Chapter 20 - Dawn

Sometimes, the world speaks to me. Or maybe it is something within. It's a rush, it's desperate, and it's ever so lonely. It's the need for more. Something deeper. It's like remembering knowing something, without knowing it.

It's very quiet.

The cold metal zips runs up the line of my back. Flowers are braided into my hair. I tell Effie no make up, and she begrudgingly allows it.

Annie comes in just before, pink-cheeked and shiny eyes. She places a worn box into my hands. I smile at her, and find an assortment of thin lace pieced together. She doesn't even blush, just smiles at me knowingly, her eyes as gentle as ever.

"I wore it on my wedding night," she tells me. "Don't worry- it was washed most thoroughly. I just thought it would be nice to…share love."

I raise an eyebrow and feel a little flustered but eventually she gets it on me. It's a little uncomfortable, and strange, but I'm too nervous to be paying attention. She kisses me on the cheek and leaves.

Then I'm down the stairs. Then I'm out the house. Then I'm in the meadow, where the grass has almost grown back and my little world awaits me.

I'm walking up, along the grass, the dress my mother sewed sweeping the dirt and ash. I can see black smudging into white silk in my mind's eye.

Haymitch is here, at Peeta's side, smiling at me through the red streaks in his eyes. Johanna, Gale , Annie, my mother, Effie, and even Sae's granddaughter are at the side, a blur of happy faces. Madge, my father are beneath us, a dark whisper skimming over the wind. Everything's a blur, and then I see his hand, reaching out for me. When I touch him, he becomes crystal clear. Liquid gems adorn his eyes. I blink, once, twice. I realise I'm smiling so wide it hurts, and my cheeks are literally burning. He adjusts so that we're facing Sae, who agreed to read the documents for us because the mayor is gone. I look around in a fluster.

"Katniss Everdeen," she says in low, quiet voice, one which both captivates and silences the entire meadow even more. "Your vows first, if you will."

My lips part, and I take in a shuddery breath, blinking and collecting myself. I meet his eyes.

"You know…I'm not good with words." My voice quivers, as hauntingly beautiful as my singing voice. It is my paintbrush, this silence my canvas.

"I have not had a happy life." I say quietly. "I…like so many of us standing here, think of suffering when I think of living.

"I have not had a life, Peeta. I have had a survival.

"If my life was a meadow like this, then it would be dirt and ash. And there would have been few and far between flowers, or even grass.

"And then, when I was eleven years old, I found a dandelion. I was on the brink of death. You know what that's like.

"The thing about this dandelion was that…it didn't just sustain me itself. It showed me a whole world of other flowers, other plants-" I smile now, a little embarrassed. "But it saved me. It was my door to…better.

"And then, it saved me again. Over and over. In the Capitol, beside a river, on the snow outside my house, on a brightly lit stage, on a beach, in the sewers, more stages, and finally, in a cold bathtub, in a dark bedroom."

Peeta's watching me, piercing me through the freely running tears.

"Look at the meadow now, Peeta." I whisper.

"You have always shown me the possibility of more, Peeta. More than what I know, more than I believed could be. You're hope. You're this beautiful, intangible, fairytale concept- feeling that I didn't dare love. I have been so afraid."

Peeta squeezes my hand.

"And I will always be afraid. But now I believe there's more. And if I fight for anything in my goddamned life ever again, it will be that. It will be you."

He looks at me, like I am magic, like I am dust and melted sun rays. For once, I believe him.

"Katniss," he says, his voice rough and raw and beautiful. "Katniss Everdeen."

"There is nothing that I can tell you that will ever be enough. Enough to show you what you are to me. My throat, my lips and tongue are too human, too fragile and simple for that. But I'm still going to try."

The laugh catches in my throat at that, and he gives me a hint of smile.

"It's been a long time since I believed in fairytales. As you can imagine, when I was a little boy I was the kind to spin fantasies out of non-existent entities, the type to milk everyday happenings for even the smallest drop of magic. I loved perfection.

When I first heard your voice, it sounded like it had dropped right out of a folk story. But you were different. You weren't sweet, or open, or simple. You were the quiet kind, with a fire raging in your eyes and a sort of pained tolerance about the way you set your mouth. The way you held yourself. You didn't come from a world that could sustain a fairytale. You came from something real.

I think that's why I loved you. Because you were real, you were truth. You broke- break- all my rules, all the little constraints I have a habit of making for myself. You set me free.

"The strange truth is, without you I don't know if I would have any faith in this world. Because wherever I am without you, I feel like I'm suffocating, like I'm in the mines and the darkness is closing up on me. Thinking about you gone makes my throat tighten and my breathing go all strange. Love isn't all pleasure.

