4th Game [action]

[stillplaying]

[Today is a day that Katniss Everdeen never should have lived to see. Today - give or take the few days difference between Luceti's calender and Panem's - is the day she turns eighteen.

Life in the Seam. Two arenas. An uprising. Becoming the Mockingjay. Acting as assassin. Her own attempts at suicide. The bombs that took the wrong life.

The odds were never in her favor. Today was a day she never should have lived to see.

It's like any other day. She wakes up in her bed, shaking and sweating from a nightmare that lingers in the back of her mind. Watching Prim die again and again. Being physically incapable of rescuing her sister each and every time. And then panicking when she wakes up in a still unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed.

Peeta had won. Maybe she hadn't fought this argument hard enough. But earlier this week, they packed up their treehouse shelter and moved into town. To house 43. Where Peeta's leg won't make it difficult for him to travel to town or climb up ladders. Where they live close to a bakery he could work at. Where Rue could more easily attend school.


Where she could wander around the village for the rest of the day, trying to forget every little event that led to today even as she reminds herself of all the deaths that led to her being able to turn eighteen. She carries her bow and arrow, but she has no intention to hunt. Today is an amnesty. Even if she never considered the game killed for food a part of her death toll, she can't bring herself to kill anything.

Instead, she explores the town in a way she's never bothered to before. She spends time inspecting the river and parts of the north eastern woods not too far from the house. Studying the other buildings. Going in and out of shops. She goes to the bakery and the library. Returns to the welcome center and the clothing store. Even steps into the Seventh Heaven restaurant to look but not eat. She has no appetite.

Her final stop of the day, before heading back to her new home, is at the item shop. It's easy to lose herself inside of there. To examine strange objects from other worlds that she's never seen before. And then to find something unexpected: her father's plant book.

As she flips through it, each page earning a careful caress as she studies her father's handwriting. And wonders what he would think if he were here in Luceti with her today. Would he be proud? Or would he be disappointed, loathe the girl she grew up to be?

She clutches the book to her chest before heading out and quietly whispers:] Happy birthday, Katniss Everdeen.

Comments

[stillplaying]

[She's not so much angry as... confused. She can understand why he might want to take the time to decorate the living spaces, both on this floor and the one he shares with Rue above. They are the communal areas, the ones he has as much right to as she does. Or as Rue might.

But this is her room. Why should he care what it looks like? That she's kept it as spartan as the quarters in District Thirteen. Except, it's no longer like that now.

It's... her woods. The ones from home, from District Twelve. Plants she recognizes. Just the start, but there's no mistaking his intention.

Like the primroses he'll eventually plant in honor of Prim.

A million thoughts run through her head. But she doesn't know what to say aloud.]

[victorbychance]

[He studies her carefully. He knows, but he wants to make sure.] You're not mad?

[stillplaying]

I... [She wants to run. Yell at him. Tell him to stop being so damn good to her. Because she doesn't deserve this. Why doesn't he see that? Why is it that it took the Capitol's tracker jacking to have him finally see her as she truly is?

A muttation. Someone not too pretty and not at all nice. Not all that skilled in anything but hunting and killing. Not someone worthwhile, who ought to be treated the way Peeta treats her. He had it right then. No matter how much it had hurt her to see it.

But how can she tell him? How can she tell him that if he's ever sent back, it'll only be a matter of weeks before he hates her with all his being?] ...didn't ask for this.

[victorbychance]

...I didn't hear you have nightmares last night. But I know you had them.

[He knew by her face in the morning. He doesn't like sleeping upstairs, where he can't comfort her.]

I thought maybe this way, even if I'm not here, you'd have something to look at when you wake up. Something that makes you remember good times.

[stillplaying]

[The good times. With Gale. Because he doesn't know. He doesn't know what Gale was responsible for. Even if indirectly. She'll never be able to look at him, think of him, without wondering. Questioning. Just how much the parachutes were his idea.

And for the first time since the last time she saw him, thinking of Gale actually hurts. A pit in her stomach opens up, threatens to swallow her whole.

He has no idea. And why should he? Things were bad but not as bad as they would become.]

She died. [A whisper. Of all the things to tell him. She doesn't know why she's telling him this.] She died, Peeta. It's why that stupid cat is here. Buttercup's- [A choked sob.] -mine now.

