#Mr. Gale if we all promise to be real nice will you let us have our glimpse of alternate Marty pleaseee??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch are slowly becoming a proper team! No more secrets! (for the most part)

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 4-6 are below the cut.

heart

Losing that comfort of sleeping in each other’s arms after the Victory Tour must have been hard for Katniss and Peeta! Up until Katniss hurts her ankle, they probably didn’t really do much about it, just trying to make it through on their own... After she hurt her ankle and Peeta’s spending more time over at her place, I can easily imagine him staying over, at least until she’s fallen asleep, which might help a little... Since they are living only three houses apart from each other, I like to imagine that they can see each other’s bedroom windows from their bedroom (how else would Katniss know that Peeta sleeps with the windows open? I can’t really imagine that they would be able to open the windows of the train they were on - y’know, for “safety reasons” (i.e. making sure nobody can escape)); maybe they’d both light a candle and put it by their window, as a signal they are going to sleep... It’s not the same, but it helps a little

mind

I mean, aside from the systemic rigging of the reaping system (i.e. poorer people generally having more entries, so they can have some food), I can easily imagine there being a manipulation of the “odds” when someone becomes too vocal or troublesome for the local authorities, such as someone trying to unionize a district’s workforce, for example

soul

In the districts, their impact has to be big - their win alone was a huge defiance of the Games as they used to be... sticking together and sticking up for each other ultimately led to them defeating the Capitol’s rules! In-between the Games and the Victory Tour I don’t think there was much noteworthy going on (although maybe the fact that, so far, none of the new victors’ loved ones had been hurt - Prim, Mrs. E., but also Gale and his family would be visible during the celebrations, I’m sure, same probably goes for the Mellark’s - might tell the people in the district that Snow and his cronies were aware of the attention any assassination attempt would gather and that this, in turn, might actually could become the last straw that would spark a revolution. In a way, that was proof that the people on top were at least a little afraid of what the people in the districts would do...) And then, especially during the visit of D11, with Katniss expressing her thanks and Peeta reaching out to share their winnings with the people from D11, another district than their own - it must have provided a lot of inspiration, I’m sure.

As for the Capitolites, maybe some of them would notice for once how unhappy/riled up the people in some of the districts were... or at least stop to think about how this time, a show of love and companionship actually provided more “entertainment” and intrigue than the brutal gore and bloodshed from previous Games (also, longer lasting - there is actually much more “story” to be had from the star-crossed lovers from D12 than from any individual winner of previous Games, if you think about it... Their “love story” is still on-going, with an upcoming wedding and the promise of a family... it’s still creepy and voyeuristic as hell, though)

Chapter 4

Everything he [Haymitch] said was true about the Capitol’s expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn’t really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. - God, this sucks so much! As Katniss rightly points out, her misery isn’t about Peeta at all - it’s about her (and also his, just pointing that out) agency being taken away! She’s being stripped even of that little sliver of agency that inhabitants of D12 usually have (choice of whom to marry, or whether to marry at all)

I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. - Eugh, just the idea of Snow being the one to have the last word on that subject... 🤢 The invasion of privacy here... - The only person who should get to decide whether Katniss should have children or not is Katniss herself! Period!

My mind searches frantically for a way out. I can’t let President Snow condemn me to this. Even if it means taking my own life. Before that, though, I’d try to run away. - Boy, Katniss is even contemplating taking her own life, rather than to submit to the life the Capitol wants to force on her; it’s not her first choice (she’d rather run away), but it shows the desperation she’s feeling

Could I even manage to take everyone I love with me, start a new life deep in the wild? Highly unlikely but not impossible. - Later we will see that Peeta and Haymitch also belong into the category of “people Katniss loves” 😊(as well as her family, Gale, and his fam, of course)

“And Peeta’s team is probably still asleep.” “Doesn’t he need prepping?” I ask. “Not the way you do,” Effie replies. What does this mean? It means I get to spend the morning having the hair ripped off my body while Peeta sleeps in. I hadn’t thought about it much, but in the arena at least some of the boys got to keep their body hair whereas none of the girls did. - Gotta love that everlasting sexism that, even far into the future, still won’t allow women to have frickin’ body hair (y’know, like most humans do 🙄)

I can remember Peeta’s now, as I bathed him by the stream. Very blond in the sunlight, once the mud and blood had been washed away. Only his face remained completely smooth. Not one of the boys grew a beard, and many were old enough to. I wonder what they did to them. - Katniss seems to have committed every single detail about Peeta to her memory, including how his body hair looked when she cleaned him in the last Games... okay 👀😏 On a more somber note, what is it that the Capitol is doing to these poor kids?! The boys couldn’t grow beards and - I’m assuming - the girls wouldn’t get their periods while in the arena (since the Games can last for weeks, it would be a huge disadvantage if any of the girls also had to content with cramps + periods - aside from worrying about getting murdered, I mean); it’s such a violation of one’s autonomy over one’s own body, yikes

Flavius tilts up my chin and sighs. “It’s a shame Cinna said no alterations on you.” “Yes, we could really make you something special,” says Octavia. “When she’s older,” says Venia almost grimly. “Then he’ll have to let us.” - Eeek, no thanks!😦 And frankly, it really shouldn’t be Cinna’s call to make but, y’know, Katniss’s!!! I don’t know, I get real panick-y just reading this exchange (I have never even gotten my ears pierced - my mom wouldn’t let them be pierced until I could make my own decision on that subject matter and as someone with skin issues and bad experiences with needles, I really don’t feel the need to have any unnecessary metal inserted into my body, so... I’m good)

His [Peeta’s] apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Game was something of an act. But I don’t hold it against him. [...] “I’m sorry, too,” I say. [...] “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were keeping us alive.” - That apology of Peeta’s... *chef’s kiss*; it was totally understandable that Peeta was upset and needed some time apart from Katniss after her confession, which had caught him completely by surprise, not even Katniss blames him for that... But his apology shows that he really made use of their time apart to work out his emotions and to reflect on both their situations - that’s some emotional maturity to be envious of! Plus, his apology is a good move to get their communication channel opened up again

It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. - Come on, Katniss, cut this boy some slack! He can’t read minds - how is he supposed to know about these things if you don’t tell him anything? It’s nice that you’re glad that you guys are on speaking terms again, but communication isn’t a one-way street, y’know?

I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. - Katniss really should have listened to her instincts here - Haymitch might have a better idea of how the Games/Capitol works, but he knows little about teamwork, which is an important factor in their specific (and unprecedented!) situation; I’m not blaming Katniss for relying on her mentor here, but this entire approach is going to crash and burn in the next chapter

It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand. - Not to say that you can’t have friendships where you frequently hold hands - you totally can - but it is noteworthy that I don’t think I can recall Katniss holding hands with any of her other friends... (somehow, I can’t really picture Katniss holding hands with Gale casually like that... nor with Madge or Finnick later on)

At the door, I remember, “I’ve got to apologize to Effie first.” “Don’t be afraid to lay it on thick,” Peeta tells me.- There is something about this exchange that speaks to me... maybe because it reads like some sort of an inside joke between them? Or because it shows that, despite being on good terms with Effie, Peeta’s totally aware of how high-maintenance/over the top Effie is... I dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peeta has painted the Games. Some you wouldn’t get right away, if you hadn’t been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. [...] Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. [...] And me. I am everywhere. [...] “What do you think?” he asks. “I hate them,” I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. - These are the pieces Peeta meant to exhibit in the Capitol, right? I wonder if he hoped that these paintings of his impressions/memories of the Games might actually connect with some Capitolites and might even move them to feel some empathy for the Tributes? Maybe he hoped that they would be more receptive for that kind of thing if he packaged it in art?

“All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you’ve brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?” “I see them every night,” he says. [...] “Me too. Does it help? To paint them out?” “I don’t know. I think I’m a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am,” he says. “But they haven’t gone anywhere.” - I do wonder, whether and how painting out these moments could have therapeutic value for Peeta - on the one hand, the act of painting out specific intrusions/flashbacks might be helpful because he’d end up focusing on the more technical side of painting, y’know? Focussing on mixing the right shade of a certain color might help create some emotional distance from the moment itself... also, since painting usually takes some time, Peeta would actually spend a considerable amount of time facing these moments head on, rather than trying to avoid them (avoidance tends to increase the frequency of flashback/intrusions) and maybe spending so much time on them could also help him contextualize them within the broader narrative of his life, which is the basic principle behind Narrative Exposure Therapy, which is said to be pretty effective at treating PTSD... just my two cents

I can’t believe the size of District 11. “How many people do you think live here?” Peeta asks. I shake my head. In school they refer to it as a large district, that’s all. No actual figures on the population. - Perfect example of how tightly the Capitol controls the information the people in the districts have about the other districts... which is basically nothing. Let’s keep them in the dark so they are less likely to connect with each other and band together...

Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. - Lol, Katniss bringing everything back to Peeta because she definitely hasn’t a crush on the guy, I see 😉

And then he [Peeta] hesitates before adding something that wasn’t written on the card. Maybe because he thought Effie might make him remove it. “It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we’d like for each of the tributes’ families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives.” - Peeta, the rebel! Talk about an act of radical kindness! I’m so proud of him. But also, I think this is another excellent example of how he and Katniss are on the same wavelength (this took me some time to find, but here you go): I silently say good-bye to Thresh and thank him for my life. I promise to remember him and, if I can, do something to help his family and Rue’s, if I win. (Ch. 23, THG)

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift... it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all. - Peeta: does anything that exemplifies his sense of morality; Katniss: *swoons* - but honestly, it is so beautiful how Katniss is so attracted to Peeta’s goodness and kind heart - it also tells us a lot about her (she is quite pure, as Peeta will point out later in this book) and what she values

“Wait, please.” I don’t know how to start, but once I do, the words rush from my lips as if they’ve been forming in the back of my mind for a long time. - And then Katniss launches into one of her spontaneous, heart-felt, and inspiring speeches/acts, expressing her thanks, sympathy, and a sense of kinship with people beyond the borders of her district, beyond the superficial barriers the Capitol has been trying to maintain in order to weaken the ‘common folk‘ and keep the exploitation going

The full impact of what I’ve done hits me. It was not intentional - I only meant to express my thanks - but I have elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of District 11. - Again, Katniss has done something that will solidify her as a symbol of the revolution without intending to do so and that’s the point, I think - she inspires people through her genuine displays of caring for others (which, in Panem, is already rebellious on its own)

Chapter 5

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. - Protective Peeta! Also, I think it’s interesting to note the wording of Peeta’s arms “encircling” Katniss and then “guiding” her - his arms surround her, and he’s leading her away from harm (at least to the extent that is in his power - can’t really be safe from harm in Panem, can you?), but it doesn’t seem smothering or oppressive to Katniss in any way -”guide” has more of a connotation of giving direction without force, imo; in contrast, when Katniss talked about her kiss with Gale she mentions she’d never imagined how those hands [...] could as easily entrap me. (Ch. 2, CF); granted, these are two very different situations - the phrasing just stood out to me

“What happened?” Effie hurries over. “We lost the feed just after Katniss’s beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!” - Very telling how a clueless Capitolite like Effie wouldn’t register the rebellious aspect of Katniss’s speech; by keeping the Capitolites in the depths of sweet, sweet ignorance while simultaneously harshly trying to curb any spark of rebellion by cutting off the feed, the government is actually drawing the attention of the ignorant Capitolites to the act of rebellion itself (and also letting the people in the districts know that there was something censor-worthy going on); kind of shooting themselves in the foot here

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staricases and increasingly narrow halls. [...] Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. - I wonder how Haymitch has come to know this part of the Justice Building? Has he been to District 11 more often than Katniss supposes (he is friends with Chaff, after all), did his mentor take him there for some private conversation, or was there a moment during Haymitch’s Victory Tour where he felt so overwhelmed by feelings of guilt and powerlessness that he fled to the most desolate, solitary place he could find?

“I was supposed to fix things on this tour. [...] Calm things down. But obviously, all I’ve done today is get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished.” I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a couch, despite the exposed springs and stuffing. - Obviously, all of this is awful and no one - especially a traumatized, 16-year old girl - should have to suffer carrying such a burden... But also, here we see one of the downsides of Katniss taking sole responsibility for everything - she totally forgot that Peeta might feel responsible too, only that he didn’t even know what’s at stake - which leads us to-

“Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money,” says Peeta. Suddenly he strikes out at a lamp that sits precariously on a crate and knocks it across the room, where it shatters against the floor. “This has to stop. Right now. This - this - game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.”"It's not like that, Peeta-" I begin. "It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. - When kind, gentle Peeta’s mad, you know shit has hit the fan 😳 But also, being passed over/kept out of the loop seems to hit pretty close to home for Peeta (while I would like to know what his home life looked like before the Games, I have to admit that at this point, I’m somewhat afraid I might not be able to handle the truth...). I just think this scene is an important moment that leads to an end of (most of) their detrimental secrecy (hello end-of-CF-Haymitch!) and establishes their little team as such (hence the drawing)

“You’re always so reliably good, Peeta,” says Haymitch. “So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn’t want to disrupt that.” “Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today.” - Remember the last time someone overestimated Peeta (Foxface and the berries)? That ended in someone’s death as well... And, Haymitch? ‘Never assume’ applies to you, too!

“Do you think I gave them [Rue’s and Thresh’s families] a bright future? Because I think they’ll be lucky if they survive the day!” Peeta sends something else flying, a statue. I’ve never seen him like this. - Considering that his rebellious act of kindness is now threatening to become a sword of Damocles, hanging over those towards which he wanted to extend his kindness - simply because he’s been kept out of the loop (again)- Peeta’s anger is quite understandable

“Look, boy-” Haymitch begins. “Don’t bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I’d have wanted it to be her. But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we’re very good.” - Peeta doesn’t really care if it’s just his life on the line, but if other people’s lives are at risk? He takes no shit (it’s admirable in one way and deeply concerning in another); also, Peeta is right - while there still is a game to play, it’s not the Games, so different circumstances and rules apply

“From now on, you’ll be fully informed,” Haymitch promises. “I better be,” says Peeta. - Peeta generally is a very cooperative fellow, but don’t ever think he can’t be forceful and stand his ground when it matters!

“Did you choose me, Haymitch?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? You like him better,” I say. “That’s true. But remember, until they changed the rules, I could only hope to get one of you out of there alive,” he says. “I thought since he was determined to protect you, well, between the three of us, we might be able to bring you home.” “Oh,” is all I can think to say. - This is such a quiet, sweet moment and also shows that Katniss, Haymitch and Peeta have been some sort of team from the start (also, in their team effort they actually managed to get the both of them back home!)

Everything is happening too fast for me to process it. The warning, the shootings, the recognition that I may have set something of great consequence in motion. The whole thing is so improbable. And it would be one thing if I had planned to stir things up, but given the circumstances... how on earth did I cause so much trouble? - Lol, you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here, Katniss ;) Frankly, the Capitol has been the one to create this powder-keg they are sitting on in the first place - all it needed was a little spark... All these injustices, the humilitation, the pain inflicted... it’s like an elastic rubber band that’s been stretched and stretched - until it snaps

“I’m something of an expert in architectural design, you know?” “Oh yes, I’ve heard that,” says Portia before the pause gets too long. - Bless Portia’s heart, making sure they avoid that awkward silence 😂

Effie looks so distressed that I spontaneously give her a hug. “That’s awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn’t go to the dinner at all. At least until they’ve apologized.” - Aww, Katniss doing something nice for Effie!😊

Peeta and I join hands. “Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions,” says Peeta. “And it isn’t as if I haven’t kept things from you in the past.” - Peeta sorta apologizing, even acknowledging that he also had kept secrets from Katniss? We love to see it👍 - [...] “I think I broke a few things myself after that interview.” “Just an urn,” he says. - Peetaaa... stop diminishing your own physical injuries! Good thing that Katniss won’t let him: - “And your hands. There’s no point to it anymore though, is there? Not being straight with each other?” I say. “No point,” says Peeta. - Gasp! Honest, open communication as a good basis for a successful relationship? It’s more likely than you think!

“Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?” I’m so startled I answer. “Yes.” With all that has happened today, has that question actually been preying on him? - Peeta, you sly dog! Your priorities 😂

Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects at the victors’ ceremonies. But in others - particularly 8, 4, and 3 - there is genuine elation in the faces of the people at the sight of us, and under the elation, fury. - I do think that it’s interesting how D4 is one of the districts being elated to see Peeta + Katniss and displaying such fury, despite being a Career district; just goes to show that, just because their odds are better at winning the Games, doesn’t have to make them more simpatico with the Capitol’s cruelty... (Considering how Finnick knows how to perform CPR, it’s highly likely that people in D4 are also used to awful and precarious working + living situations... maybe that’s exactly why they generally are so robust and do well in the Games; and maybe they are simply not that above joining the other Careers as long as it improves their chances of survival, like Katniss or Thresh had been... worked for a while for Peeta, too)

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. [...] Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms. - 😭 Also: Very telling how Capitolite Effie just throws pills at the problem (with the best of intentions, I’m sure), which is an immediate, unpersonal, and superficial solution at best, whereas Peeta holding Katniss, offering comfort, understanding, a sense of safety, and human connection is so much more personal, intimate, and effective (for both of them!)

I personally killed the girl, Glimmer, and the boy from District 1. As I try to avoid looking at his family, I learn that his name was Marvel. How did I never know that? - You know why, Katniss - I suppose that before the Games I didn’t pay attention and afterward I didn’t want to know. - Still, not knowing his name didn’t stop you from humanizing him, Katniss, and that’s important, too

Whatever we do seems too little, too late. Back in our old quarters in the Training Center, I’m the one who suggests the public marriage proposal. Peeta agrees to do it but then disappears to his room for a long time. Haymitch tells me to leave him alone. “I thought he wanted it, anyway,” I say. “Not like this,” Haymitch says. “He wanted it to be real.” - Come on, Katniss, don’t be so callous; Peeta’s just as much of a prisoner here as you! Also, it’s all about being real or not real with these two, isn’t it?

Chapter 6

... you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair. Here’s what’s strange. The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. [...] That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I am free to act as desperately as I wish. - Honestly, I think it was pretty short-sighted of Snow to let Katniss know so clearly that she didn’t succeed in her task; she did her utmost and it wasn’t enough - might as well fling caution to the wind now. All bets are off. If there had been still some small chance she could have ‘made things right’, she probably would have been trying harder to comply to his expectations. (I’m sure Snow thought the upcoming implementations of his stricter regime would be enough to keep Katniss in check, but pride comes before a fall ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It’s essential to get back to District 12, because the main part of any plan will include my mother and sister, Gale and his family. And Peeta, If I can get him to come with us. I add Haymitch to the list. - For such a ‘loner’, Katniss sure has a lot of people that are important to her... And how ironic that Peeta, who she isn’t sure she’ll be able to convince in following her will be a much more willing participant that Gale, who Katniss is pretty much banking on joining her

“You’ll probably have to pass a new law,” I say with a giggle. “If that’s what it takes,” says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh the fun we two have together. - The dynamic between Snow and Katniss is so strange; despite the obvious antagonism there is definitely some vibe of interacting with each other at eye level and it’s weird (Sidenote: Is there any law in Panem preventing minors from marrying?)

“I want to taste everything in the room, “ I tell Peeta. [...] “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says. “Okay, not more than one bite of each dish,” I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups - couldn’t have happened to me; I hate soup (like, thick soups I maaaybe can get behind, but clear soup/broth is just flavored water to me, no thanks - then again, I’m a picky eater)

Peeta and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food. - Well isn’t that a mood for every social gathering ever (one person I enjoy talking to and lots of food I like? Perfect.)

I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce. Delicious. But I make Peeta eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things - Katniss seems to like the combination of meat and fruit, huh? (the lamb and plums, now bird and orange sauce) Personally, it’s a combination that’s on thin ice for me; there are only a few dishes with that component I actually like and it took me forever to tolerate them (I don’t know if it’s the texture or the taste, but something makes me apprehensive about it); anyway, Katniss making Peeta eat the rest is such a casual, couple-y thing to do (or at least something you do with someone you feel very comfortable with, I think)

Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. “You mean this will make me puke?” My prep team laughs hysterically. “Of course, so you can keep eating,” says Octavia. “I’ve been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?” I’m speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply. - Oh boy, I have a lot of thoughts on this part: A) I just noticed how this is the second delicate/fancy glass/drink that’s bringing about a jarring revelation: first that orange juice with the frilly straw in THG, now these tiny wine-stemmed glasses, B) “Everyone does it” + “how else would you have fun?” are the shittiest reasons I’ve ever heard at a party for doing something stupid you probably don’t want to do (I’m having flashbacks to all the times I had people trying to pressure me into drinking alcohol as a teen - it was even legal, btw - although I insisted that I didn’t like the taste (which I still don’t, to this day); it was tiresome 😑), C) “everyone does it” - the people in the Capitol must have some messed up teeth if that’s a regular occurence (sure, they probably bleach their teeth all the time, but also... they’d really need to, D) the obvious: how effed up that they just puke to stuff in more food when in the districts people literally are dying from starvation?! (and yeah, unequal distribution of resources sadly isn’t just a thing in Panem, I know... but there is something about actively purging yourself just for funsies that’s just extra, well, sick)

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of the children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parents cannot give. More food. - God, how awful! How powerless they must feel 😟

And here in the Capitol they’re vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and again. Not from some illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. - Ooh, I’ve never noticed before how this passage not only recognizes physical reasons for purging, but also mental reasons! Wouldn’t have necessarily expected Katniss to acknowledge eating disorders like that, tbh... She has become a lot more cognizant and sensitive when mental health issues are concerned

One day when I dropped by to give Hazelle the game, Vick was home sick with a bad cough [...] he still spent about fifteen minutes talking about how they’d opened a can of corn syrup from Parcel Day and each had a spoonful on bread and were going to maybe have more later in the week. How Hazelle had said he could have a bit in a cup of tea to soothe his cough, but he wouldln’t feel right unless the others had some, too. - Aww, Vick is such a sweetheart! Hazelle is raising her kids right!

“Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment,”I say. “Really, this is nothing by comparison.” “I know. I know that. It’s just sometimes I can’t stand it anymore. To the point where... I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He pauses, then whispers, “Maybe we were wrong, Katniss.” “About what?” I ask. “About trying to subdue things in the districts,” he says. - Peeta’s rebellious nature coming through again!