"I told you once that there was a monster inside of me. There still is, and honestly whether it is someone else's doing or my own I don't even know. But you are the only one who can…be with that part of me.

"Do you what it's like? To finally be seen? Heard, felt, touched and welcomed and loved? To be pulled apart and broken and strewn on the ground and to feel soft hands pressing you back together, sewing closed your wounds and kissing the jagged lines after? Hands that you have been waiting, dreaming for your whole life? I fell in love with you again that night. I fall in love with you in parts, in broken jigsaw pieces. That particular one has never felt love before. Before you. And the thing is, I don't even know if you've collected all of them yet. But I know you will. And neither of us even know what the full picture looks like, but I'll take the risk. The risk of your love ceasing.

"I will love you blindly, Katniss Everdeen. I will still ask questions, but I won't wait for the answers. I will love you blindly, eyes closed, not wanting. I will take any part of your heart that you give me and coat it in icing sugar."

He knows.

"Katniss Everdeen, that is the rough-edged promise I offer you. And this is the rough-edged, crinkled and bruised person that I offer you. And this is a sweet, pained, desperate and overwhelming love that I offer you.

"Allow it." He whispers, blinking and staring and tightening his grip on my hands. Rubbing his thumb over the veneer above my veins. The veneer that pretends that we are anything more the bits of bone and blood and networks of magic. The veneer that holds a vessel of imagination.

"And please, let me hear it in words. That you allow me."

"It's more than that now," I tell him, quietly- so quietly. "I ask for you now." A smile takes place and begins to spread its wingspan across his iridescent lips, and I see it in his eyes, that this is no formality, and that he is spilling every sentiment from his soul, and that he is so scared and so hopeful.

And I fall in love with him again.

"Peeta, I beg, I plead for you now. I…cry, and scream for you. I whisper for you after dark. I sit and I watch the new glow build behind the horizon, and I murmur your name."

We're crying openly, in front of so many people, and I don't care. Because our vows have not been a reaffirmation of what we both already know, but a discovery. We've extracted threads from inside us and unraveled them, and followed them in wonder to where they're led.

"Katniss Everdeen, do you take Peeta Mellark to be your husband?"

Greasy Sae's voice cuts through our bubble, grounding me back down. I blink and swallow, rubbing my thumb over Peeta's little finger. She's asking me for the colour of the sky, the taste of water, the shape of the sun. There is no hesitation. There is no room for thought.

"I do." I say.

"…And do you, Peeta Mellark, take Katniss Everdeen as your wife?"

"I do."

We sign the papers, hastily, eager, and then I reach up and meet him in the gentlest hint of a kiss. Soft lips on soft lips, nothing more and nothing less. Just the feeling.

We are applauded, and I look around to meet Haymitch's surprisingly serious eyes, which disappear almost as soon as I meet them, and he smiles, all warm and faintly amused. I see my mother, tears unshead, and Annie, tears shed. Johanna, who raises an eyebrow at me and gives me the kind of smile that feels like a pat on the back, and then Gale, who is serious and speechless, even with his eyes.

But it's mostly a blur. I can't think past the pressure of his palm on mine, the curling of fingers embracing my skin. I can't see past the blue in his eyes, feel past the presence of him, warm and vibrating by side. I will never find a way to stick him there permanently, but this is close enough.

He tugs me forward, leading me away from the meadow. I know the others are enjoying the cake, simple and soft and decorated with dandelions and primroses and Katniss flowers, strands of grass embracing the base, which I scarcely had time to savour with my eyes let alone my tongue. He takes us to my house, where I meet an expectant Effie, who must've left during the paper signing.

"Okay, Katniss," She says, impatient and red-cheeked. "Come along now."

I dart a questioning look at Peeta, but he just shrugs, a faint edge of amusement tucked in beneath all the happiness in his smile.

Effie tugs me along by the hand, manicured nails pressing against the warmth of my palm. "What're you doing, Effie?" I ask as she leads me into my room.

She's a motion of energy, reaching behind me to unzip my dress. "You'll want to leave now, I should think, not too late or else it'll be dark, and then the both of you will be lost and we absolutely cannot have that, of course."

"What?"

"She straightens up and catches my cheeks in her hands, beaming at me. "Oh, Katniss. I can't say too much- your groom was very adamant on that part- but, well...you need to change."

I raise an eyebrow before spotting my hunting jacket, shirt and a pair of trousers on the bed. "Why are we going hunting?" I ask.

