My second Hunger Games fanfic! I wanted some sort of explanation as to how Katniss would ever consent to having kids one day, and I got this idea while re-reading Catching Fire. This is the dream Katniss has on the beach after kissing Peeta.
Lots of fluff, but I hope you enjoy!
(Don't own any rights to The Hunger Games trilogy. That's all Suzanne Collins.)
"As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe."
-Catching Fire, Ch 24
I'm walking through a bright, colorful meadow. The only thing I can compare it to is the arena where Haymitch won his Games.
But no, I think. This is not the same place.
Because I can taste the flavor of this meadow. I can smell it in the flowers. I can see it in the bright and beautiful colors. Happiness. This is a place of happiness. Where I don't have to blend into trees to feel secure. I'm not here to hunt, or be hunted. To worry or to provide. I don't simply feel safe here. Somehow I know for sure that this is a safe place. Untouched by the Capitol.
At my sudden realization, I smile and break into a run. I have no inhibitions. I feel like a child. I feel the cool breeze tickle my face and tussle my hair, free of its usual braid. I'm running through the tall, green grass. The purples, blues, whites, reds, oranges, and yellows of the wide array of flowers.
Yellow. That's when I see the dandelions. The meadow changes. I find myself in a field full of strikingly tall dandelions. It's beautiful. Suddenly, I see one of the dandelion heads move. As if it's walking away. I stare in disbelief.
How is this dandelion walking? I think to myself, when I realize, it's not a dandelion at all. No. It's a little boy, with a head full of shining, blonde hair. He turns to me. I stare into his strangely familiar gray eyes and somehow I know.
Never before have I dreamed of having a child. But I cannot help but feel the flood of love and affection that I already have for this little boy. My little boy. I smile at him, in only the way a mother could smile. And he smiles back. I reach out to him. I want to hold him. But instead of accepting my hand, he laughs and runs away. Instead of being angry, I have to laugh at this mischievous little boy of mine.
So he wants to play, does he?
I run after him. He sees that I am taking part in his little game and giggles. He continues to weave in and out of the dandelion patch, impossibly hard to catch. Almost as if he is flying.
Suddenly, he stops. He notices something. Before I can even register what it is that he saw he starts running towards it. Away from me. A moment of panic bubbles up inside of me. I need to protect him.
What if it's not safe?
I break into a frantic run after the boy. My son. I see him up ahead. I see him and…someone else. But just like I knew the meadow was safe, I know this man will not hurt my boy. I begin to slow down, reassured by the sight of this stranger. I see the stranger crouch down with his arms open wide. My son runs into his open arms. The two embrace. A strong sense of love and happiness washes over me at the sight of this. As I approach the two, I notice the man has blonde hair, identical to the boy's. He looks up at me with his clear blue eyes.
I understand. This little boy is not just mine. He's ours. Instead of my usual feeling of dread and anguish that I associate with the idea of either having a child or a future with Peeta, I feel elated and euphoric. Because, deep down, I know that I want this. More than anything. This meadow, I also realize, has been here all along. I have kept it repressed by the nightmares because the nightmares, well, I know how to deal with them. I don't really know how to deal with happiness. I'm afraid it will make me weak.
And while I know somewhere that I can never have this as long as the Capitol exists, I have it here. Now. In this meadow. In this sanctuary. Where nothing, not even the Capitol, can tarnish my truest and deepest desires.
I smile at the sight of them. And Peeta smiles back at me. He stands and I go to him. I lightly kiss him on the lips before turning my attention to our son. He smiles at me and reaches his arms out to me. Peeta gives him over to me and I stand there. Holding him. Holding my child. My child. Tears begin to well in my eyes. Both because I know that this moment will not last. That I can never have this.
But also because this moment exemplifies sheer perfection.
I bring him close and he wraps his arms around me. And I feel Peeta's strong arms around the both of us.
Yes, I think. Perfection and total bliss.
"When I wake, I have a brief, delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with Peeta."
-Catching Fire, Ch 25