log: everlark WHO: Peeta and Katniss Mellark WHEN: Backdated to like ... a while ago. Around the time when Finnick and Annie were showing off their ultrasound WHERE: Their room! WHAT: Katniss is freaking out about the possibility of ever having children, and tells Peeta that she never wants to have kids — which is the exact opposite of what Peeta wants. WARNINGS: N/A
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Children. Babies. They were everywhere.
Normally, Katniss wouldn’t have minded. She had a soft spot for the young and the innocent, but that part of her was raw and vulnerable. She was still battling, every day, not to fall apart over Prim’s death. Most of the time she was doing alright, because Peeta was here, because Finnick had Annie again, and this place wasn’t so bad.
But she couldn’t stop staring at the picture of Tristan growing in Annie’s womb. And every time she thought about it, she felt petrified with terror for such a tiny, fragile life form in this harsh, dangerous place. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be reaped for the Games, but that didn’t guarantee his safety. There had already been war, battles, and murder. She still couldn’t understand how anyone from their world could consider having children, much less face the reality of it, without being paralyzed by fear.
She wasn’t going to ask Finnick, of course. He was afraid, she knew he was, but he was pretending everything was fine and she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin that for him. She could pretend not to be afraid for his sake, too, but he wasn’t here. She was in her own room, in her pajamas, sitting on the edge of her bed. There was no one here to see her fear, except - except for Peeta.
But she didn’t really want him to see it, either. That thought brought her out of her reverie, and she turned off the tablet, setting it down a little too quickly on the bedside table. She lifted her hands to her braid, instead, and started to undo it, brushing her fingers through the dark waves to separate them from each other.
--
Peeta didn't know what to think about Annie's baby. He really didn't. He didn't want to think about what would happen to Finnick if she disappeared from here, or what would happen to Annie if Finnick left. It was bad enough that Annie had to live without him in their world; they were living on borrowed time and taking advantage of this chance, and that was good. It wasn't safe here, though. They were safe from the Capitol, they were in a kind community, but there were plenty of dangers.
Still, people seemed to get around it. There were children here being cared for, being taught. He couldn't imagine growing up underground, but the people here were kind. It was a good community to be born into.
He already knew he wanted one of his own. Maybe two. Maybe not here, maybe not for a long time, but he had to admit that he looked at Annie and Finnick with a little twist of envy. Annie and Finnick were able to survive and be stable enough to have a child together — was that ever going to be possible for him and Katniss?
"Hey," said Peeta as he stepped back into the bedroom. He was fresh from the bathroom after a shower, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt and drying his hair with a hand towel. Without long pants, it was easy to see the articulation in his artificial leg, the sleek and sophisticated Capitol design.
He frowned a little when he saw her. "You all right…?"
--
Katniss looked up when he entered. Despite all her worries, the sight of him tugged at her heart and made the cold grip of fear recede a little. It also took away some of her defenses, because she wasn’t in the habit of keeping anything from him anymore, and when she saw his frown, she realized how transparent her expression must be. She looked away, quickly, her fingers fumbling a little. But she got her braid undone, and her hair fell down around her shoulders.
“I’m fine,” she said, avoiding his gaze. The lie left a bad taste in her mouth, but she really hadn’t gotten to the bottom of what was bothering her. There was something else, something to do with him, that her mind was trying to avoid thinking about. Ideally, she’d have gone somewhere else to clear her head, but that would have to wait. “Just tired.”
--
"Just tired?" Peeta reached out to touch her hair, gently sifting his fingers through the strands. He'd learned how to braid her hair the way she liked it, and sometimes he could sit for half an hour just brushing her hair out at night. Intimacy came from more than just sex, and Peeta found little ways to touch her and be close. He brushed her hair, sometimes he'd doodle on her hand and arm with a pen or a little paint.
"You can talk, if you want to," he said. "I've been told I'm a good listener." He smiled faintly. Things had been a little tense since he'd woken up and forgotten where he was and what she meant to him, and he'd finally admitted that his bad days were worse than she'd known.
--
His touch was the most comforting thing in the world, but right now it made her heart ache. Katniss leaned into it anyway, lowering her own hands to her lap as she let him take over. She closed her eyes, and willed herself not to cry.
Words came out of her instead of tears, and she wasn’t really sure if that was better or worse. “I can’t have kids,” she said, her voice hoarse and rough and quiet. “I can’t.”
--
Peeta frowned. He dropped his towel on the floor and sank down to sit beside her. "What?" he asked. "Was this something the doctor told you?"
--
“No,” Katniss answered. She almost wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t really funny. If she were infertile, she wouldn’t be upset, she’d be… well, maybe not entirely relieved. But the fear of being pregnant and being responsible for a life she’d personally created wouldn’t be hanging over her head anymore, and she didn’t think she would have missed the weight of it.
