A Little Bit Of Everything

“You saw him, it’s only been a few weeks.” 

Haymitch settles a hand over her heart, soothing the ache. “Beetee’s working on getting into the Capitol’s communications system. Once he’s in, they’ll play one of your propos and people will be storming the mansion.”

“He can’t get past his own design.” Y/N shakes her head.

“He will,” Haymitch whispers, “give it time.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she mumbles. “I can’t just keep sitting here while he’s suffering.”

“I wish I had some divine wisdom to give you.” Haymitch tells her. “I can make something up. Or I can be honest; say that I’m here and I won’t leave. I will support whatever you decide and advise you as best I can. But right now there’s nothing else you can do.”

It is honest and raw, a truthfulness he’s so often shielded her from. It feels different. It feels good. “Thank you, for being honest.”

“From here on out, that’s how it’ll be.”

The words land like blows to her gut. “You still love me though?”

“I’ll always love you.” Haymitch says, without hesitation. “You didn’t always make it easy, but never once did I stop loving you. You’re it for me.”

She wriggles farther against him, melting into his arms with a smile. “I love you forever, Haymitch.”

“Mommy,” Arista’s little voice sounds, from the corner. “You’re talking in your sleep again.”

“No, baby. I’m talking to Daddy.”

“Can I talk too?” Arista perks up.

Haymitch chuckles, “come on. But you have to be quiet, your brother and sister are sleeping.”

Eventually sleep claims them all.

Y/N wakes in a tangle of arms and legs. Both of their older children have joined them.

Daisy begins to fuss, she needs to be changed and she’s hungry. So Y/N pries herself away, tending the baby and settling against the pillows of Everest’s empty bed to nurse her. She wails when Y/N pauses, mid feeding, to switch her to the opposite breast.

“I know,” Y/N cooes, “life’s hard, huh?”

Daisy pops open an eye to glare at her, as if she understands. Then latches on with a content sigh and stops kicking her little legs.

Y/N strokes a finger over the infant’s cheek. Unbidden tears well up in her eyes, swiped away before they fall. It is a blessing and a curse, to have pieces of your heart live outside your body.

When it comes time for breakfast, the five of them go together. They sit and try to enjoy this moment, enjoy their time together. Y/N and Haymitch walk Everest and Arista to school, in the lower levels.

The children introduce their parents to the few friends they’ve made. Only six other children reside here in thirteen, not including their own, or Prim. She’s working down in the hospital these days. Childhood has fleeted her.

Orders come, it’s time for Y/N to load up with Katniss and the others on the hovercraft. Haymitch walks her to the loading dock, Daisy sleeping in the wrap, against his chest.

“Soldier Abernathy,” Boggs greets her. “Glad you could join us.” He wasn’t thrilled with her performance in district eight. Following the mockingjay into harm’s way, without a second thought. Though she acted erratically, he sees now, there is no safer place for Katniss than by her side.

“Boggs,” she nods, in return. Then gives her husband a proper goodbye.

Haymitch smiles into the kiss. It is not hungry or desperate, but sweet, calming even.

“I’ll see you for dinner.” She waves as they separate.

“I’ll see you.”

————————————————————————

They break for lunch, after filming a propo in twelve. It’s mostly Gale, recounting what happened after Y/N’s warning was received.

Everything is gone, save for bones and rubble of what they once called home. The houses in Victor’s Village still stand, preserved from the attack. Y/N passes through her front door.

She ventures to Arista’s closet, opening one of the tubs at the bottom, full of clothing that no longer fits. The ones they saved, just in case. A white footed onesie that Everest and Arista wore as infants should be there. Eventually she gives up looking, it must’ve been moved. Perhaps something Haymitch dug out, in preparation and forgot to mention.

Y/N closes the door to Arista’s room, catching a whiff of something sweet, floral, from down the hallway. The room they’d hardly touched, meant for Daisy. She pushes the door open, the crib is assembled, the bedding in place, surrounded by a bed of crisp, white, roses. Lying against the mattress is the missing outfit.

Forever tainted by this memory. She takes it anyway, holding the soft fabric to her chest. It no longer smells of her sweet babies, or the soap she used to clean the onesie once they outgrew it.

Stuffing it into her bag to wash, Y/N takes their pictures, the baby books, as much as she can carry. She may never be back here, their memories are too important to lose.

When she meets Katniss and the others, down at the quarry, she’s not in the mood for small talk. Y/N takes a seat on the rocks, and chokes down her rations.

“What’s that?” Cressida nods toward the fabric peeking out of Y/N’s bag.

“Oh, it’s just um,” Y/N tucks it back in, “nothing.”

The director smiles. “Can I see?”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “sure.” She pulls the garment free, holding it up for inspection. “I’ve had it since my son was born, my oldest daughter wore it too, so I figured-”

“Did you make it?”

“No.” Y/N lowers her gaze, “it was someone else.”

“Where are they now?” Cressida wonders.

“I don’t know,” Y/N lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know if they’re even alive, or…” dead. “Either way I don’t think we’ll see each other again.”

Cressida nods, “it smells like the Capitol.”

“Reeks,” Y/N agrees, “needs to be washed.”

————————————————————————

“Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of hope, side by side with me.”

“That line used to be necklace of rope,” Plutarch informs the viewing room, as the newest propo of Katniss singing in district twelve, plays over the large screen. “I had it changed to necklace of hope.”

“Ah,” Haymitch raises his cup to the gamemaker. It’s full of nothing but water, still it feels familiar to have there. “You are a true wordsmith.”

“It’s a little on the nose, but of course, so is war.” Plutarch smiles.

“Every district is seeing this?” President Coin asks.

Gale’s message is strong, redeeming on Y/N’s behalf. It’s enough to win over the districts, without breaking whatever ties she holds with citizens of the Capitol.

“Yes, but not the Capitol.” Beetee frowns, “we’ll get there.”

Y/N nods. There was no time between supper with the kids and being called to this meeting in command.