She laughs, reaching behind my hair to push the dress down off of my shoulders. I catch the fabric, suddenly remembering my undergarments.

"Oh, fine," she says, noticing the expression on my face. "I'll wait outside."

I wait until she's left the room, and then swallow, heading over to the dresser and pressing my fingertips to my cheeks, which haven't stopped tingling all day. I blink a little as I meet my own reflection.

I breathe easier as my eyes brush over the stubbly lashes, the glowing patches beneath the shadows under my eyes, the redness spilling over my forehead and gathering around my nose. The plumpness of my bitten and barely-kissed lips, the dark sketches of my brows, the vibrancy of my pupils.

I am myself. Found. Finally.

I let the material bunched around my arms loose, easing myself from its silky embrace and laying it across the bed. I touch the flowers in my hair delicately, then fiddle with my collarbone, cupping my own breast in my hand over the lacey material.

I feel pretty.

Exhaling breathily, I reach for the familiar feel of my own clothes, dressing myself. Once I am done, I lean over to the mirror and brush across my bottom lip with my index finger.

It's time. Already.

I step outside to where Effie awaits me, and we pause as I put on my boots. When we go outside, Peeta has changed too.

He takes my hand, and then Effie kisses us both on the cheek and tells us to have a good night (which makes Peeta blush) and then we are walking away.

"Where on earth are you taking me?" I ask, staring up at him as we hurry along. He smiles, and looks at me with a slightly playful glint in his warm eyes.

"You'll see." He says simply.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It turns out to be a bit of a walk. When Peeta leads me to the hole in the gate, I look at him curiously but he ignores it, reaching for my hand and leading me along. The path is unfamiliar, new and fresh beneath my feet, and the lack of familiarity causes me to notice the forest more. The golden tint on the bark, the glittery texture of the leaves. The rawness of the ground, mud stripped bare of grass. The sugary edge to the air, the way the cool slices at my throat in the most pleasant way. We are drawing closer.

For once, Peeta and I are actually silent. I don't ask him anything as we walk, and he doesn't give away any hints. It's peaceful, comfortable. I feel connected.

Finally we come through a break in the trees, and my lungs falter, before a colourful warmth spills across me, bathing them in it.

It's the lake. Of course it's the lake.

Flowers line their way in thick, swirling motions, all the way up to the little cabin, which I now see has light glowing from inside. The sky is cloaked in a rich gown of lavenders and violets, and the lake reflects the freckled stars. I feel the excitement begin to boil inside me, little bubbles of euphoria escaping me as a laugh.

"Peeta," I say.

He tugs me forward, grinning with me and spinning me around.

"Good?" He asks.

"Wonderful." I tell him. "So good."

He eases the slightly creaky door open.

So many memories here. Sad and broken and nostalgic and desperate and lonely. And now this. A night of love swirled into the mix.

God, I love him.

The supplies that are usually stored here in a dusty pile have been cleared away, and in the center of the small space is a bed, white and draped in foamy canvas and sprinkled with more flowers. There's a small table in the corner, carrying a pitch of water, various baked goods and meats, and the smallest tier of our wedding cake. Even the splintered floorboards are layered with a rug.

I blink, trying not to fall apart. I feel like I'm shaking with the magnitude of my happiness, my gratitude, my affection towards him. When I meet his eyes, I reach up to express it with my lips.

He kisses me back, slow and deep, and then pulls back.

"Katniss," he says.

His mouth tastes sweet, and warm, and like home. My limbs grow hot, as if the contents of a warm bath is rising under my skin. Flooding. I pull him closer to me, playing with the shorter strands of hair at the nape of his neck. He dips his head, thumbing my spine and the strands of hair that has escaped. We are both silent, and in the background of my mind I listen to the wet sounds of our kisses.

So sweet. We rotate so that he ends up sitting beneath me on the bed. He pulls away from my mouth to look at me, study me again with those blue eyes. As if the first few thousand times haven't been enough. As if I've changed.

I stroke his cheek and bite softly at his neck.

He fiddles with the edges of my shirt, and I lift my arms to grant permission. It's only once I catch his expression that I remember the lingerie.

"Annie," I say by means of explanation to his parted lips and raised brows. His brows rise higher.

"You…," he swallows and half smiles at me. "…you look very nice."

"Thank you."

I smile at him some more, and then I bend back down to remind him how much I appreciate his collarbone. He lets me peel off his shirt, and then I'm running my slim fingers up and down him, loathe to miss any spots. My lips brush against his chest as I speak. "You… feel very nice."

