(no subject)
This isn't a drabble, and it's not a story--not yet, not really. This is me playing with the "it took me five, ten, fifteen years to agree" thing. I figured she agreed at ten and they had one, and again at 15. So what happened at five?
This may be too melodramatic. Just playing. If it was a story or part of a story I guess I would call it FIVE.
Minutes after she collapsed on the bedroom floor, Peeta found her--in what evoked a horrible flashback of a similar situation, in the cave years before--lying unconscious in a pool of blood.
When she awoke, hours later, she was lying on her back in a bed in the district's small hospital. She turned her head, groggily, and her eyes met Peeta's gaze. It was concerned. Hurt. Angry. Confused. No one could express more emotions with a look than Peeta.
He knew.
"Hey," she croaked. She moved to roll toward him, and winced at the pain that stabbed dully in her abdomen.
"Don't move," he said, reaching out a hand to still her. "The doctor said the pain would pass soon, but that you needed to rest."
"Peeta..."
He lifted his other hand slightly. "Not now, Katniss. Just...not now, okay?" his voice faded out at the end. "Try to go back to sleep. I can take you home in the morning."
"Is the..."
"You lost it," he managed, choking a little. "About eleven weeks in, the doctor thinks."
She needed to make him understand, needed to explain, but a nurse slipped in at that point and injected something into her IV. After the nurse left, she clutched at his hand. "Don't leave," she said, and she winced at the pleading in her own voice. He shook his head.
"You know I won't," he said, and the concern in his voice was undercut with a tone of reproach. All she could do was let her regret show nakedly on her face as the drugs pulled her back under.
~
Always, everywhere, she was still the Mockingjay, so the hospital had someone drive them home in a car, shielding them from prying eyes. Peeta lifted her from the backseat gently and carried her up to their bed, laying her down carefully and pulling a blanket over her legs. When she reached a hand out to him, however, he backed away.
"I thought your days of keeping things from me were long over," he said quietly, staring out the window. "I thought we had finally reached a place of no secrets." He ran a hand through his hair, then scrubbed it over his face. Long moments passed during which she just stared at him mutely, cursing the words that never seemed to come to her, before he said in an almost inaudible voice: "I had mostly gotten used to the idea that it wasn't going to happen." He inhaled, and it was shaky. "I love you, and I know you don't want children. I have tried to accept that. I've gotten the injections, and I've stopped bringing it up, because I never wanted another time like those weeks last year."
Katniss swallowed hard, opening her mouth to say something--anything--when he finally turned and looked directly at her. "You know how I feel about this, and you kept it from me for weeks, and the only part I got to share was the terror of finding you unconscious and bleeding. I got to share the miscarriage, Katniss. And if I know you--and I am pretty sure after all this time that I do--then that will be my only experience as a father."
He turned and walked slowly, heavily to the open bedroom door, and paused in the doorway, not facing her. "It's not my only experience with you lying to me, though, and I think that's the most painful part of all."
The sound of their bedroom door quietly clicking shut and the subsequent sound of his feet descending the stairs was worse than anything he'd said to her. She would have given anything to have him come back and yell at her, say the hurtful things she deserved, but in the long minutes after, he didn't return. She fell asleep waiting, hands curved around her abdomen, waiting for the tears to fall.
She was still waiting when she woke up the next morning, but Peeta didn't come back.
This may be too melodramatic. Just playing. If it was a story or part of a story I guess I would call it FIVE.
Minutes after she collapsed on the bedroom floor, Peeta found her--in what evoked a horrible flashback of a similar situation, in the cave years before--lying unconscious in a pool of blood.
When she awoke, hours later, she was lying on her back in a bed in the district's small hospital. She turned her head, groggily, and her eyes met Peeta's gaze. It was concerned. Hurt. Angry. Confused. No one could express more emotions with a look than Peeta.
He knew.
"Hey," she croaked. She moved to roll toward him, and winced at the pain that stabbed dully in her abdomen.
"Don't move," he said, reaching out a hand to still her. "The doctor said the pain would pass soon, but that you needed to rest."
"Peeta..."
He lifted his other hand slightly. "Not now, Katniss. Just...not now, okay?" his voice faded out at the end. "Try to go back to sleep. I can take you home in the morning."
"Is the..."
"You lost it," he managed, choking a little. "About eleven weeks in, the doctor thinks."
She needed to make him understand, needed to explain, but a nurse slipped in at that point and injected something into her IV. After the nurse left, she clutched at his hand. "Don't leave," she said, and she winced at the pleading in her own voice. He shook his head.
"You know I won't," he said, and the concern in his voice was undercut with a tone of reproach. All she could do was let her regret show nakedly on her face as the drugs pulled her back under.
~
Always, everywhere, she was still the Mockingjay, so the hospital had someone drive them home in a car, shielding them from prying eyes. Peeta lifted her from the backseat gently and carried her up to their bed, laying her down carefully and pulling a blanket over her legs. When she reached a hand out to him, however, he backed away.
"I thought your days of keeping things from me were long over," he said quietly, staring out the window. "I thought we had finally reached a place of no secrets." He ran a hand through his hair, then scrubbed it over his face. Long moments passed during which she just stared at him mutely, cursing the words that never seemed to come to her, before he said in an almost inaudible voice: "I had mostly gotten used to the idea that it wasn't going to happen." He inhaled, and it was shaky. "I love you, and I know you don't want children. I have tried to accept that. I've gotten the injections, and I've stopped bringing it up, because I never wanted another time like those weeks last year."
Katniss swallowed hard, opening her mouth to say something--anything--when he finally turned and looked directly at her. "You know how I feel about this, and you kept it from me for weeks, and the only part I got to share was the terror of finding you unconscious and bleeding. I got to share the miscarriage, Katniss. And if I know you--and I am pretty sure after all this time that I do--then that will be my only experience as a father."
He turned and walked slowly, heavily to the open bedroom door, and paused in the doorway, not facing her. "It's not my only experience with you lying to me, though, and I think that's the most painful part of all."
The sound of their bedroom door quietly clicking shut and the subsequent sound of his feet descending the stairs was worse than anything he'd said to her. She would have given anything to have him come back and yell at her, say the hurtful things she deserved, but in the long minutes after, he didn't return. She fell asleep waiting, hands curved around her abdomen, waiting for the tears to fall.
She was still waiting when she woke up the next morning, but Peeta didn't come back.