Haymitch doesn’t know about the crib or the outfit, but he picked up the scent of roses from her bag. He knows something is off.

They are dismissed after a time. Again they wait, walking hand in hand to their living quarters. Haymitch moves for the touchpad to open the doors.

“Wait,” Y/N stops him. “There’s something I need to tell you…about the house. It’s still there.”

“I figured.” She wouldn’t have come back with things from inside if it was burnt to ash.

“Snow had the crib moved into Daisy’s room. He took the onesie Vanity made out of Arista’s closet and left it there.”

“That’s why it smells like that?”

“Yeah, the nursery was full of roses.”

“He doesn’t know,” Haymitch realizes.

“Know what?”

“If he knew her name was Daisy, he would’ve left daisies instead. He would want us to know that he knows. He’s fishing for information he doesn’t have.” Haymitch knows this game.

“So what do we do?” Y/N asks, turning worried eyes to her husband.

“We’re getting through to the districts, Y/N. We just have to wait him out.”

————————————————————————

Peeta’s final interview with Caesar does not air in the mess hall, like the others. Only higher ups in the command center are granted access. Y/N leaves the children with Madge. Rushing to meet Haymitch once the message reaches her.

The boy she once knew is broken, hollow. His eyes haunted by the horrors inflicted upon him. His voice trembles over each word. Oh, Peeta.

“Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Where they strung up a man, they say who murdered three.”

The image of Katniss cuts through his own.

“Katniss?” Peeta stammers, searching for her.

“He sees it.” Coin rejoices, “he sees our propo.”

“Katniss, are you there?”

Y/N moves closer to Haymitch, searching for his hand and finds it inching toward hers.

“Peeta.” Katniss whispers, a hand held to her belly as she crowds the screen. Desperate to offer a comfort she cannot give. I’m here.

“Peeta, please continue.” Caesar redirects him. “You were telling us about these savage attacks.”

Peeta nods, his thoughts clouded. Perhaps he had been seeing things, just imagining Katniss; the sound of her voice. “The attack on the dam was a callous and inhuman act of destruction.”

“The dead man called out…for his love to flee.”

Peeta sees her again, sitting up at the edge of his chair. He knows what he has to do. Even if they kill him for it. “Think about it. How will this end? What will be left? No one can survive this. No one is safe now. Not here in the Capitol, not in any of the districts.” He pauses, mustering the courage. “They’re coming, Katniss. They’re gonna kill everyone. And in district thirteen you’ll be dead by morning-”

The blow of Snow’s cane sends blood spattering across the screen. His features twisted in anger.

“That was a warning,” Haymitch says. President Coin is dense, he needs to be sure she understands.

Y/N rushes to Katniss, turning her away.

“They’re gonna kill him.” Katniss cries. “We have to get him out.”

“Shh,” Y/N hushes her. “We’re gonna get him.” She believes what she’s saying, she has to.

“Can you see anything?” Coin asks the patrol operator.

“Nothing on Doppler.”

“He was in the mansion, he could’ve overheard something.” The president reasons.

“Possibly,” Plutarch agrees.

“He wouldn’t just make it up,” Y/N snaps.

Alma mulls it over for a moment, “it’s time for an air raid drill.”

The alarms sound, immediately. “This is a code red alert, please remain calm and follow evacuation protocol. Proceed in an orderly fashion to the nearest stairwell and descend to level forty. Blast doors will be sealed in six minutes.”

Y/N is still holding Katniss as Haymitch closes the distance between them. “Take Katniss and I’ll meet you there.”

“Haymitch, no.” Y/N shakes her head. “I wanna come with you.”

Haymitch turns to Katniss, “Prim and your mom are down at the hospital, right?”

Katniss nods, tears welled up in her eyes and she cannot speak.

“Good, they’ll be waiting for you.” One less thing to worry about.

“Haymitch,” Y/N says again.

“Getting to Madge and the kids will take longer with three of us and you know it.” He’ll have to fight his way up through a crowd of people rushing down. “I need you to trust me.”

“I-” she wants to argue, but there’s no time. She has to trust him. “Ok.”

‘If you love something, you set it free or some bullshit like that.’

The furrow of his brow softens. The words come easier now, in the panic and the shouting; at the thought of losing her. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Y/N and Katniss go left, hands clasped together.

Haymitch turns right; and they lose each other in a sea of strangers.

Jack looked back, seeing the ship, he frowned before looking through his own scope "Bugger." You heard him hiss under his breath before turning and calling out to Gibbs "Prepare the canons!"

You ran up the stairs and over to him "You know who they are?"

"Yes." He said simply as he turned to you as he pulled out the map from his pocket and handing it to you "Go hide the map."

You met his eyes and realized "Oh." You muttered before grabbing it and turning and running down to his cabin as he yelled out orders to the rest of the crew.

As everyone began to run in various directions, preparing to flee, yet knowing we might have to fight, you got the map, rolling it up and hid it in a secret spot in his cabin. A spot only the two of you knew about.

Running back out onto the deck you staggered as a canon shot hit the back of the ship. Spinning around, you see the other ship gaining fast on the Pearl.

Grabbing your rifle and sword you prepared for a possible boarding as the ship began to get closer. "They're going to try and board!" You yelled out as you saw the men on the other ship carrying out planks.

"Get your weapons men!" Gibbs yelled out as he ran past.

You loaded your own rifle before you aimed and began to fire as the enemy pirates came into view. Seeing the ship up close, you now recognized it. Knowing full well the Captain of that ship hated Jack, and had been on Tortuga at the same time as you all. He must have learned you had a treasure map and came to claim it as his own.

As a shot hit the ship near you, you ducked before moving to hide behind the flag pole, loading and firing your gun again, you watched as Jack began to fire on the pirates as well.

Canon fire began to ring out from both ships as wood started flying, smoke and sparks covering the ship. Seeing some of the pirates begin to board the Pearl, you unsheathed your sword and ran to fight them.