1/3

[victorbychance]

[Dead? Who's...]

[victorbychance]

[The cat. She. In Katniss' life, there is only one she.

Oh god.]

Done

[victorbychance]

[Without a word, he yanks her into his arms. It's the only thing he really knows how to do. This? Loses him. He's never really lost anyone, not like that.]

[stillplaying]

[She knows this now, in the safety of Peeta's arms. She knows why today is so hard. It's not just her birthday. It's the first birthday she's ever celebrated without her sister. Prim's always been the first to greet her with felicitations, ever since she was old enough to talk. Even when Katniss didn't want to celebrate, she was there.

And memories of the good times. Of the woods. Of Gale. They're still tainted. Maybe they'll always be. But how could Peeta even know until now?

She buries her head into the crook of the neck, crying. It's now the third time she's broken down over Prim's death. Maybe this will finally be the last.]

[victorbychance]

[He doesn't shush her. He doesn't tell her not to cry. He's slightly painty, but he doesn't think she cares. Once the timing is good, he's going to coax her to the couch so they can sit and he can keep holding her where she's more comfortable.]

[stillplaying]

[Eventually, she does calm down a little. Maybe it's time to tell him. Not everything; she doubts she can tell him everything. Not yet. But some of the other things. Important things she failed to mention the day he first arrived. Has failed to mention since.

Sniffling, she pulls back enough to wipe at her eyes and noise. How does she even begin?

With Prim.] There was an explosion.

[victorbychance]

...The one that burned you? [He moves his hands down to hold hers, fingers brushing lightly over scarring in the process.]

[stillplaying]

[She shivers a little when he does that. She's unused to anyone touching those scars. And she's surprised. Surprised that he's not repulsed.

But he only gets a nod as she curls up closer to him on the bed. Right now, it's hard to trust her voice.]

[victorbychance]

[Never repulsed. No part of her could repulse him. He wraps his arms around her again, cheek against her hair.]

...Well, the cake was a big mistake.

[stillplaying]

[It's still strange, having the old Peeta Mellark here. The boy he was before the hijacking. Even if that boy didn't fully disappear. Otherwise he wouldn't have stopped her from killing herself, would he?

There's more she needs to say but right now, she needs to calm herself first. His comment on the cake is a good start. Shoulders shrug slightly, wings flutter against his chest.] Rue'll like it.

[Just like Prim would've.]

[victorbychance]

[Rue. So close to Prim's age, and now Katniss feels like she couldn't protect either of them. This has so many layers to it, and Peeta wasn't even there for any of this.

He's definitely sleeping here tonight.]

Yeah, she will. But it's not her birthday.

[stillplaying]

[Not quite the same age, not for Katniss. Prim was thirteen going on fourteen before she died. Prim's still only twelve. That difference helps, just a little. But he's right. Right now, remembering her sister, she doubts she can protect Rue. Not like she did a good job the first time around.

Both dead. And her, still alive. Eighteen, now.]

I'm eighteen. [She shakes her head, almost disbelieving. When did this happen? How did this happen? She doesn't get it.] I should be dead, Peeta.

[victorbychance]

You're right. [He threads his fingers though her hair, at the back of her head.] Me too. But here we are.

[stillplaying]

[Here they were. Here, in a strange world that wasn't Panem. Here, where somehow, Rue and Clove were alive again.

She falls quiet again, leaning against his chest, just staring at the painted wall in front of her.]

There was an uprising. [Her voice is quiet. Words matter-of-fact.] We never finished the Quarter Quell.

[victorbychance]

[He gently combs her hair with his fingers.] Go on.

[stillplaying]

Haymitch knew. So did Finnick. And Joanna.

[Beetee did, too, didn't he? Even poor Wiress and the morphlings. She doesn't know for certain. Now, she doesn't really care.

Her voice remains monotonous.]

Panem's... rebels were working with District Thirteen. The Capitol lied to us. It hadn't been destroyed. It just went underground.

[victorbychance]

...Did we win?

[stillplaying]

[A nod. They did win. But at such a cost. Such a horrible, horrible cost.]

There aren't any more Games.

[Won't be, anyway. Not after the final one. The 76th. The one that'll be with the children of the Capitol.]