“Sorry,” he says. He should be. This is no place to be voicing such thoughts. “Save it for home,” I tell him. - I know Katniss means D12, but her phrasing of “home” evokes a more domestic, couple-y connotation again 😊

I don’t want to dance with Plutarch Heavensbee. I don’t want to feel his hands, one resting against mine, one on my hip. I’m not used to being touched, except by Peeta or my family, and I rank Gamemakers somewhere below maggots in terms of creatures I want in contact with my skin. - It’s telling that, while Katniss is not big on being touched aside from her family (does that include Gale? probably? although they hadn’t even really hugged until Katniss had been reaped, so... I dunno), she’s totally fine with Peeta touching her (more than that: remember how good she felt holding his hand again in Ch.4 and how she’s feeling safe in his arms when they are sharing a bed), it says a lot about how comfortable she feels around him

Plutarch steps back and pulls out a gold watch on a chain from a vest pocket. He flips open the lid, sees the time, and frowns. “I’ll have to be going soon.” He turns the watch so I can see the face. “It starts at midnight.” - Honestly, this very subtle hint/foreshadowing of the clock setup of the Quarter Quell arena is simply brilliant! And also, midnight is going to become an important point in time as well from here on out (lightning tree, in the hanging tree song, saving Peeta and the others from the Training Center in the Capitol)

It’s another mockingjay. Exactly like the pin on my dress. Only this one disappears. He snaps the watch closed. “That’s very pretty,” I say. “Oh, it’s more than pretty. It’s one of a kind,” he says. - The disappearing mockingjay on the clock is interesting because A) Plutarch can’t really be flaunting the symbol of rebellion as Head Gamemaker, duh, but also B) the clock arena will be the place where the Mockingjay will disappear (until the rebellion will be able to use her for their cause); and that last comment by Plutarch clearly is aimed at the Mockingjay (Katniss) herself

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. - Okay, Katniss must feel hella safe and used to Peeta joining her in her bed, because apparently she didn’t even wake up when he did, like... I’m a fairly heavy sleeper, but I can’t imagine sleeping so deeply that I wouldn’t jerk awake if someone crawled into my bed while I was snoozing

“No nightmare,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. - Telling how the first time Katniss sleeps through the night is after Snow let her know her performance wasn’t enough; she’s must have been so tense and on edge, desperately trying to calm down the districts and convince Snow, that she hadn’t been able to sleep properly, aside from the obvious sleeping issues she’d have from the PTSD (I’m often that way before an important exam - especially if it’s an oral exam; I get tense just thinking about it 😓)

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay though the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” - Interesting how in Katniss’s dream, the mockingjay is Rue - lending further credence to the hypothesis that maybe Rue was originally meant to be the Mockingjay (would make Plutarch’s comment of the mockingjay being “one of a kind” a bit more hypocritical/exaggerated/dramatized, which still fits with his flair for propaganda/showmanship... and ultimately, Katniss as the Mockingjay was unique, but that doesn’t mean that the rebellion couldn’t have made someone else their symbol if they needed to); also, Peeta brushing Katniss’s hair off her forehead is so sweet and intimate 😊

After I got home, we [Madge and I] started spending time together. [...] It was a little awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do. Other girls our age, I’ve heard them talking about boys, or other girls, or clothes. Madge and I aren’t gossipy and clothes bore me to tears. But after a few false starts, I realized she was dying to go into the woods, so I’ve taken her a couple of times and showed her how to shoot. She’s trying to teach me the piano, but mostly I like to listen to her play. - Honestly? I’d love to read a fanfic about Katniss and Madge figuring out their friendship (let me know if there already are some!); it’s cute how they end up including each other in their hobbies 😊 Ah, the classic “I’m/We’re not like other girls”, which often is especially prevalent during your teen years (I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been gulty of this in my past 😅)... Katniss might actually would have benefited from talking with Madge about her boys’ troubles, though... And it’s so funny how Katniss admits that she has no interest in clothes, despite it being her supposed “talent”, while she also admits that she does admire Cinna’s work

... there’s a mob scene. The square’s packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and homemade masks, throwing bricks. Building burn. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd, killing at random. I’ve never seen anything like it - I... I have. At least on tv... In different places, at different times, but... yeah...

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #everlark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #honestly there were so many scenes in these 3 chapter that I wanted to draw... but I barely had the time for these 2 #Catching Fire is just chock-full with interesting/important moments... my book is more post-it notes than pages at this point

64 notes · View notes

bill-y · 4 years

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part one: Over there, buddy

Part two:You’re here right now. :)

Part three: Click here, pepperoni salami.

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

I separated with Gale and Katniss for a while, telling them I needed air. I sighed, leaping from branch to branch in the thicket of trees. Bread, not just bread, baker's bread. If I'm lucky I could get just enough squirrels for the baker, he had a taste for it but his wife was much of a witch, so he only buys it when she's not around.

I remembered how she found me stealing some burnt bread from the trashcan. I looked at her with wide eyes, frozen, I thought I was going to die, stealing was punishable for death, after all. But she just let me go, screaming about her frustration of Seams picking through her trash.

I got bread that day either way.

I landed on a sturdy branch, spotting a squirrel on the tree adjacent to me; it was quite huge, I'm sure he'd love this. Let's just hope the witch isn't home by the time I give this to him.

I crouched down, still as a statue as I watched the squirrel run up and down the tree. I pulled out the thin, glistening dagger, unwrapping its course, leather bindings, which became a makeshift thin rope. I felt my eyes unconsciously widen, watching the squirrel's movements.

My arm aimed, then with a simple flick, the dagger whistled through the air. The small creature was then pinned to the bark of the tree through its eyes. The dagger's blade was thin enough to not damage anything when aimed right.

I pulled on the rope, the blade coming back, dragging the animal carcass with it. A small smile tugged on my face, I can get bread.

Kunal was surely panicking, he was the type to worry about the smallest of things. He once stepped on a cat's tail, Buttercup, Primrose's cat and he bawled, nobody could calm him down. Until he was offered food, that is.

I chuckled at the memory, slowly pulling the blade off the head of the squirrel. I held it in my hands victoriously, a grin on my face. I whistled a small 3 tone song, the chirping mocking birds falling silent before they imitated the tone.

After meeting up, we went back home, passing by the Hob. It was sort of a black market, where coals are transported directly to trains. I disliked it here, the amount of coal dust always bothered me, so when I come here I tend to cover my nose.

We managed to trade six of the fish for good bread, the other two for some salt. The lady who sells soup, the one that always glares at me because I've insulted her soup on multiple occasions, Greasy Sae: took half the greens we gathered, along with the dead dog meat that she calls "beef".

That's why I hate her soups, though it's not like I have much of an option, we can't afford luxury here. Unlike those obnoxious, entitled, privileged people in the Capitol. My jaw clenched at the mere thought of those scums.

We finish our business on the market, so we went to the mayor's house, who was particularly fond of strawberries. We knocked on the back door, his daughter, Madge opening it for us.

She's in Katniss and I's year sits beside us at almost every event because we don't really have groups of friends. For being the mayor's daughter you'd expect her to be an entitled brat or maybe a snob, but she was alright, she kept to herself.

I like that, I hate noisy people, They'll scare away the game, that and I've never really liked loud noises. I still remember the explosions in the mines, it was traumatizing, even though my father didn't meet death there. I really wished he had.

Madge didn't wear her usual attire, instead, she wore an expensive white dress, her blonde hair up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes. I felt my face scrunch up, that day was supposed to be a form of celebration. It's more of a way for the capitol to show who's in control.

We were being punished for the crimes of the people who failed, disguised as some form of celebration. It's disgusting.

"Pretty dress," Gale complimented. Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it's genuine or if he was just being ironic. It was a pretty dress, but it was a waste.

She smiled, "Well, if I'm going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

I clenched my jaw, "But you won't be going to the Capitol," I said coolly, my voice monotone. My eyes landed on a small, circular pin on her dress. Real gold. The testament to the fact that she probably won't be chosen. "You probably have five entries, compared to us, that's a blessing."

"That's not her fault," Katniss said. Madge looked slightly hurt, probably because I've never really spoken my thoughts to her, I try my best to be polite when she engages a conversation with me.

"I know," I responded plainly. Madge smiled towards me, though it was clear it wasn't exactly genuine. She then handed the money for the berries. She looked towards Katniss "Good luck, Katniss"

"You too," She responded.

We walked toward the Seam, I can't help but feel angry. Her? Going to the Capitol? What a joke. When you're twelve your name gets put in the pile once, thirteen twice then so on. Up until your eighteen, where your name is entered seven times.

But the thing is, the rich have an advantage. You can enter your name willingly in the pile when you're starving in exchange for some tesserae. I had been doing this since I was twelve, having entered my name 3 times, for my mother, brother and myself. Every year following suite, it has always been like this.

Now at the age of 16, I've entered my name twenty times, same with Katniss. Gale was in even greater danger, with a number of forty-two.

And she'll be the tribute this year? It can happen but it's deadly slim. I knew Gale felt the same way, listening to him rant about tesserae in the woods with Katniss was enough confirmation, along with the fact that I join in on the rants. Always end it with a promise to destroy the Capitol, somehow.

But what good does that do us?

Gale, Katniss and I divide our spoils, though it wasn't really the evenest distribution. Gale got more, understandably since he has more mouths to feed.

"See you guys in the square," Katniss said, Gale nodded, "Wear something pretty," he joked.

I decided to stop by the bakery, by then the witch should be home but I took my chances. There was Mr Mellark, sitting outside, watching the pigs. He saw me from the corner of his eye, he grinned. "Greyback!' he called.

"Mr Mellark, still up for some squirrel?" I ask, holding the fat one up. He nodded, "You're lucky my wife isn't here, yet. Hold on, I'll get the bread for Kunal," he said, rushing inside.

I walked to the backdoor of the bakery so that he wouldn't trouble himself that much. I waited awkwardly outside, looking at a small bird fluttering about. I whistled, holding my finger out.

The bird landed on my finger, making me smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw a boy, blonde, stocky. Could probably kill me, if I'm being honest. Even though I was fast, I wasn't strong.

Soon enough, the bird flew away with the arrival of the baker, with a loaf of sweet, savoury bread, hot from the oven. "Here you go, Greyback."

I nodded, handing him the squirrel. "Oh!" he hummed, "Have you met my son, Peeta?" he asked, a smile on his face, "You're in the same year, yes?"

I didn't know what to say. Sure, I know him but I don't know that well him that well. My eyes travelled to the boy, who simply waved and briskly walked away. "I don't think so," I answered.

"I better be going, Mr Mellark. Nal needs his favourite bread after all," I said, flashing a small smile before I left. A small pit of dread boiled in my stomach, something bad is going to happen.

But then again, it's Reaping day, nothing good ever happens.

Word count: 1.3k

Tags:

@nin3s

:)))

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x male reader #peetamellark #hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #hunger games #male x male reader #male reader #x male reader #katniss everdeen #gale #male reader insert #gale hawthorne #Katiniss #Hunger games x reader #what the fuck is tumblr's layout i am so fucking confused.

172 notes · View notes

alienduckpond · 4 years

Text

Getting Home - pt 5 - Remington

Part 1 - Arlo / Part 4 - Ginger

-~-

Remington turned in his saddle to look back down the road towards the sea through the drizzle when thunder rumbled long and loud around them again. Branches of lightning lit up the black clouds that stretched as far as he could see in every direction, and even as he watched more strikes hit the peaks of the towering waves, highlighting the solid walls of heavy rain that were creeping steadily closer to land. He shivered, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold breeze blowing through his damp clothes, or from the reminder of how violent nature could be.

“Looks like you found me at the right time, huh,” Mint muttered sleepily, and Remy felt the younger man lean heavily against his back. “I might have ended up washed away with the deck chairs if you hadn’t.”

“I don’t think you would have slept through the water coming up through the decking much longer,” Remy said with a chuckle, though he wasn’t entirely sure of that. He nudged Arrow back into motion to continue up the road besides Sophie’s farm. “Did you go to the fireside the other night? Gale had a report through from Vega five. This is looking to be the worst Winter storm we’ve had in a while. Maybe the biggest this decade. It’s going to take at least three days to fully blow over.”

“I must have missed that. I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got no projects going on right now. I can start drawing up plans for things that’ll need rebuilding tomorrow.”

Remy chuckled again when Mint trailed off with a yawn, holding Mint’s wrist when he felt the other man’s grip on his jacket slacken for a moment, before arms wrapped around his waist again.

“I don’t think you’ll have much to draw. The builders have all done an amazing job of fixing up everything in the last year. After the Amber Island bridge washed away, people have kept on top of repairs so everything’s looking real sturdy right now.”

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. Guess I’ll have some free time then. I wonder if Sarah will still be free,” Mint murmured, sounding sleepy and happy, and Remy hummed thoughtfully.

“Well. Gale was talking about closing down everything but the Round Table until the storm’s passed for everyone’s safety.”

He hesitated, trying to decide if he should say anything else. While he didn’t really want to get involved with whatever was going on in town surrounding Sarah, he knew he already was thanks to Sam being invested and giving a running commentary, and Arlo’s yo-yoing mood. So maybe if he asked a few careful questions now, he might be able to report back to his Captain and ease his mind a little. At least with regards to Mint. He already knew Gust wasn’t a threat to Arlo’s chances with Sarah, and was simply needling Arlo just because he could.

“Did you have plans with her then?”

“Hmm? Kind of. I’ve been talking to her a lot lately since we’ve both been going to Mr Gale’s house for dinner, and we’ve been staying afterwards because it’s nice to be around people, and their house is really warm. She keeps dozing off on the sofa next to me while making things with Ginger. But she said she found some things in the ruins Gust and I might like, and was going to bring them along for us to look at.”

“I see,” he murmured, mulling that over. It didn’t sound like there was anything too deep there, but it was difficult to say. He was trying to think of how to pry further, when Mint shifted behind him, and pulled his arm free.

“Hey, who’s that?”

Remy glanced to the side, following where Mint was pointing at something in the gloom of Sarah’s yard. He squinted, trying to see what Mint had, and was about to ask if he was sure there was someone there when another bolt of lightning threw everything into stark relief, and the shape of something large moving in the middle of the open space became apparent.

“What the?” he muttered, pulling Arrow to a stop and trying to make out who it was. It hadn’t looked human, and none of Sarah’s llamas should be out right now. Sarah had been on her way to settle them for the night when he’d passed by on his way to find Mint over an hour ago, and she’d promised him she’d go straight back inside when she was done. So if one of them was out now... that was rather worrying.

“Oh, it’s just Doofus. I wonder why she’s out so late.”

“Doofus?” Remy said as Mint let go and slid off Arrow’s back, trying to see what Mint had. While he could now see the llama bouncing closer to the fence was too small to be Mr Fuzzybutt, both Doofus and Sherbet looked the exact same to him even in daylight.

“Yes. She doesn’t bounce as high as Sherbet when she walks, and there’s no bell. Sarah’s given up trying to put it back on because Doofus always finds a way to lose it within a day.”

“You sure know a lot about her llamas, huh,” Remy muttered, watching Mint pet the llama over the fence as she tried to snuggle up to him, and wondering if maybe Arlo actually was right to worry about Mint after all, but the engineer laughed.

“No, not really. Only Doofus. Sarah started teaching me how to ride before Winter, and Doofus is her calmest llama. And the smartest and sweetest, aren’t you girl?”

Remy let himself smile as Doofus started to melt under Mint’s hands, until another bolt of lightning flashed almost directly overhead, accompanied by an immediate deafening peal of thunder and the sound of rapidly approaching rain.

“Uh oh. I’ll just go let her back into the stable. If she’s out here then the door must be stuck or something.”

“Wait, Mint,” Remy tried to call, but Mint had already hopped over the fence and headed into the yard. Remy sighed heavily, and guided Arrow to the gate where he jumped down to let his horse in the yard. Doofus hadn’t looked particularly wet, like she would have if she’d been outside since Sarah had closed the stable earlier, so he suspected there was something else going on here. He followed Mint’s path, leading Arrow around the various machines and piles of materials dotted around, and got under the awning at the same time as the rain reached the roof. He stepped to the side, allowing Arrow to shift under the cover more fully, then looked around the dimly lit space.

The lantern Sarah had been carrying earlier was in the middle of the walkway, and from the small circle of light it cast he could see Mint standing by the end stall. Doofus was doing something near the open barn style door beyond the stall, staying far enough back so she wasn’t getting wet even though rain was bouncing inside the stable, and Remy frowned. There was a knotted rope hanging off the handle and trailing inside, long enough that Doofus should have been able to reach it without getting wet and pull the door closed. So why hadn’t she?

“Remington? Over here,” Mint whispered loudly, leaning over the small divide with a soft smile on his face. Putting aside Doofus’ strange behaviour for the moment, Remy joined Mint, and bit his lip to stop himself chuckling.

Sarah was asleep in the middle of the stall, surrounded by her animals. She was curled up on Mr Fuzzybutt, draped over his back with her fingers buried in the soft wool of his neck. Sherbet was stretched out along her back, his own head on Mr Fuzzybutt’s rear, and his legs stuck out at strange angles into the piled up hay. And the two newest additions to her yard, Miss Cluckles the chicken and Peckarina the duck, were also sleeping peacefully on Sherbet’s head.

Mr Fuzzybutt lifted his head when Remy tried to approach, watching intently over the top of his sunglasses. Remy simply looked back, keeping eye contact as he waited for the llama’s assessment. He’d had no problems with the Cotton Llama before, unlike Arlo, and he hoped the Fuzzmeister would remember that.

He apparently did, stretching his neck out to sniff loudly at his pockets, and he chuckled quietly before pulling out some of the apple slices he kept for Arrow and offering them. He crouched next to Sarah and pulled the blanket draped over her lap up to her shoulders, tucking it around her while looking towards the open door. She must have decided to wait for the rain to let up a little, and drifted off watching the approaching storm he decided, admiring the perfectly framed view of the open sky from where she was sitting.

“Excuse me sir, but as soft as I’m sure you are, I think she’d feel better in the morning having slept in a proper bed.”

He carefully slipped his arms underneath her and shifted until he could pick her up, holding her tight against his chest. She grumbled a little, rolling her head to rub against his shoulder, but didn’t wake. He hadn’t thought she would. He’d brought her home enough times now to know she’d sleep through practically anything once she was fully gone.

“Let’s go. The storm won’t be letting up anytime soon now it’s reached us, so we’ll be soaked no matter how long we wait. If you could--”

Mr Fuzzybutt huffed loudly, and Remy stepped back to make room when he climbed to his feet, apparently not caring that Sherbet’s head, which had been resting against him, fell to the floor with a thunk, jostling the two birds and waking them with loud squarks. He always forgot just how big the cotton llamas were compared to the colourful ones, he mused as Mr Fuzzybut stretched himself, towering over him. With a final shake, the llama walked to the door, his ears laying flat against his head as he glared then bleated angrily at the rain, before turning around as if to look for something. Remy watched, amused, as Doofus seemed to roll her eyes, and picked up the end of one of the banquet table umbrellas to bring over to Mint.

“Thank you Doofus,” Mint said quietly, quickly taking the umbrella and getting it to the door. Remy knew how heavy it was, and he felt for Mint when he looked to be struggling with getting it open, until Mr Fuzzybutt ducked under one of the folds of thick fabric and did something he couldn’t see. But then the panels stretched out smoothly, the large spokes resting on Mr Fuzzybutt’s head, and all Mint had to do was hold the pole straight.

Remy murmured his thanks as he moved under it as well, clicking his tongue to Arrow so he’d follow, and they started the slow walk across the yard. This was probably going to be the shortest distance any of them had had to take Sarah home up till now, and he was sure Sam would be teasing her about it for weeks.

#My Time At Portia #MTAP #mtap remington #mtap mint #fanfic

28 notes · View notes

emeraldbirdcollector · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2 of Alice’s Tale (MTAP prompt, “Alice and Jack on their way to Portia”)

Part two, in which I have made up relationships which probably don’t exist in canon, but aren’t, I don’t think, directly contradicted either. (Sam says she has family in Portia at one point, but we don’t see who it is...but there’s only one person in Portia who really has any family resemblance to Sam and could conceivably be her family, so I ran with it.)

Finally, they made it through the gates, but it was a mile or so down the road before Remi spotted the Alliance flag. Thank Peach, they got too distracted with looting to pursue. Not that it did us a blessed bit of good, but at least there's a place we can regroup. He rode for the camp, and breathed out a great sigh of relief when he saw Captain Parker riding up and down, directing the flow of refugees and retreating Corps members with her usual firm hand. She was one of the few Corps leaders he trusted, and he was glad to see her in charge here.

“Remington!” she called out as he neared. “What's the situation?”

“Not good, Captain. We've got a rout on our hands, and they're rioting through the city.”

She shook her head. “Not good, not good at all. At least that'll keep 'em occupied a bit, maybe get them reckless and drunk. We've got reinforcements on their way from Atara. Too late for today, but if we can regroup before they do, and evacuate as many of the civilians as possible...”

Reinforcements. Finally, some good news. “Speaking of which. Found these two about to be taken to the slave markets in Duvos. Can we find 'em a place to go?”

“Parents?”

He shook his head. “Casualties.”

Her eyes softened. “Poor little mites. We've been directing refugees behind the lines, but...they're just kids. Here.” She tossed him a couple of ration bags. “There's a Church of the Light a few miles down the road. They find homes for orphans, don't they?”

“Might be a bit overwhelmed right now.”

“They might be. But it's the best we can hope for right now. I'm sorry, kids. There's not much I can do for you.”

Alice nodded, clearly trying to keep her chin up. Jack just stared at the horse's neck, unwilling or unable to move or talk.

“Be back by sunrise, Remington. As rested as you can be. We're going to need all the soldiers we can get.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He saluted, and spurred his horse further down the path, following the stream of refugees fleeing south.

They had ridden out of sight of the camp before Alice spoke up, hesitantly. “Thank you for doing all of this for us. We probably shouldn't be taking you from your duties...”

“Protecting civilians is my duty. I'm not going to leave two little kids to wander alone in this chaos if I can help it.”

“We don't even have anything to give you...”

“It's my job, I tell you.” He kept his voice even, but the anger came through nonetheless. “I don't ever want be the kind of Corps member who has to take bribes to do his job.”

“Pa said the Corps always took bribes.” Jack picked the worst moments to speak up, in Alice's opinion.

“Some do. I won't.” He took a breath, and smiled down at them. “But enough of that. Do you know where you'd like to go, given a chance? Have you ever seen places other than Lucien City?”

“Not really,” Alice bit her lip. “We never traveled much. Ma and Pa were too busy with the shop.”

“Where are you from?” Jack piped up. “You don't sound like you're from Lucien.”

“Good ear, kiddo. I'm not. I'm from Portia.”

“Where's Portia?”

“Far southeast of here, on the Eastern Sea, beyond Sandrock. The only real way to get there is by boat from Barnarock. But it's a lovely place, lots of countryside and forest, a clean fresh river full of tasty fish, even some mountains. Portia Town is pretty small, just a hundred or so people, but it's cozy and warm and everyone knows everyone else. It's spring, now, all the flowers will be blooming, and it's so peaceful and pretty...” He shook his head. “Sorry. I get homesick sometimes, especially in the middle of all of this.”

“It sounds so lovely...I understand why you miss it. I love flowers,” Alice said wistfully. “I wish we could go there someday. It'd be nice to be somewhere where there isn't any danger at all...”

“Well, it is on the Peripheries, and there is a Collapsed Wasteland nearby, with some odd monsters in it. But the Civil Corps there is dedicated and they keep the town pretty safe. “

“Wow, a real wasteland? Have you ever been in it?” Jack perked up, forgetting his troubles for a bit, and Alice's heart filled with gratitude.

He chuckled, a warm rich sound. “Yes, as a matter of fact. See, there were these two younger kids – Sam's about your age, Alice, and Arlo's two years older – and they snuck in once after school, a couple of years ago, on a dare. Sam's not one to turn down a dare, and she got Arlo to go with her by telling him it would be good training for the Flying Pigs – he's wanted to try out for them ever since he was old enough to know who they were.”

“What happened to them?” Alice asked.

“Well, they got pinned down behind a rock in the middle of a field full of Slurpees...”

“What's a Slurpee?” Jack interrupted.

“It's a great blue creature, kinda like a big fuzzy lizard with a round clowny face – they're not that dangerous, but they can get you with a stream of nasty freezing liquid...stuff...if you don't know how to predict and dodge it. Anyway, I hadn't wanted to snitch on the kids to Mr. Isaac, our teacher, so I snuck in myself, but I had the good sense to bring a couple of weapons with me. Gave Arlo one of the swords, and Sam a dartgun – she always was better with ranged weapons – and we fought our way out. Didn't even get caught, and I've never told anyone till now. So if you do get to Portia, don't tell Mr. Isaac or Mayor Gale on me, all right?”

“I won't. On my honor,” Jack said solemnly, and Alice stifled a giggle.

“Sam sounds like she gets in trouble a lot,” she commented, hoping to hear more about a girl her own age, living in a safe and happy place.

Remington laughed out loud. “That she does, especially the time she beat up the mayor's son. But she got off easy for that one.”

“How come?”

“She beat him up because he'd been picking on his little sister Ginger, and the mayor dotes on his daughter. Ginger's a sweet girl, but she's kinda fragile – her mother died when she was born, she'd never been strong either, and it seems like Ginger takes after her. But her brother Gust thought of her as the one who killed his Mama, and he was pretty awful to her. Sam kicked his butt into next Tuesday, and he left both of 'em alone after that. Last I heard, he'd taken himself off to Atara to study architecture or something. Sam always did hate a bully. She's got a heart of gold, she really does, and she'll always look out for anyone who needs her help. You ought to look her up, if you do get to Portia. Her family are refugees from Lucien too.”

“Really?” Alice asked. “How did they get there?”