Jack fired his pistol again as he looked down on the lower deck, seeing enemy pirates boarding. His eyes landed on you as you began to fight with another pirate. Quickly making his way down, he began to fire his gun again as well as unsheathing his sword to fight up close.

You hissed in pain as the pirate in front of you sliced the back of your hand with his blade. And as he smirked you took the moment to cut him down. After he fell, you spun around to fight more, suddenly your back met another's.

As you looked back to see who had pressed against you, you saw the side of Jacks face, as he looked back to meet your own "This treasure better be worth it Jack." You scolded.

He smiled "Of course it will be darling. I hope." He muttered the last part quietly, but still loud enough for you to hear.

You rolled your eyes as you began to fight a pirate that ran at you. Swinging your sword at him, you quickly took him down. Seeing another running at you from the side, you turned to fight, but watched as Jack quickly pulled out his pistol and shot him down.

Turning away, you continued to fight, seeing that the other pirate ship was being overtaken by your own crew. You watched as the enemy pirates began to retreat back to their own ship and you smirked, meeting Jack's eyes who smiled at you in return.

Your eyes grazed past him and to the other ship you were beginning to out-take, where your eyes landed on the familiar enemy Captain. Your eyes widened slightly as you saw the Captain raise his gun, ready to fire at Jack.

"Jack!" You yelled as you ran towards him.

His eyes widened in surprised as you did so, and as he turned to see what you saw, his own eyes widened in shock as his eyes met the other Captain glaring gaze. Just as he saw the rifle ready to fire at him, his body was suddenly thrown down.

As he hit the floor of the ship with a yelp, he looked up just in time to see the shot hit you in the shoulder. You staggered back in shock as your body hit the edge of the ship. Jacks eyes widened as everything seemed to move in slow motion as your body began to fall over the side of the ship. He caught one last look at your face, and he felt his heart seem to break as he saw your closed eyes and limp body disappear over the edge.

Before Jack really knew what he was doing, he found himself diving over the edge of the ship after you. His eyes focused on you as you seemed to slip deeper underwater as the waves crashed over you. Reaching out, his hand grabbed your own as he pulled you to him and toward the surface. His mind was racing with fear as he saw your blood flowing through the water from your shoulder.

- - - - -

As your eyes fluttered open, you realized quickly you were lying on a padded cot on a ship. It took another moment before you figured out you were still on the Black Pearl, and in Jacks cabin.

Looking over, you see Jack sitting at his desk, staring down at the compass, the map next to it. You wondered for a moment what it was pointing too. And as he looked over at you, and a smile crossed his face when he saw you looking at him. Part of you knew where exactly it was pointing.

"Hello, love." He smiled as he stood and walked over to you.

You sat up with a small groan, and leaned against the wall "Did we get away well enough?"

"Oh, yes. Had no doubt we would."

You thought back on what had happened before you blacked out, and you brought your hand to your shoulder, feeling a small pulse of pain. "I thought I went into the water?"

"You did." He said as he sat down next to you with a sigh "But you didn't very well think I'd let you drown now did you?" He asked with a slight amused tone.

You met his eyes, and for a moment thought you saw something else, pain, guilt, something that disappeared quickly as he hid it away. You felt a smile tag at your lips at your own surprised thoughts of Jack jumping in the icy waters to save you. You scooted forward, placing your feet on and ground, and looked down at your bandaged hand.

Seeing Jacks hand reach out and grab it, you looked back up at him, somewhat surprised. Looking back down at your hand, you watched as he lifted it gingerly. The bandage was beginning to fall off and Jack shook his head lightly "Tsk tsk. Gibbs was never very good at this." He said quietly as he unwrapped your hand.

You watched as he slowly began to re-wrap your hands. His usual coarse and unsteady hands moving slowly and smoothly, gentle as to not hurt you any further. You were almost astounded at how he was being, how gentle he acted, as though he could hurt you with any wrong movement.

"That was quite the decision you made, love, getting yourself shot." He said suddenly, though softly.

"Well it was better than you getting shot." You admitted.

You saw Jack frown slightly "You shouldn't worry that much about me, love, you'll get yourself killed doing that."

You let out a soft laugh "I always worry about you. And besides, you're my Captain Jack, the Pearl isn't the Pearl without you, it doesn't need me."

A small sad smile crossed Jack's face as he continued to look down at your hand. He had finished bandaging your hand, but continued to hold it in his own. "It wouldn't sit right with me if you got killed 'cause of me. And as for the Pearl." He looked up at the compass sitting on his desk before slowly looking over at you "The Pearl does need you, and it wouldn't feel right without you on board."

Your felt your heart pounding in your chest. Jack smiled as he felt your pounding pulse in your hand. He lifted your hand up to his face, and gently placed a kiss to the top of your hand, not hard enough to hurt you. Looking over at you, he met your eyes with a smile before his eyes fell to your bandaged shoulder. "I could kiss that one too if you'd like." He spoke with a flirty tone.

You smiled and shook your head with a light laugh, making him smirk at you. You glanced over at the compass on his desk "Jack. What does your compass point to?"

Jack looked over at his desk and smiled "The one thing I desire most." He answered, knowing that you already knew that. Meeting your eyes again, he brought up his hand and stroked the side of your face gently "And it's not the treasure that map leads too." He added on with a smile.

You smiled at him and tried to keep your heart from beating out of your chest "And I thought you were a pirate through and through. Treasure before anything else."

Jack tilted his head slightly as he stared at you with a small smirk "Treasure is not just gold and jewels love." He leaned in towards you, his eyes flicking to your lips as he stopped a mere inch from your face "Sometimes treasure is much more valuable." He nearly whispered before he leaned in all the way, pulling you into a kiss.

You brought your hands up to his chest as you leaned into him, his hand moving from your face to the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. Finally giving in to the one thing he really did desire the most. You.

xx

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They were sitting in silence on a roof in Knowhere, people-watching. They’d come there every afternoon since meeting after the defeat of the High Evolutionary. Having lived in Knowhere with the Guardians before the attack (his attack, ironically), y/n knew all the spots for when you needed a moment alone, & when they’d met, she could tell he was someone who needed that space to just be.

