the wind has blown but now I know that tomorrow will be kinder -- for playeditwell

[fortherefreshments]

[ Weatherwise, it's not a particularly notable day in District Twelve. The night sky is cloaked in it's usual steely, impenetrable gray and the air has the same chill of a lingering absence.

It's not a practical hour for most when he hobbles to her porch and knocks on the door. He's heard the news earlier in the day, but the timing nor the sobriety sat well with him. While the hour is late, Haymitch knows she's awake and about just as he is. It's a predictability he imagines a child won't change for her-- in fact, it may even enhance the instinct. Impatience gets the best of him and he knocks again, harder, shifting his weight slightly to accommodate the crudely wrapped package under his arm. ]

Comments

[playeditwell]

[She lifts her head up at the unexpected voice, a wrapped bundle held tightly to her chest. The homemade cradle sits empty and abandoned next to the chair. Neither she nor Peeta have been able to let go of the baby girl for long yet. The bow and arrow rest beside the chair. For those familiar with the former Mockingjay, the silent threat is clear. Try something and she'll make certain that you'll pay.

But a small grin teases her lips instead. She never thought that she'd live to see this day. Ever even have this day. And as much as Haymitch still gets on her nerves, he's a part of this. She'd never be here if not for him.]

Peeta thinks I'm watchdog enough.

[fortherefreshments]

Well, he ain't entirely wrong there.

[ Her attitude over the years has seen some improvements and pitfalls. He attributes most of the success to Peeta, although that will remain an unspoken assessment that he'll take to the grave. ]

So, that's it then.

[ He gives a nod of acknowledgement to the small bundle. ]

Took the two of you long enough.

[playeditwell]

[Though her eyes follow his nod to the baby girl in her arms, her head immediately snaps upward at the comment. There's no mistaking that familiar scowl that crosses her face for anything but what it is: misplaced anger at herself. Anger that's easier to take out on someone else.

He had wanted her. Wanted the little girl more than Katniss had. And yet, she had found reasons to keep putting it off. Marriage had been easy to agree to. So easy. There had never really been any question that she'd be living the rest of her life with Peeta Mellark. But a child? A child was something else entirely.]

[fortherefreshments]

Relax.

[ For as much stress as the remark causes there's some familiarity in that sour expression that's comforting. The truth of the matter is he hasn't come to bring rain with him today. No, he's come for the boy and for her and he himself is quietly thankful for the distraction. ]

She knows she's in good hands.

[playeditwell]

[All the cycling of emotions, the ups and downs of the pregnancy, haven't quite died away yet. Maybe they've always been there, the lasting repercussions of two years of her life that will haunt her forever. But the instant he mentions her daughter, the scowl fades. And she does indeed relax.

But only for a split second. Because as she looks down at the sleeping girl, she feels all those fears and worries that she initially felt the first time she felt the girl move inside of her. She's voiced them aloud before. Voiced them to Peeta hundreds of times.

But Peeta only ever consoled. He wasn't Haymitch. Wasn't as brutally honest.]

Maybe in Peeta's. [She frowns slightly.] I don't know the first thing about being a mother.

[fortherefreshments]

[ Mothers. She really doesn't have an example. That frail woman he's seen only in passing years before, barely memorable. Her sister, gone. Incinerated. Left vulnerable. ]

Well, sweetheart, [ he takes a moment to smooth back his unwashed hair with a hand that has started to betray him in his age with trembles and aches ] you're not the easiest to get along with, but you can't push something that small away, not even with ice and vinegar in your veins.