“Her Pa is in the Civil Corps, in the front lines a bit further west of here, and her Ma got tired of always being in the danger zones. So she left before Sam was born, and headed down to the coast with Sam's older sister, Carol. Sam's Pa came to visit sometimes, when he was on leave, and Sam was born a few years later, just before her Ma decided to move into Portia Town. But her Ma got the sweating pox, and she died when Sam was only four, so she was mostly raised by her sister, and Carol wasn't much more than a girl herself. So Sam kinda grew up wild. But like I said, she's got a good heart, and she's done all right. And now Carol's gotten married, and had triplets, and Sam babysits for her pretty regularly, so it all comes full circle.”

Jack looked up at his sister. “Are you gonna raise me, now, Alice?”

“Hopefully she won't have to,” Remington said. “The Church will find you a nice family to take you in.”

“But I'll stay with you, I promise. No matter what, I won't let them split us up.” Alice wrapped her arms around her brother and hugged him hard.

“You keep to that. You two stick together and care for each other, and everything will be OK.” Remington hoped the kids couldn't hear the way the words had to fight past the sudden tightness in his throat. He'd never had siblings by blood, but Sam and Arlo were as close as made no difference, and he suddenly missed them both terribly.

#mtap #mtap prompts #mtap alice #mtap jack #mtap remington #my time at portia

5 notes · View notes

everlarkficexchange · 6 years

Text

Unmasked ~ Two

Written by: M

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Please enjoy the second chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~ Chapter Two ~~

The rains cease long enough. The air clears, fresh and warm. A beautiful spring day beckons through the windows and so I take the daily post into the garden to read.

It sours the gardens for me as I read through the letters and I soon regret my decision. Father appears to have taken a gamble on our crop this year. Ordering seed for a few herbs that while in high demand, do not fare in overly wet years. I have spent days now requesting guidance and information on how best to proceed with this crop and the answers have finally begun to return to me.

I make a note to discuss options for draining the north field a little more with our steward. The north field sits on the highest elevation on our farm. It would be best suited for the planting, but we will have to be swift if we are to prepare the field in time.

All of that business is time consuming and stressful, however it is surmountable. A task to be taken care of, nothing more. It is the final letter which I open with trepidation. A missive from one Rory Hawthorne, esq.

Esteemed Sir,

With regret, I must delay my visit to your estates. My older brother Gale remains abroad however, our intentions stand firm. While I am sure your farm is indeed a gem, we simply cannot spare the time to oversee it as our own ventures of fortune have turned most lucrative. As soon as I am able, I will pay visit, assess the properties with our man, and then auction the farm to the highest bidder. Half of the funds shall then transfer to your daughters and wife, as discussed.

With great respect,

Rory Hawthorne, esq.

My eyes sting with indignation. Tis bad enough that I cannot inherit the land my father and I have cultivated and nurtured. No, the louts who will inherit plan to auction it from under our feet at the first opportunity. True, they promise half the profits to us – but only half! An entire lifetime of love and devotion to this land and her people to only receive half. To be forced to split the proceeds with a stranger who has never known my home. It infuriates me. I’ve no way of knowing if Gale and Rory Hawthorne can be trusted. They may be cousins, but they are no real kin of mine. To speak of our business as though our father is already dead and buried when his heart yet beats!

I glance up towards the windows, wondering what my mother does now. She once told me that father remodeled half of the home simply so that her windows would overlook the gardens. I thought it romantic at the time, now I think it a terrible extravagance. I pocket the letter from Rory Hawthorne and walk towards the stable. I am not dressed for riding, but sometimes brushing Sagitarria’s coat helps to calm me.

She whickers and greets me, her great brown eyes soft as I rub her nose and whisper to her. I spill all my fears and worries, thank her for listening and then retrieve a brush. “May I enter?”

With a toss of her head, she invites me in and I smile as I set to work. The cadence of the strokes brings clarity. I allow my thoughts to wander, hoping that once they have roamed through my mind and I call them back to order, I will have some sense of them.

“Miss Everdeen?” I sigh at the interruption.

“Here, Charles.”

“You’ve a visitor.” I pause and think a moment.

“We were not expecting company.”

“No, Miss. She says she’ll go if it’s a bad time. I tried to say it was, what with the Mister laid up such as he is, but Mrs. Sae insisted she stay. Set her up in the drawing room.”

“The drawing room?” I hand Charles the brush and ask him to finish with Sagittaria as I hurry back to the house, wondering at Sae’s treatment of our guest. I spot a hired carriage retreating back up the lane and hasten inside, halting in the doorway to the drawing room as a lovely woman dressed in a dark grey travel habit removes a hat and veil, her blond hair in a beautiful twist. Sae sits upon the floor, playing with a child no more than two or three years old. A soft cry escapes me and the woman turns to me, confirming what I already know.

“Katniss,” she says, her voice wavering slightly.

“Madge,” I say and we move to one another, arms embracing tightly. “It has been years.”

“Too long, dear friend. Far too long,” she agrees. With a loud sigh, she steps back and takes my hands in hers. “You are just as I remember you.”

“Stubborn, covered in dirt, and unmarried?” She laughs at this and tears seem to gather in her eyes.

“How I’ve missed you! But I cannot stay. Sae has just told me of your misfortunes. I cannot impose.”

“Nonsense!” I shout as Sae protests as well.

“I told you the Misses wouldn’t stand to have you leaving. I’ll see to your rooms now, and take this precious little berry with me.” Sae lumbers up to her feet and scoops the child into her arms. “Don’t know if we’ve linens fine enough for a countess–”

“Oh don’t. Sae, please,” Madge insists, cringing and folding her hands together. “Please do not call me Countess. I would much rather be Miss Margaret all over again.”

Sae shrugs and the child giggles. I cannot help but reach for her and take her into my arms, cooing at her and examining her perfect strawberry blonde curls.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, darling! You must be Maysilee.” The child babbles back to me and plants sticky hands on my cheeks, her blue eyes bright and alert. “We’ll have you a fine horsewoman and running wild over the hills in no time. Your Aunt Maysilee would have been proud to see you bear her name.”

“I’ll give this one a bath too, while I’m about it,” Sae says with a smile. “It’ll be nice to have babies running about the house again.”

I swallow back a retort at that, too happy to have my friend back to rise to Sae’s bait just yet. When she leaves us, I turn back to Madge and an unfortunate silence falls over us. Without her child and Sae’s bluster, it seems that I do not know what to say to my oldest, dearest friend. We knew each other so well, having grown up as neighbors and confidantes. Inseparable to the point that I knew where she and Prim had hidden one day when disaster struck our families.

“I truly am sorry, Katniss. Your father…” she stops and swallows. I take her hand in mine and she wipes at her tears. “I did not shed a tear for the earl’s death. Not a single tear. And now I am glad of it. I saved them for someone more worthy.”

“Papa’s not dead yet,” I remind her and she nods.

“I know. It’s just that I know how hard this must be for you. Shouldering everything as you always do when you are needed.”

“And what of you? You seem…desperate. And a widow for what? Only a year now?”

“Yes. A little over a year now. And I am desperate,” Madge confesses with a nod, and another tear slips free. “I shall stop crying for myself now, though. The earl’s family wanted nothing to do with me after his death. His son – the Earl now – resented me, I think. That his father would seek another bride after his own mother passed. Maysilee was never wanted by anyone but myself. I could not bring myself to exist on their charity a second longer. A year was far too much. It was only a matter of time before they turned us out and – look at me. Barely an hour in your home and already I have unpacked all my troubles at your doorstep.”

“We are friends, Madge. It is not your fault you had a wretched husband and suffered his wretched family.” I wind an arm around her waist and turn her towards the door with me. “Let’s see if we can find Mary to draw a bath for you, a clean dress, and then we can talk more.”

The busy servants for the next half hour as they see to the needs of our guests rouses my mother from her rooms. I have a moment of hope as she holds Maysilee for a short time, but then a shadow seems to pass over her face and she thrusts the child into Prim’s arms before rushing back into my father’s room, slamming the door behind her.

“I had nowhere else to go,” Madge whispers that evening under the bustle around us. I know this, and yet I am glad that she came. It may mean two more mouths to feed, but Madge has not much changed since last I saw her. She may be more quiet and reserved now, older and grown into a mother. She is grace and beauty, but she was always those things and much more. Quiet, kind, and brave. I know this has not changed about her when I find her in the kitchens, assisting with the dinner preparations, wiping her hand on an apron before clutching my hand in hers and squeezing. “But I will not be a burden to you,” she promises.

I spend the next few days overseeing the draining of the north field and reacquainting myself with my friend. With a few false starts and stutters, we quickly discover that our friendship remains preserved. I wonder at her life the past five years as a countess, and remain patient. When she is ready to share more details, I shall be ready to listen.

My father’s condition changes little. Mother begins to exercise his limbs with help from several of the stable grooms. I watch from the door one afternoon and cannot continue. Unable to see my father manipulated like a puppet, I saddle my own horse and tear through the fields to the crest of the north field to watch the sunset instead.

One day, I return from the north field, trousers covered in mud up to my knees and a deep scowl on my face, lost in thoughts of auctions and futures. Angry at a world that claims to revere its ladies only to leave them with nothing and no hope when their husbands perish. Were it up to me, I would never wed, I decide. Not that anyone would have me anyways. The marks on my back have assured that. Unmarried or not, however, I am left with very few ways to care for those I love.

I must do something. Doctor Aurelius paid another visit and reminded me that my father could pass from this world from the coma at any time, without warning, or that he could awaken only to perish then. My mother is little help. She prefers to cling to the thin hope that he will awaken and resume his life that day as though nothing happened. I, however, cannot afford that luxury if merely because she chooses to hold to it, leaving me to see to our needs.

The point is, there will come a time when we will no longer be able to rely on my father to provide for us. Then what? Who then would I take my mother and sister to and beg shelter as Madge asked of me?

That is an uncharitable thought. Madge has been a great help and a comfort to me since she arrived several days ago and I would like to think I have been so to her as well. We are friends, after all. Unfortunately, friendships and love do not provide a roof or sustenance.

The one obvious solution is one that I detest. Marriage.

I did not always despise the idea of marriage. Perhaps as a young girl I even looked forward to it and dreamt of it. I can’t rightly recall. All I do know is that ever since the fire, marriage has been neither a priority nor a simple option for me. I absently scratch at my back, although the scars have long since healed and ceased itching, save for days when it is hot and hard work leads to me to perspire a great deal.

As if the world has decided to taunt me, thinking of my scarring leads me down a path of thought I have tried ardently to avoid. I catch myself now that I’m awake. It is the night that is my thoughts’ enemy lately. Cleared of unwanted thoughts, I stomp mud from my boots and climb the steps only to find yet another pair of uninvited visitors in my hall. I hope they are not expecting dinner.

“Katniss, this is Miss Delilah Cartwright and her brother, Elijah,” Madge tells me.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Everdeen! I’ve heard so much about you,” Miss Cartwright effuses and I stare at her. She’s dressed simply, an apron over her dark blue dress and her blonde curls tucked under a cap. A few riotous strands escape and fall around her plump face. She curtsies and I notice marks on her hands. Calluses. And then several trunks behind her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. Rather rudely, I realize and shake my head to clear it of thoughts. “Apologies. I am tired and rather muddy.”

“I can see that,” Miss Cartwright says and giggles a little. Madge bites her lip and motions towards the parlor.

“Miss Cartwright, why don’t you and your brother set up your wares in the parlor while Miss Everdeen freshens up?”

“I don’t understand,” I hiss at Madge as she guides me towards the stairs. “Who are they and what do they want?”

“Here. Prim read it by accident. I didn’t understand, but she said that you would,” Madge presses a letter into my hands and smiles. “I am looking forward to a chat and perhaps some cocoa tonight. It’s a little chilly this evening.”

With that, she vanishes into the parlor, leaving me to trudge upstairs with my letter. I unfold it and scowl at the already broken seal over the direction.

Miss Everdeen Everdeen Farm Estate Seam and Shire Southeast Panem

It would be easy for Prim to mistake it for herself with the absence of any letter to denote our given names, however as soon as I read the first few lines, the invasion of my privacy bothers me.

Miss Everdeen,

Forgive the tardiness. My urgent business did not turn so well, however, that is no excuse for my leaving you so callously missing a serviceable boot. Delilah is one of the best cobblers in the area where I was a boy. She will see to your needs. I have already paid for her services and wares. At least one pair of boots to replace the pair I am responsible for destroying, and perhaps a pair of dancing shoes should you feel the desire to dance over this letter in indignant rage. I shall think of you scowling as you do so. Please consider it repayment for my less than gentlemanly behavior.

~ Peeta ~

It’s as though my thoughts of him while walking conjured his letter and these visitors. I change and clean up as best I can before hurrying back down to the parlor to find that Madge has served our guests tea. An assortment of fabrics and leathers spread across the worn sofas and my cheeks heat at the embarrassment of having such fine materials covering the signs of our recent financial struggles. Everdeen is and always has been a profitable farm. The past few years, the margin of profits narrowed a great deal and I sometimes wonder if it is the fault of two daughters of marrying age hanging still about the halls. I, at the least, should have been wed and gone by now.

“Miss Everdeen!” Miss Cartwright sets aside her tea and stands abruptly when she sees me. “Please. Take your time perusing the options.”

I wander the room and fight my mounting annoyance. He tossed me about like chatel, bruised me, embarrassed me, and then left me unceremoniously on the front steps missing a boot. I should not feel bad accepting a gift such as this and yet for some reason, it bothers me. Perhaps because he could have left me struggling alone in the mud, and despite the rough treatment, Peeta and his man Joe in truth did a great service for me. I am left in their debt and yet he sends presents.

“If you’ll tell me what sort of boot Peeta is replacing for you, I can better determine the leather I will need,” she says.

The use of his given name, and more so the confusing feelings elicited in me at her use of it, gives me pause. I ignore her eyes on me, as though assessing who I am. It occurs to me that perhaps she is a sweetheart of Peeta’s, although I find it difficult to believe a man of his wealth would court a tradeswoman. He could have a lady, easily. Perhaps marry into a title. I wonder what this girl is to him or if it truly is that he respects her skills, nothing more.

They must be quite close after all, I think as I examine another leather that is more yellow than brown and quickly reject it, for him to send her so far to make a few pairs of shoes.

Now I truly am angry and decide that I will absolutely take a pair of boots as compensation for his treatment of me. Perhaps two.

“Riding boots,” I tell her and finger a fine sheet of dark brown leather. Soft, supple, and yet thick. “They were well molded to my feet,” I try to explain my attachment to them. I feel silly and can’t place why. Almost ill to my stomach and I review what I ate today to determine if something there might be the culprit.

“What you have in your hands then might work quite well,” Miss Cartwright tells me and then produces a book containing drawings of different boot styles. My head spins a bit and I point to one. “Oh those are lovely! And quite comfortable, I am told. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll get your measurements.“

“How far did you travel, Miss Cartwright?” Madge asks as I sit.

“Oh please, call me Delly. Everyone does so!” She insists and Delly sets to work. Her fingers touch many of the same places Peeta’s did and I find myself blushing at the memory of his touch. Her’s is efficient and not nearly as gentle, by comparison. How did I think him a brute again? “Peeta and I were children together in East Panem. Lovely place! Have you been there?”

“I can’t say that either of us have,” Madge says for both of us.

“Oh well, it’s a good few days of travel from here,” Delly explains as she works and my head spins. “It’s been quite fun getting to travel and see some of the country and Peeta’s been a darling, paying for our expenses. I tease him that he quite owes us now that he’s rich and we’re not. Mr. Mellark’s not nearly so generous, but Peeta’s never been one to ignore the needs of a –” she stops herself and laughs nervously, glancing at Madge’s dress in muted colors of late mourning but clearly of fine fabrics. My silk stockings beneath her hands and the finest leathers. “My mouth escaped me just then.”

She purses her lips together after that and restricts herself to discussion of the wares. Once she has the beginnings of two pairs of boots and one pair of slippers, she insists that she will be able to finish them by the end of the week if I’m available for another fitting then. I tell her that I am, and see her and her brother to the door.

“I think perhaps her brother is mute,” Madge reflects as we watch the pair climb into a worn cart pulled by two old nags.

“Perhaps.”

“Alright, Katniss. I’ve waited long enough. Tell me about this Peeta Mellark.”

We walk in the garden, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine and I relay the story with a few flourishes. She laughs at the image I paint of me covered in mud and both our cheeks pinken as I mention his examination of my ankle or the manner in which I rode his horse in front of him.

“I did not expect to hear from him again, and I did not know his surname until Miss Cartwright let it slip,” I finish.

“Really?”

“Really,” I say and smile at her. “Do you know the name?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I didn’t have much time in society, with the babies.”

“Babies?” Madge purses her lips and turns back towards the house. It is almost dinner time anyways and I am famished so I follow, waiting for an answer.

“I lost two before Maysilee. One before it was grown much. The other was a boy. Stillborn.”

“Oh Madge,” I say and pull her into an embrace. She only allows a quick one this time, the excitement over a piece of the mystery being solved having caught up to her.

“We should ask your mother if she knows the name Mellark.” I cringe at that, but Madge is determined and somehow, after dinner, convinces Mother to join us in her personal parlor. Prim plays some music for a few moments while Madge sews and Mother plays with Maysilee until I think I see hints of the woman I know and love so much. It makes me realize how much I miss her and I’m not surprised when Madge eases into asking me about my new boots.

“New boots?” Mother asks, her curiosity caught as Maysilee climbs into her lap and I retell the story with less detail this time. Mother does not need to know that the thought of Peeta’s fingers on my leg still sends strange tinglings through my skin or that I have perhaps had a few impure dreams about his touch.

“Did you say Mellark?” she asks at the end of the telling. I nod and she sighs. “I had a beau with that family name once. Reginald Mellark. He’s now a Marquis with a number of sons himself, I believe. Fabulously wealthy family and stunningly handsome,” she smirks at me a little at this. “He was a divine dance partner and quite the catch. He pursued me and my parents were quite happy to see me wed to him. We were expected to be The match of the year. Most others thought I would not be able to resist his charms.”

Madge chuckles at this and I sit stiff as Prim leans into me.

“What happened, Mother?” she asks breathlessly. I, however, find this conversation a tad disrespectful with my father bedridden in the next room over.

“Well Reginald was handsome but could be a tad ruthless. Your father…well your father was the better man. I did not care for wealth or titles. Kent Everdeen had something that made him a far richer man. A good heart and a good soul. I always did prefer a gentler touch anyways.”

We all blush at the implications my mother speaks now. Shimmers of a phantom touch circle my ankle and I shift it further beneath my skirts. Ridiculous.

“It was a small scandal when I accepted his proposal over Reginald’s. Reginald insisted I would come to regret my choice. He was…entirely wrong. I have never once regretted it.”

I melt a little at my mother’s soft words. Prim sighs and Madge bows her head, toying with her fingernails and I wonder if she regrets her choice to marry the man her parents chose for her instead of searching for a love match as my mother did.

Handsome but a tad ruthless. The description fits Peeta in a way. He admitted to being rough and ungentlemanly with me, after all. Prim’s thought seem to follow a similar vein as she turns to me with a sly smile on her face. “I wonder if your Peeta is one of Sir Reginald the Ruthless’ sons?”

“It is possible,” my mother says and stands, setting Maysilee on her feet to toddle to her mother. “Be careful what gifts you accept from that man, Katniss. You’ve no way of knowing what conditions come attached to them.”

It’s the closest to my mother acting as her normal self that we’ve had in quite some time. Which perhaps is why it hurts so much when she leaves us then to return to my father’s side.

I do not sleep well that night. I am caught in dreams that merge and twist together. A burning mansion. Crops that wither and die in their fields. Gaunt faces and cruel faces. An open, empty grave and quiet sobs. A door slams in my face and mud sucks at my limbs. When I wake, I am unable to separate the pieces of my dreams. All I know is that I have avoided this decision far too long. At first, the planting provided an easy excuse for my lack of action, but I now know that I cannot delay any longer. If I am to secure a future for my family, I must act now before Father slips from this world, leaving us unprotected.

Rising with the sun, I was and dress in a fine yellow morning gown and march to breakfast, glad to see that all three of the women and the one child who now somehow rely on me are gathered to hear my announcement.

“I’m leaving tomorrow for town. I will be back with a husband for the harvest.”

To be continued…

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #prompt 88 #M

102 notes · View notes

funkymeihem-fiction · 7 years

Text

Hot Headed, Cold Hearted- Chapter 4

“And you didn’t have any clue this was happenin’, eh? Noooo idea that your bot friend was acting suspicious? Seems a bit strange, that does.” Junkrat sat with the seat cranked back, arms folded behind his head and his feet propped up. Despite his slouched posture, he looked the farthest thing from relaxed. “Just poppin’ off to Canada, Junkrat. No reason to worry, Junkrat. I’ll just be on a mystery expedition with this bot that I’m insistin’ real hard is innocent and not at all weird-acting from the start! Tch. You’re real lucky Roadie and I are the sorts of loyal gents that we are, coming along like this. That’s worth at least ten points.” “I told you I don’t rank you by points!” Mei’s jaw tightened further, her hands white-knuckled around the steering grip of the little ship. “And get your peg leg off the dashboard!” He scowled at her but pulled his feet away and back onto the floor, even as he hissed back, “How about I put my peg wherever I like it, and you tell me what this mission of yours is actually about? You can’t pretend to be Little Miss Honesty and then not tell us important mission info, that’s puttin’ everything in jeopardy. What’s with the bot, Mei? I’ve seen how you’ve been acting, you know what’s really up?” “I said I don’t know! Sorry, sorry, I’m not trying to yell, but you’re making it very hard to focus. And I keep telling you, I don’t know why it’s singing that song or anything about what it might have been pointing at. And I already told you the mission parameters, we’re just going to the marked location and taking a look around in person. It just…It just wants us to go there, all right? We’re just checking it out, just in case.” “So this whole ‘scouting mission’ is just because that whacked-out bot wanted to go walkabout! And you let it!” Mei took several deep breaths. The snows had stopped but the winds had picked up, and their airship was making slow but steady progress against the face of the gale. They had left Tentpeg to start the long flight northward, into the faceless mass of the Canadian wilderness. The sea of green below was broken only by rocky mountains and lakes and there wasn’t even anything she could try to point out and distract him with. Junkrat had always been high-strung, but he was nigh uncontrollable about omnics, and even she had to admit that none of her attempts at assuaging his doubts seemed very convincing. “It’s not like that! Bastion is our friend and it clearly wants us to find something here, so we’re going to take a look. That’s all. Listen, it’s really not a big deal, so let’s just calm down. We can still do this together.” “And you can’t tell us why or if it might be leadin’ us right into an omnic trap!” Junkrat twisted in his seat to narrow his eyes at Bastion. “I say we scrap it, for our own sakes.” “Jamison, no! You promised me you would be nice! Both of you promised you wouldn’t cause trouble about this, and I’m still keeping you to that promise. Bastion is our teammate and…you don’t have to be friends, but you do have to be nice. You. Promised.”