So she introduced him to her spot, & they’d been coming ever since. But Nebula had needed their help with a few tasks that afternoon, so their daily retreat was pushed later into the evening. By this time, the community was out in the streets, dancing & playing & having fun. Music & laughter filled the air, & the faint scent of liquor presented itself as everyone began to drink the night away. It was getting late & y/n was getting tired, so she scooted closed & rested her head on his shoulder.

Y/n felt him tense at the initial contact, before quickly relaxing and melting into it, laying his head on hers. After a couple minutes he spoke.

“Y/n, I… feel something.. when I’m with you.”

She looked up at him without moving from her position, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Hm?”

“Something.. warm. Tingly? I-I don’t really- how do I- it’s hard to explain…”

Y/n giggled at his flustered attempt to explain himself.

Adam sighed & tried again. “I.. care about you. A lot. But it’s different from the way I cared about my mother. Or Blurp. Like, I want to be with Blurp all the time & hug him & cuddle him, and I want to do the same with you, but in a different way. But I can’t explainhowit’sdifferentitjustknowthatits-”

“Adam!” y/n said with a laugh, stopping his rambling. She lifted her head from its resting place to look at him, amused. “Slow down!”

“See! When you smile at me like that I feel it!”

Y/n bit her lip to restrain the smile spreading across her face, her brows furrowed in thought.

“Can I try something?” She asked. Adam nodded.

“Do you feel it when I do this?” Y/n gently brushed a lock of hair away from his face. He nodded again, slower.

“What about.. this?” Y/n brought her hand down to his shoulder & dragged it down slowly to rest on his chest. She felt his heartbeat quicken.

“I feel it more now.”

Using her other hand, she grabbed his arm to raise it between them, and then placed her hand on his, gently interlacing their fingers. “This?”

His heartbeat quickened again and he nodded. A curious smile spread over his lips.

“I feel it right in my stomach.. almost like it’s.. like it’s fluttering. Like-”

“Butterflies.” Y/n said, finishing his sentence.

Adam nodded again, excitedly, like she’d just solved a puzzle he’d been stuck on for days. “Like butterflies!”

Y/n leaned in closer, resting their intertwined hands in his lap. “Adam, you like me,” she said with a teasing smile on her lips.

“Well yeah, you know I like you. I like most people. Except the ones I need to fight, which used to be you & our friends but now I like you guys.”

She chuckled and pressed her head against the nook of his neck, back resting on his chest, pulling his arm around her, fingers still locked together.

“No, Adam. I mean you like like me. Like, romantically.” She tapped his torso with her free hand. “That’s why you feel all warm and gooey inside when you’re with me, or when I touch you. You having feelings for me. Romantic feelings.”

“Romantic…,” he whispered to himself, then paused shortly. “Do you like me too? In the romantic way?”

Y/n felt his chest tense as his breathing hitched, anticipating her answer. He may not understand his feelings yet, but he knew he wanted her to feel the same way. She squeezed his hand softly in reassurance.

“Mhmm. I like you a lot.”

He eased beneath her & then was quiet for a moment, as if deep in thought, processing the new feeling he had just discovered.

Then he held her tighter, and she felt him smile as she melted into his embrace.

As you got on with your day, you worked thoroughly and quietly. Every once and a while your eyes rose up to the flowers perched on the desk. Each time, your heart fluttered, as you wondered who left them for you.

Hearing your phone buzz, you flipped it over, seeing a message from Steve. Your heart fluttered again as your ears burned a little hotter as you read the message.

'Did you like your flowers?'

'You left them?'

'Yes.'

'They're beautiful. Thank you Steve. But, what are they for?'

'I was thinking of you, and how stressed you've been, and I thought it might brighten your day, just a little.'

'More than a little. Thank you.'

As you pressed send, you looked back at the flowers. Steve had been thinking of you? That alone caused your heart to pound heavily in your chest.

Letting out a deep breath, you told yourself to think nothing of it. He was your friend, and he was kind, that was all.

Looking down at your phone as another message came through, your breath caught in your throat.

'I was also hoping you might be free for dinner tonight?'

'I'm free. Is something going on?'

You told yourself not to think too much of it, yet.

'No, I just wanted to see you, it's been a while since we've been able to spend some time together'

You couldn't help but focus on what was being said in between the lines. He wanted to see you, maybe there really was more to it.

'Sounds great to me.'

'Good.'

You found yourself smiling brightly as you sat at your desk, wondering just what he really wanted to say to you. The flowers, and now dinner. Maybe it wasn't so bad to hope there was something else going on.

xx

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“Hold him, Madge.”

“Aunt Madge, Aunt Madge, Aunt Madge!” The kids begin chanting.

“This is ridiculous.” The woman sighs, pushing hair back behind her ears, preparing to mount her sister’s husband.

“There she is.”

“Welcome home.” Madge says, staring down at her sister, the only one facing upward in all the chaos.

————————————————————————-

It’s odd; the first few weeks of seeing the other houses in victor’s village lit up at night. Odd that there are other victors after being alone for so long.

Katniss falls into her old routine, hunting, visiting the hob and spending time with Prim. Even Gale. She hides her struggles as best she can.

Prim, Everest and Arista play hopscotch on the pathway between their houses. She teaches Y/N and Haymitch’s children to milk her goat and churn the milk into cheese.

Peeta is adjusting to life with a missing limb. The bottom portion of his left leg now replaced with a prosthetic, after the damage done by the mutts was deemed irreversible. Still he bakes and paints, delivering tiny offerings of scones and cookies; to Katniss and his mentors.

“Mmm, mhm.” Haymitch takes a deep whiff of the sweets. “Thank you, Peeta.”

“You’re welcome,” Peeta nods, watching as the older man carts the tray away.

