The Little Mockingjay

Shattered: Katniss' POV

I’m shattered. It's been about a week since my children were taken from me, I think. I've been broken so many times in my life, but the pieces have always miraculously been reparable, big enough to put back together.  The loss of Flint and Nadia created hundreds of tiny shards, lost forever. I haven't left my room, and if it weren't for Peeta, I'd be dead. The only times I've had anything to eat or drink are the times when Peeta's forced me to. Even then, it's just small nibbles. He doesn't understand how I feel. He doesn't understand that I want to kill myself. I feel guilty for bringing children into this cruel world, but I love them like I've never loved before. So does Peeta, he's a better father then I could have even imagined, but he's so, so strong. He has no desire to die, even though I can see that the loss of our children is killing him. So for the past week, we've been living day to day with the same routine. He tries to talk to me; I can't bring myself to say anything back. He makes me eat against my will. I stare at the moving pictures on the TV all day, but I hear nothing. Peeta doesn't leave my side, and I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful for his shoulder, which I sob into everyday until I have no more tears to cry. Peeta doesn't let a single tear fall, for my sake. I occasionally turn my head to look at him, just to make sure he's still there, still holding it together, and he always is. Except for today. I'm sitting in bed, staring blankly into the TV, when I hear Peeta finally break down. He’s shattered, too.

"Katniss," he says softly.

At first, I don't respond, but then he's right in my face, tears running down his cheeks.

"Katniss you're killing me. You have to come back to me you can't just stay like this forever. Come back to me Katniss, I can't do this alone."

I flashback in time to a different scenario, one where the roles are reversed. Where I'm begging Peeta to stay with me. And just as I'm remembering kissing him in the depths of the Capitol, he presses his lips to mine. We taste of salty tears and broken hearts. And when he finally pulls away, as he looks longingly into my eyes, I know I have to stay with him. Because he's worked his magic on me again, and I made him a promise.

Always.

"Okay," I tell him.

And for the first time in a week, he smiles. And for the first time in a week, I get out of bed and take a shower. But the whole time, all I can think about is Nadia and Flint, my beautiful children. I think about the day they were taken from me, even though I vowed I'd never let anything bad happen to them. Peeta and I were on edge already because of the political instability, and when police officers from the Capitol showed up at our door, we knew it was not with good news. I rub the spot on my arm where the officer injected me with sedatives after I threw myself at them, screaming that they were lying, or that they had to do something to get my children back. When I woke up, I was on the coach with my head in Peeta's lap, and he told me we just had to wait. The soldiers couldn't do anything. They were still trying to locate the rebel camp and Nadia and Flint. I sigh deeply, trying to convince myself that I'll have my children back soon and that our lives will go back to normal. I know it's a lie. I know Peeta and I will become involved in this sooner or later, and as much as I hope that isn't true, it's inevitable.

I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around me just as I hear Peeta calling my name. I throw open the door to find him sitting in front of the TV, eagerly motioning me over. The look on his face is unrecognizable to me. I quickly rush over to see what's on the TV, and my jaw drops when I see my children standing there.

I hear Flint talking and I let out a breath of relief. They look okay. They're alive. But then again, I know what a little makeup can do. And when I saw Peeta broadcasting from the Capitol, he looked okay too. I thought he was safe, but he wasn't. I hear Flint's words. Something encouraging the people of Panem to join the rebels in a fight against Paylor's falling government. Democracy. What Peeta and I fought for. And as shocking as this is to me, I'm even more shocked by the sight of Nadia. But it's not Nadia; it's me when I was sixteen. She looks just like me. That's when I notice the look in her eyes. Blank, confused, troubled, pained, broken. She is me. She's being used and she doesn't know what for. She's the symbol. And I literally collapse onto the foot of the bed when I catch sight of her black mockingjay wings. It's like there's not enough oxygen getting to my head and I'm about to faint. Because right down to the wings and the look in her eyes, she's becoming me, and no one deserves that. Peeta looks at me and now the expression on his face is completely recognizable to me. Pure fear. With Nadia standing there in all black looking bewildered and Flint, with his blonde curls, speaking to the camera, it's like watching the younger versions of ourselves, and we couldn't have wished anything worse onto our children. 

Flint finally stops talking, and then, silence. I can tell it's Nadia's turn to read the words being put in her mouth, but she says nothing. A small whimper escapes from my throat and I clutch Peeta's hand. Then, I hear an unfamiliar voice yelling. The screen flickers and soon goes black, but not before I catch a glimpse of the chaos. Soldiers. A hand flying at my daughter. Her lying on the ground. It’s just like when I was watching Peeta on TV with my hands pressed on the screen in the depths of District 13. And before Peeta and I even have time to react, the phone rings, displaying a Capitol phone number. We jump from the bed and Peeta answers, putting it on speaker. The voice of an old friend comes through the receiver. Beetee.

"Katniss, Peeta, did you happen to just see what was on TV?"

I'm too stunned to speak, but somehow, Peeta finds words.

"We saw. We gotta do something, Beetee."

"We finally can. I tracked the location from the broadcast. We're going into the rebel camp."

"We're coming," I interject.

"Course you are," Beetee replies.

"I'll be in touch when the troops are assembled and the plan has been finalized. But guys, that might be a while."

"How long is a while?" I ask.

"Could be a few weeks," Beetee tells us.

"Oh god," I mumble.

"Thanks, Beetee. Tell em' to hurry for me," Peeta finishes before saying goodbye and hanging up.

"What do we do!?" I ask Peeta as he pulls me in for a hug.

"We wait a little longer," he tells me, kissing my forehead.

But we both know that "a little longer" could be the difference between life and death for our children.