The junker sputtered around his scarf, turning his glare back to her. “Well! Well that’s before I had all the facts, which apparently, you don’t have the facts either. That’s a promise made on shaky pretenses, love. Now me, I’m just trying to keep you safe because I’m a decent bloke, even if you’re putting up a muss and a fuss about it.” “You’re not trying to keep me safe, you’re just looking for excuses to be mean because you hate omnics!” Her voice rose even though she tried to keep it steady. “And you still promised me, no matter what. You have to keep your promises, you just have to.” “Arright, Mei! Two can play at your game; look at me and promise me that your bot friend isn’t gonna go haywire. Promise me, Mei, that you can tell me with one-hundred-percent certainty, that your overgrown washin’ machine isn’t leading us into danger. It’s just taking us to the pot of gold at the end of the fuckin’ rainbow and when we open it up, ducklings and kittens are gonna come spilling out and we’re all going to do a dance together because we’re all friends now juuuuust like you wanted.” “Would you stop being ridiculous? Do you want me to be ridiculous too? Fine! Minus ten points! Minus twenty points!” “You said we weren’t doing points! Well, aren’t you just Ms. Takesies-Backsies today? You just don’t want to face the music about your robo-pal having interior motives, is that it? Oh, that’s RICH! You know what-” Bastion all but cowered in the back of the ship’s cargo as the two in the front seat starting shouting again, its head darting between the two as the arguing continued. Snowball sat in its charging station, beeping occasionally when Mei spoke and flashing rude Mandarin phrases across its screen whenever Junkrat answered her. Ganymede seemed unwilling to face their constant bickering, staying unseen under Bastion’s winter hat. Bastion didn’t seem sure of what to do with itself, well aware that it was the subject of the tempest up front. It nervously clicked its fingertips against its gun arm, glancing up when there was a dangerous warning rumble from across the cargo hold. Roadhog, looming so large that he had to bend over inside the ship even when he was sitting down, was still staring at it through the lenses of his pig mask. Glancing from the huge man to its gun arm, Bastion quickly lowered it and held it behind its back before looking back to him. Roadhog did not respond, favorably or otherwise. Bastion’s eyelight darted from side to side again, then it held out its hand as if to shake. Roadhog did not take it. “Hmmm,” he rumbled once more, before turning his gaze back to the argument that was growing louder in volume by the minute. “…Mei.” “-And third of all, you can’t break promises just because you feel- WHAT?!” She stopped mid-argue and whirled back to look at him, then quailed at her own voice and quickly lowered it. “I’m sorry! Sorry. Mr. Roadhog. What is it?” “Are we getting close?” “Oh!” She seemed almost startled, like she had forgotten that she had been driving in the first place. Blinking, she looked down at the onboard map. “GPS gets a little spotty this far out. Less than fifty miles now. It’s taking a little longer than I would like with this wind and all. We’re flying against it, unfortunately, but there’s nothing for it. Weather system is moving in but we should be in and out before the snows hit.” She turned and looked at Junkrat expectantly. He sat with his arms folded petulantly and had been staring out the window, lifting a brow back at her. “What?” “I said, we should be in and out before the snows hit.” “Yeah?” “I said. We should be. In and out.” She stared at him before muttering in an almost hopeful way, waiting for the lewd remark that was sure to come. “In and out?” He didn’t even seem to notice her, glaring daggers at the omnic in the back. Mei rubbed her forehead before returning her attentions back to the GPS monitor. “…I got it,” Hog offered, lifting a hand from the backseat. She sighed loudly. “Thanks, Mr. Roadhog. Let’s just get there and get this over with. This isn’t really how I’d hoped this would go, but then…things never seem to go well, anyway. We’ll try to find a clearing for a landing, take Bastion to the site and see what’s there, and then we can all head back to a real town and maybe this time get a decent hotel. You two can have your own room and Bastion and Snowball and I can go over our findings so nobody has to be bothered anymore.” She steered the ship against another incoming gale, the whole vehicle shuddering from the force of it as it whistled outside the windows. “Let’s just do our jobs.” “Bee-weep-beep,” Bastion agreed, then quickly shrunk down into a more box-like structure once more when Roadhog looked at it again. Turning back towards the front, Roadhog glanced between the Mei and Junkrat, who were still trying very hard not to look at one another, but said nothing as he shrugged and sat back once more. With a last grumble, he folded his hands over his massive gut and lowered his head for yet another nap. ***

Hog snorted awake abruptly some minutes later when a loud beeping noise went off. Everyone jumped in their seats at the same time, and Mei adjusted her glasses quickly, squinting down at the GPS. “Oh! Is that a weather alert?” Three small dots, blinking rapidly, were coming up behind them on the map. For a moment, it simply didn’t register to Mei what it meant. They were in the absolute middle of nowhere. It would have been hard to get any more in the middle of nowhere. But there they were, no longer alone, as the three blinking dots started to close in behind them, almost like- Snowball’s shrill alarm call went off and recognition hit her like a thunderbolt. She gripped onto the little ship’s controls with both hands, roaring a “Everyone hold on!” before abruptly jerking it to one side. The little cargo ship was not meant for evasive maneuvers, but she jammed onto the brakes and pulled up with all her might as it tilted until it was almost horizontal. All the equipment inside that wasn’t strapped down went flying, boxes and debris and Bastion’s heavy metal chassis slamming into the unlucky Roadhog. Junkrat found himself assaulted with trash and food wrappers as he took a water bottle to the face, but he barely noticed, clinging onto the seatbelt that Mei had insisted he wear as several oblong blurs went flying past them outside the window. “Are those missiles? Are those fuckin’ missiles?!” His gaze widened as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, staring after the vapor trails that had started to curve as they turned back around for another go. “Who the hell!” “I don’t know! I don’t know!” Mei was still struggling at the helm, righting the vehicle after a moment as she stared in rapt horror down at the blinking red alerts. The little ship was barely above a civilian affair, something that Winston had gotten as little more than a cargo van to hold all her equipment, not anything to be sent into battle. It wasn’t equipped with shields, it wasn’t equipped with missiles, or even a single defensive countermeasure. And it certainly wouldn’t stand up to multiple explosions if they were being attacked. “We’re sitting ducks in this thing!” Junkrat was already struggling out of his seatbelt, diving into the mess in the back and coming up with his pack. Opening it up, he pulled out several mines, leaping over where Bastion was still trying to right itself. Flinging open one of the back doors and ignoring Mei’s demands for an explanation, his keen gaze followed one of the trails at it headed back towards them. Sticking out his tongue as he often did, concentrating, he narrowed his eyes as he watched its trajectory before rearing back and tossing the mine like a frisbee. It spun on its axis, whirling out into the wind before a quick press of the button detonated the device in an explosion of black and yellow against the gray clouds. The missile sensed the surge of heat nearby and turned right into the fireball, detonating on top of it as a second and far more powerful explosion went off behind them. “Got one!” He crowed, clinging onto the open door handle as he looked back to Mei for a quick bout of praise. She was still struggling to maintain control of the ship against the wind, her glasses askew and her expression intense as she aimed their path for the nearby mountains. The other two missiles were still being tracked on her screen, closing in behind them as she heard a series of clanks and whirs. Bastion had finally gotten itself upright, and had quickly shifted into its turret mode as Ganymede was sent fleeing to take shelter behind Snowball’s charger. With a “Doot-de-dooooot!”, it opened fire, the other back door shot off in a hail of bullets and sailing off into the sky as the omnic locked its sights on the targets headed towards them. Its bullet chains began cranking in rapid machine-gun fire as another cavalcade of ammo was sent spraying towards the incoming missiles. The gunfire caught one, another explosion sending a shockwave through the air that made Junkrat’s grin widen and his bones hum, though he narrowed his gaze at the bot and muttered a hateful little, “Showoff…” Bastion took aim once more, but the van hit another errant wind gale and shook violently as its shots went wild. The last missile rapidly closed in, spiraling through the air towards them, and one of the bot’s shots finally managed to hit its target. It detonated with another air-rippling boom, but this one had caught their tail end as the van pitched violently once more. Junkrat didn’t even have time to make up a one-liner or an insult, clinging to the remaining door…until it was ripped off its hinges, and both door and junker were wrenched into the open air. He was sucked out into the void, clawing at air as both he and his bag went spinning into the nothingness with an almost comical squeal. “YAAAWHOOOOOIEEEE!”

***

Roadhog was on his feet before Mei could even finish her horrified scream. The huge junker filled the open back of the van, his arm flinging outward as there was a creaking rustle of chain, his hook spinning out after his airborne partner. It snagged the bottom of his coat, narrowly missing impaling his skinny belly as Junkrat dangled and dragged from the van like a hooked fish; face down, ass skyward, and wide-eyed at the rushing blur of green trees beneath him. “Pull me up! Pull me up, ya drongo!” The shrieking of the wind drowned out any more words he might have said, flailing his skinny limbs as Roadhog started pulling the chain to reel him in. Hand over hand, he started lifting the younger man back towards safety. Inside, Mei allowed herself a relieved sigh… Right up until the screen started beeping and flashing red again. The engine of the left rear hover was on fire, and there were two more dots now closing in on them from the north. She recognized the shape almost at once, and the symbols on the hull only confirmed it; these were no doubt the source of the missile barrage, and they belonged to Talon. There would be no outrunning them this time, and though she yelled a warning and started to try and turn the van around, it was only moments before the Talon ships were in range. The first barrage was thrown off by the wind and Mei’s desperate attempts to barrel roll. It hit the front engines as more alarms went off and smoke began billowing from the hood. The whole vehicle dropped abruptly and started to tilt, and Roadhog was nearly pitched out the back, struggling to keep hold of the chain where Junkrat was still dangling. The ship was starting to limp downward, and Junkrat’s nose was dangerously close to brushing the tops of the trees as he heard the telltale popping of threads where he was precariously hooked by his winter coat. And when the rear engine died completely, that side of the ship dropped out from under Hog’s boots. He fell, the slack in the chain rippling along its length until Junkrat was jerked to and fro in the air, and then dropped into the treeline as the branches swallowed him up. There was a ripping noise and a cut-off scream, and then the hook was left spinning merrily in the air, empty of its charge, and Junkrat was gone entirely. “JAMIE! JAMIE, NO!” Mei’s wail cut through even the shrieking of the wind and the pops of the burning engines, slamming on the brakes to try and turn back around. Roadhog managed to right himself, shoving Bastion out of his way as he lunged back towards the front, his gigantic hand closing around both of Mei’s hand and the control grip beneath. Wheezing a breath, he snarled a low, “Keep going!” “No! Jamison, he-” “Keep going forward! No help if we’re dead!” Roadhog’s grip was like iron around her as he kept the ship straight. He was right. Military training and common sense bade them keep moving forward and staying on the defense until they could safely go back for help. But no amount of training in Lena’s VR Air Battle simulators could prepare for something like this. Their ship was barely moving forward on two and a half engines, trailing smoke and flames. Their only hope was to find a place on the mountainside that was clear enough to bail onto, but as they limped on their way, the Talon fighters were already upon them like lightning. Bastion was still perched in the back cargo, its turret gun swiveling desperately in hopes that the ships would pass by. Instead, another round of pulse bullets slammed into the side of their burning ship. It sheared through the metal like melted butter, nearly cutting the structure in two as sparks flew and the whole back end screeched and started to come apart. Bastion looked down as the floor gave way and sagged, and its turret form was already whirring and struggling to change back before it simply slid backwards and then dropped out of sight without a sound. With a panicked storm of tweeting and a flash of yellow feathers, Ganymede dove after it. Roadhog and Mei, and Snowball were the only ones left inside the rapidly disintegrating vehicle. Cracks had started to appear in the windshield and the GPS abruptly flickered off and went dead as the ‘check engine’ light lit up helpfully. Worse yet, the steering controls weren’t responding properly anymore, and she was sure she could smell burning behind the main control panel. “Mr. Roadhog, brace yourself!” she cried aloud, turning the ship downward. “I’m going to try to land it!” Roadhog buckled his seatbelt. The ship dropped again as the Talon fighters suddenly hung back, watching the van as it careened for the mountainside. The emergency lights were still flashing uselessly, blinking amongst the smoke and flames as it hit the treetops and bounced several times before it hit the stony slope. It went spinning like a toy, shedding science equipments and a flurry of papers, screeching across the rocks in a storm of sparks before slowly skidding to a stop against a massive boulder. It lay there, electric blue sparks still popping around it and fire starting to spread across the twisted hull. With their target firmly incapacitated, the Talon ships dove down after them.

***

Inside the wreckage, Roadhog had braced himself. The front of the van had dented inward and he was pretty sure that his leg had dented in with it, judging by the immense pain radiating up his femur, but he was alive and conscious. Well, semi-conscious. And being only semi-conscious and very much in pain was hardly ideal for their situation. Groping in his winter pack by his belly, he pulled out the familiar yellow canister, clicking it into place with one smooth well-practiced motion. The tab was pulled and the hogdrogen flooded his mask, his nose, and then his lungs in succession. The pain faded to a manageable level for now, and the fuzzy redness around his vision slowly came into focus. Mei was laying unmoving next to him, her arms hanging limply and her face buried in the airbag, and red was trickling down from where she rested against the rough white fabric. Hesitating slightly, Hog reached out one huge gloved hand and gently peeled her up and away from it. Her glasses were shattered, and it looked like her nose had been shattered with it, along with a deep open cut across her forehead. She flopped almost bonelessly in his grip, out cold. But she moaned a little when he moved her, and she was alive. The relief that flooded through him was almost better than the hogdrogen. “Tango down, two survivors, two fatalities.” Hog turned his head very slowly at the sound of a garbled voice outside, followed by the answering static of a radio. The Talon agents were advancing on what remained of their ship, weapons drawn, as they made their way through the debris. He heard one of them pause. “Papers have the Overwatch symbol on them. Sending visual…Confirmed…” The soldier waited for a moment, holding up one hand to signal the pause of his cohorts, before nodding. “Preparing for transport of the two captives for questioning…Roger that. Right, let’s take a look at who they sent. Move in, pacify any-” The hook and chain hurtled out of the black smoke, snagging one of the oncoming Talon troops and yanking them back out of sight before they could even react. Inside, there was a very brief yell, followed by the sound of a gun firing and the clatter of scrap metal…and then a sort of wet splattering noise. The other troops lifted their weapons as an immense shape lifted up out of the smoke and vapor, the massive junker rearing up to his full height, the swine mask’s blank glass lenses glinting like a dead thing’s, and the adorable pom-pom on Ana’s winter pig hat bobbling to and fro. Mei’s unconscious form had been unceremoniously draped over one shoulder in a fireman’s carry, her face smearing fresh blood into his coat. It was a precarious perch, but he needed both arms free, reaching into the debris of the ship and slamming a fistful of loose scrap and bolts into the feeder of his gun. When the first Talon agent opened fire, bullets ripping through his brand new parka and into the scarred meat of his thick hide, he answered in kind. A spray of razor-edged metal and rusted nails had always served him as well as any other ammo, and the screams that came after (if they had time to scream, anyway) were always like music to his ears. He descended upon the Talon troops like a thunderstorm. And if Mei had been awake, she could have testified that Australian storms were like no others in the world. The old junker had been nigh-legendary in his homeland, a one-man apocalyptic force responsible for the massacre of any errant omnic, junker, or fool that dared cross him. And that was what Talon faced now. The scrap gun clanked and shot, clanked and shot again, his other hand whirling the heavy metal hook around on its chain to drag in those who were stupid enough to think themselves out of his range. He dispatched two of them in very short order, and his heavy spiked boot brutally stomped one down into the snow when he saw them struggling to get back up again. Snowball finally managed to struggle its way out of the wreck of the van, blaring a cute beeping warcry as its emoticon eyes flashed into its ‘anger’ face. The little bot hadn’t been outfitted with any of its cryo-packets for a battle, but upon seeing Mei injured and under attack, it hurtled towards one of the Talon trooper’s faces, backing up and slamming into them again and again. After attacking Junkrat so many times, it had gotten adept at dodging limbs and fists, and threw itself at the offending soldier with all its might. Roadhog focused on the remaining agents. More bullets tore into his back, and when he turned to punish the man who had thought that would work against someone like him, he felt something spear through his coat, pinpricking into his skin with little metal prongs. The wires running from were attached to a little black box one of the other agents was holding. Heh. They thought a taser would work? What sort of idiot thought a taser would- The sheer power of the electrical volts that shot through him a moment later was certainly surprising. His limbs spasmed and stiffened, and he could feel Mei slipping out of his grasp. Powering through the pain, he managed to grasp blindly for the wires attached to the electrical prongs, ripping them free. Grabbing the unconscious girl in the crook of one arm, he felt more of the little prongs hit the massive expanse of his back, and then another by his shoulder. “Boss wants them alive!” He heard one of them say, just as more electrical convulsions ripped through him. He groaned, spasming once more despite his best efforts, as Mei was flung out of his grip and onto the snow, the huge junker collapsing to one knee a moment later. One of the troopers moved towards the girl, and was met with the spiked metal knuckles of Roadhog’s fist as they were punched hard enough to send them flying. With steam rising from the burnt areas of his skin surrounding the electric spikes, he tried to gather her back up again, crouching over her downed form in the blood-spattered snow. Snowball beeped in alarm and rushed towards them, and was hit with another set of the flying prongs. Yanked back by the wire suddenly attached to its underside, it flashed a series of exclamation marks and tried to pull away. A bolt of white arced from the black device, over the wire, and buzzed through its circuits, overloading them with a series of loud pops and crackling noises. With its screen flashing random symbols and emotes, it wavered from side to side before it went black and dead, dropping to the ground with a muffled thud. The thud when Roadhog hit the ground was much, much louder. The combined voltage from the Talon’s weaponry had finally downed even the mightiest of them, as the massive junker sprawled out in the snow with his heavy arm flung over the girl next to him. He lay unmoving as the remaining troopers swarmed over them both, arguing with one another as they tried to figure out how to attach their cuffs to fit over Hog’s thick wrists, and who would be stuck trying to move him into one of the ships. Mei was far easier to handle. Her limbs were quickly bound together before being lifted up and hauled away. One of the agents paused only to aim his visual device at her face, and was promptly answered by a low, gravely voice with an echoing undertone, sounding in the commlink in his ear. “…Agent Mei-Ling Zhou, one of the original organization’s members. Hm. Admittedly, that’s a…surprise. Bring her in. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and I’m sure she can’t wait to catch up with her old friends…”

***

Sometime later, the Talon ships were gone and the fire had finally died down in the wreckage of the van, smoldering with little bits of black ash flying away into the screaming winds. The snow had been stomped down around it, spattered with red, and all bodies and prisoners removed. Of its original occupants, nothing remained but the burnt-out husk of Snowball, half-buried and lifeless, and a pair of twisted, broken glasses abandoned on the cold ground.

#meihem #junkmei #meirat #mei-ling zhou #mei #junkrat #jamison fawkes #roadhog #mako rutledge #bastion #overwatch #talon #funkymeihem #fanfiction #writing

69 notes · View notes

spinner-of-yarns · 8 years

Text

Who you gonna call?

Victor joins Ruby's team of paranormal investigators for a tv show. There he meets Jefferson, the most annoying being on the planet. Mad Whale, Red Kansas

Word count: 14k

Finally, it's finished. Please enjoy whatever this is. I'm going to sleep. AO3

Victor stepped into the studio drowning in regret. Staring in a paranormal investigation show no longer seemed like such a good idea, but it was too late to back down now. How in the world did he agree to this? He should’ve found a better way to earn money for his research. Like selling his liver for an example.

Ruby lured him in with promises of him being able to work in his field and scientifically proving that magic doesn’t exist. It all sounded too great to be true, until he realized he will have to be in front of a camera.

And he still decided to go through with it. Never let it be said that Victor Whale makes good life choices.

Whatever dignity he had left, he was going to lose it in the foreseeable future.

"Victor!" Ruby waved at him. She was standing in the hall next to two women. He recognized one of them as Mulan Fa, the director.

"Hi, Ruby." Why did he ever think it was a good idea to be friends with her? She always had the worst ideas.

"Victor, this is Dorothy Gale and Mulan Fa. Dorothy, Mulan, this is Dr. Victor Whale."

“Hello,” Mulan said and shook hands with him.

"Uh, hi," he smiled awkwardly.

"Don’t mind Victor,” Ruby grinned. “He’s a bit nervous."

He glared at her. She’s going to regret this.

"Sure," Dorothy shrugged. "Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Come on,” Ruby grabbed his elbow, saving him from further embarrassment. “I’ll show you to the lab.”

Ah, the magic words. The laboratory and research facility were the only things he was looking forward to. Other than spending time with his best friend, of course. He followed Ruby through the bland corridors.

“How were you doing lately?” she asked. “I know it’s been hard-“

“I’m fine,” he interrupted her. The last thing he needed was to talk about that. "How’s Granny?"

Ruby looked away.

"Oh. You’re still not talking to her. Aren’t you a little old for teenage rebellion?"

"It’s not teenage rebellion!” she protested. “We just don’t agree on many things. Including what I should be doing with my life. And besides, it’s not like you have any right to judge, considering your relationship with your father."

He paused and turned to look at her. „That’s a really low blow, Ruby.“

She sighed. „I’m sorry. Let’s not talk about any of that.“

“I agree. What about the crew? Do you think we’ll get along?”

“Yeah, if you’ll talk to them instead of hiding in the lab,” she nudged him with her elbow. Victor rolled his eyes. “But yeah. I haven’t met everyone, but those I have are all really nice. I think this job is going to be really good for us.”

“If you think so.”

They spoke about everything and nothing for the rest of the way to the laboratory. They had a lot to talk about; they haven’t seen each other in person in months.

“Here we are.”

Victor smiled widely. The lab was more than he could have hoped for. It put the little study he had in his apartment to shame. He missed the laboratory he had at his disposal when he worked at the university, but this was amazing.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Hello!”

Victor turned around. A man was jogging towards them. A very attractive man. Oh, boy.

"Sorry I’m late, the traffic’s horrible," he smiled. And what a smile it was. "I’m Jefferson Hatter, one of the hosts.”

He extended his hand to Ruby, who took it. Then he turned to Victor and froze for a moment. They stared into each other’s eyes and Victor could feel the temperature rising. "Wow. I finally met an angel."

Never mind. This guy was an idiot. He rolled his eyes out of sheer habit he quickly formed after Ruby befriended him when they were children.

“I’m Victor Whale. This is Ruby Lucas. Angels aren’t real.”

“Really?” Jefferson raised his eyebrow. “How can you be so sure, Mr. Whale?”

“There is no evidence that would support their existence. And it’s Dr. Whale, actually.” He normally didn’t care about his title. Ruby was the one who kept calling him doctor left and right with pride he couldn’t quite find in himself.

But this guy was pissing him of.

„Alright, Doc. We don’t have proof they exist, but we also don’t have proof they don’t.“

"It’s highly unlikely that they do," Victor said. Jefferson narrowed his eyes and grinned playfully at him.

“But highly unlikely isn’t impossible.”

“You can’t just believe everything that isn’t refuted.”

“And you can’t just dismiss every unlikely possibility.”

Ruby sighed deeply and walked out of the lab. She knew Victor and how stubborn he could be. Jefferson was exactly the kind of person that would get on his nerves. As far as she could tell they were already too absorbed in their argument to even notice she left.

This was not going to end well.

Victor was sitting on the front seat of a minivan. He was in charge of navigating while Dorothy drove them to their first case. Ruby and Jefferson were in the back. Jefferson unfortunately sat right behind Victor and kept leaning forward and whispering in his ear. They got off on the wrong foot so Victor wasn’t all that surprised that Jefferson decided to spend the majority of the ride making fun of him.

"Could you lend me the map?” He was so close that Victor could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He suppressed a shiver. “I keep getting lost in your eyes."

"Get lost somewhere else," he whispered back to him and then said to Dorothy, "Turn right at the crossroad."

He decided ignoring Jefferson would probably be the best idea but just couldn’t help making another comment. “Besides, you can’t get lost in my eyes; we’re not even looking at each other.”

Jefferson laughed quietly. “You’ve got a point.”

“Of course I do.”

Somehow, they managed the rest of the ride without too much trouble. Victor didn’t pay much attention when they got there – he wasn’t there to talk to the callers, thank god. That was Ruby’s and Jefferson’s job. As far as he could tell, the family thought their house was haunted. He resisted the urge to look straight into the camera and prepared the equipment.

He wasn’t entire sure why he was needed in the field. He had a doctorate; an idiot could set up a heat sensitive camera and an EMF detector.

“Do you need any help?”

Victor looked up. Of-fucking-course.

“No, I’m fine,” he replied, resolutely not looking at Jefferson. “It’s not quantum physics.”

“From what I’m told I doubt quantum physics would be that much of a problem to you.”

Victor shrugged.

“Right. I’m…gonna go see if Ruby needs help with something,” Jefferson said and left. Victor sighed and kept on working.

Just like Victor thought they found no evidence of ghost or poltergeists or anything out of the ordinary, really. He still had some things to look at in the lab when they got back, but he didn’t really think there will be anything interesting.

He was glad that Ruby called shotgun for the ride back. Of course, that meant Jefferson was now next to him, which probably would’ve been worse had Jefferson not fallen asleep pretty quickly.

And Victor, who usually found himself unable to fall asleep, soon joined him.

“And the boys are out,” Ruby informed Dorothy with a grin.

“Good. At least we don’t have to listen to…whatever that was supposed to be.”

