On Our Own- A Beeress AU

Six: "Birthday Gift"

On Our Own- Chapter 6
Beetee's POV

Ever so softly, I creep towards the front door and unlock it. Wincing at every creak of the floor, every breath I take, and every gust of wind from outdoors, I cautiously exit our apartment and cringe as the door shuts. All I need is to wake Wiress up.

She's been...better. Not as bubbly as she once was, but she's not a zombie anymore. Every so often, I'll walk in on her sobbing, but I've succeeded in getting her to eat again. Even so, she's probably not hitting five hundred calories per day. Oh, well, better than the nothing she was consuming a few weeks ago. Her appetite will return given time, the doctors said.

Tomorrow, the thirteenth of October, is Wiress's birthday. As a gift, I'm going to get her something that I hope will show her that life is amazing and depression isn't worth it. The plan is for Johanna, Finnick, Annie, and Haymitch to come over. We'll have a small celebration with the whole trip out to dinner and everything, then, once everyone else has gone, she'll receive her gift.

Which is why I'm at the animal shelter at ten o'clock at night.

I park the car and hop out. The glowing shelter is like a beacon in the dark night. Our city of District Three gets dark at night, at least for urban standards, despite our advanced technology.

The building is overly bright when I walk in and smells of antiseptic and floor cleaner. It takes me a few moments to gather my senses. A woman with short brown hair sits behind a desk. Her suspicious eyes dart over me.

"Um, hello," I begin, preparing for a speech. "I'm here to look for a-"

"You do realize we close in ten minutes? Perhaps you should come back tomorrow. We open at six." The woman's eyes narrow distrustfully, as if she can't see why I would be here this late.

"Please, ma'am, it can't wait. See, my friend- my very best friend- has been sick for...a while. I need something to cheer her up, and I believe we're ready for...this," I finish lamely.

"What do you mean, 'sick'? If you're here for a pet, and your friend has a terminal illness, maybe now's not the time..."

"No," I almost growl. "She's not sick like that. More...depressed. PTSD." When the woman doesn't answer, I continue. "She's been through very traumatic events, and tomorrow is her birthday. So-"

"All right, I don't need a backstory. Canine or feline? Or other. Rodent, avian-"

"F-feline," I stutter. No dogs. I am...well, I'm afraid of them.

"Very well." The woman stands up, flips the sign on the door from "open" to "closed", and leads me into a room where meows assault my ears. Automatically I feel uncomfortable and awkward. Animals creep me out. One cat hisses at me as I walk by; another jumps at its cage door. Nope.

And then, as I stroll past, a small, furry object whacks me in the arm. I spin around, only to come face-to-fave with two bright yellow eyes and a jet black bundle of fur.

"You hit me," I croon, touching his paw with my finger. His fur is the same exact color as Wiress's hair: deep, deep black. "That's not nice, little guy."

Yet he's adorable. Young, maybe four months. Cuddly, loving, affectionate.

"This one," I murmur, joy sparking in my chest. "Can I pick him up tomorrow?"

The woman- Angela, her name tag reads- nods. "Let's go fill out the papers, then."

She opens the door and I follow her, only glancing back to catch one last glimpse of the kitten. Black as night, black as tar, black as diesel.