trying to calm myself down. A temper tantrum at 16 might be acceptable but at 27 it made me look crazy. I found myself moving to the corner of the room to avoid Haymitch and Peeta and instead focus on scrubbing an already clean counter with all my energy. Thom ambled over and stood to watch me for a second. He reminded me a lot of Gale except that he was calm and level headed almost never raising his voice.
“ How’s Leevy doing?” I asked remembering that Thom was some sort of cousin.
"She's doing good. I actually met her and that Mason woman. I guess that kind of thing is common in the Capitol but round here it's a big deal. I guess if Gale's all right it doesn't matter. Still, I hope that Hunter and Rose are fine. It shocked me though. I was her cousin and I never suspected a thing."
I thought back and tried to think of anything different about Leevy. The truth was I had been so wrapped up in my own second-guessing of my decision of whether or not I should have married Gale that I spent no time thinking about her. I hadn’t spent much time in her presence and Gale had never talked about her much.
“Did you know?” he asked me suddenly.
“How would I have known?” I nearly laughed at the thought.
“You being so close to Gale…” The implication was clear and it made my blood boil even hotter. Everyone in the Seam must have been surprised about the quick marriage between Leevy and Gale. There had been more than a few who had thought she was pregnant. They obviously thought that once Gale had found out about her interest in women he had come back to me. I wasn’t an adulterer. In District 12 adultery was a big deal. It was dangerous since stable marriages were the lifeblood of society. Any woman who committed adultery was shunned. A wife needed the stability and protection of a husband to take care of her and her children since most women stopped working after their children were born. A woman who committed adultery broke that careful social safety net. It was no wonder people hated her. Obviously, it was unfair men weren't treated to the same level of scrutiny.
“Well, I didn’t.” I snapped back. “I’m sure Madge Undersee knew more.” I wasn’t mad at Madge. I didn’t think Madge had committed adultery either or at least not until Gale and Leevy were officially separated. I didn't blame her for Gale and Leevy's divorce. The situation had been complicated. But the teenage part of me was still a little jealous of her. Part of me resented that she was a major reason that Gale and I had not been able to resume our old friendship after the war. Madge was everything I was not. She was beautiful, cultured, politically savvy, blond and had been through a war. I had sat home and stagnated. It was totally unfair that Madge was being treated like usual while I was being blamed for breaking up a marriage that clearly had other problems.
“Yea, still can’t get my head around that.” Thom mused. “I thought they hated each other. I guess war changes people.”
I muttered something under my breath and waited for him to leave. Bristol left right after looking eager to talk to Thom. I guessed that they had been friends in their mining days but didn’t talk much now that Thom was the mayor. Haymitch was reading the paper and swearing over some Capitol doing. Peeta was listening and talking as if he actually understood was happening. I glared at the both of them. I had been pitied, accused of adultery and passed over and now I felt stupid because I hadn’t fought in a war and didn’t know what they had been talking about. I knew I was behaving childishly but I wanted to throw dishes or something. I was so sick of being misunderstood. It was as if I had been ignored the moment my hunting skills ceased to be essential for survival.
I turned away and went into the little office and closed the door. I rarely closed the door, as it quickly got as hot as a tomb in there. I sank down in the chair and tried to calm down. I couldn’t afford to get angry. I knew now that Bristol Ivy was not Peeta’s long lost love but it didn’t seem to matter. If it wasn’t Bristol it was probably some girl I didn’t even know. Perhaps she left the district? It didn’t matter. I had been such a fool to think that all those nice things he said about me meant anything at all. He felt sorry for me. Just as he had felt sorry for me and faced a beating from his mother in order to save her life.
"Katniss, can I come in?" I could hear him calling softly while tapping on the door. I let out a sigh. I didn't want to talk to him but I supposed I had to. I was after all working for him. And after my behavior to his customers, it was a wonder I wasn't fired.
I opened the door reluctantly and stood there shifting from foot to foot. He stepped inside and stood to watch me for a moment. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. He didn't look angry but it was hard to tell. He was much better at disguising his emotions than she was.