“Take the next exit. I think they were flirting? Kinda? Victor’s horribly awkward with guys he finds hot, so there’s that. Well, he’s awkward with everyone, but that’s another story.”

Dorothy chuckled. “That would explain it. Anyway, how have you been? We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk yet. It’s…been a while.”

“Yeah,” Ruby sighed. “I’ve been alright I guess.”

The awkward tension didn’t follow just Victor for once it seemed. Ruby and Dorothy…had history would be one way of putting it. They knew each other back in college and were quite good friends until Dorothy went back home to Kansas.

And no matter how much Ruby tried to keep in touch, after a while Dorothy just stopped writing back.

To say she was surprised to see her at her new workplace would be an underestimatement.

“How about you?”

“Can’t complain,” Dorothy shrugged. “How’s Granny?”

“We’re not talking to each other at the moment. How’s aunt Em?”

“She died.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

It apparently wasn’t, because the awkward silence stretched on.

“I tried contacting you, you know,” Dorothy said after a while. “But I wasn’t very successful.”

“Contacting me? Why would you do that after ignoring my messages?”

“I didn’t ignore you,” she protested. “Why would- oh, god, that’s what you thought? I didn’t realize how it would look.”

“Oh, really? You didn’t realize-“

“No, Ruby, I lost my phone! Embarrassing as it is. And I didn’t remember your number.”

“You have my address!”

“I had it in my phone,” she shrugged, her cheeks tinted red. “My memory isn’t very good it seems.”

“I wrote you a letter!”

“Uh, did you? I never got any.”

Ruby laughed hysterically and rested her head on the dash. “I can’t believe it. All this time. I thought you gave up on me.”

“Never,” she promised fervently.

“Well,” she smiled. “It’s a good thing we found each other again, Kansas.”

To the surprise of no one, there was no sign of paranormal activity, even when Victor checked everything in the lab. This part of the job he could tell he was going to enjoy. He got to explain how everything worked, to show how it’s done. There was even going to be a short segment each episode where they look at a faked ghost sighting and he recreates it to explain how they’ve done it.

It was perfect and it definitely made the horrible field work worth it. He even found that he didn’t mind the camera so much, especially since Dorothy, who was the main camerawoman, was so nice.

Besides, Ruby loved it here. She smiled at the camera like it was natural for her. And if he didn’t know her so well, he probably would’ve thought so. But he remembered her first attempt at acting for that Granny’s commercial. He still asked her if she has avocadoes when he wanted to tease her, but he was proud of how far she has come.

But not even that could make him watch the show.

The part of the job that he definitely didn’t enjoy was Jefferson. It was like he liked being annoying. The fact that Victor was the only one who felt that way was even worse. Everyone found him charming, if a little eccentric.

So of course he vented to Ruby as soon as he had the change.

“I hate him,” Victor complained.

“Who?” Ruby asked, even though she had a pretty good idea on who he meant.

“Jefferson. He’s just so annoying.”

“Are you sure you don’t just have a crush?” she smirked.

“What?! No, of course not! I mean, he’s attractive, don’t get me wrong, but as soon as he opens his mouth it all goes away.”

“Sure, buddy.”

He frowned. Well, two can play at this game.

“And speaking of colleagues and crushes, how’s Dorothy?”

“What?!” Ruby shrieked. Actually honest-to-god shrieked. Victor wasn’t sure if he ever heard her hit such a high note.“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Sure, buddy,” he smirked and then added, just to be an asshole: “And what is it with you and girls named Dorothy anyway? Do you crush on every Dorothy you meet?”

“Uh, well,” she shrugged nervously. “I only know one.”

“Wait – that’s your Dorothy?” he said, incredulous. “The one who left and then ignored you? I’m gonna-“

“No, Vic, no.” She put her hands on his chest to stop him from going and doing something stupid.“Turns out it’s all a misunderstanding. We just lost contact. That happens.”

“Sure. Why am I only hearing about it now?”

“Because I knew you’d overreact. And you have enough going on; you don’t need to worry about me as well.”

“I don’t need to – Ruby. Yeah, I’m not going to pretend that I’m okay, but you’re my best friend. I love you. You can tell me anything. Please don’t hold stuff in for my sake.”

Ruby stood still for a moment and then she grabbed his shoulder and drew him into a hug.

“You’re not the only one who’s allowed bottle up things,” she mumbled into his neck. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I know you did. I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

“I know. But if you ever do-“

“You’re here. I know.”

After that horrible cry fest they decided to go to the cafeteria to hang out with other crewmembers. Victor was mostly silent as Ruby chatted with Mulan, Jefferson and Merida, the publicist, but he got up when Dorothy came in.

“You! I don’t care if it was on purpose, if you ever do anything like that to Ruby again I will-“

“Victor Francis Whale!” Ruby barked. “You promised me you won’t overreact.”

“I promised no such thing.”

Ruby ignored him. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much; you don’t have to yell at her!”

“And you don’t have to yell at me.”

“Sorry to interrupt whatever it is that you three are fighting about,” Jefferson said. “But your middle name is Francis?”

Victor buried his head in his hands. “Great.”

“Don’t you tease him about it!”

“Oh, you can defend me, but I can’t defend you?” Victor raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t believe your middle name is Francis.”

“I don’t know what’s so weird about that.”

Jefferson shrugged. “Just didn’t think you’d have a name like that.”

“Well, my father must have hated me even then.”

“Victor…” Ruby said.

“What? It’s true.”

“I’m not even going to pretend I know what this was all about, but I’d prefer if you’d all stay alive, so try not to kill each other,” and with that Mulan got up and left with Merida.

Victor sighed. “Sorry I was mean, Dorothy. I just don’t want Ruby to get hurt.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want her to get hurt either.”

“I can still take care of myself, you know,” Ruby mumbled.

“And you,” he pointed at Jefferson. “Don’t call me Francis. It’s enough that I let you call me by my first name.”

“Sure,” he smiled. “Wait, I can call you by your first name?”

“Oh, god,” Victor sighed as he turned around and walked away. “Why did I say anything?”

“See you later, Victor!” Jefferson called, probably grinning like an idiot again.

"Victor?" Jefferson grinned when they were on set together once. He called him Victor all the time now. That was tolerable, unlike the one time he tried calling him Vic.

"Yes?" he said, preparing for the worst.

"If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print."

Victor sighed. This happened constantly, not that it helped him understand why he did it. He obviously wasn’t really flirting with him; why would he? He probably just found it funny.

He rarely did it while on camera, though. It was probably going to get cut, but he was glad he prepared a nice counter line anyway.

"Are you the terms and conditions? Because I don’t care what you have to say."

Ruby yelled something in the background. Jefferson’s grin got even bigger. Victor just spun on his heel and walked out.

It was a blessing or maybe a curse that Victor didn’t watch the show. Because if he did he would see Jefferson watching him leave with a lovestruck expression.

Ruby cringed as she read the responses. The show had nice reviews so far, but some of the fans, well, they were convinced Victor and Jefferson would make an amazing couple. Especially after the last episode.

Not that she didn’t agree with them. It was just that neither of them would react well if they found out.

“What exactly am I looking at?” Mulan asked after a moment of silence.

Merida raised her eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“I think people are noisy. I also think Victor won’t be happy.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Ruby muttered.

“It’s not like they’re wrong,” Dorothy shrugged. “They flirt constantly; it’s giving me a headache.”

“We could do something about it,” Merida suggested.

“No one is meddling with anyone’s love lives on my show,” Mulan said. “There’s no way to stop the fandom from saying what they want to say; let’s just hope the guys don’t find it.”

Apparently, the show was a success. Victor was surprised by the number of people willing to spend their time watching them run around trying to find ghosts. They had a solid fan base and following on social media. He got himself a twitter account and regretted it almost instantly.

The fans continued watching them despite the fact that they didn’t encounter anything interesting yet. The only even remotely entertaining episode would probably the Halloween special, which was pretty much just them pulling pranks each other.

All the pranks were harmless, of course, but entertaining.

One of Jefferson’s pranks was arranging the dummies Victor had for experiments to spell out Francis, all Deadpool style. Victor was enough of a geek to watch Marvel, even if he preferred space to superheroes, but Jefferson was only a fan because his daughter loved the movies. Grace was twelve, so Victor doubted she saw Deadpool, which meant neither did Jefferson. He suspected it was Ruby’s idea, but had no evidence other than this.

As revenge, Victor created werewolf-like footprints in the mud in the forest near the studio. Ruby liked to run there and he knew with her love of wolves, she’ll flip out. That Jefferson liked to go for walks there, well, that was just a bonus.

The looks on their faces were priceless.

Since no one trusted Jefferson’s navigating skill and after he almost drove them into a ditch, no one trusted him to drive either, he always had time to spare on the road. Which he usually used to tease Victor.

„On a scale of one to ten you’re a nine and I’m the one you need.“

Victor turned and raised his eyebrow. „Excuse me? I’m a ten.“

Ruby snickered. The traitor.

“Are you laughing at me, Red?”

“No!” she said, trying to hold in the giggles. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Victor rolled his eyes.

This case took place in a small town with horrible weather. Not only was the caller, Mr. Chambers, convinced that there was a ghost in his house, ha was also convinced that it was the ghost of his mother who died a few years ago.

His daughter Anne, on the other hand, was sure all the noises and disruptions were thanks to their cat. Victor liked that theory. He also liked the cat, Mr. Whiskers, who was very cuddly. Victor even forgave him for sitting on his things.

Most of the noises were coming from the cellar, so that’s where he set up his equipment. Mr. Whiskers curled up next to his notebook, purring contentedly as Victor idly petted him.

The light from the small window was not quite enough anymore as the sun slowly set, but he was too lazy to get up and turn on the light. He was not leaving this spot until someone made him. He scribbled down a couple notes –the most diabolical sounds he could hear came from the boiler and went back to the book he was reading to pass the time.

Before he even noticed it was dark out. Victor may have not believed in ghosts, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a little scared as he checked the equipment for any changes.

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he yelped and jumped up a little when he felt something touch his arm. He turned around, scared shitless, and, well.

Jefferson sneaking up on him shouldn’t come as a surprise either. He was wearing his signature obnoxious grin that was as annoying as it was attractive.

“Seriously, Hatter?” he said, frowning at the man in question.“Are you twelve?“

„On a scale of one to ten? Yes.“

Victor rolled his eyes. „And you called me a nine,” he muttered.

Jefferson must have heard him though, because he chuckled. Or he just chuckled for no reason. Seriously, Victor wouldn’t be surprised with this guy.

“Turn the light on, will you? I can’t see a thing.”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

He did as Victor asked and then, for some reason, didn’t leave. He just stood there while Victor worked, babbling on about something. The readings all seemed normal, other than some slight fluctuations that probably didn’t mean anything.

He happily ignored Jefferson until he grabbed him by the shoulders.

“What-“

“The light just flickered,” Jefferson pointed at the lamp, fascinated.

“Hatter,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The lights flicker all the time.”

“In houses with reported ghost activity?”

“In all houses,” Victor replied. It was still not enough for Jefferson.

“What if it’s a sign?”

“It’s not a sign. All the readings are completely normal.”

Jefferson sighed in disappointment. Victor sensed the perfect opportunity to tease him back.

“What, did you get scared by a flickering light?” he raised an eyebrow.“You’re a paranormal investigator. What are you going to do when the demons show up?”

Jefferson glared at him. “Use you as a human shield, probably. You’d protest, but you don’t believe it’s really demons, so you walk right into a trap.”

Victor frowned. “Well, right now I’m going to walk out of here and away from this conversation.”He grabbed the knob to leave, but the door didn’t open. He tried again but still, nothing happened.

He turned back to Jefferson, now really angry. “Did you seriously lock us in here?”

“What do you mean lock us in? We’re locked in?”

Victor took a deep breath. Great. They were trapped. Apparently. And Jefferson didn’t do it, which meant he didn’t have the key.

“Oh, boy,” he whispered. Mr. Whiskers head butted his leg, but Victor ignored him.

“Are you okay?” Jefferson asked. He seemed uncharacteristically worried.

“I’m a little claustrophobic,” Victor admitted.

“Oh. Is it very bad?”

“Not yet, but I don’t intend to stick around and wait for it to get worse.” Victor banged on the door. “Ruby! Open the damn door, this isn’t funny! You know I’m claustrophobic, come on!”

His breath shortened. His chest hurt. His hands were shaking as he banged on the door again.

“Open up!”

“I’m going to try to call them,” Jefferson said and took out his phone. But before he could dial either of their coworkers, they heard footsteps.

“Victor?” Ruby called.“What’s happened, where are you?”

“Locked in the cellar with Hatter like an idiot!” he yelled. “Could you walnuts unlock the door?!”

He heard her again, this time from a smaller distance. “Why are you locked in?”

“I don’t know! We didn’t do it.”

“I don’t see a key anywhere. I’ll go for Mr. Chambers.”

“Don’t leave,” he whispered. Ruby’s presence was a little calming, even if she couldn’t help.

“Wait,” Jefferson said.“Would you happen to have a bobby pin with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Slide it under the door.”

She did. Jefferson picked it up and kneeled in front of the door. Victor focused on calming his breathing.

After a short moment, the door clicked open.

Ruby ran inside, drawing him into a hug. “Are you alright?”

“It’s better now. Thanks, Red.”

“Don’t thank me, I didn’t do anything.”

“Right. Thank you, Jefferson,” he smiled.

“No problem,” Jefferson replied and smiled back at him.

They all agreed that the door probably just got stuck; it wasn’t used that often. Even Jefferson didn’t try to push his paranormal theories this time. Maybe he sensed Victor’s discomfort. Or maybe he just wasn’t in a mood to argue.

Victor might have been too fast to put him in the arch-nemesis box. He wasn’t that bad. He was just annoying and got on Victor’s nerves. But he was a good person under all of that, and Victor should not be a total douche to him.

He knocked on the door, which was ajar. Jefferson was sitting cross legged on the bed and holding a tablet in his hand. He looked up when he heard the knock.

“Just a moment,” he said.

Victor waited while he finished his video call.

"But I get scared at night, papa," Grace said. "I get scared when you’re not there and I’m alone."

"There’s nothing wrong with being scared, Grace. But you’re not alone; you’re with Aunt Alice. You can go to her if you need anyone, okay? And you have your rabbit with you. He’ll protect you."

Well, that was bullshit if Victor’s ever heard it. What good could a plushie do against any danger? But he saw the girl’s face, the peace such a simple lie brought her and decided to let this one slide. Just this once.

“Okay, papa. Good night.”

“Good night, sweetheart.” He set the tablet aside and turned to Victor. “What do you need?”

“You said you wanted to look at the irregularities?”

“Right, right, come in.”

He did and handed Jefferson his notes, along with a printed graph.

“As you can see, the fluctuations are slightly above the norm. But there’s not enough to consider it evidence. It’s too random and small for us to be able to tell if it’s anything.”

Jefferson nodded, studying the graph carefully. “Can you keep me updated? It’s not much, but more than any of our previous cases.”

“Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t build my hopes up, though. It’s probably nothing.”

Jefferson smirked. “One of us has to believe.”

Victor was a little reluctant to come back to the Chambers’ house after the incident. But he would rather face his fears than the teasing that would surely ensue if he chickened out.

So he came back, left the door to the cellar opened just in case and did his job. He wasn’t alone today. He couldn’t decide if it was good or not.

He did his best to ignore the camera as Dorothy tried to get some nice shots. Ruby and Jefferson spoke of theories on what could be happening, if anything was happening.

It wasn’t, Victor would say, his equipment just wasn’t precise enough. He had to admit, however, that they were extremely unlucky on this case. Not that Jefferson didn’t have enough bad luck on his own already. He wasn’t clumsy, not exactly; there was a strange elegance in his movements even. But if there was something that could go wrong, it would find him.

This time, it took a form of Jefferson tripping over thin air and falling right into a mirror.

“Shit, that hurts,” Jefferson swore, clutching his arm to his chest. Then he winced and looked to the camera. “Sorry, kids. It’s not as bad as it looks, Gracie. But Dorothy should probably leave anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I can handle it,” Victor said. He took the medical kit he always carried to cases just to be sure. “Take a seat, Jefferson.”

“Shouldn’t he go to the hospital?” Ruby asked. “Not that I don’t trust you, but you can’t treat everything.”

“No, it’s fine. But it’s just a bit of glass,” he shrugged as he examined his arm. “Can you go find some more bandages, Ruby? I’m not sure I have enough.”

She did as he asked. Victor fished a flask out of his pocket and dabbed a cotton ball in it.

“Stupid shattering mirrors,” Jefferson muttered and then added nervously. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“We’re out of antiseptic. Alcohol’s the next best thing.”

“And why do you have alcohol on you?”

“Communicating with you is nearly impossible sober,” he joked.

“Victor.”

He ignored the disapproving tone and started prying the glass out of Jefferson’s hand and forearm. The glass shattered in quite conveniently sized pieces, so there was no need for stitching.

“Ow!”

"Sorry.” In his experience, which wasn’t all that much, it was best to distract people from the pain. “Aren’t you used to it, though? There’s no way you made it this far in life without getting stabbed."

“Oh, I’ve been stabbed, actually.”

Victor’s jaw may have dropped. He was just joking. Someone actually stabbed him?

“Lightly. A long time ago. I kinda passed out, so I don’t remember much,” he shrugged, as if it was of no consequence. “Anyway, it pays to have a medic on the team."

"I don’t think I would make a very good doctor."

"Other than your poor bedside manner, I’m not complaining. Your...other attributes more than make up for that." His gaze traveled across Victor’s face and lingered on his lips. But Victor was too focused on his work to notice Jefferson’s attention.

"You know I could just let you bleed out, right?"

"You wouldn’t," Jefferson smiled. And he was right. No matter how annoyed he was, he would never do something like that. Not to anyone and especially to someone he knew and...tolerated. More or less.

“I found some more bandages!” Ruby called as she walked back into the room.

“Thank you, Ruby. I’m almost done.”He dabbed the wound with the alcohol-soaked cotton balls, quickly hiding the flask from her. Jefferson noticed, though, following his hand with a pointed look. Victor was sure he would hear about it later.

He bandaged his hand, which got the worst of it – of course he had enough bandages, Jefferson’s eyes narrowed almost comically – and smiled. “There you go. It should be alright now. Besides, aren’t broken mirrors supposed to be good luck?”

Jefferson chuckled. “They are. Not sure it applies when you fall on it and shatter it in the process.”

“Next time, try getting to Narnia instead of Wonderland.”

“I’m not sure I would enjoy being stuck in a closet.”

Victor chuckled. “Yeah, point taken.”

Mr. Chambers wasn’t angry at all. The mirror was antique and no one used it anymore. It belonged to his mother, which was one of the reasons he thought she was trying to contact them.

But try as they might, they didn’t find any evidence. And nothing strange happened after the mirror. Just some odd noises that Victor figured are coming from the pipes and a couple of odd readings on his devices. So they left, once again, with nothing to report.

Victor was anxiously awaiting intervention, either coming in the form of a conversation with Jefferson, or a stern talking to by Ruby, because it was quite likely that Jefferson told her. Oh, she’d probably be disappointed in him and he wasn’t sure he could take that.

But after a while he realized it wasn’t coming. Ruby was none-the-wiser and Jefferson didn’t say anything about it to him. He probably figured it wasn’t his place. Or, more likely, he didn’t care that much.

„If you were a fruit, you’d be a fineapple,“ Jefferson grinned at Victor one morning.

“Why would the apple – oh, pineapple.” Victor groaned. „Okay, you’ve hit a new low. That’s a horrible pun.”

“No, I think it’s good.”

“I pity your daughter. The quality of dad jokes in your household must be staggering.”

Jefferson just chuckled. It seemed that they were back to the bad pick up lines. One of these would be quite enough for one day, but apparently Jefferson was feeling chatty today. He approached him again after lunch.

„If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cutecumber.“

Victor winced. This man had horrible taste of humor. „Okay, I take back everything I’ve said. Fineapple’s definitely better. Seriously, where do you find this stuff?“

„The internet is quite handy for these things.“

“I’m very disappointed in humanity right now.”

Even after Victor’s harsh judgment regarding puns, Jefferson was still not finished. Third time’s the charm, right? Right.

„If you were a flower, you’d be a damndelion.“

„You know dandelion is a weed, right?“

“Um. Okay. In that case: Are you weed, because you are smoking hot?”

“Not that kind of weed, Hatter.”

After that day, Jefferson kind of avoided Victor. He would never admit it, but missed Jefferson and his stupid pick up lines. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t really flirting with him; he just thought he was funny.

Either way, he was relieved when Jefferson approached him two weeks later.

„Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you‘re CuTe.“

Victor threw his head back and laughed. He was always so serious and grumpy, Jefferson had never seen him laugh like that.

„Are you nitrogen oxide? Because NO. But I’ll give you points for effort.“

“I made you laugh. I count that as a success.”

Victor looked away, blushing a little.

“And you gotta admit, we just had pretty good chemistry.”

Victor giggled. He quickly put his hand in front of his mouth, trying to stifle it.

“Did-did you just-“

“Nope!” he turned on his heel and headed out. “You heard nothing. Goodbye, Hatter.”

“You’re adorable!” Jefferson called after him.

“Ruby?” Dorothy asked. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

Her crush on Dorothy was coming back in full force now that they spend time together again. It was getting a little embarrassing, but at least she could admit it to herself. Unlike some people.

“Um, I thought, since neither of us is on good terms with our family members it might be nice to spend Christmas together?” She finished the sentence quickly.

“That’s a great idea! I’d love to spend the holidays with you. I’m going to be with Victor, though, so if you don’t mind joining us, we’d love to have you.”

“That’d be nice, but are you sure Victor won’t mind? He doesn’t like me very much.”

“I’m pretty sure he won’t, but you can ask him if it’ll ease your conscience.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Victor knocked on the door. They were celebrating Christmas at Ruby’s since Dorothy had a roommate and his apartment looked more like a work place than a home, and a messy work place at that. Ruby’s words.

Ruby let him in, warning him to steer clear of kitchen, because he might be good at many things, but cooking was not one of them. Dorothy was already there, helping Ruby prepare dinner.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled that she was here. They weren’t close and he was often uncomfortable with people he only knew for a short time. But it made Ruby happy and there weren’t many things he wouldn’t do for her happiness.

At least it was only Dorothy. He probably wouldn’t survive more people. But luckily Mulan and Merida were in Scotland with Merida’s family, and Jefferson was spending the holidays with his daughter Grace at his sister’s house. So it was just them.

And even if he was Ruby’s bestest friend he was beginning to feel like a third wheel. But there was a big plus to all of this: Dorothy brought her dog. So he was never quite alone.

The dinner was quite pleasant. Victor managed small talk with Dorothy and mostly stuck to her dog, but he didn’t look too unsettled. Ruby was worried how he’ll take celebrating the holidays without his family, just like she was last year, but so far he looked fine.

She didn’t let that fool her and did her best to make him feel included, even if she did spend a lot of time talking to Dorothy. But it seemed that Victor was actually enjoying himself. Or he got better at lying. She never could tell with him.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Dorothy looked up. Ruby was standing next to her, a worried little frown on her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just miss Em,” she shrugged. “But it’s nice not to be alone.”

Toto barked.

“Yes, I know. I have you. I meant other people, you jealous dummy.”

Ruby laughed.

“Not to interrupt the moment,” Victor said from where he was sitting on the couch with Toto. “But you might want to look above your heads.”

They did and froze for a moment. They were standing right under mistletoe.

“Huh,” Ruby replied eloquently. They were no longer looking up; they were looking at each other. Their eyes kept falling to the other’s lips.

“Should we...?” Dorothy asked nervously. Ruby looked just as spooked, but she nodded. They moved closer at a snail’s pace until their lips met.

Victor patted Toto. “Come on, boy. Let’s give them some privacy,” he whispered and went to the guest room. They didn’t even notice.

In the interest of being polite and preventing people from calling him, Victor send everyone a text message to wish them happy holidays. He also texted Granny to let her know that Ruby was okay. He stubbornly ignored the contact labeled ‘Dad’ and checked his twitter.

There wasn’t much interesting going on, other than holiday wishes, but Jefferson posted a selfie. He was there with his daughter and a bunch of other people Victor didn’t recognize. Most of them were wearing ugly Christmas sweaters. Jefferson was wearing a t-shirt that said ‘I want to believe’ that apparently his sister got him as a present.