She opened her eyes to look at him, and almost immediately wished she hadn’t. Raising her hands, she rubbed at her eyes with her fingertips. “No, I don’t mean… physically. I probably could. Or maybe not, after everything. I don’t know.”
--
Peeta's heartbroken expression began to shift to something like confusion. She couldn't have kids. Physically, yes, but … what, mentally? Mentally, she couldn't handle it?
"I…" He searched her expression, uncertain as to whether Katniss's reaction was simply a response to Annie's happiness or if she had a concrete reason to be afraid. If she hadn't said I probably could he would have thought that she'd just found out she was pregnant. She shouldn't be — they were careful. They hadn't been, for a while, but they were careful now.
"Hey." He reached out, taking her hand. "We're not talking about that now," he said. "We don't have to talk about it. Finnick and Annie are older than us, we don't have to even think about it."
Comforting her by delaying the conversation was easier than telling her how badly he wanted children. She was afraid now, of course she was. Maybe in a few years, she wouldn't be.
--
“All of them,” Katniss whispered, as if she hadn’t heard him, “Every one I’ve cared about, they’re dead. Or,” she added, thinking of Tristan, “their parents are.”
He didn’t understand. She knew he didn’t. This was an old, old fear, born from years of watching other people’s children die on screen. She’d been so determined never to let it happen to her, but the children she’d loved had died anyway. Rue. Her sister. Even Baelfire was going to die, though he wasn’t really a child, and he would get to grow up first, but she still couldn’t help thinking of him as a little boy. And Tristan… he was going to grow up without his father, at home. She knew how painful that was.
And none of those children were even hers, much less hers and Peeta’s. What were a few years going to do to get rid of that kind of fear?
--
Peeta squeezed her hand and gently ran his fingertips over her palm. When he found he didn't know what to say and the silence stretched on for a little too long, he leaned around her in order to find her hairbrush.
He gathered her hair and ran the brush through it, smoothing tangles and careful not to tug. "Do you want to talk about what scares you?" he asked. It was the kind of thing Dr. Aurelius would have asked him, questions to make him talk rather than telling him what to do.
--
It was on the tip of her tongue to retort that she already had. She was afraid that if she had children, they’d die, or she would die on them. What else was there to talk about? What was there to say that could possibly make her feel better about that?
But even as she thought it, she knew it was more than that. The part she’d been trying to shut out couldn’t be avoided any longer, and with it, a feeling of emptiness and stillness. She hadn’t even noticed that she’d been trembling a little until she stopped. She stared at the floor, listening to the faint sound of the brush moving through her hair.
She didn’t really need him to tell her how he felt about it. There had always been some truth to the lies he’d told the Capitol about them. That they’d married in secret. That she was pregnant. Neither of those things had been real, but he’d thought about them when he thought about her: all the things that he wanted. If she'd needed confirmation of that, it had been in his expression a few moments ago, and in the careful way he was talking to her now, trying to fix her fears. There was almost nothing she wouldn’t do for him, but this… she couldn’t do this.
Her arms curled around herself, protectively, and she shook her head.
--
"Okay," Peeta said, as evenly as he could.
They didn't have to discuss this now.
He didn't know if she'd change her mind, or if she'd want to talk about it later, but Peeta knew from experience that some things just couldn't be talked about right away. He avoided talking about what happened in the Capitol because he was afraid to face a lot of it and didn't know what would happen if he opened himself up to those feelings again. She didn't need to talk about this yet.
But one day they would. One day they'd be older, and they'd want to talk about starting a family, and Peeta knew it would be important one day. If he wanted children, and Katniss didn't, could they survive that? It was their entire future. Even questioning that now, as he brushed her hair, he already knew that he would give that up for her. Keeping her was more important than anything else, wasn't it? Even children.
At least, it seemed that way now. Peeta often felt like he'd give up everything for her. He'd certainly been willing to give his life, multiple times. Dying for her sake had felt easy, so what was this in comparison?
After being so certain about his own death and feeling like his life was worth nothing, he was finding it difficult to make it feel worth something again.
"We made the world a better place," he said finally. "Why can't we feel good about living in it?"
--
Katniss turned her head to look at him. “Did we make it a better place?” she asked, quietly. “I have trouble believing that. But maybe that’s because I haven’t seen it… after.”
She shifted on the bed and leaned into him, pressing against his side, her head on his shoulder. He was the only thing about the world after the war that she felt certain about, that she knew was good. If he believed the world was a good place… maybe she’d believe it too, eventually.
This was another race between them, she realized. Another way in which one of them would sacrifice something for the other. Either she would overcome her fears for him, or he would give up his hopes for her. She had been so determined to win last time, when they’d thought one of them had to die so the other could live. Deciding to die for him was easy, when it came down to it. This felt impossibly hard. But maybe someday, years from now, she’d manage it. Maybe.
In the meantime, what did she tell him? Did she give him a little bit of hope, even knowing that she might disappoint him later? Or let him feel disappointed and sad about it now, thinking that it would probably never happen, to be pleasantly surprised if she did manage to come around?