"Is that so?"

"Yes- oh."

"Tell me," he says. "How exactly do I feel?"

"Like buttercream icing." I whisper, grinning against his skin. "Like a bruised peach."

"And here?"

"Like mint leaves and lake water. Like the sun on my back."

"And here?"

"And- oh- like someone who is wasting time."

He laughs at that, a quick surprised giggle, and kisses my shoulder.

I look up at him. "How do I feel?" I ask.

He closes his eyes. "Mmm," he says, lifting his hips in appreciation. He moans again, and then exhales and falls back to the bed.

"You feel- you feel like love."

I pause momentarily, and glance up at his face. "Like love?"

"Yes."

We move into each other until there is no more.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And after, when we're clinging to each other lazily, and our chests are rising and falling like sleeping animals, and his eyelashes are fluttering every now and then in the nighttime air, specks of gold in the nothingness, I press closer and murmur his name.

"Peeta?"

"Mm?"

"…You feel like hope."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There's a something in the air, and it starts out as a tweeting. As a sharp, but ever so soft bird cry, falling through the morn. Another chimes in, their harmonies like raindrops, light and cool and gentle on my skin. My bare skin. The dust motes stir.

I breathe in through my nose, thick and heavy, filling up my lungs. This is what I am aware of first. The rush of comfortable relief, the basic start. I am alive, it says. I am alive.

And then the eyes. They flutter open, grey shining against black, a moat around my pupil, and I take in the contents of the cabin. Dusty wood. Fallen flowers, stuck between floor boards. A half empty pitcher of water. Lip marks.

I put on my jacket. A long shirt, slip my naked feet inside the boots. Step outside.

It isn't raining. But the grass is damp, freckling my bare shins in speck of glassy dew, my soles sweeping the grass. I walk forward.

The lake is still now, and it feels as though the whole world is sleeping. I feel like the trees are watching me, the flowers waiting, the water patiently keeping quiet.

It's still dark.

Heavy, overbearing edges hover at the fringes of the forest, clinging to the trees, sinking in the water. Its ragged bearings have made themselves at home in available quiet, where no one is awake to claim it. It still permeates the air.

I shiver, ever so slightly, a quiet tremble slipping under my skin. I blink away, accustomed to the all-encompassing grey. My fingers fumble and trip over the goosebumps on my arm.

But then I see it. Out of the corner of my eye, glimmering in the distance as I look up. There it is, hovering between the trees, just rising, brimming over the edge of the horizon like a tear. There it is, splitting apart the sea of night, still lingering, stale, across the skies. There it is, shining into the abyss of my pupil, sinking down into the bones of my restless soul, alighting something long dead within. And there it is, humming brightly- if still a little weakly- ahead, in no rush at all, in no hurry, as it begins to spill the first streaks of gold across the ashy heavens. Coming for us. Towards us. Rising out of the dark.

Dawn.

xxxxxxxxx

Author's note:

Woah! So this is it! The end of the fic I started writing back when I was 14 - I can't believe it's been so long.

Firstly, (to be cliche) I just want to give a huuuugge thanks to everyone who left reviews or followed/favourited or even just silently read it all - this was the first time I ever shared my writing with a big audience and it was a really lovely experience so thank you. I also want to thank my betas for helping me and putting up with me (I am very possessive about my writing forgive me). Especially VTesoro even though we lost contact :)

Also thanks to my friends who put up with me rambling on about it. I ramble a LOT, so.

I'm going to go ahead and dedicate this to my mum even though she won't be reading this cuz obviously I send her the edited clean version - but she has always been sooo encouraging of my writing and everything else and this was a big writing step for me.

I'm going to go and get deep now, because this story was really very personal for me especially when I started writing it. I wrote it when I first had some mental illness stuff happening and it was a way for me to express that through Katniss. And this is a love story, but it's also very very much about recovery and growth and hope, which is really what the last bit of Mockingjay book is about. So to any of my readers who happen to deal with any sort of depression or anxiety or anything else - you're valid, you don't need to prove it, you don't need to be bad "enough" to get help or take it seriously, and I promise you it ends. I promise you that there is a way out. I'm not fourteen and depressed anymore, and it feels like an endless tunnel or a maze at the time but I promise you there is a way out. And there is so much out there.

Please, reach out and get help if you feel like you need it, and you can always message me either here or on tumblr ( sweet-and-sour) if you just want to talk.

I don't think I'll be writing anymore Everlark, but if you're interested I'm doing some "Carry On" femslash over on archiveofourown (same name).

Okay. Thanks so so so much for reading. xx See you