“Listen, I’m sorry about Haymitch and Thom. And Bristol too. They shouldn't have said that. I'm used to Haymitch saying mean things. You should hear the things he calls me. I think he likes you actually. Said you would have made a Victor which is more than he said for me." I sighed. There he was trying to make me feel better. I hated the idea that I was so fragile I couldn’t hold my own against attack. What had happened to me?
“I don’t care what he thinks. Or Thom either except that I just found out that the whole place thinks I’m some sort of slut who sleeps with married men and is getting hired for something other than my skills at baking. I don’t want to be pitied. I don’t need it. I’m fine. I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.” I can feel all the anger leaking out of me in one long rant. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t really Peeta’s fault. I hate the idea that he felt sorry for me enough to pay attention to me like I’m some sort of charity case.
“What are you talking about?” his voice rose and I could see him flush red with anger. That was good. It was always easier to deal with angry people.
"This job. All the nice things you have done. I must look so pathetic. Bringing weeds. You pretending to actually like them. But I don't want to be your 'project.' Some woman you pay attention to make her feel better. I don't need it. I have been surviving on my own just fine." I haven't been but I'm not going to admit that. I knew that I had bad days when I acted just like my mother did. And regardless I probably would always have them. But he had given me a sense of purpose and hope that made it easier to get out of bed.
“Are you crazy? Do you really think so badly of me as that? I thought we were friends. Hell, I thought there was something more than friends.” I could hear something faintly vulnerable in the tone and it makes the pain knife through me. I really was being a bitch.
“Yes, I am a crazy bitch. But what about your perfect, beautiful mystery woman? What about her?” I was starting to think that all along he had been talking about me. Perhaps I had been the mystery woman he had talked about. Even if he was talking about me it didn’t matter. There were so many reasons that I couldn’t face this. I had promised myself I would never fall in love. Part of me whispered that it was already too late. I already had.
“Katniss Everdeen, you have no idea, do you? The effect you have? You are the mystery woman. How many single, strong, independent and beautiful women are there in this District? I thought I was being obvious. Too obvious. I was so afraid you would freak out and walk away.” I could hear the incredulity in his tone. Clearly, I had been incredibly dense. But how could he understand what it was like to be forgotten, stuffed in a corner once you reached a certain age and were no longer viewed as a potential partner? He with his golden hair, good business, war hero record and charming personality.
I wanted to say something but I didn’t know what to say. It was impossible to say how much he meant to me. How much I had looked forward to seeing him and talking to him. All my reasons for independence seemed ludicrous. The truth was I suddenly understood what Gale had meant all those years ago about "someday understanding". There had been something about us that wasn't meant to be. I had spent so much time blaming myself, the Games, my mother, and Gale for something that was outside of all of it. I hadn't been truly in love with Gale, at least not enough to overcome my fear. Perhaps at that point, I was incapable of loving because I shut my heart off. Or perhaps it was because our natures weren't suited to each other. Perhaps I craved a steady, warm flame to a roaring fire. Perhaps I needed the dandelion with its bright yellow color not the red of anger and pain.
I took a step forward and stopped. We were only a foot or so apart and I felt suddenly out of my element. It had been different before. Except for my first kiss which had been an awkward one in the woods on the day of the Reaping at 16, there had been something mindlessly expected about romance. It was the way of District 12. You married the person you grew up with. But this was different. I was making a conscious choice to abandon my fears and embrace something.
“When did you start to care?” I asked. I was thankful he hadn’t tried to rush me. He had given me the time to think through things.
“ I was 5 years old and it was the first day of school. My dad pointed out you and your mother and said ‘I wanted to marry her mother but she ran off with a coal miner.’ I asked him how anyone could possibly not want to marry him and he said, ‘Because when he sang the birds stopped to listen.’ I didn’t believe him but I noticed you wearing a red dress and your hair was in two braids. Later that day in Assembly the teacher asked if anyone knew the Valley Song. Your hand shot up and then you began to sing. The birds stopped singing. From that moment on I was a goner.”
I took another step forward and said, “You have a remarkable memory. But why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t offer to marry you. I was the youngest son. And my mother would never have agreed to it. She already had plans for me to marry a Merchant girl. I didn’t want to marry Delly. I loved her but not in that way. She was like a sister to me. She didn’t want to marry me either but she didn’t really have a choice. I would have been a coal miner for you but what good would it do you? I wasn't like Gale. I couldn't hunt. Outside of the bakery, I was useless. I knew I could never compete with him. That you already were nearly engaged."