“You can… if you want to stay for dinner. Doesn’t have to be every night,” Y/N knows the relationship with his family is complicated. “Just whenever you want to drop by, you’re welcome to.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“We’d love to have you,” Y/N squeezes his arm. “Come on in.”

“Why not?” He shrugs, with a smile.

Together they walk toward the dining room. Haymitch has plopped the tray down in the center of the table, allowing Everest and Arista to have dessert before dinner.

“We’re not sticklers about the order of things.” Y/N explains, pulling out a chair for him. “Peeta, this is my kid sister, Madge. Madge, this is Peeta.”

“Nice to meet you.” The woman seated beside him holds out her hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Baby, how’s the ham coming?” Y/N calls to her husband, who’s preoccupied taste testing the cookies.

“There’s a ham?” Haymitch mumbles around a mouthful of food.

Y/N’s eyes bulge. “You forgot to put it in?”

“I’m messing with you.” Haymitch swallows, moving behind her chair to check on the main course.

“Terrible,” Y/N swats at him.

————————————————————————-

Enough time has passed that Y/N watches for the lights in the windows of both Peeta and Katniss’ houses; only concerned when she doesn’t see them now.

President Snow’s retaliation could come at any time. Haymitch tries to put Y/N’s mind at ease, reasoning that if he hasn’t done anything yet, he may not do anything at all. If the districts and the Capitol are invested in the star crossed lover’s story, he has nothing to be angry about.

“The tour is only two months away, maybe he’s waiting until then.” Y/N worries at a loose string on her nightgown.

“When are we gonna talk about this?” Haymitch breathes, they’ve been dancing around it for weeks now.

“Talk about what?” Y/N turns up her chin.

“What’s really going on.”

She hasn’t even begun to process it, can’t accept it, can’t speak about it. “Haymitch.”

“I’m sorry this isn’t what you wanted. But this isn’t going away. We have got to address it.”

It.

The tiny swell of her belly.

“You wanna discuss baby names?”

“I want to discuss this baby.”

Y/N allows tears to pool in her eyes. “I-” she breaks off at the feel of his hand resting against the bump through the thin material.

“You’re not ready to tell anyone and I understand that you need time. I will give you time. Hell, if you wanna pop this sucker out here in a few months, just you and me, great. But you have got to talk to me. Trust me.”

“I do trust you.” She whispers, resting a hand over his.

“Everything is going to be ok. I’m gonna make it ok.”

“Do you want to have another baby with me?” Y/N wonders, though the outcome will not change.

“I want everything with you.” Haymitch assures her.

“I love you. I never want you to think for a second that I don’t. I just wanted a little bit more time.”

“There is no shame in mourning the ability to do this on your terms. This is your body, your life and you deserve-” he stumbles over the words. “You deserve better.”

“So do you.”

The first two times…they’d been asked. A crisp white envelope with instructions inside. There was a warning. The shots from the Capitol stopped. There was understanding, time to prepare themselves. This is different. An ambush, a means to knock them down a peg.

And they can lie there, they can stay down. Or they can get their bearings and stand up.

————————————————————————-

“One hour until cameras, Peeta and Katniss are defrosting, Vanity should be here any second.” Y/N calls, closing the front door behind her and tossing her coat onto the rack. It’s quiet in their house, alarmingly so. “Haymitch?” She calls up the stairs.

It’s tour day.

“In here,” Haymitch replies.

Y/N follows the sound of his voice down to the living room. Something is off. She fluffs out the edges of her shirt as she walks. Sure to conceal the life growing within her. She is showing, but not enough for anyone to notice at a glance, in a loose fitting top.

Turning the corner, she is greeted by a peacekeeper on either side of the entryway. President Snow is sitting on their couch with the children and Haymitch. Enjoying the tea biscuits from Peeta.

“President Snow,” Y/N greets him with a smile.

“Hello, my dear. I hope you are well.”

He knows. He has to know. “Can’t complain. I hope the trip here was an easy one.”

Snow allows a slow grin to spread across his lips, “it was. So kind of you to ask.”

“Can I get you some tea to go with that?” Y/N motions towards the biscuit.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay long. I am only dropping by to give my best and congratulate you.”

“Congratulate me for what?” She wonders.

Snow cocks his head to the side, “your victors, of course. Speaking of, I really must be off to see Ms. Everdeen.”

“Should I accompany you?” Y/N chokes out against the rapid pounding in her chest.

“That won’t be necessary, after all you need to get ready. Your lovely children have never been on a victory tour. They are very excited.”

Her heart stops, the children were never meant to come. They are to stay here in twelve, with Madge, where it’s safe.

“I will see you all in the Capitol.”

————————————————————————

“Of all the last minutes alterations,” Vanity scowls, “I spent years designing these outfits, young lady. Years!”

“I know,” Y/N tries to suck it in, but there’s no way the zipper is going up.

“Can’t we let the seams out a little?” Haymitch asks, the top buttons of his matching ensemble hanging open.

“And you,” Vanity kicks at him. “This is all your fault. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“Oh, I did.” Haymitch chuckles, “enjoyed myself very much.”

Y/N smirks at him, shaking her head.

“Vanity?” Arista comes to tug at the bottom of her dress.

“What is it, my love?” She continues fussing over her victor, pinning a bit of fabric to the closure of her gown. They’ll just have to sew her in.

“Something is pinching.”

“Where?” The woman leans down to tend the little girl. Outfits for the children were not on her agenda, but she knows better than to arrive unprepared. Whipping up a dress and suit combination in a matter of minutes.

Arista points toward the right side.

“Oop, see there.” The stylist plucks a wayward sequin from the arm joint of her dress. “All better.”

She dashes off happily.

“She looks just like you.” Vanity gives a smile, gathering her needle and thread.

“Dad, I need help with the tie.” Everest charges in, silken fabric in hand.

“You know we’re just riding on a train, right?” Haymitch reminds V, looping his son’s tie around his neck. “You’re doing all of this for us to sit on a train.”

