Chapter 94

Peeta

"Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend somewhere alone in the bitterness. And I would have stayed up with you all night, had I known how to save a life." -The Fray

Katniss and I head upstairs silently after the broadcast."Um," she says nervously. "You know, I'm going to go check on Willow. Just to make sure she's asleep still." I nod and stand in the hall, leaning against the wall and watching as she walks into Willow's room quietly.

I hear her soft footsteps and then it's quiet for a moment. They return again and Katniss comes out of Willow's room a few seconds later. She shuts the door slowly and nods, letting me know that our daughter sleeps silently in her bed.

"Everything okay?" I ask."Seems like it. If she was awake at all, she fell back to sleep." Katniss whispers. She takes the lead back to our room and I watch as she undresses and tries to find pajamas to put on.I try to pretend that I'm not still in awe of how beautiful she is, but it's useless.

"What are you staring at?" She asks defensively."You." I reply, smiling."Ugh, stop! You know I hate that." She replies."Yeah, but you're just so beautiful I can't help but stare." I say."Peeta, you've seen me like this for, what, 10 years now? Aren't you used to it?" She asks me, covering her chest and her stomach defensively.

"I'll never get used to it. I'll never get used to you. It doesn't matter how many years it's been. You get even more beautiful every day." I reply."Oh, stop!" She replies. I can see her cheeks blush through the dim light.I laugh a little."I'm not kidding!" She says, but she starts laughing a little too.

"Maybe you should sleep like that tonight." I suggest."Only if you do, too." She fires back."I prefer not to sleep in a bra and panties." I say.She bursts out laughing."Okay, okay, it wasn't that funny, Katniss." I say after a minute.

"If I have to sleep like this," she says. "Then you have to sleep without a shirt or pants." "Sounds like a deal." I reply.

In a few minutes, the bedroom is dark and quiet. We lay there in silence, the comedy of the past moments having left with the light. "God, if I could drink..." Katniss says. "I almost forget that I'm not allowed to sometimes. God, I would kill for some liquor." "So could I." I reply.

I can practically feel her scowl."Then go downstairs and get some." She says sourly."If I wasn't a nice person, I would take you up on that. But I think I'll be nice to you tonight and not torture you like that." I reply.Katniss just sighs.

"I'm going to sleep." She says frustratedly."No you're not." I say."What do you mean?" "Neither of us are going to sleep. I mean, really, do you think we're going to sleep? After what we just watched? You think we're going to actually sleep?" I explain.

"Well, I have medicine to keep the nightmares away..." Katniss trails off."How much do you really trust it? Especially now, with the other medicine you're taking. Do you think it'll work with all of this extra stuff in your mind from tonight?" I ask."I never knew you to be so cynical, Peeta. I was always that way." She says.

I breathe deeply."Well, we all know how people can change."

--

Katniss

Peeta wasn't wrong. Sleep came fleetingly that night. I listened as Peeta grew quieter and all of a sudden stopped talking. His breaths evened out and I knew that sleep had swept him away, leaving me stranded ashore. The shore of being awake isn't terra incognita to me. It's not a new place for me. I find myself on this little beach often, the length of my stays varying.

I placed my hand gingerly on my stomach, thinking about the little, little baby that's growing in there.It's no less weird the second time around.

"Hi, baby." I whispered.I felt stupid talking to a little fetus inside of my stomach who probably hadn't even developed ears yet, but I guess it didn't stop me.

"Hey, little one. I don't know if you're a boy or girl this time around, so I'm just going to call you little one. I hope you don't mind. When you come out, then we'll call you something better. I hope you're doing good in there. I know my medicines must be weird for you, especially the new one. I hope it's not hurting you, but mommy's doctor says you're doing well. Even if you're born a little different than your big sister, your daddy and sister and I will still love you, okay?" I said quietly.

"I'm so excited to meet you. But for now, I think we both need a little bit of rest..." I said. A couple of seconds later, I added on, "Who am I kidding? I'm not getting any rest tonight."

I layed in bed, surrounded by a blanket of silence. Sometimes, the house creaked or clicked or made a small noise. Every time, I flinched. I thought about the resistance going on in Two. I thought about the Gold Hinge and everything they could be plotting to do to destroy me.

I didn't know how sleep would ever come. But I didn't really know if I wanted it to. I mean, what's worse? My mind going crazy while I'm awake or it going crazy when I'm asleep? When I'm awake, there's more to worry about. But when I'm asleep, I can't control anything. So did I want to sleep? No. But did I want to be awake? No.

I don't know if sleep ever came that night.

--

It's been a month since that documentary aired. They never aired it again, the way they do if one gets good ratings. I'm thankful that we don't have to worry about seeing it or hearing it for a while, if they ever do play it again. I'm also thankful that Willow has yet to ask anything about anything. We made it.

She asks about the baby a lot, though. We had to tell her about the medicine I'm taking and how it could make her little sibling come out a little different, just so she's prepared. "It's okay, mommy. I'm gonna love them so much." She always says. She's sweet. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't kill a bug, even if somebody gave her 30 dollars to do it.

When asked if she wants a baby sister or brother, her answer is always the same."I want a baby sister who'll play with me. If I have a brother, he might not like me very much. Mommy, you should have a girl. Then someone can play dress-up with me." She always says.