I took another step forward and said softly, "You shouldn't sell yourself short. I noticed things about you. After the bread. I noticed your wrestling and I worried about you at the Reapings."
“I married Delly and then you got engaged and I remember being so ashamed that I was thinking of another woman being engaged as I planned that toasting cake. I tried so hard trying to stop thinking about you. But we had started talking a little and I saw that you weren’t just some sort of dream or childish crush. And then Delly died and I blamed myself. I still do sometimes. We started becoming friends and I kept hoping that someday you might love me.”
"You were very patient," I remarked finally creeping forward and wrapping my arms around his neck. I lifted myself up on my toes and gave him a soft little teasing kiss. I had never been good with this kissing thing. But a flicker of warmth flowed through me. I wanted to kiss him again.
“Good things happen to those that wait. Then you got so ridiculously jealous of Bristol Ivy of all people. And practically bit my head off when I came in. That wasn’t very nice of you, Katniss?” I could hear something in his voice that made the blood run hot in my veins. I hadn’t known a voice could sound so sensual.
"No, but I never have been nice," I replied. He was going to have to accept that I was not a perfect girl like Delly.
“Good. I never wanted nice. Besides I’m not always nice.” I bit my lip as heat flowed through me. This was definitely new but not at all unpleasant.
He flipped me around so quickly it felt as if he was using a wrestling move on me until my back pressed against the heavy door. It felt cool against my heated skin. I had half expected our first real kiss to be hurried and desperate as if we had waited long enough. But it was long, slow and through as if there was all the time in the world to learn this one thing. I sighed a little; glad I was propped up against the door. This was much more than nice.
“You’re so beautiful. And stubborn and loyal and fiery. I wanted to do this so badly the other night. You had your hair down and you looked so gorgeous.” I could hear the desire in the tone, low and thrilling, and could feel that hungry feeling in the pit of my stomach expand and bloom through my whole body.
“I wanted you to. I wanted you to stay.” I confessed. It was still a little difficult to admit those kinds of things. I decided to make up for my lack of verbal communications by pressing my mouth to his. This was the desperate, needy kiss I had expected. I had thought that it would satisfy me. But I found that it only served to make my need greater.
My head fell back against the door with a little thud that hurt slightly as he trailed his lips down my neck finding that spot between my shoulder and neck I had noticed before. I let out a moan then tried to stop it. It was a little embarrassing. But it felt so good, so impossibly good, that I gave up the attempt to control my reactions.
“You can’t say things like that if you expect me to do the right thing.” He murmured against my skin.
“Well, what if I don’t want you to?” I questioned.
“Because I intend to do this right. I wanted this before. I used to dream about this sort of stuff. Hiding from our parents. Undressing you in front of the fire at our toasting. I never expected it to happen.”
"I've never…umm…I haven't ever been…" I trailed off as he looked at me in surprise. A twenty-year old admitting she was still a virgin wasn't a major occurrence. But it was virtually unheard of for a woman my age. I had never particularly cared.
“I never really wanted to. I don’t know why.” I admitted feeling shy. “It felt strange and weird and uncomfortable.”
“We don’t have to do anything. I didn’t make you uncomfortable did I?” The horror in his tone shocked me because I had half expected him to be disgusted. It had never occurred to me to think that he might have been afraid of hurting me.
“I like kissing you. A lot. It’s different somehow. I can’t explain it. But I’m glad you have more self-control than I do. Because you’re right. I’m not yet ready. But I will be. When the time is right.” I was glad that he had said that. As much as I had enjoyed the kissing I knew that this was all too new. Besides I needed to talk to my mother about something she could send me for pregnancy. I knew that conversation would be overwhelmingly embarrassing. But I couldn't help but be grateful that I had a choice. In the days before the war women had no choice over whether they wanted a child short of what I did in avoiding sex altogether. And even then some women had no choice if they were attacked or forced to marry or propositioned by a Peacekeeper.
Peeta leaned over and kissed my forehead, a strangely intimate gesture because it was so tender and so perfectly matched our relationship. He opened the door and said, “If I know one thing about you is that you probably want something to eat.”