Victor found himself smiling at his phone like an idiot.

“So,” Ruby said conversionaly over breakfast on Christmas morning. “I don’t remember hanging mistletoe.”

Victor shrugged. Ruby was holding Dorothy’s hand under the table, so he felt exactly zero remorse for interfering. “Are you complaining?”

Ruby chuckled. “No. I just didn’t think you would approve of us, much less help make it happen.”

“I want you to be happy,” he said simply.

She smiled. “Well, I want you to be happy too. Have you done anything about your little crush?”

And the nice moment was over. “I don’t have a crush!”

Dorothy looked up from her plate. “Yeah, right. You just happen to accidentally stare at Jefferson’s ass, like, all the time.”

“How would you know we’re talking about him? We’re not talking about him! I hate Jefferson.” Well, that was a lie. He wasn’t sure what his feelings concerning Jefferson were, but he definitely didn’t hate him. Anymore.

Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Okay, so you want to have hate sex with him. Whatever.”

“Ruby, tell your girlfriend to stop,” he whined.

“Go on, Kansas. He needs to hear it from someone other than me.”

“Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal,” he muttered. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t hate him as much now as I did in the beginning. I suppose I tolerate him as a colleague. End of the story. Now why don’t we go back to talking about you two? That’s way more interesting.”

The women smiled at each other sappily. “Not that much to talk about. You know I liked Dorothy for a long time. Apparently she likes me back.”

They were so sweet together.

The rest of the morning went smoothly. They exchanged gifts, drank non-alcoholic eggnog, took photos for social media (at Ruby’s insistence), and watched sappy movies. Victor left after lunch; as much as he enjoyed this he needed to get away from people.

He hid in his apartment and worked on his projects until New Year’s Eve when Ruby dragged him to a party. Most of their coworkers were there. Victor stuck to Ruby for some time, but unlike him, she actually wanted to talk to everyone. Eventually he deserted her and hid in a dark corner. He sat there at a table, nursing his drink, pondering how much longer till it’s socially acceptable for him to leave.

“Hey, Victor.”

Victor looked up, sighing internally. He knew Jefferson was there, but he hoped he won’t have to see him. Since he decided not to antagonize him feelings of other kind were staring to rear their ugly heads. He was beginning to worry that maybe Ruby wasn’t that far off with her crush theory. Maybe.

“Hi, Jefferson,” he smiled politely. “How are you?”

“I’m great, I just,” he sighed and looked over his shoulder. “Could I hide here with you? There was a handsy drunk at the bar and I said someone was waiting on me to get away, but I couldn’t find anyone I know till I saw you.”

So much for being alone. But it wasn’t like he could say no. “Yeah, of course, sit down.”

Jefferson did. He looked quite relieved. “Thanks. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I find Dorothy or someone.”

“Good luck with that. I’ll bet you ten bucks she’s making out with Ruby somewhere.”

Jefferson raised his eyebrow. “Oh? Did they get together? It was about damn time.”

“Yeah,” Victor nodded. “I may have put mistletoe in Ruby’s apartment.”

“Good thinking,” Jefferson laughed and then he tensed. “Shit.”

“What is it?”

“Ah, just, you know, that guy from the bar is heading for our table.”

Suddenly, Victor was hit by a stroke of genius. He moved his chair closer to Jefferson and put his arm around his waist.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?”

“Just trust me, okay?”

“I do trust you.”

Victor decided not to think on how that made him feel. “Alright. Um, lean closer to me and just… pretend we’re talking.”

Jefferson rested his head on Victor’s shoulder and Victor’s heartbeat totally didn’t quicken. “We are talking.”

“You know what I mean,” Victor raked his free hand through his hair in frustration.

“Sure, I do, sugar.” He leaned in even closer so he was basically murmuring in Victor’s ear. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“Um, wha-“

“Because I’m still a little sore from the impact.”

Victor laughed. “Seriously, Jeff? That’s the best you can do?”

“Are you implying you can do better?”

“Is that a challenge?”

He turned his head to look at Jefferson, which proved to be a huge mistake. Their faces were only inches apart. Victor was starting to have trouble breathing.

“Yeah, go on. Impress me.”

He looked away and thought about it. “Well, if Internet Explorer is brave enough to ask you to be your default browser, I’m brave enough to ask you out!”

“God, you’re bad,” Jefferson laughed.

“I made you laugh. That counts as a success, right?”

Jefferson’s laugh died away into a soft smile. “Yeah.”

“Your turn.”

“Uh, knock, knock.”

“A knock knock joke, really? Ugh, who’s there?”

“Not that drunk guy, because your plan apparently worked.”

Victor looked around and really, the guy was nowhere to be seen.

“You sound surprised.”

Jefferson shrugged. “Not really. Anyway, it’s your turn now.”

“I have something in mind, but it’s even worse.”

“Come on, let me hear it. How bad can it be?”

He sighed. “There are eight planets in the solar system, but there will be only seven after I destroy Uranus.”

Jefferson put his head in his hands, snickering. “Oh god, I regret everything. You’re even worse than me. And to prove it even further I have one final bad pick up line of the evening. Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back."

"I doubt that," Victor scoffed.

"Ah, so you’re saying you’d like me to kiss you back," he smirked

"What? That’s not what I-You can’t kiss me back if I don’t kiss you first,” Victor stuttered out and then quickly added. “Which I won’t."

He realized that he still had his arm around Jefferson, but since Jefferson didn’t protest or even comment on it he made no move to remove it. So they stayed like that, curled up together. Victor figured he could use some platonic cuddling. Or whatever the hell this was. He wasn’t in a mood to try and figure it out.

They talked and time passed. Jefferson was actually quite nice to talk to and less exhausting to be around than most people. Even with that, Victor was surprised when he checked the time and found it was almost midnight already. He didn’t plan to stay so long, but he was actually having fun. Weird.

“Just a minute till midnight!”

“Great,” Victor frowned. “We’re about to be surrounded by people who are either yelling or kissing.”

“We could join them.”

“Yeah, I’m not drunk enough to just start screaming.”

Jefferson shot him a look that Victor couldn’t decipher. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but why?”

Jefferson just shook his head and then his hand was at Victor’s neck and his face was close and then suddenly they were kissing. Cheers surrounded them as the countdown came to zero, but Victor paid them no mind and tangled his hand in Jefferson’s hair.

They drew back for breath eventually.

“Happy New Year,” Jefferson smiled.

“Happy New Year,” Victor replied, dazed.

“I, uh, I’m gonna go get myself a drink, do you want something?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Victor sat there, staring at nothing in particular. What the fuck just happened? Did Jefferson kiss him? More importantly, did he really kiss him back?

He’d blame it on the alcohol, but he barely drank. He was just a little tipsy.

This was too much. The thought of Jefferson coming back and wanting to talk was horrifying. He’ll tell him how it didn’t mean anything, that it was just a kiss.

And damnit, Victor was supposed to agree with that. He disliked Jefferson. He hated him. So why did he all of a sudden want to kiss him and never stop?

He couldn’t deal with all this right now. So he did what any reasonable adult would; he ran.

Ruby smiled and sipped her drink.

“Ruby!” Jefferson called.

“Hey, Jefferson. Happy New Year!” she went and hugged him.

“Happy New Year. Um, have you seen Victor? I, uh, wanted to ask him something.”

“Sorry, I haven’t seen him in hours. I think he left way before midnight. He doesn’t like parties or big gatherings of people. He gets tired of human contact easily. Was it anything important?”

“Uh…no,” he lied. “I guess I’ll give him space and talk to him when we get back to work.”

Victor waited for Jefferson to call him. He was preparing to hear how it was just a mistake they should forget about all the while wishing to hear something entirely different.

But the call never came. Guess he wasn’t even worth a call. Jefferson probably already forgot all about it. Victor didn’t think that they could ever be together, but he thought that they were maybe becoming friends.

Guess not.

Everything was back to normal. They were civil, but didn’t talk to each other more than it was necessary. Which was absolutely fine with Victor. He hated Jefferson, after all.

He didn’t miss the flirting Jefferson never really meant anyway, or the talking and laughter. And he definitely didn’t miss Jeff’s lips on his. Nope.

It was almost the end of January and they still haven’t talked about it.

Victor was at peace with never talking about it at this point. At least he and Jefferson stopped avoiding each other and even talked to one another sometimes.

It took a little longer for the pickup lines to come back.

„You dropped something!“ Jefferson called after Victor. He turned around.„My jaw,“ Jefferson smiled. The smile was much more honest and timid than usual, but that still didn’t convince Victor. Not after everything.

„You dropped something,“ He pointed to the ground. „Your standards.“

„I’ll have you know I never had any to begin with,“ Jefferson started softly. „But you’re definitely not standard dropping. Not for me and not for anyone. You’re an amazing guy. You’re smart, caring, handsome and okay, it’s a shame that you don’t believe in the paranormal, but other than that…“

Victor laughed before he could stop himself. Jefferson thought he was handsome? Victor knew, of course, that he was objectively attractive, but that was different from finding someone he liked thought so.

„Ah, see, you even laugh prettily. Don’t put yourself down.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. For some reason he couldn’t look away from Jefferson’s face. Or his lips, specifically.

„Victor!” Ruby called. “Can I speak with you for a moment?“

Victor jumped away from Jefferson.

„Yes, of course.“

He had no reason to feel bad. It’s not like Ruby interrupted them from anything. But still. He turned around before he could lose his nerve.

“Jefferson? Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Victor couldn’t stop smiling as he walked after Ruby.

Ruby led him to a room and closed the door. She turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“What was going on when I came in?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly. Too quickly, probably. “We were just talking.”

“Really? I thought you hated him.”

“I do.”

“Do you normally stand so close to people you hate?”

“We weren’t standing that close, he was just trying to make me uncomfortable, like always.”

“Which you thanked him for.” Ruby sighed. “He’s not trying to make you uncomfortable, Victor.”

He scoffed. “And what else would he be doing?”

“Vic, he’s been flirting with you from the moment you met.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like he means any of it.”

“Do you wish he would?” she intrigued softly, cocking her head to the side curiously.

“What? No! Don’t be absurd. I hate him.”

His feelings were so far from hate it wasn’t even funny, but Ruby didn’t need to know that.

The Swan case should be nice. Emma Swan was very down to earth. She only called them at the insistence of her son Henry, who claimed he saw weird things. Victor liked her attitude.

What Victor didn’t like was how he felt when he watched her and Jeff interact.

He wasn’t jealous. He was just…looking out for Emma. He didn’t want Jefferson to bother her too much. He could be quite annoying.

Seriously, Victor didn’t understand what was the point Ruby was making. Or at least her eyebrows and pointed look. He wasn’t jealous.

Except he totally was.

Victor woke up after a full night’s sleep, which was a rare occasion. He lied in the bed for a moment, simply contemplating that in silence.

And then he noticed the date.

It was like a blow to the chest – he was sure his heart stopped beating for a second. His lungs refused to take the air they should. He felt so heavy – like any progress he’s made was all gone.

Just like Gerhardt.

He turned off his phone, in case of the odd possibility that his father would decide to call him, or the very real possibility that Ruby would want to talk.

He didn’t bother getting out of bed.

Victor was sitting on the bed in a robe, drinking vodka straight from a bottle. His eyes were red and puffy. He was the actual embodiment of a ‘before’ picture.

Someone knocked on the door. „Victor, do you have a moment?” Jefferson asked. “There’s something weird going on.“

Victor sighed, put the bottle down and opened the door. When Jefferson saw the state he was in his eyes widened.

“Victor, are you okay?”

“Just tired,” he shrugged. “What did you need?”

“It’s about the Swan case.”

“Ugh, give it a rest. We’re never gonna find anything.”

“No, there were irregularities again! I compared them to the Chambers case and-“

“There’s no such thing as magic or ghosts. Just stories people fool themselves with so their life would feel less shitty.”

Jefferson paused and then spoke in a lower voice. „Have you been drinking?“

„That’s none of your business.“

„Vic, what happened? Are you sure you’re okay?“

„Could you stop pretending to give a shit about me?!”

“What-“

“Leave me alone!” he shut the door in Jefferson’s face. Then he collapsed on the ground and started sobbing quietly.

“Ruby?”Ruby looked up to see Jefferson fidgeting with his fingers, wearing a concerned expression. “Have you seen Victor today? I just spoke to him and he seemed really upset. I tried to ask but he threw me out.”

That sounded very unlike him. He so rarely showed his emotion. But then she realized what could be on his mind, horrible enough that he couldn’t hide it.

“Oh god. I totally forgot that today-I’m such a horrible friend. I need to go.” She ran off and left a confused and worried Jefferson behind her.

There were sharp knocks on the door that made his head ache and that he instinctively recognized as Ruby’s. He wanted to hide, but it was futile. He unlocked the door, deciding to try and play it off.

“Victor? Are you okay?”

“Red! My lovely amazing friend!” Victor grinned at her but his eyes were broken and there were fresh tear tracks on his cheeks, plain as the day.

“Are you okay?” Ruby repeated.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Vic, how much did you drink?”

His smiled dropped. There was no point in trying to fool her. He just pointed to the almost empty bottle.

“Oh, sweetheart, what were you thinking?” Her voice was soft and considerate. She should be angry at him. He deserved it.

“I was thinking my brother’s dead and that everything hurts!”

“Victor...”

His lip wobbled and she drew him into an embrace. He started sobbing in a way she hasn’t seen him since they were children, not even after Gerhardt died. He always kept his feelings in. He had to let them out eventually.

“Shh, sweetie, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m always here for you, you big dummy. You don’t have to do this. You can just talk to me.”

“It should’ve been me,” he said, because it was the truth he was afraid to say all this time.

“Don’t say that. You know Gerhardt wouldn’t want you to think that.”

“He’s not here. It’s my fault. I should be dead, not him.”

“It’s not your fault, Victor. Gerhardt wouldn’t have blamed you and you know it.”

She was right. Gerhardt was the kindest person Victor ever met. Of course he wouldn’t blame him, even though it was his fault.

“I just miss him so much.”

“I know, Vic, I know. I miss him too.”

He cried and cried until his eyes were dry and he was completely exhausted. “Does your arm hurt?” Ruby asked.

“Not more than any other day,” he sighed. “I’m tired.”

“You should probably go sleep. I’ll leave some water and an aspirin on your bedside table, alright?”

He nodded and crawled under the covers. He wanted to go to sleep, but he still had too much on his mind. “I yelled at Jefferson,“ he whispered.

“Did he deserve it?”

“No, no, he just wanted my help with something. And he was…I think he was worried about me,” he paused. “Ruby?”

“Yeah?”

“Jeff…he…we kissed. But he hasn’t called me.”

“Maybe he deserved to get yelled at.”

Victor shook his head. “No. I haven’t called him either. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to think about it.”

“It’s okay. We’re going to have a talk about honesty but that can wait till you’re all sober.”

“Can you stay? Just until I fall asleep. I don’t want to be alone.” He was always so alone.

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you need.”

The headache he woke up to was not as bad as it could’ve been and at least he slept through the night. Victor reminded himself that for the hundred time that morning, but it didn’t make him feel any less shitty.

He managed to leave the room and the warm blanket, which he should probably thank Ruby for, in search for coffee. The kitchen was empty except for Jefferson who was sipping his tea.

“Morning,” Jefferson said, but Victor ignored him. He vaguely remembered a fight and that was definitely not something he had the energy to deal with now.

Fortunately for him, Jefferson’s phone rang.

“Hello? Emma? Slow down, what’s going on?” His voice was urgent and panicked and Victor took a big gulp of his coffee. It would be real nice if the aspirin kicked in.

“Are you sure? Okay, okay. We’ll be right there,” he ended the call and then downed his tea. “We’re leaving in ten. Emma’s son is missing.”

Well, shit. Victor poured the rest of his coffee into a to go cup. This was going to be a long day.

The ride to Emma’s house was short and tense. Victor was pretty sure Ruby was going way over the speed limit, but he made no comment. They had a good reason.

Emma was visibly shaken, but she was focused on what was important. She was already putting together the evidence and theories with the help of Sheriff Graham.

She divided them into groups to make the search quicker. He was paired with Dorothy to look over the cameras and other equipment he put around the house.

They went over the footage on the camera that was put in the hallway, but there was nothing. Dorothy said they should look at the heat camera, so they did. It seemed like a waste of time until there was a flash of cold around 3 am.

“There!” Dorothy pointed. “What was that?”

“I’m not sure,” Victor admitted. He froze the frame. It wasn’t human, but what else would it be? The shape was more or less that of a person, but no one would survive a body temperature that low, much less move that fast. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

The rest of the footage was crap. Nothing else showed up, but the figure was enough. It would seem they were dealing with something paranormal. Or seemingly paranormal.

Well, he’ll be damned. Jefferson was right.

Now only if they could figure out what happened to Henry.

Other than the cold flash they found virtually no evidence. Everything was at the same place and there were unfortunately no cameras in Henry’s room. There was not much to be done. They knew he didn’t run away, nor was he kidnapped – not by a person, at least.

Graham and Emma did everything protocols suggested, but it got them nowhere. So Emma reluctantly admitted that there might be something going on and gave them space to try and figure out that something.

But they weren’t that much of experts. They bought a couple more heat sensitive cameras and put them around the house. There was an EMP in every room and Victor was monitoring it all. He wrote down every little fluctuation.

There was no sign of an answer.

Victor was finishing his fourth coffee that day when a porcelain figurine fell off the shelf and shattered on the floor. The light flickered. There were no flashes on the heat camera, but the temperature was a degree colder.

Something was here.

“Guys?” he yelled. “You should get here.”

Soon everyone was there. “The thing that fell. Was it significant?” he asked Emma, trying to get some information, because it seemed that he won’t get any from the machinery.

“Yeah. Neal…Henry’s father gave it to him.”

Right. Henry’s dead father. Well, at least they knew who they were dealing with.

“Emma, could you try talking to Neal?” Jefferson suggested. It was obvious that Emma didn’t think that would help but she was desperate enough to try anything. So she spoke and the lights flickered a couple more times, randomly and seemingly without any pattern and that was all.

The sun went down, Victor consumed two more coffees and they were still getting nowhere. He was currently trying to find a pattern in the irregularities on the EMP, but he found nothing. He just got out his notes on their older cases for comparison when the tablet he borrowed from Jefferson when he was assembling his monitoring station made a sound and startled him.

“Jefferson!” he called. “Grace’s calling!”

Jefferson came in and took the tablet. Victor tried his best to tune out the conversation and focus on his work. The readings from the Chambers case looked a bit similar to the new ones.

"Grace, are you okay?" Jefferson’s panicked voice broke through Victor’s concentration and he got up to see what was going on. He looked over Jefferson’s shoulder to see Grace’s room shaking slightly.

"Yes, of co-ah!" Grace shrieked as something pulled her away from the screen.

"Grace!" Jefferson called. The room suddenly had a faint purple tint. "Grace!"

"Papa!" Grace screamed and then she was gone.

"Grace!" Jefferson sobbed and would’ve fell if Victor didn’t catch him and hold him to his chest.

Dorothy and Graham ran into the room. “What happened?” he asked. Jefferson didn’t appear to notice them; he just kept whispering his daughter’s name over and over again.

“Grace disappeared,” Victor said.

If he had to watch the video one more time he was going to punch someone. It didn’t help them at all; it was just traumatizing for everyone. At least Jefferson didn’t have to watch it. He was in another room on the phone with his sister.

It went without a question that what happened to Grace was what happened to Henry. Sadly, that knowledge wasn’t helpful. They still didn’t know where they were.

Victor’s phone rang just in time for him to get out of watching it yet again. He didn’t recognize the number, but at that moment he would’ve done anything just so he wouldn’t have to listen to the screams.

“Hello?” he said, walking to the corridor. “Anne? What happened?”

It was two am and Victor stopped counting coffees.

But he finally found something.

He walked into Emma’s room, not bothering to knock because he knew no one was asleep. Emma and Jefferson both had the same blank expression on their face.

“I have a theory.”

And just with that the spark was back in their eyes.

“It’s not much. But I talked to Anne Chambers. Mr. Whiskers disappeared right in front of her eyes. She said it he was sitting right next to the mirror you broke. They didn’t get rid of it because it was antique and her grandmother loved it. The figurine Neal gave Henry was antique too, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Emma answered. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I noticed, when we were watching that horrible recording, that Grace had a pocket watch on her table. Antique, right?”

“Yeah. It was her mother’s. Grace said it stopped working a couple of days ago.”

Perfect. It all fit together.

“I called Mulan. She told me that there was a promising caller that she had to turn down because she couldn’t find the owner of the building in question. They wanted us to check out an abandoned antiques shop they believed is haunted. It’s a four hours drive away from here.”

“You think that’s where they are?”

“I think that’s where we could find what the hell is going on.”

Jefferson cornered Victor before they left. Victor wasn’t sure what to do so he just stood there and waited for Jefferson’s move. Which was to hug him. He clumsily hugged him back, after a moment of hesitation.

“Thank you. I just- thank you.”

“It’s alright. It’s the least I can do. I should’ve listened to you when you noticed something. I’m sorry.”

“You were distressed,” he hesitated. “Are you alright now?”

“Not really. But I think I will be one day. Are you alright?”

“I will be when I find my daughter.”

The four of them, since Dorothy and Graham stayed behind just in case, arrived at the crack of dawn. Victor slept the entire way, his head on Jefferson’s shoulder. Normally, he’d be embarrassed, but he was too tired to care.

The pawnshop was in a small town in Maine, not unlike the town Victor and Ruby grew up in. It somehow stayed abandoned despite being on the main street.

Jefferson picked the back door lock, so they would not attract any unwanted attraction. If things went south, Emma had her badge with her, so hopefully everything will be fine. The town looked a little deserted, though, so Victor wasn’t worried.

The only word that came to mind in regard of the inside of the shop was creepy. Thick layer of dust lied on cluttered objects, the blinds only let a sliver of light in. Victor felt like he stepped inside a horror movie.

“Okay, not weird at all,” Ruby said nervously, staring at a pair of puppets. Case in point.

“So what exactly are we looking for?” Jefferson asked.

“Anything out of the ordinary,” Emma answered.

“Everything’s out of the ordinary here,” Victor muttered. The EMP wasn’t showing anything. “Ruby, look for accounting books. Emma, there is a camera system. It’s outdated, but try to figure out if it’s still functioning. Jefferson, you are wonderful at noticing paranormal activity; do whatever the hell you do. I’ll set up the machinery.”

Surprisingly, everyone did as he asked.

“I found the books!” Ruby said. “It won’t be hard to find it, the shop didn’t sell much. They only sold a compass in their last year.”

There was a rustling of pages and then Ruby’s triumphant cry could be heard.“I found the watch! Sold to Priscilla March on November 10th2002.”

“That’s her,” Jefferson said. “Wait. This thing doesn’t have much dust on it.”

“Good,” Victor sighed. “At least something doesn’t.”

“No, it means someone touched it recently.” He came into the back room with an odd box. “This shop’s been abandoned for over a decade. Someone must’ve been here since then.”

“We mind have a chance to find out who,” Emma said. She was holding a bunch of VHS tapes in her hands. “It looks like the security system still works.”

She put the tape into a VHS player in the corner of the room. The screen showed the front room and nothing in it moved.

“This might take a while.”

The EMP showed irregularities which were bigger than usual, but still of the same nature as the previous ones. Ruby found all three items in the accounting books and Jefferson found another dustless object. This one was a dagger as if they weren’t all creeped out enough.

“Finally!” Emma cried. “Guys, I’ve got something. This is two months ago.”

They all stopped what they were doing and went to watch. There was a tall blond woman entering the shop cautiously.

She looked around for a while and then she took the box and the dagger and placed them on the counter, along with a piece of parchment she took out of her pocket. She opened the box, put the parchment in and waved the dagger over it a couple of times.

Then she put the objects back and waited. Suddenly the screen glowed purple and then the woman was gone.

They made the only possible decision and started to recreate what the woman done before them. They had no clue if it’ll work or where it will take them if it does.

But what other choice did they have?