“Haymitch.” Vanity pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Honestly Y/N, you had your pick of the litter and this is who you chose… just beyond me.”

“You and me both.” Haymitch adds, finally they agree on something.

————————————————————————

“All aboard.” Haymitch helps his children over the threshold of the train first.

Madge is accompanying them, to help tend Everest and Arista. Y/N fought her on this of course, but Madge insists. I don’t want them around anyone we don’t trust. Her intentions are good, but Y/N hates that so much of their burden falls to her.

“Here comes my nanny,” Haymitch teases. “The girl on fire, the baker’s boy.”

This goes on for a while until it’s Y/N’s turn to board.

“They always save the best for last,” Haymitch remarks, helping her up.

Y/N kisses his cheek, “thank you.”

When Haymitch turns around, Katniss is right there. “Jesus, sweetheart. Almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I-” Katniss looks desperately around Haymitch to Y/N. “I need to talk to you.”

“Ok,” Y/N nods. “Haymitch will get everyone settled and we’ll talk,” stepping past her husband. “Come on, let’s go.” Y/N leads her to the back of the train, with the big window.

Katniss takes it all in, the mountains of district twelve illuminated by the setting sun. “It’s beautiful.”

“Best seat in the house.” Y/N agrees, making herself comfortable on the cushioned bench, “in my opinion, anyway.”

When Katniss does find a place next to her, she can’t find the words. “I’m sorry,” is all she can say.

“For what?” Y/N’s brows pull together.

“For the berries, for winning, for Snow taking it out on you.”

“Katniss-”

“I know you don’t blame me, you’re too good a person.” That’s why it’s always harder to go to Y/N than Haymitch.

“I place blame where it’s due.” Y/N corrects her, “and this is not your fault.” Not her fault that the children must accompany them, not her fault that the Capitol sent placebos instead of contraception.

“He said…the people in the districts don’t believe our love story. He told me I need to make them believe. You’re good at it; making people believe what you say.” That’s why it has to be her. “I thought maybe you could help me.”

Y/N rests a hand on top of Katniss’. When I was your age, I would’ve given anything for someone to help me. “Of course I’ll help you.”

~

three months and seventeen days.

it’s been a month and thirty eight nights since enjolras came home drunk and you had that encounter with him in the living room, the touch of his hand on your face still burns on your skin like hot gold melting. when you touch your jaw, you don’t feel your fingers, you feel his. you stopped watching him sleep because the only thing you can think of when you hear him breathe is how it felt against your lips. you can’t stare at his hands without seeing the scar, a reminder of that night forever carved on his body. his body.. you shouldn’t think of his body.

the morning of the following day, something changed. you woke up earlier than him and made breakfast for the both of you quietly as he slept in. he woke up an hour later and was barely able to sit up on his own. you wanted to offer him help but decided against it, mistakes made last night were enough, you thought. he managed to get up and take a shower and once he got out of it, you noticed that he still had your little burgundy scarf wrapped around his hand expect this time it was wrapped less neatly which only meant one thing; he unwrapped then rewrapped it. he didn’t question where the scarf came from but he must’ve known it wasn’t his so he either just assumed one of his mates gave it to him or he remembers.

whether he remembers or doesn’t, you don’t know which one to pray for.

the next peculiar thing that happened that morning was something that didn’t happen.

preprertually when he gets drunk, he apologizes the next morning even though he’s done nothing wrong, he always apologizes in case he did. it was like clockwork with him, something that never changed despite the happenings of the pervious night. this morning, he didn’t apolgize. he just treated you as if nothing happened at all, he didn’t question the scar on his hand or the scarf. he didn’t ask if you slept okay, he didn’t do a thing. he seemed.. normal.

your mind nearly wandered off, thinking if he can still feel your face settled on his palm, lingering between the lines the way you could still feel every callous, every rough edge of his fingertips covering your skin like holy veil from paradise but you caught it before it could because why question something you already know the answer to? he doesn’t remember and if he did, then he doesn’t care. last night ended the second you locked yourself in your room. you’ll never experience it again. you blew things out of proportion and now you're blue. all you have is the memory of whatever it is you shared with him in the dark.

a memory he doesn’t have.

today’s another weekend so you prepared yourself to spend the night alone as you usually do. clean up, read a book or two while you stay up waiting for him to return from wherever so important that keeps him out every weekend. you thought that time would be the last time you waited, truly believed you’ll be able to fall asleep by yourself knowing he’s not laying on the other side of the wall but for whatever reason, you couldn’t. you wanted to fight it but knew you’d get defeated so why start something you wouldn’t win? the stupidity you felt for thinking he cared for a split second was enough of a loss for a lifetime. it was a moment of vulnerability, you can’t risk vulnerability.

just as you settled in to start your new book, you heard a key turn in the door and it got you alerted quickly because unless enjolras came home eight hours earlier than he usually would, your house was being broken into.

the thought depressingly made you happy, maybe today’s your lucky day.

you watched the door open and what you saw behind it confused you more than any thought you could’ve had just as it had terrified you.

enjolras had came home eight hours earlier than he usually would except he came home bloodied and bruised. his clothes stained with the same red spread on his face. the skin on one of his knuckles look busted and raw while the other one is wrapped with your little burgundy scarf. he looks like he came back from hell if hell had iron fists.

“enjolras.. what happened?” you stand up from your spot on the couch, your voice void of the fear in your heart. he might’ve killed someone or could’ve been killed, you think.

your question rings in his ears with the events of only a few minutes ago playing back in his head, they have been for his entire walk home.

he went to the pub like every weekend, sat in the same booth with his mates like every weekend, ordered the same drinks and shared the same conversation like every weekend. nothing out of the ordinary happened, not until he showed up.

enjolras has seen your father in the pub over a handful of times when he goes there, it wasn’t strange given that it was the closest and the cheapest one around. your father rarely acknowledged his presence, too drunk to recoginze his own ass from his elbow.

that didn’t happen tonight.

your father didn’t go to his usual table with his old good for nothing friends, instead he walked up to enjolras’ and sat on the wobbly chair like a king on a throne demanding to be served as if he owns the place and everyone under its roof.

confused stares were shared between the men around the table until enjolras spoke up, “what are you doing here?”