I tried to glare at him. He knew me way too well. It was a little disconcerting. Still, it was hard not to remember how many of our interactions involved food. The bread, the squirrels I brought his family, his feeding me at the bakery. To a Seam person food was the thing that kept you from death. "You're calling me a big eater?"
“ No, but I like feeding you. It reminds me that you’re safe and healthy. That I can feed you. That you can feed me.” He replies more seriously.
“You know I’m only with you because you make cheese buns.” I teased as I grabbed one from the rack where they were cooling.
“Hmm… Kitty… I thought it was because of my charming personality or extreme good looks.” He flashed me that knowing grin as he proceeds to make some sort of sandwich.
“Don’t call me, Kitty.” I ground out through clenched teeth. I hated pet names. I really didn’t like Catnip but Gale had used it for so long that I had long ago given up trying to change him.
"Would you prefer Sweetheart or Babe?" He asked slipping an arm around my shoulder.
“No,” I scowled at him. “That’s worse.”
I would never admit it but I kind of liked his nickname for me. There was something about the way he said it with the hint of a dare at the end that made me flush. I knew instinctively that he wouldn’t use this one in public. That it was a special sort of nickname.
“Kitty, it is then.” He laughed at my scowl. He knew I wasn’t really angry and it made me mad that he knew it.
“Don’t push your luck, Mellark.” I kissed his cheek playfully before taking another cheese bun on the other side of the kitchen. Two could play this game. And really, after all the pain and heartache that had occurred and would occur, there were much worse games to play.
Notes:
I will be posting the epilogue in a week. I really struggled with this chapter. I wanted to show Katniss's jealous side and her fiery temper but keep her age appropriate. I know that in canon I highly doubt Peeta would call her Kitty considering all the names and labels she was forced to carry. But in my AU-verse I think it is cute. I also wanted to include a more nuanced reason for him keeping silent about his feelings for her other than just being too scared to talk to her.
In this chapter I did my best to properly demonstrate demisexuality while not actually using the word. It was surprisingly hard. But I feel like Katniss is so impulsive she could get in over her head and then be upset afterwards. Fortunately Peeta wants to take things slow and make sure she is comfortable with things considering she is pretty inexperienced. As always consent and communication is key. In the epilogue Finnick, Annie, their kids and toastbabies will appear. Also I might be posting a couple of one shots of this verse from different characters POV.
Chapter 4: Epilogue
Summary:
Katniss, Peeta, and the toastbabies spend an afternoon at the beach in District 4.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It took us five years to decide to have children. I was terrified of Arenas and dying children and Prim burning. Peeta was terrified of me and the baby dying like Delly had. When the test first told me I was pregnant I flew into a panic. At the first flutter of the baby, I felt the fear grow worse. I couldn't protect this baby any more than I could protect Prim. Peeta was ridiculously over protective of me and he and the Town doctor conspired against me to practically put me to bed. For an active woman like myself, it was enough to make me go mad. But besides grumbling, I didn't object too much. I knew where he was coming from. The memories of the past were too strong.
Things were good but none of us have forgotten the years that passed. We didn’t forget the people who died or the sacrifices we had to make. We both had nightmares. Mine were about losing Prim and my father. His were usually about the war. Our district was still poor though the new medicine factory and clinic were vastly preferable to the mines. District 12 grew since many families have moved into the area to work at the factory. I was not certain I liked all the changes that have happened to our district.
The old Seam versus Merchant divide was slowly fading. So many new people in town combined with the fact that so many older residents moved meant that you could no longer see a clear, visual reminder of the social status of members of society. The bakery remained a popular place and I continued my job of running the business side of it. I even helped several other businesses with similar things, which gave me a nice little side income. District 12 might have remained the smallest and poorest of districts but things had improved.
When I was 7 months pregnant Peeta and I visited my mother in District 4 in order to be near a hospital for the birth. I saw her in action at the hospital, having become a full-fledged doctor not long before. Despite my misgivings about my mother, I knew she was helping people and doing good work. Archer was in his element, a tanned dark haired, gray-eyed child, who was at home with swimming and sailing. He wasn’t a District 12 boy but I saw in his strong body the health that Prim had never been able to achieve. He came to visit us every summer in District 12. He would go in the woods with me and help Peeta bake. Even though I doubted he would ever excel in either hunting or baking he loved staying with Aunt Katniss and Uncle Peeta. He was particularly excited he would have a new cousin to play with. His father had married a District 4 woman and I was prepared to hate her for replacing Prim. But she was a kind woman and seemed to adore Archer. I often told Archer stories of his mother. Peeta painted him many pictures. Though he didn’t remember his mother he would never forget her because we made sure he knew her.