But today, she asks something different."What was it like?" She asks vaguely."What was what like, sweetie?" I reply nervously."People's lives. Before the war." She clarifies.My heart races in my chest. How does she know? What is she hearing in school? She's only in kindergarten.

"Will, what are you talking about?" Peeta asks."I mean, there has to have been a time before us, right? Like before President Paylor and District 12?" She asks.

"Willow... How do you know all of this?" I ask. What are they teaching them?"Well, my teacher was talking to us about where we live. I said that I live in the Village, and she asked if I know where that village is and I said no. And so then she told me that it was in District 12, in a big country called Panem. Did you know that?" She asks.She leaves out the "Victors" part in the Victors Village because it's not called that in 12 anymore. They had it changed, probably to erase memories of the Games, but also for Peeta and Haymitch and my own sanity.

Peeta and I laugh."Yeah, we knew that." Peeta says."Well, was there a time before it?" She asks again.The way she asks is so innocent. I find myself becoming increasingly thankful that she is merely asking about life before Panem, not about my life before the war.

I've never heard from Peeta what his parents told him. I've never said anything to him about what my parents told me. That far back into the past is sort of left behind these days. Nobody around now seems to care about any of it.

"Willow, you see, Mommy and Daddy were born much after that time. We don't know. All we know is what we've heard from other people." I tell her."What did you hear?" She asks, curiosity shines in her grey eyes.

"My father always used to tell me stuff when we would go out into the woods. Did you know, Willow, that the language you speak is called English?" I ask her."What's a language?" She asks."Well, you know the words that come out of your mouth? There are other words that mean those same things. And they're all different languages. It's like... The type of words that come out of your mouth."

"Were there a lot?" She asks.I feel Peeta looking at me, hanging on my every word. It's crazy how much nobody talks about these things anymore. "There were thousands of them. I don't remember very many, but sometimes certain things that my father used to tell me come back to me." I say.

"What were they?" She asks intently. I think back to all the times my father told me stories."Well, there was English. We still speak that. And then... There was French and Spanish and Latin. There was Portugese and Arabic. I think I remember my father telling me about Mandarin and Greek, too."

Peeta stares at me in amazement and I can tell he never knew."What did they sound like?" She asks."Nobody knows anymore. There's only the language we speak now." I reply."I wish I could hear some." She says."I do too. Maybe someday we will." I say.

"What else?" She continues.I turn to Peeta. It's his turn to say something now."My father used to tell me stuff about what our country used to be like. Before Panem, there was this big country called the United States of America. I don't know what states are, but I can imagine them to be like districts. It was built on this document called the Constitution. I think it, like, gave everyone stated rights and stuff like that." He explains.

This time, it's my turn to be amazed. Never in my 28 years of life has anyone ever mentioned "the United States of America" or what it used to be like.

"My father used to tell me about old books, too. Some of them sounded so interesting, I wish they were still around." Peeta adds."What were they?" This time it's me who asks."I don't know. I just remember him talking about two books called And Then There were None and The Grapes of Wrath." He says.

Willow's questions continue on and on until Peeta and I have told her every little obscure piece of information we can think of.People who were forced into slavery because of their skin color.A man who killed millions of people for being a certain religion.Schools having parties where everyone dresses up and goes with a date.Planes that crashed into two skyscrapers on purpose and killed almost 3,000 people.Young people lining their walls with photos of people they liked in the world.Singers touring the world and having tens of thousands of people show up to hear them sing.

So much went on back then. I think about how much I would have liked to see it all.

Willow seems to feel satisfied yet even more curious after she's exhausted her resources of information. And in a way, so do I.

--

Later that night, after Willow's gone to bed, I lay in my own with Peeta.

"Romeo and Juliet." He says, out of the blue. His words seem to fill the room."What?" I ask."There was a play that my father told me about. It was written hundreds and hundreds of years ago by this man. It was called Romeo and Juliet." Peeta clarifies.

"Okay... But what does that have to do with anything?" I ask, not following where he's going."It was the only thing that really stuck with me when my father told me stuff. I never told anyone about it and I don't know if anyone else remembers it." He says.

"Do you remember the story?" I ask."Katniss, the story is us," Peeta says. "It's just like us." "What the hell are you talking about?" I ask."Katniss, the people called them star-crossed lovers. They were destined to not be able to be together. They called them star-crossed."

"What happened to them?" I ask, my curiosity hightening."They were young and their families hated one another, but they fell in love anyway. They got married in secret. Romeo was banished from their town and Juliet faked her death in order to escape to him. It got lost in translation and Romeo thought she was really dead, so he killed himself too. They said they'd rather die than not be with each other. It's exactly what we did." Peeta says.

"That's why they called us star-crossed? Because we were never meant to have a happy ending? Because we were supposed to die?" I ask."I guess so." Peeta says."Why would you tell me that?" I ask. I feel my face get red with discontent.

"Wh-what do you mean?" He asks."Why would you tell me that we're like them, not meant to be happy in the end?" I ask.

He sighs and rolls toward me in the darkness. He wraps his arm around my waist and his hand finds its classic spot on my stomach, where our baby is.

"I told you because they loved each other so much, they were willing to die. They loved each other so much. And I love you so much." He says.