Emma did the honors. Ruby was holding the tablet they were using for a video chat with Dorothy and Graham, so someone would know what happened if things turned out bad. Jefferson and Victor just stood there, clinging to one another.

Emma put the items back and they waited, holding their breath in anticipation. For a moment nothing happened and then the room glowed purple and a group of people appeared. It looked like most of them were children. Jesus.

In the front there were, oh, thank god, Henry and Grace, who was cradling Mr. Whiskers and seemed pretty calm about the whole situation.

“Henry!” Emma called and sprinted towards her son.

“Grace!” Jefferson dropped Victor’s arm and hurried to embrace his daughter. „Gracie.”

“I was right, Mum!” Henry boasted. “I was right.”

“Yeah, kid. You were.”

“Papa!” Grace giggled. “You’re squishing Mr. Whiskers!”

He let her go, but left his hands on her shoulders. “God, Grace, I was so worried.“

„Why?“ she asked, like she couldn’t think of a reason why he should be. Jefferson stared at her unbelievingly for a moment before speaking.

“Because you disappeared! I had no idea what happened to you!”

“Well,” she jutted her jaw out defiantly. “I was fine. I was with mama.” That didn’t seem to placate Jefferson. If anything, it made it worse, but Grace kept on talking. “She couldn’t come with me. But she sent someone who can help us.”

That’s when the figure that was standing in the back until then went to them.

Victor stepped back like he was burned. „Gerhardt?“

„Victor,“ his brother smiled.

At that point, it was all simply too much for him to take. Nope, Victor thought right before he fainted.

Gerhardt tried to catch Victor when he fell, but Victor went straight through him. Luckily, Jefferson was standing close enough and had the instinct to catch him before he hit the ground.

“Victor?” Jefferson asked, shaking him slightly. Ruby put the tablet on the counter and ran to her friend’s side. She helped Jefferson put Victor down on the ground while Gerhardt hovered over them nervously.

“How have you been, Ruby?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Not bad,” she shrugged. “It’s nice to see you, I guess. I’m still kind of in shock.”

He laughed humorlessly. “I understand. How,” he hesitated. “How long has it been since I…died?”

“Two years.”

He nodded, taking it in. “And Victor? How did he take it?”

“I’m not gonna lie. He’s not okay. But he’s getting better, I think.”

“Was he hurt at all? In the accident?”

“Yeah. His arm was caught in the wreckage. They thought he might lose it for a while,” she closed her eyes for a moment. “But it’s okay now. It just hurts him sometimes.”

Gerhardt nodded, visibly uneasy. “But other than that he’s...he’s happy, right?”

Ruby was silent for a long time. “I don’t know,” she admitted eventually.

Victor woke up with his head in Jefferson’s lap, which all things considered wasn’t such a bad way to wake up. He didn’t even have a chance to appreciate it, all his focus going to the ghost of his brother, floating next to him.

“Gerhardt,” he whispered.

“Vicky,” he kneeled down. “Are you okay?”

Jefferson snickered in his ear. “Your brother calls you Vicky,” he said, absolutely delighted. Victor ignored him.

“How…but…you’re,” he stammered. “I thought ghosts weren’t real.”

“Well,” Gerhardt grinned. “Then you were mythtaken.”

“Um,” Victor started, but then decided not to say anything.

“Is he always so bad at jokes?” Jefferson asked in a voice that was probably meant to be quiet but that everyone in the room could hear.

“Hey!” Victor got back to himself as his protective instincts kicked in. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

“We wouldn’t want to speak ill of the dead,” he muttered. Victor elbowed him and got up.

“Uh, so, what brings you here, brother?”

“He’s here to help us,” Grace answered for him.

“Help us with what?” Jefferson asked, narrowing his eyes. That was the second time Grace mentioned something like that and he must’ve been getting suspicious, Victor though. Not that he would be the only one.

The other adult that arrived with the children spoke up then and Victor was pretty sure that she was the person on the tape. “You should probably sit down.”

There was a clear divide between the children’s calm and the sheer panic that united the adults. Victor had Mr. Whiskers on his lap and was cuddling with him like his life depended on it.

“I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Ingrid, the woman who started this all, said. “I just wanted to see my sisters. But when I opened the portal I unintentionally left it opened for others to come through. The dead need an object to hold on to, so only those who had a connection to something from this shop could go. Some of them tried to contact those they loved the most. But not all of the ghosts have good intentions. We need to send them back.”

“So how do we do it?” Emma asked. “How do we send these ghosts back?”

“We need to find the thing their tied to and broke it. Some left voluntarily and so the object got broken somehow, to ensure that they won’t be able to come back. We need to do the same.”

“But I broke the mirror months before the cat disappeared.”

“The ghosts don’t feel time like we do. Mrs. Chambers decided to leave and so the mirror broke.”

“So we what? Trash this place and hope that settles it?”

“Hopefully. We don’t even have to destroy everything; I know which are the right objects. But like I said, the ghosts don’t feel time like we do. They won’t leave immediately and might put up a fight.”

Victor sighed, scratching behind Mr. Whiskers’ ears. Great. He just wanted a job. Now he had to deal with disappearing children, a crush, vengeful ghosts and his dead brother. He didn’t ask for any of this.

But there was no time for bitching now. He’ll complain later.

Emma dealt with the children. There were four of them, other than Henry and Grace. She called their parents, who were going to collect them at the local police station. She took Henry along with her, but Grace stubbornly stayed.

“It’s dangerous, Grace,” Jefferson gritted through his teeth.

“I’m staying with you. That’s why mama sent Gerhardt. To protect us. It’s not like he can get hurt.”

Jefferson threw his hands up. “Great. So our lives rest in the hands of a guy I can see through. Marvelous.”

Gerhardt frowned. “I don’t see what does being transparent have to do with it.”

Victor pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need coffee.”

“Quiet, everyone,” Ruby said. She and Ingrid put several objects on the counter. “This is everything. Time is of the essence so can you start smashing?”

Grace ran over there. “Hulk smash!” she giggled and threw a glass figurine on the ground.

“At least someone’s having fun,” Jefferson muttered. Between the lot of them they managed to break everything. Even Mr. Whiskers helped by clawing at the little rug.

Now all that was left was waiting it out.

Gerhardt approached Victor hesitantly. In that moment Victor was painfully reminded of the contrast between this and their closeness before. Not that things weren’t slightly awkward before Gerhardt’s death; with Victor spending all his time studying and Gerhardt joining the army, they grew apart.

They were supposed to reconnect when Gerhardt finished his tours, but... They never quite got their chance to do that.

“Vicky?” Gerhardt said, his voice small and Victor was once again hit by a wave of protectiveness. That was his little brother. He was supposed to take care of him.

“What is it, brother?” he asked gently.

Gerhardt shook his head. “I shouldn’t ask this of you.”

“Gerhardt. You can ask for anything,” then, to try and lighten the mood a little he added. “It can be your last request.”

Gerhardt let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, that’s true. Um, I…I know I can’t talk to him, but I just…I wish I could hear papa’s voice.”

Oh. That was…Victor wouldn’t deny Gerhardt anything, not before and certainly not now, when all jokes aside this might actually be the last thing he’ll do for him. But he didn’t like it one bit.

“You don’t have to, of course,” he continued before Victor had the chance to say anything. “I know your relationship isn’t the best. Unless that changed?”

“No, it hasn’t,” Victor laughed bitterly, remembering his father’s words when he visited him in the hospital after the accident. “But that doesn’t matter. I care about you more than that.” He took the phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he so rarely used.

He put the phone on speaker. It rang loudly several times. For a moment Victor even thought he won’t pick it up, but then there was a sharp voice. “Hello?!”

“Father,” Victor said. He hasn’t really thought out what to say. He couldn’t say that Gerhardt was here; Alphonse won’t believe he and it would just be too cruel. Their conversations were always stiff, only about Gerhardt and what a disappointment Victor was. They haven’t spoken at all since the funeral.

“What is the meaning of this, Victor?” he bellowed. “How dare you call me? Especially right after the anniversary of my son’s death?”

Victor stood there, rigid as a stone.

“Did you think you’ll just call your old man, no harm?” he continued.

Gerhardt reached out to the phone, his fingers fumbling with it. “You’re not my son. And I-“ his voice stopped suddenly.

Victor looked up. “That was more than enough,” Gerhardt said. “I didn’t…I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Victor asked, uncomprehending. “You died. How would that be your fault?”

“It’s not yours either, though. And I shouldn’t have made you talk to him.”

“I was the driver. Who else would be at fault?”

“A tree fell on the road. Exactly how would you have prevented that?” Ruby sighed.

“I shouldn’t have driven in such weather. I should’ve been more careful.”

“You can’t change that now,” Gerhardt said. “Even if it was your fault, there is nothing you can do now. And I don’t want you to blame yourself.”

Victor looked away. Ruby mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I told you so’. It was hard to argue with that logic, but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilt.

Suddenly, Mr. Whiskers bristled and hissed.

“Uh, what’s the cat doing?” Victor asked, eager to change the subject.

“It can feel a ghost,” Grace said and petted him. “Cats do that.”

“That explains a lot,” Victor muttered. He was trying to ignore the fact that there was a ghost present – other than Gerhardt, that is.

Which worked for about three seconds, because then an entire cabinet fell over.

Someone screamed. It was probably him.

“We should get out of here,” Ingrid said and so Jefferson grabbed Grace, Victor grabbed the cat and they ran. Emma took the car, so they had no choice but to go on foot. Mr. Whiskers meowed in distress, but made stayed still.

“You can put me down, papa. I’m fine,” Grace protested.

“Like hell I will,” was Jefferson’s response.

They ran to the forest, which probably wasn’t the brightest decision. The roots of the trees moved on their own, making the run quite difficult. Ingrid tripped over one of them and splayed over the ground. Ruby helped her up and they kept on running.

The branches were growing longer and longer, obscuring their path. They kept them in the face. He wasn’t sure why did the tree grow thorns suddenly, but it did. He had cuts up and down his arms. A howl could be heard from distance.

They were still running and the forest was still getting thicker.

“Maybe we should split up!” Jefferson suggested.

“No!” Victor yelled, slightly out of breath. “That’s how you die in a horror movie!”

“Vic’s got a point,” Ruby agreed. “No splitting.”

Ingrid just grunted.

Gerhardt, who had the advantage of not having a physical body, that bastard, tried his best to keep the way clear, but he was clearly outnumbered.

They ran for what felt like forever – at least to Victor – until they came to a clearing. It seemed to be a slightly safer spot and so they stopped for a moment.

Victor’s legs gave out from under him and he fell on his ass. Mr. Whiskers was still securely in his arms, but it was obvious that he didn’t like the situation they were in very much.

“Hey, Vic,” Jefferson called. His smile was carefree, but his eyes betrayed his fear. “Are your legs tired? Cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.“

Victor sighed. “Maybe we should split up.”

“Aww, you say the nicest things.”

Gerhardt looked between the two of them. “Are you two dating?”

“No!” Victor rushed to deny. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about. “No, no, we’re not.”

“You know I don’t care that you’re gay, right?”

Victor buried his red face in his hands. So much for not talking about it. “That’s not the problem, Gerhardt. The problem is he’s an asshole and we hate each other.”

Gerhardt frowned. “And that’s why you bicker like an old married couple?”

“Ha!” Ruby called, pointing to Gerhardt and nodding enthusiastically. “I told you so!”

“We do not!” He denied again. Why did they have to talk about this now? In front of his brother and Jefferson’s daughter and while they were basically running from murder ghosts.

Jefferson looked at him sadly. “You realize I’m in love with you, right?”

Victor froze. “What?”

He…what? Did he mean that? That’s…bullshit, Victor thought. No way in hell Jefferson loved him.

“Guys!” Ingrid called out suddenly, pointing at the trees that were…walking towards them? What the hell was happening today? Victor got up quickly, holding the cat tight. “Run!”

And so they started running again and there was no time to think about it.

Victor was exhausted. So was everyone else, probably. They ran and ran until Mr. Whiskers jumped out of Victor’s arms and started head butting them. Gerhardt confirmed their suspicion and told them that all the ghosts were gone now.

Victor collapsed under a tree, trying to catch his breath. He could see Ingrid doing the same, while Jefferson was attempting to mother hen his daughter.

“Grace, honey, are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Jefferson inquired.

“Of course I am, papa, stop asking silly questions.”

“How’s that silly?”

Ruby walked over to Victor. “I’m gonna go call Dorothy,” she said. After a small pause she added. “And Granny.”

Victor smiled at her. “Give them my love.”

Gerhardt floated over to Victor. “Brother.”

He looked up. “Yes, brother?”

“I…I should get going.”

Victor got up and grabbed Gerhardt’s arms. Or tried to, at least. His hands went through him.

"Gerhardt. You…please."

This…why was this happening? He can’t lose him again.

"I’m not really leaving. I’ll always be with you," he whispered and tapped his chest. "In here. I love you."

“I love you too, Gerhardt.”

Gerhardt smiled at him. “Can you promise me something, Vicky?”

“Anything.” He tried to smile back, but he couldn’t.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Victor nodded, even though he knew that would be difficult. But he’ll try.

Gerhard took the pocket watch Victor always had with him out of his coat pocket and put it his hands. It wasn’t ticking anymore.

“Goodbye, Victor.”

“Goodbye,” he echoed.

And then Gerhardt was gone.

Victor fell on his knees. Tears spilled out of his eyes and he cradled the broken watch in his hands.

He knew, rationally, that this was good. This was what so many people wished for – closure. He got to see Gerhardt one last time and to say goodbye. But at that moment none of that mattered. All he felt was pain, pain of losing his little brother again.

He didn’t notice when she got to him, but Ruby was suddenly pulling him into a hug. He clung to her with all his remaining strength and wept.

He calmed down, eventually. His head was resting on Ruby’s shoulder and he was staring at the pocket watch.

Grace hopped over to them. “I like your watch,” she said, with all the grace of an eleven year old. Pun not intended. “It’s kinda like mine.”

“It was our mother’s,” he explained. His mother was dead, his brother was dead and his father hated him.

“I know a very good clockmaker. We could take our watches to him.”

“That won’t fix this.”

“No,” she agreed. “But it might help.”

They found their way back to the town eventually. Ingrid left on her own and they drove back with Emma. All the children were home, safe.

They made a small stop in New Holland. There was a girl who was very happy to have her cat back.

They finished shooting Emma’s episode, but they collectively decided not to mention the actual ghost sighting. They didn’t have enough proof and it was too personal.

A few days later Victor found himself at the address Grace gave him. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to leave Ruby’s couch, but here he was. He expected to see a shop or a workshop, but it was a house. He knocked anyway, hoping the clockmaker was home.

The door opened and there stood Jefferson. “Victor? What are you doing here?”

“You’re the clockmaker?”

“Ah,” Jefferson nodded. “Yeah, it’s a hobby of mine. I can look at your watch if you want to. Come on in.” He made a sweeping gesture and Victor followed him inside.

“How’s Grace?”

“She’s great. I guess children look at these things differently.”

“Probably,” Victor nodded. Not that he knew anything about children. They continued with the small talk. Victor felt tense and awkward, and he could sense Jeff felt that too, but he was nothing if not kind. Victor didn’t understand why Jefferson was so nice to him, after what he said.

He took him to a workroom. It was messy, but somewhat organized. There was a sewing machine, all sorts of tools for tinkering and a beautiful telescope.

“Grace wants to be an astronaut when she grows up,” he explained. “This room has the best view.”

Jefferson put the pocket watch on his worktable and started to fiddle with it. “Do you really hate me?” he blurted out suddenly.

“No,” Victor replied quickly. “Are you really in love with me?”

Jefferson chuckled humorlessly. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think you do. You shouldn’t. I’m really not worth your trouble.”

“You’re not-are you kidding?” he stepped closer and framed Victor’s face with his hands. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Victor nodded and leaned closer. They kissed softly, tenderly.

“Does this answer your question?” Jefferson murmured.

“Uh, not really?”

Jefferson chuckled and kissed him again. And again. And again.

“I love you, Victor.”

Victor froze upon hearing the words. Why? He wanted to ask, but his mouth didn’t appear to be working. Instead he just opened and closed it a few times like a moron.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“B-but you didn’t call me. You didn’t talk to me at all after we…”

“I wanted to but…I got scared. I figured that since you just left me there you probably didn’t like me like that.”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly and then hesitated. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yeah, babe,” Jefferson smiled, his eyes soft. “Anytime.”

They ended up together; something Victor still had hard time believing. Life was pretty good, even if he missed Gerhardt. But he had Ruby and his friends and his boyfriend and his daughter. They all made sure he knew he was loved. Jefferson kept telling he even when he couldn’t say it back. He found his courage eventually.

“I love you,” Victor mumbled into Jefferson’s chest as they lied in bed together one lazy morning, when they still had time before they have to get up. He wasn’t even sure if Jefferson was awake.

“I know,” came the sleepy reply. Victor smiled and was slowly drifting back to sleep when he realized something.

“Was that a Star Wars quote?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Nerd.”

“Scruffy looking nerf herder.”

“Darling.” He could practically feel Jefferson melting under him. He called him darling once before; the word was clumsy on his tongue, but the way Jefferson’s face lit up upon hearing it made it all worth it. “We should get up. We’ve got a case.”

Jefferson chuckled. “Can’t wait to find a ghost. How about you?”

“I think this one’s a false alarm.”

“Seriously, Vic?” Jefferson shook his head. “You saw the possibilities of this world. How can you still not believe?”

“I believe in the existence of ghosts, I just don’t think they’re everywhere we go.”

“But they could be. We can’t know for su-“ he suddenly stopped talking as Victor silenced him with a kiss.

They ended up being late to work.

#mad whale #mad whale fanfic #fanfiction #red kansas #red kansas fanfic #my fic #jefferson #victor frankenstein #dr. whale #victor #ruby lucas #ruby #dorothy gale #dorothy

14 notes · View notes

everlarkficexchange · 6 years

Text

A Tangled Web

Written by: @demisexualkatnisseverdeen

Prompt 100: “See, this is why no one lets you make the plans.” Pregnant,unwed, underage Prim will be punished unless Katniss hides the pregnancy, pretends baby is hers. Caught and tangling others into deception, Katniss agrees to another plan: marry Peeta, pretend it’s his so Prim can move on with her life. But then Rye forfeits bakery, claims child, wants to marry Prim. Only way to keep up lies and to let Prim have her own baby now is for Katniss to get pregnant, too, because of strict antiabortion laws. [submitted by Anonymous]

Rating: T for this chapter (rating will go up).

Author’s Note: Thanks to @ryrous for betaing this story. You took my hot mess of a story and made it better. Thanks to Anonymous for submitting this prompt. It was a lot of fun to write. Note that Peeta is the oldest sibling in my story and Rye is the youngest. I thought a teenage Prim being with a boy 6 years older would be majorly creepy. There are no games in this story but Panem is still a really terrible place to live because 13 is in charge. So 13 and the Capitol will be used interchangably. The people of 13 moved into the Capitol. Katniss is a little softer than in canon because she hasn’t had to face the Games and isn’t as afraid of children or marriage. I’ve been having a horrible time with the formatting so any weird errors are due to that.

Trigger Warnings: None for this section but there will be scenes of sexual violence and homophobia/homophobic language.

“Prim, what’s wrong?”

Katniss watched her sister retch into the nearly bare flower bushes. Prim had been sick a lot in the last few weeks, and Katniss was concerned. Prim wasn’t running a fever but refused Katniss’s advice to talk to their mom.

Prim didn’t reply, and Katniss wiped her face with a damp cloth; then, she started sobbing. Katniss felt her heart sink. She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what was wrong with Prim. Prim, her sweet, innocent little sister, must be pregnant.

“I’m pregnant, Katniss,” Prim sobbed. Katniss felt her stomach flip as she thought about what would happen. Her little sister was just fifteen years old. In Panem births were strictly controlled, and unwed mothers were sent to a home where they were forced to live until their children turned eighteen. These Community House women and children often died of starvation and disease. But anyone over the age of fourteen could marry and have children. Those who did received tesserae grain and oil until their children turned eighteen or until they married. This was District 13’s strategy with dealing with the massive under-population after the revolution, nearly twenty-five years ago.

“Who’s the father?” Katniss asked, trying to keep her voice gentle. She wondered if the answer would be Rory Hawthorne.

“I can’t tell you.” Prim whispered. “He’s a Merchant.”

Katniss felt her stomach drop again. The Merchants had plenty of money, but none would ever marry a Seam girl, even if she looked like a Merchant herself. Prim was half Merchant, but that didn’t count to people in town.

“I’ll deal with it. I promise you, Prim. I’ll deal with it.”

Katniss helped Prim to bed and laid the worn blanket on her sister’s shoulder before slipping outside. She was desperate. How could she save Prim?

She sat in the woods for hours until the idea came to her. She would raise the child as her own. Of course, the obvious problem was that Katniss was not married. Not even close to married. She had rejected marriage time and time again because she knew she needed to be there for Prim and because she didn’t want to end up like her mother– in love and unable to function.

Even if Katniss had married Gale, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one would have believed that two dark haired, grey eyed people would produce a child looking so Merchant. Prim’s baby was sure to be blond haired and blue eyed or, at the very least, some combination of that. Besides, Katniss doubted Gale would go along with this elaborate plan. He would want his own kids. He was married now anyway, so it didn’t matter.

There was only one solution. Take in Prim’s child and move to the Community House. Live there raising Prim’s child until the baby was eighteen. Katniss felt tears prick her eyes as she thought about the kind of life she would live there. There was a chance she might not even survive. But it was worth it. Katniss was a survivor; she was strong enough to handle it. Prim was not.

Katniss went back into the house and told Prim her plan. Prim listened in silence, looking more and more miserable by the moment. Then she said, “Katniss, you can’t. I made a mistake and I have to pay for it.”

“No. You’re my little sister. It’s my job to protect you. Besides I can handle this much better than you.” Katniss put on more bravado than she felt.

“You can’t do this.” Prim pleaded.

“Oh Katniss…” Katniss looked up to see her mother standing there. She must have overheard Prim talking. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Perhaps there are some herbs I can give you.”

Katniss knew what her mother was talking about. Herbs that caused a woman to lose a baby were strictly forbidden. If her mother was caught doing that, she could be killed.

“No,” Prim clutched her stomach and shook her head. “I’m not killing my baby.”

Katniss didn’t think of it that way but she didn’t say anything. Instead she just stood up and said, “We need bread.”

She needed to say goodbye to her own life. To all the people she cared about. To start facing the way people would look at her. The insults and jeers she would get for daring to get pregnant. She needed to say goodbye to Peeta. She wouldn’t be able to go out much after this. In order for the deception to work she would have to stay in the house with Prim until Prim’s delivery. Then she could go outside with the baby.

She had to say goodbye to Peeta. She couldn’t tell him the real reason, but he wouldn’t want anything more to do with her once he saw her with the baby. He had become her friend in the years since he had saved their lives by giving them bread. He was only two years older than her, but he was already nearly running the bakery. Despite his enviable job and good looks, Peeta hadn’t married. Perhaps his mother’s noticeably acid tongue and manners had made girls reluctant to marry him.

Katniss knocked on the kitchen door. She knew that Mrs. Mellark was already in bed, and Peeta’s father had died a few years before. Peeta’s bothers were rarely home. Leaven, who was Katniss’s age, went to the library and studied the dull books while Rye drank and went to the Slag Heap.

“Katniss, it’s so good to see you.” Peeta’s voice had sounded enthusiastic before it died away at one look at her face.

“I just wanted to say goodbye.” Katniss said softly.

“Goodbye? Are you moving?” Peeta looked distressed.

Katniss nodded, “To the Community Home.” She forced herself not to cry. For Prim. She reminded herself.

“You’re…” Peeta began. Katniss chose to nod. She felt nauseated with the deception, but it had to be done. She couldn’t look up to see the disapproval in his eyes.

“Is it…” Peeta began. She knew of course what Peeta meant. People had always thought she and Gale would make a match of it. Now that she was supposed to be pregnant, people would immediately suspect him. Fortunately Prim’s baby wouldn’t resemble him in the least. Thank goodness she hadn’t been with Rory.

“No,” she said softly. “It was a mistake. I drank too much…” That would be her story. It sounded credible.