Our daughter Willow was playing by the water while our son was with Peeta building a sand castle. He began crying when an errant wave destroyed it. I went over and tried to comfort him. It was too soon to tell him that life was like that. That it destroyed things you hold dear. That surviving isn’t always easy.
Willow and Archer were very close despite the more than 8 years between them. They look very much alike except that Willow had her father’s bright blue eyes. She loved to dance and sing. Her cheeks were always rosy with health and she seemed to have boundless energy.
Rye, on the other hand, had the sandy blond hair of his father but with my gray eyes and olive skin. He was a quiet child but with a stubborn streak and a customary scowl. It frightened me how much I loved my children. I was always afraid to love them for fear they would be taken away from me. But I always reminded myself that I have them now and that even though there are no guarantees on anything, life is good.
“Finnick Odair Jr. Stop that right now.” I nearly laughed as the little dark haired boy pushed Willow into the sea where she coughed and sputtered before jumping up and splashing him. He was a good friend of Archer and a living terror to all adults.
"I'm sorry. He is such a handful." Annie Odair came up to me and shook her head ruefully. I had met her while I was pregnant with Willow and we had immediately developed a friendship perhaps because she was pregnant too. I had expected her to be crazy as that had been the way she had been portrayed as a Victor. She had her moments of staring into space but she was a devoted and loving mother. Her husband, the famed Finnick Odair was even more surprising. I had expected him to be the flirtatious and outrageous Capitol personality I had grown up watching on TV. Instead, he had been a fun loving husband and father. I had obviously heard his story of forced prostitution and exploitation but until I met him it was hard to separate the man from the Capitol creation.
“Don’t worry. Willow is a tough girl.” I replied smiling to think of how far we had come. It would have been hard for the broken me who had come back to District 12 all those years ago to conceive of my life now.
Annie stood watching Finnick and their son swimming as if they were fish instead of humans. Their daughter was sitting by my mother reading a book. Willow was still laughing and swimming. Rye had stopped crying and was building another sand castle. Archer at 14 could have easily been Reaped. I could only think how proud Prim would have been to know that her son never had to face that sort of thing. I think she would have been proud of me too. I could imagine that knowing grin cross her face as she said, “I knew you would fall in love someday.”
It was hard. I missed her every day and that was never going to go away. But on days like that one when the sun is shining and my children were happy and my husband stood up and gave me a gentle kiss I knew that I had made the right decision.
"Once the kids are done out here we should go swimming ourselves. Maybe around sunset? I need more swimming lessons." By the look in his eyes, I could tell it wasn't an innocent request. I knew how much he loved the sunset and that particular shade that the sky turned and the way it reflected over the water. I had been trying to teach him to swim for years. He wasn't bad but perhaps due to his leg or the fact that he was distracted he never got as good as I was. I always threatened to turn him over to Finnick who's preferred method was to throw you head first into the water. That is apparently how he taught Archer to swim. He seemed to like even more when I swam probably due to the extremely attractive swimsuit my mother had sent me a few years ago. Despite being married for years I still blushed like a schoolgirl whenever he made the slightest innuendo.
“Of course. I’m good at giving special lessons.” I whispered back raising my eyebrows. I was still shy with making comments like that but I was always richly rewarded for my daring.
“I’m holding you to that one.” He retaliated by trailing a wet finger up my arm leaving sandy granules on my skin.
"Well, I always keep my promises," I replied. I was definitely going to have a nice time. Life wasn't perfect. It was a messy, complicated mess of tears and laughs. But my dandelion in spring had given me hope. And hope was stronger than fear.
Notes:
So I know that I promised that I would write some Gale/Madge and some other characters into the story. I found that was nearly impossible in this story due to Katniss's very limited POV. So I will be posting a series of one-shots about some of the other characters in this universe. I might even get around to writing a Toasting scene.
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