When she thought about it like that, the answer was simple. If she could spare him the disappointment and upset at all, she would. She didn’t know what her answer would be later, but she had to give him the most hopeful one she could manage right now. He had spent too much time hurting because of her already, and she had promised herself that she would spare him as much as she possibly could. But even summoning the courage to say maybe was more than she could manage right away.
Her arms relaxed from around her own waist, and she curled a hand into his shirt, turning her head to press her face into the warmth of his neck and shoulder. He was always so steady, comforting her simply by existing, and it loosened the grip of icy terror on her heart just the slightest bit.
“If it really is better,” she said finally, “Then… I don’t know. I might believe it someday, enough to…” Fear made her throat close over, and she had to stop for a moment. In a strained voice, she continued, “But it’s going to take me a long time, Peeta. A long time. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever even thought about doing.”
--
"Okay," Peeta said quietly. It was easy to say okay to her. He could wait. He could even wait years. This place wasn't safe yet, and back home, that had yet to be seen.
"But … it's better," he insisted. "The world is better because of us. You have to believe that. Maybe it's not perfect, Katniss, but you … I mean, everyone who rebelled, and people who rebelled because of you — we ended the Capitol. Nothing like the Games will happen again. We might not be perfect at first, but we're not going to let it happen again."
He frowned. "You don't think that's true?"
--
Fear made it so hard to think about anything, and the fragility of a child’s life was a hundred times more terrifying than any danger to herself, which was bad enough. She and Peeta had already endured so much; she didn’t understand how he was able to feel so hopeful, after everything.
But then, that was why she loved him. And it was the reason why she could consider even the slightest possibility of having children someday.
She had to let that thought go, for now. She stayed where she was for a long moment, holding onto him and listening to him, until the tightness in her chest had loosened enough for her to breathe again.
“I don’t know,” she said, finally. “We ended the Games, but that doesn’t mean everything is safe.”
There could still be murder, danger, violence, and war. There could be another president like Snow - or rather, Coin - who would find their own subtler ways of controlling Panem. And yes, people would fight back, but that was still fighting. Killing. Bloodshed. More innocent lives lost. Maybe eventually Panem’s wars would become nuclear, and then their world would be a wasteland. Just like this one.
--
Peeta frowned. "Maybe it does," he countered, a little more forcefully. "If it doesn't, then what did we fight for? What did Finnick die for?"
He pulled back a little more to look at her. He had his damage, he had his fears, and he didn't consider himself to be much of an idealist, but they'd all looked to Katniss to be the leader of their rebellion, to be a symbol. Maybe Katniss had been thrown into that role, but how could she not understand it?
"People died for this," he insisted. "They fought back against the Capitol to make things better. They fought for future generations, for their children, so they'd never end up in the Games again. They gave up their lives, willingly, on the belief that they could make things better. How can we say it's all for nothing, or that it doesn't matter? We have to make it matter. The people who are still alive have to make sure it matters."
--
Katniss didn’t know what to say to him. She knew other people believed that, believed in the cause, believed in her. She did believe that Snow’s death, Coin’s death, the end of the Games had been the right thing. But the reminder of Finnick’s death, and so many other people’s, felt like a knife driven deep into her gut and twisted.
So many lives had been lost. Not all of them had been fighting. And even for those who had, the nobility and bravery and righteousness of their choices didn’t change the fact that they were dead. It reminded her of the speeches that had been made about her by Coin and Snow, when both had thought she was dead. It was just propaganda all over again, glossing over the gore and horror and blood to desensitize them. Katniss was desensitized enough to kill anyone who posed a threat to her, even if they were unarmed, but she would never get over the barbarity and carnage of everything she’d seen.
The world was better, but she was broken, and horribly, impossibly sad. “We also have to grieve them,” she said, quietly, her voice coming out raw with emotion. “And remember how awful it was that they died.”
But she had taken a point, even if it wasn’t quite the point he’d been trying to make. Whether or not the world was a better place, she didn’t have it in her to do anything about it. Maybe the knowledge that they’d changed the world would be enough for the dead - although she didn’t think it was really enough for Finnick - but there were some who would have cared that she felt safe, that things improved for her. Like Boggs, and Prim. Oh god, Prim.
It took all of her willpower not to break down right then. She had to find a way to put herself back together. Peeta’s way of thinking about the world, believing in the good that they’d done despite the war and the losses, wasn’t going to work for her. She’d have to find her own way.
--
Peeta wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. "We're going to be okay," he murmured. "And the world is going to be better. And we don't have to do anything right now. We just have to be us. The rest of the world is left to everyone else. And we get to rest. You get to rest." He kissed her hair and gave her a tight squeeze.
"We're done."
They didn't have to shoulder the burden of rebuilding the world. They'd taken it down, so of course they felt responsible for building it up, but they were barely adults. It couldn't be placed on their shoulders.