“same thing as you. escaping the mad hag who lives in my house.”

he isn’t even sitting the closest to enjolras yet he can still smell his rotten breath from a distance, a disgusting waste of a man, he thinks and shakes his head deciding it’s best not to indulge in conversation with him, knowing it’ll only enable him to say more vile things.

“remind me, what was your name again?”

“enjolras.”

“enjolras.. you’ve fucked my daughter right?”

this question was the start of the wildfire within him, the smallest flame that slowly spread wider and wider. he felt an unfathomable wave of rage and an immense need to defend you from the very man who should’ve felt these two things. it was no surprise, he’s already had an image of what your father is like painted solely by the way you spoke and behaved cautiously around him.

“don’t speak of my wife.” he warned.

your father laughed, sitting back in his creaking chair. “your wife..” he said mockingly “is my daughter.” he took another long sip of his drink before continuting, “the least you could do is tell me if she’s got a good cunt since i’m the one who made it. i sh..”

he couldn’t finish his sentence before enjolras knocked the words out of his mouth.. along with two of his decayed teeth.

silence filled the room, gasps were the only thing interrupting the immediate tension but quickly they were followed by footsteps

then curse words

then yelling

then punches

then bones breaking

until the only thing that could be heard was the sound of blood dripping to the floor and the gossip leaving people’s mouths as the exit the pub in pure terror of the bloodbath they’ve just witnessed and shock of how wrath can drive one man to do the damage he did to triple the number of him.

they’ve only seen him get this furious over two things, the revolution and now you.

“nothing happened, i’m alright” he’s many things but at the top of that list, he’s a terrible lair.

“sit down” you order him after pulling a chair open and he drops on it with a heavy sigh, “wait here? please?” he looks at you with a frown but nods anyway as you head to gather a bowl of water, some clean towels and bandages then make your way back to him.

you find him touching his jaw and lowly groaning as he turns his head to the side and you just stare for a few seconds, unaware of where you should start cleaning him up and having a moral fight with your own head as it screams that he looks pretty even when covered in his and possibly other people’s blood. “how bad does it hurt?”

“it doesn’t hurt, i said i’m alright.” he says, his eyes not meeting yours making the bruise on his eyelid more visible.

a rush of protectiveness laced with slight annoyance flood into you. he’s so frustrating. “you’re bleeding from everywhere and your hands are busted, you’re not alright so stop being hard headed and talk to me.” you tell him sternly and his eyes finally flutter open and stare at you, preplexed.

why’d you want him to talk to you? it’s not like you.. care. maybe in his fantasy you do but this wasn’t that. this is real life and in real life, he’s just as important as a bug to you. “it hurts a lot but i am alright. nothing feels.. broken.” still he answers.

you bring your hand up, silently asking if it’s okay to hold his face and you do once he nods, cleaning the left side of his jaw while holding his stubbly chin to keep him still. he flinches when the wet towel makes contact with his face. “i’m taking you to a doctor tomorrow”

“that’s not ne..”

“i’m taking you to a doctor tomorrow. end of it.” cutting him off, you turn his face to the other direction and notice that his right side is nearly spotless.

“yes ma’am.” he mutters with a light chuckle, still in a daze about why you’re doing this. maybe the you from fantasy isn’t that different than the you in real life afterall? no.. it can’t be. that girl is warm, sweet, caring and most significantly, she loves him and she doesn’t exist.

“my father did this to you, didn’t he?” your voice brings him back to earth from his thoughts and his confusion only grows.

“how d..”

“you threw the first punch, he fought back and you nearly knocked him out so his brainless sheep stepped in for him then you were one man fighting six?” you say as if you’re telling a story and you are. a story of what had happened.

“how did you know..” he asks, watching you dip the towel in water and reach for his hand, the unwrapped one. the skin where you’re touching him feels already healed. no more pain. no more fire. it feels brand new.

“you got punched on the left side of your face, my father’s left handed and the damage on your body can’t be done by one man so it must’ve been multiple. he doesn’t fight fair.” you explain how you figured it out and you don’t flinch once. your voice never shakes and you don’t stop cleaning up his busted hands. you seem like you’ve.. dissociated from all feelings.

“no he doesn’t.” he confirms your suspicion, a little alarmed that you got it all too well but not surprised. only god knows of the things you’ve lived through.

“did you hurt him?”

enjolras looks you in the eye for the second time that night. he expected to see sort of hurt or anger despite them lacking in your voice but there was nothing. you’re just as cold as the water that’s stained with blood now. “he deserved it. that’s all you need to know.” he tells you, keeping it brief, not really wanting to go into details of how he was on the verge of murdering your father with nothing but his bare hands.

of course he deserved it. that’s not what you need to know. “oh i know he did. i just want to know he’s hurt.”

“he is.” enjolras says without skipping a beat and he could swear he saw the faintest hint of emotion cross your face, relief.

the only thing held you back from cracking a smile is the regret that you weren’t there to see it. to see him get hurt, to see him feel pain like never before. “yeah? how bad?”

your question doesn’t alarm him one bit. “lost some teeth, broken nose, probably a broken jaw, sure damage to some of his internal organs and.. more things.” he says and you can tell that this isn’t even half of it. no wonder his hands are this messed up.

“do you knuckles hurt?” you ask, setting the clean, now bandaged one on the table and reaching for the one wrapped in your cloth, the cloth he seems to take everywhere now.

he stares at his hands for a second, admiring the work you’re doing before speaking. “they’re okay now.” he watches you unwrap his hand and reveal that it’s in worse shape than the prior one. it looks like chopped meat, he flinches at the sight of it but you don’t even blink or say a thing. “are you mad with me?”

“why would i be mad?”

“i beat up your father and you didn’t even ask why.” he states.