“You don’t drink.” Peeta commented as he handed her a cup of tea.

“No, not usually.” Katniss replied. She felt tears start to fall but she fought them back. She would not cry.

“Katniss, you aren’t going to the Community Home. I’ll marry you myself and raise your child as my own.” He took her free hand and added, “I promise I won’t expect anything in return. I just want a chance to help you.”

Katniss blinked, positive that she was dreaming. Why on earth was Peeta proposing to her? She must be crazy. But his face was so earnest and kind that she realized that those words must have really come out of his mouth. Of course she couldn’t do it. She could never put him through that, but it was very kind of him, and she would never forget that. The kindness of him once again struck her. He seemed determined to keep saving her. It didn’t matter how many extra squirrels she gave him; she would always owe him.

“I can’t.” Katniss replied. She forced herself not to look into the beautiful blue eyes that stared at her from the other chair.

“You can. I promise I won’t expect anything from you except the work of a usual employee and the chance to be in your child’s life.”

“What’s in it for you?” Katniss replied bluntly. Nobody would do something like that for free. There had to be some hidden agenda.

“ We could use some help with the bakery. I know you are a hard worker. And my mother hasn’t been well recently. .” Peeta replied.

Katniss wondered why he didn’t ask some Merchant girl but she supposed that he was right. She was a hard worker. She didn’t know the last thing about baking but she knew how to clean and organize and might even manage some kind of accounting. She had always done well in math. It still didn’t make sense that he wanted to help her though. Peeta was just such a nice person that he was willing to sacrifice himself to help her. If she did accept his proposal it would take a lifetime of washing dishes to make up for it.

“I also don’t it’s fair you have to be punished for one mistake.” Peeta continued.

Katniss closed her eyes and said softly, “It wasn’t my mistake. I’m not really pregnant. Prim is. She’s only fifteen. She can’t go to the Community House. She won’t survive there. But I can. I’m strong enough..”

“Oh Katniss.” Peeta repeated the same words her mother said. Then she was shocked to find his arms wrapped about her and her head tucked up against his chin. It felt safe and comfortable to be in his arms. “Strong, brave, foolish, Katniss. That’s why nobody lets you make the plans.”

“What do you mean by that?” Katniss struggled out of his embrace and glared at him.

“Because your plan will destroy your life and mean your sister will never see her baby. My plan means your sister can see her baby on a daily basis. You will be allowed to live near your family, and no one will starve. Isn’t that a better option?”

Katniss hadn’t thought of that. She had been so focused on Prim’s problems she hadn’t considered anything else. But Peeta was right. His plan was better. Prim’s baby wouldn’t grow up a bastard but would have two respectably married parents. Prim would be allowed to be the doting aunt. Nobody would think anything of Prim taking care of the baby nearly constantly. And Prim could even move into the bakery for a few months to “take care” of Katniss.

“But what about your mother?” Katniss asked. Mrs. Mellark could make her life a misery.

“I’m not afraid of her. My father’s will gave me a quarter interest in the bakery, and unlike my brothers I don’t have to have mom’s approval.” Peeta spoke confidently, but Katniss knew that while Mrs. Mellark might not be able to legally kick him out, she could destroy Peeta.

“I can’t let you do this. This is my responsibility.” Katniss pulled away again and tried to hold back the fear. The truth was that she was afraid. Afraid of the Community Home and how difficult it would be to survive without her hunting. She was afraid for the baby and of having to take care of it all by herself. She wouldn’t take care of the kid right.

“No, Katniss, it’s not your responsibility. You didn’t do any of this. I want to marry you and be an uncle to Prim’s baby.”

Katniss couldn’t understand it. Why was he being so nice? If he just wanted a quick fling, he wouldn’t be marrying a girl like her. And while she wasn’t oblivious to the “responsibilities” she’d have once she got married, she didn’t think he would be unkind. Imagining him hurting her was impossible. It was far more likely that she would end up hurting him.

“I need to talk to them.” Katniss stood there for a moment. “Thank you. For everything.”

She wished that she hadn’t pulled away. It had been a long time since anyone had held her. No one had done so since her father, probably, but she couldn’t hug Peeta. Even if she might marry him soon.

Prim and her mother were predictably happy, and they immediately supported Peeta’s plan. Katniss felt a strange resentment of her mother grow over this. Her mother had always supported the route that would be easiest. The route that would ensure that no one would know that her daughter was unmarried and pregnant at fifteen.

Prim’s reaction was even stranger. She looked so excited and pleased that for a moment Katniss had a terrible thought.

Was Peeta the father of Prim’s baby? The thought made her sick, but she supposed that it was possible. Prim was so pretty and sweet: vulnerable and tempting, for an older boy. “He’s not….You’re not saying…” Katniss stumbled over her words.

“Peeta? What? No, of course not. He’d never do that, and besides he’s crazy about you. That’s why I’m happy. You’ll be married to someone who simply adores you. He’s easy on the eyes too.” Prim sat up and gave Katniss a hug.

It seemed to move so fast then. Mrs. Mellark was unsurprisingly displeased, but she put less effort into fighting the marriage than Katniss expected. Why was she so muted in her displeasure? Why did she seem almost relieved? Peeta really wasn’t old enough to be considered past marriageable age at all. Katniss put little preparation into her new life. She had few belongings and she never spent much time on her appearance.

She saw Peeta a couple of times before the wedding to discuss things like the cake and to move her meager belongings over to his home. He offered her a wide range of cakes to sample but Katniss liked the orange one best. She had an orange once before her father’s death and it brought back pleasant memories. She tried to stop Peeta from making a cake since it was so expensive and it wasn’t like they were having a real marriage. Peeta wouldn’t listen to that plan and insisted that she would have a cake. Katniss noticed that he seemed burdened down by something and looked constantly exhausted. Was his mother causing him problems? Did the other Merchant families put pressure on him?

The day before the wedding she went hunting. Long ago she’d used to go with her father; a little later, with Gale. But it had been two years since they had gone hunting together. Two years since his marriage. She missed him of course, but she found that she didn’t need him. Knowing the consequences, she couldn’t fathom feeling an emotion strong enough to make you do something like what Prim did. She guessed it was physical as well, but she suspected Prim had been genuinely in love with her lover. That’s why sometimes Prim cried herself to sleep. Katniss couldn’t understand that.

“I suppose I should congratulate you.” Gale came up just as silently as usual. His face was impassive, but he wasn’t storming around which she thought was a good sign.

“Yes, I’m getting married.” Katniss replied.

“What’s the rush? I wasn’t aware you were seeing someone.” Katniss nearly blurted out the truth but at the last moment simply shrugged. Gale was used to her strange gestures and silences.

“Well, I guess you could do worse if he is a Townie.” Gale said. It was almost an ringing endorsement of Peeta. Katniss shrugged again but realized that sounded very cold. “He’s a good person. I like being with him.”

“Well, I guess that’s better than you two hating each other, like his parents did.” Katniss gave a slight smile. Peeta was a better person than she could ever deserve, and she was determined to do her best to make him happy.

“Listen, I know that there is something screwy about this whole thing. I know I can’t really help you much, but if there is anything…” Gale touched her arm and stared at her sharply. She felt her face flush. She was hiding a lot, and she had never been a good liar. She poured out the whole story. Telling it seemed to make it worse. The prospect of living in the Community Home got more unpleasant.

“It’s a good thing then.” Gale said. Katniss nodded.

“Peeta’s a much better man than I ever thought. There is no way I can ever repay him.” Katniss looked at her hands and felt the sense of hopeless debt pile up.

“ I’m not fond of good people. It’s usually just being a hypocrite. Be careful, Katniss. I just don’t want you being taken advantage of.”

“You mean like Cray does?” Katniss knew what the doctor did with his “patients” and examinations.

“Yes, and no. I don’t think Peeta’s like that, but he’ll have expectations…” Gale trailed off at her deathlike glare.

“I’m not talking about this with you. And I’m not stupid. I know what marriage is. I can’t see how people would willing be owned and controlled, but that’s life. And it’s better than the Community Home.” Katniss stood up trying not to think about that. She supposed people must like sex, or people like Prim wouldn’t be in this position. Still, it seemed a dangerous and pointless activity. Hormones could be managed without endangering oneself.

“Just be careful, ok.” Katniss gave a brief nod before disappearing into the woods towards the fence.

Katniss’s mother seemed to think she had done her duty by explaining all about sex when Katniss turned sixteen. She had listened to her mother’s clinical speech before completely ignoring it. When her mother tried to broach the subject again, Katniss said, “I know enough, mother. I don’t need to be told that I need to think about the current population levels in Panem or how it really isn’t bad or how I might actually enjoy it.”

Her mother flushed and said, “No, I guess you know that. I just…worry…”

“You don’t need to. I’ll be fine.”

Prim was in bed when Katniss came in. Her mother was up adjusting the wedding dress Katniss was to wear. Katniss lay beside Prim and pressed a hand to her stomach. There was no movement; she was not far enough along, and her stomach only had a faint swell. Soon that baby would be—for all appearances sake— Katniss’s baby.

“Are you scared?” Prim asked.

“No,” Katniss replied. She was, but she wouldn’t admit it.

“You don’t need to be. Peeta’s very nice and kind. Maybe he can even warm you up a bit.” Prim smiled mischievously at Katniss. Katniss frowned, trying to remind herself that the innocent little sister who didn’t know about sex was gone. Her sister in many ways had already experienced more in fifteen years than Katniss in nearly twenty.

“I don’t need warming up.” Katniss replied.

“No, I know that underneath that scowl you actually are sweet. But I’m just saying that it’s nice. To be loved. To have someone to love you. To lie in bed next to someone.” Prim looked sad again. Katniss ached to take that away.

“Well, I guess it’s free body heat.” Katniss said sarcastically. She felt like Prim was on the verge of tears. Better to make her laugh.

“Hmmm…. And well, I’ve heard the Mellark men are well endowed.” Prim giggled and poked Katniss. “You’re so prudish. I swear you’re worse than Miss Burns.”

“English teacher Miss Burns?”

“Yeah.”

“I am not.” Katniss scowled, but Prim only laughed harder.

“I don’t think Peeta would ever push you to do anything you didn’t want to do. The problem is the wanting. But you’ll be married, so it won’t matter.” Prim’s face grew serious.

Katniss nodded as though she understood, even though she didn’t. She understood basic physical urges— like hunger— and even the more primal ones, but they were unconnected to any person or thing. Dealing with the occasional sexual impulse was as normal as eating, She was alone in the woods and there was no one there to know what she was doing. Dealing with her needs was easy. The craving for love, tenderness and passion made no sense in contrast.

“You look beautiful.” Peeta commented as she stepped inside the Justice Building. She was wearing her mother’s blue dress. It was the blue dress, and not a white one, both because of the dangers of a white dress in the coal mining district and because she was supposed to be pregnant.

The ceremony passed in a blur of formal language and paper signing. District 13 had few rituals when it came to marriage. The Capitol official read a long and dull speech about the importance of marriage and family that made her skin crawl. Things might have gotten better since the Hunger Games were abolished but that didn’t mean she thought the new government’s intrusiveness was acceptable. Katniss was vaguely aware that she was signing away her freedom. Her body, her money (not that she had any) and her property were not hers. She could only hope that the person she was marrying wouldn’t try to possess her. He was a kind person but Katniss didn’t trust people not to take advantage of her position. The idea of being owned by someone, even the nicest person in the world, didn’t sit well with her.

There was a toasting of course. Katniss had spent a lot of time thinking up her speech. Finally she decided to keep it simple.

“Peeta, you have been the best man I ever met. I’m not good with speeches but…I’m grateful I met you.” Katniss knew the speech sounded incomplete, but she couldn’t imagine giving some fluffy speech about love. At least what she had said had been true.

Peeta’s speech was simple but revealing. “Katniss, I remember the first time I saw you. It was the first day of school that year, and my dad pointed you out and said, ‘See that little girl. I wanted to marry her mother a long time ago, but she ran away with a coal miner.’ I couldn’t understand why that lady wouldn’t want to marry my dad, but he said that when that man sang ‘the birds stopped to listen.’ I didn’t believe him. Then that little girl stood up to sing the Valley Song, and I knew my dad was right. Because the birds did stop to listen. And I’ve been in love with her ever since.”

She was astonished. Her dad had had an incredible voice, and she vaguely remembered singing the Valley Song at a school assembly. But had Peeta really been in love with her since he was seven? Guilt surged through her. She didn’t deserve it. Then again she hadn’t asked him to fall in love with her at five year old.

She glanced at his face and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. It was more of a peck than a kiss but he smiled at her as if she had given him the moon. She was afraid of falling for him. He was so kind to her and he seemed to radiate warmth and tenderness. What if it was all a ploy? What if he was trying to butter her up with kind words and gestures so she would fall into line with his plans? She had to be careful.

They ate the beautiful cake, which was decorated with primroses and violets, while one of the old miners, Bristel, played the fiddle. Katniss was starting to get more and more nervous. She was going to lose her virginity, and while she didn’t think it had any moral value, it had kept her safe. She couldn’t get pregnant, or at least Katniss hadn’t thought she could. Then again, if she was supposed to be pregnant, she didn’t dare get pregnant for real. Such a thing hadn’t struck her until that moment. Perhaps she might use it as an excuse.

By the time the bakery had emptied of all but our families, she felt like throwing up. Mrs. Mellark gave her a chilly goodnight and went to bed. She had said all of three words to Katniss since Peeta formally introduced them.

Peeta’s brothers had been present more, and Katniss found that she liked them. The one her age, Leaven, was quiet and calm. He was apparently his mother’s favorite. He was engaged to Delly Cartwright. The youngest, Rye, was different. He was the wildest of the whole lot. She had heard rumors of him and his Slag Heap conquests. Peeta had talked about the trials of controlling him and keeping him out of trouble. Still, she could see a certain charm in his rugged good looks and smile. Katniss noticed he seemed to avoid her and her family and wondered if he disapproved of his brother’s marriage. Rye seemed on edge constantly as he shifted uneasily in his chair and went to bed early. Katniss couldn’t understand why he was so upset. Surely his brother’s marriage was not that distressing.

Katniss’s mother pulled her aside and handed her a small package, “Take this every morning and it should help. It’s not perfect, but it might be enough if you’re careful.”

Katniss nodded. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. You’ve been so brave, Katniss. You shouldn’t have had to do this. You should be happy right now.”

“I’m not unhappy. I meant what I said about Peeta.”

When Katniss came back into the kitchen, it was deserted. She supposed Peeta had gone upstairs. Katniss carefully made her way up the stairs, feeling the gnawing fear settle back in again. The tea was supposed to help prevent pregnancy, but it was far from perfect. That’s probably why Prim was pregnant. Her mother knew that. She also knew Katniss didn’t really have control over this.

“I’m sorry I don’t have another room for you, but I do have a sofa here I can sleep on. Or I could go downstairs.” Katniss started and turned around to see Peeta standing in the doorway. She blinked at him trying to understand his words. The couch?

“You aren’t going to sleep in the bed?” she asked.

“I’m not going to have you sleep on the couch.” Peeta said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Katniss didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what to say. Peeta glanced at the package of tea, and she said, “My mother gave me this. It’s to prevent…me from getting pregnant.”

Peeta’s face turned beet red. He stammered, “But that won’t be necessary. At least…not…I’m totally messing this up. What I mean is that I don’t have any expectations about that sort of thing. I don’t think you look ready, and …”

She placed the tea in a drawer and turned back to him, “We’re married. Why wouldn’t you have expectations? There’s nothing I can say about it. So I won’t. It would be easier to say that I said yes.”

“Katniss,” he began, reaching out to take her hand, “I will never touch you unless it’s clear that you want me to. I don’t own you, no matter what the Capitol says.”

She closed her eyes and said brokenly, “It’s just that sometimes it feels like our whole existence is to be a womb for babies. It feels like you don’t belong to yourself. When you get married you sign away everything.”

“You haven’t. Not to me. You’re a free and independent person.”

Katniss believed him. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt like she believed him. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have. He wasn’t going to. The relief made her almost giddy. Prim would be safe. She would be safe. They wouldn’t starve, and he really did love her. It was nice to be loved. It had been a long time since anyone had just loved her or made any effort to take care of her. She loved being independent but sometimes it got a little lonely. Sharing her burden wouldn’t be easy but maybe it would be worth it.

“You can sleep in the bed. I don’t mind. I’m not afraid of you.” Katniss murmured as she took her nightgown and headed for the bathroom.

She slipped into bed a few minutes later. It was a cold night, and the bed already felt warm. She was surprised to notice that the window was cracked open. That must be one of Peeta’s quirks. She closed her eyes. She was so tired. Perhaps she might sleep.

Katniss awoke the next morning pressed against a warm body that was definitely not Prim’s. When they’d been standing, she hadn’t realized how much bigger than her Peeta was. Now she felt dwarfed in comparison. Surprisingly it didn’t make her nervous. She knew he was trustworthy. It felt nice to be so close to him. Katniss remembered Prim’s words and smiled. Prim had been right. Even though Katniss was just innocently sleeping next to him, she liked it. She pressed her face against his chest and let herself relax for a few moments. It was still early.

“Good morning.” Peeta looked at her shyly as she sat up and stretched. “You can sleep in. We have the day off.”

Katniss hesitated and said, “I should get up and work.”

“You don’t need to. Besides it wouldn’t do to wake up too early this morning,” he replied.

“Why?” Katniss asked, before blushing and remembering. She was married now, and last night had been her wedding night. She was supposed to be lying in bed. Well, she wasn’t going to complain about getting a little extra sleep.

When she woke up again, the sun streamed through the bedroom window, and she sprang up at the lateness of the hour. She dressed rapidly and went downstairs. Peeta and his brothers were eating breakfast. Peeta looked up.

“I was going to bring you some,” he said. “You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Katniss sat down in the empty seat and accepted the toast with jam. She was surprised to notice that the offerings on the table were none too plentiful. Perhaps the bakery was not as wealthy as she had thought. It gave her a sense of satisfaction that tomorrow she could make sure that the table had game and vegetables.

The table was almost entirely silent. Katniss wasn’t a talker, but even she found it a little oppressive. Peeta seemed nervous and kept casting anxious glances around. Leaven seemed quiet anyway. Rye looked bloodshot and alarmed, seeming to start at every sound.

“My mother wanted to talk to you. She’s not feeling well today.” Peeta said at last. Katniss straightened her shoulders and forced herself not to tremble. She wasn’t going to let Mrs. Mellark intimidate her.

“Well, look who decided to show up.” Mrs. Mellark greeted her as she stood in the center of the room.

“I slept in.” Katniss replied. “I don’t normally. I get up well before dawn.”

“Good. You never struck me as being lazy. I slept better than I expected last night. It was quiet.” The older woman glanced at Katniss with those faded but still piercing blue eyes. Katniss flushed slightly because she felt as if Mrs. Mellark was already making judgements about her.

“You aren’t pregnant, are you? Not by my son, at least. It’s that sister of yours, isn’t it? She looked peaked through the whole toasting.” Katniss looked down knowing it was useless to try to deny it. Mrs. Mellark was nothing if not observant.

“Yes, Prim is pregnant.” Katniss admitted.

“Who is the father?”

“I don’t know. Prim won’t tell me, but I think he’s a merchant.” Katniss sat down at last in the chair by the bed.

“Well, then the child will look like us.” Mrs. Mellark said thoughtfully. Her eyes fixed on the door as she added. “I don’t like you. I think you and your family are low class and dirty. But you’re a survivor, I’ll give you that. Haven’t seen such a one since old Haymitch Abernathy won his games.”

Katniss wasn’t sure if she should be ashamed or complimented to be compared to Haymitch Abernathy, the victor of the last Hunger Games and the district drunk.

“And you are a cruel old woman who beats her kids.” Katniss snapped back.

Mrs. Mellark had the audacity to laugh, “Those boys would have ended up like their father if I hadn’t taught them some discipline. They would have been weak, and I think you and I both know what happens to weak people. Imagine if I had responded like your mother when my husband died. Imagine if I had lost it when I started getting sick.”

“My mother never beat me, and I’m not weak.” Katniss thought of her struggle for survival.

“I’m dying,” said Mrs. Mellark.

Katniss glanced at the woman and suddenly noticed that she really did look ill. Her face was unnaturally pale and drawn, and she appeared thin for a merchant woman. “Don’t look so pleased. I’m sure I won’t be mourned. That’s not worrying me. I want to see this family business continue, and you and your sister’s child will help that. Leaven will be working at the shoe shop, and Rye is completely useless. I depend on Peeta. He’s the only one who cares about baking. That child can be depended on to carry on the family tradition.”

“Does Peeta know?” Katniss asked. Did he know his mother was dying?

“No, and you aren’t going to tell him either. I’m not going to be fussed over or have people expect me to be sorry for anything. I’m not sorry. I did what I had to do.” Mrs. Mellark glanced at Katniss and added, “He’s crazy about you. I don’t understand why. You’re small and not particularly pretty, but I want that child in this family and I’m willing to put up with you.”

Katniss didn’t know what to say to Mrs. Mellark. She had to admit the woman was almost as unrepentant as the former President of Panem, President Snow, who had been executed after the war. Katniss could find little pity for the woman mainly because Mrs. Mellark wanted for nothing.

The days of married life seemed exactly like her old life, except she lived in the bakery instead of her home in the Seam. She got up and helped make breakfast before carrying it to Mrs. Mellark, who ordered her to do many things downstairs, knowing full well Katniss had no intention of doing anything she said. She, Peeta and his brothers ate breakfast together before Katniss helped with the morning rush of baking. She was no baker, but she helped wash dishes and completed simple tasks. Around mid-morning she’d go hunting and come back in mid afternoon to help close up the bakery. Every evening she would spend with Prim, Peeta, and sometimes Leaven, who would quietly read one of those District 13 books about something called socialism. Rye never stayed for any of them. Katniss got the distinct impression he disliked her and Prim. Peeta would sketch out designs for cakes and began helping Katniss add to the plant book. As the days went on, Katniss began to feel as if she had always lived with Peeta. He had such a warm, sunny disposition that it was like she was a flower and he the sun. She couldn’t help but like him.

Prim had stopped throwing up everyday and looked radiant. Katniss might not approve of her being pregnant, but she knew her sister would be a wonderful mother. Much better than Katniss. Katniss still found Rye’s behavior confusing. She caught him arguing with Prim a few times which made her frown. Prim was a very easy-going person and it was hard to imagine Prim doing anything to make him that mad. Prim tried to hide her sadness over her lover deserting her but Katniss could see the wistful glance in her eyes as Peeta patted Katniss’s hand or gave her a quick hug. Katniss would have done anything to put the light back into her sister’s eye.

Peeta stayed true to his word and had barely touched her since their wedding. Except for the occasional pat on the shoulder or gentle hug, he had kept his hands to himself. Katniss suspected he was waiting for her to make the move. After her initial suspicion had passed, she found herself wanting…something. She started making excuses to stand close to him and rolled her body close to his in bed at night. Finally one night it all bubbled up. He had just added the flowers to the side of the crib for Prim’s baby.

“You’ll be an amazing aunt.” Peeta said softly.

“You’ll be an amazing father.” Katniss replied. This baby might be Prim’s, but her father would definitely be Peeta, considering the child would know no other. She was so lucky. Katniss rose on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his in their first real kiss.

It wasn’t her first kiss. There had been an awkward kiss with Gale when she had been sixteen. For months she had tried to forget that it happened. There had been the occasional kiss at New Years with some boy she didn’t care about. But this was the first kiss she had felt that thing…That warm, hungry feeling that started in the pit of her stomach and moved its way through her limbs. She pressed closer as his arms came around her waist. They kissed until they ran out of air, but still she didn’t let go.

He rested his face in the crook of her neck and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. It felt so good, so impossibly good, that she was certain she wouldn’t be the first to let go.

Prim ended up interrupting them with a question about the crib, and they broke apart. Katniss flushed and stammered through an explanation. Prim only grinned and left the room with a significant lifting of her eyebrows. Katniss only gave a tiny smile as she went to bed. Somehow she felt at peace for the first time in a long time.

#Springtime Edition 2018 #demisexualkatnisseverdeen #prompt 100 #submission

133 notes · View notes