“you said he deserved it.” nonchalantly, you clean up his hand like it’s nothing, images of your father’s face being in a worse condition cross your mind and joy fills up your heart. maybe you should pay him a visit tomorrow, check up on your old man and all.

“and you’ll just take my word for it?”

looking back at enjolras, it sinks in. he’s still a stranger so it’s no wander that your reaction to this whole thing is baffling to him. he can only assume so much when he knows so little. “my father.. he’s not a good person.” you pause, debating on whether you should tell him or not but looking at his state, it’s only right if he knew. he earned it. “he used to hurt my mother so terribly that she’d leave the house, leave him to hurt me instead. he used to..” you interupt yourself, deciding that’s a conversation for another time or a never time. “the day he told me about you, he said if you hurt me and i go back to his house, he’d kill me then he made me thank him for keeping me alive up til this age.” now it’s your eyes that don’t meet his. you need to stop, he didn’t ask for this. “he starved me for three days before the wedding, said there’s no point in feeding me anymore that i won’t serve him.” there’s no point in speaking to him, he’ll only use this information against you one day, you’ll regret this. the heathen in the back of your mind righteously screams. “he threatened to sell me to a brothel since the day i turned twelve. there were days when i wished he would because at least then i’d be treated like shit by strangers and wouldn't see him again.” you’re being vulnerable, you’re being vulnerable, you’re being vulnerable, “he’s an awful father and an awful man.” you can’t risk vulnerability. “besides, your word has been more than enough so far so i don’t see a reason not to trust it.” the heathen stares with pure fury and disappointment and you can’t blame it. you’ve done the thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do. you can’t trust him. “you’re all good.” you tell him after you’re done cleaning and bandaging his hand only to look down and see that he has yours engulfed in his much bigger one. it doesn’t burn this time.

everything goes quiet. you’d question the silence that has taken over your mind but any trace of thought has escape you.

“thank you” he breaks the silence after five seconds or five years, time is irrelevant when you feel immortal.

“it’s nothing.”

“no i mean thank you for talking to me.” he responds quickly, letting you know that he’s not speaking of you bandaging him up. “i don’t know half of what you’ve been through but i know it’s a lot. so much more than a young girl should go through. i can’t give you back the time you lost but i can give you a new time, a time where he doesn’t exist.” that would be nice, god it be wonderful, you think. your eyes glued to your hand in his, examining the way his thumb is circling around your knuckles. “he can’t hurt you anymore, i promise you that. i’ll lay down my life if that’s what it takes. he won’t hurt you again.” he sounds sincere, you want to believe him with everything in your being but that heavy fiend is screeching that you can’t, still it sounds muffled. right now, all you can hear, all you can feel is him. “and i won’t hurt you, ever.” nothing else exists, there’s just him. him whose praying to all and any divine power above that you believe not his words but his doings. “i know you’re probably still scared of me, we’re still strangers but i.. i’m not your father and you’re not your mother. history isn’t going to repeat itself, not this time, not with us.” us. there’s an ‘us’ now. who know a word so small can hold enough weight to make you break? “i meant it when i said you’re safe here. you’re safe with me.”

he’s crossed so many lines, said too much and destroyed all the limits the both of you spent months marking and making. in this moment, it’s all gone. there’s only you and him. there’s only us.

you didn’t realize your eyes were filled with tears until one dropped on his thumb and you go to wipe your eyes with your unoccupied hand but he beats you to it except he doesn’t wipe your tears, he just rests his palm on your cheek. he doesn’t tell you to stop, he doesn’t ask for a reason. your emotions may scare you but they don’t scare him. he just lets you cry.

“c.. can.. can i..” you stutter, motioning down at his lap and he understands what you’re asking for right away. it bewilders him at first but he understands it as the realization hits him and for the first time that night, he felt scared.

you’ve never been held before.

“yeah.. it’s okay, come here.” he mutters, sitting back in the chair and spreading his legs wider to give you more space before opening his arms. his hands don’t reach out for you, they stay exactly where they are. one holding yours and the other remains tenderly on your face. he doesn’t pull you in, he doesn’t make a move. he waits for you to do that, to do what you wanted at your own pace, to your own accord, with your own will.

he just watches you with no judgement, no expectations. just his honeyed eyes sparkling and his patience.

you watch him too. watch how he sat back to make himself more comfortable for you, how he opened his arms but didn’t let go of your hands. his thumb kept circling your skin. he was silently telling you that you can still back out and nothing will change. he won’t take away the little comfort you’ve allowed him to give if you change your mind.

this is wrong.

but he’s different..

no he’s not, you’re just a fool.

a few seconds can’t hurt.

you don’t know that.

neither do you.

contemplating the options in your head, you go back and forth with the great war in your mind. a winless one at that. the devil on your shoulder doesn’t want to win, he just wants you to lose at any cost. you’re unsure of what you’ve got left to lose. in retrospect, no matter how bad this gets, the worst is over.

your knees buckle in, you close your eyes as you allow your body to rest on top of his thigh, the voices in your head scream more ferociously the more you let yourself loosen up but with each passing second they get more and more distance until they’re just echos in the backroom of your mind.

even with you on his lap, he still doesn’t make a move.

still just watching you sniffle, watching the tears flow down your face flawlessly, watching the way you eye his shoulder and cursing himself for the blood on his shirt as you lay your head on it, as soft as velvet and as light as a feather. he watches you shiver then let go of his hands to wrap your arms around yourself and that’s where he reaches his breaking point.

“would you like me to hold you?” he murmers, a voice of gentle you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t so close to him.

you nod, mouthing a ‘yes’ and feel the flesh of his arms embrace your body, one hand on your back and the other lost in your hair. bringing your head closer into the crook of his neck where he leaned his own head down onto yours, whispering, “it’s okay, let it out. you’re alright darling, it’s all good.”

he squeezes you, not too tight that you can’t breathe but tight enough you feel secure being vulnerable with the presence of another person without feeling like a liability.

“you’re safe.”

~