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Valentine’s Day was never easy. It had always been a holiday that Coriolanus had felt was ridiculous. How it had ever lasted from the world before would never not blow his mind. It had never made sense to him, for a moment, how people supposedly in love only seemed to care that one day.
Or, well, from what he'd always heard from complaints, the only day men seemed to care. It was something that had always been odd to him, watching the relationships of his classmates. He had never understood it, but love had never exactly been something on his mind. It had never been something he cared about, he’d never had a reason. But he knew if he did, it wouldn't be such a rare showing of love.
Love hadn't been on the table for him. He'd never paid much attention to it. Between the state of their home and trying to focus on school, it just hadn't been something he cared for. He had been counting on that Plinth Prize, for far too long, working day in and day out trying to get what he needed to succeed. For the future that he was so set up for.
He figured one day he would get married. One day he would settle down with someone that made sense politically. Clemmie had been a thought, someone he got along with well enough. Someone who was kind, who he could actually enjoy longer than a class with. Lyssie had been one just the same of a thought. Two that he would feel bad for overtime if he wasn't capable of giving them just that. But they were certainly the most palatable.
The worst of the thoughts had been Livia Cardew. But logistically, politically, financially… She would be the best person. Which made him nearly sick to think about it. He couldn't imagine sitting across the table from her at dinner, let alone kissing her. And the thought of someday needing to have an heir to carry on the Snow name? He was scraping through every thought that there was on how to make it possible without ever having to touch her.
It was something that he had made himself be forced to be okay with. Whatever it would have to take in the end. The people of the Capitol would expect a happy-looking family. The President and his First Lady, the perfect ideal couple for the Capitol to model themselves after. He wasn't excited about it. But it was a life he had resigned himself to.
That was until the morning of the Reaping of the 10th Games. Everything had tumbled so quickly, far out of his reach, far out of his control. And there was nothing more he hated than not having control. He had tried everything to stay calm, in hopes that things would go his way. Then one sentence changed the course of his entire life.
The runt girl from District 12, she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.
Lucy Gray had come crashing into his world like the rainbow of destruction that she became. The girl who had completely torn apart everything that he had ever known. And he had let her so willingly.
Her survival had gone from something that had been for his own selfish needs to her protection. Though he was nearly sure that it was selfish in itself by the end. A selfishness that he wanted her safe so he could be with her. That he could have a chance.
It had all happened so quickly. The way he had fallen asleep thinking about her. He had thought of her gorgeous face and could picture it all so well. He could see him being happy with her. He could see himself being married, kissing, and having children with her far too easily. She wasn't District. And even if she had been, part of him didn't feel like he would have cared.
There was just something so intoxicating about her. Something that had him forgetting himself just to do whatever it took to be with her. And he had done just that. He had cheated in the Games, he had paid his last dollar to his name to go out to Twelve, and he had just waited.
And there she had been. As beautiful as ever, shining on the stage, and the happiest he had been lucky enough to see in person. He loved her. He was sure of it. And every passing moment had only reassured him of that fact.
Things had fallen apart just as quickly, he was sure of that. That one night at the Hob, a night that had been meant to be perfect for them, had gone wrong. What had, for once after all that had happened, felt in control had quickly dissolved for them. It had been terrifying, just how close their lives felt to falling apart, to losing them, because of it.
It had all become a blur, a plan to leave and escape before Mayor Lipp could have caught up to Lucy Gray. They had every plan to leave, every idea to do just that. And before they'd even been able to slip out, there had been some saving grace, it felt.
Strabo Plinth. He had finally seemed to want to make good on that debt that was owed for saving Sejanus's ass in the arena. And well, his ass just once more with whatever shit show of a plan he had tried to help out. He didn't know how it had been done, or what strings the man had pulled to make it happen.
But it had been damn silent, the entire train ride back. Three were too nervous to say a word being stared down by a man who had saved things at the last second. Two of them wanted to have never gone back to the Capitol and one that had been counting down the moments.
Moments had turned into days, months, and years. They'd all found their places quietly in the Capitol, whether they liked it or not. They had all just managed, doing everything they could to show that they were walking on the right side of things.
Sejanus had gone into medic training nearly immediately, taken under the wings of the Vickers. They'd taken on the responsibility and the mentorship, making sure that he'd learn all he needed and could use his anger against the Capitol for good. Or good in the eyes of the Capitol.
He, himself, had been given the chance to start University as he'd always dreamed. Only, everything was monitored so closely by Dr. Gaul, it was a path that she felt was the best for him. Advanced Military Strategy, something that he had thought about but had been handpicked by Dr. Gaul. An internship dropped him into the middle of the Gamemaker program and guided him up the ladder quickly.
And Lucy Gray, well, she'd been put on an even shorter leash than the two of them. She was pulled out whenever it felt necessary, normally for anything pertaining to the Games. As much as Dr. Gaul had sworn the Tenth had wrecked the legacy, Lucy Gray was adored. She was a fundraising tool, in the eyes of the older woman, someone who could assure they'd get the funding they needed.
But outside of those performances and meetings, she was expected to have an escort at all times. Working toward her Covey’s safety had been the line used to address what was expected of her. That if she did well, and did as she was asked, there would be an assurance that the youngest two would never be pulled. And that they'd have enough to survive out in Twelve without her.
She rarely left the apartment building, moving freely between the Snow and Plinth apartments. It wasn't ideal, by any means, but she was safe. She was there, within his reach, she was taken care of. And that was what mattered most to him.
It'd been years of it, some soothing normalcy that they had managed. And everything was good. It had been all kinds of good. They were happy. He and Lucy Gray were happy. It wasn't ideal, he knew. The Capitol, no matter how many years they had been there, still made her uneasy. But he felt that eventually, surely, her nerve would come down.
They had spent years just falling more and more in love. He'd been able to show her off, to watch her shine on a stage for the most important people, to grin and tell others that the songs that she was singing were written for him. It was the complete opposite of what he'd been able to do out in District 12. And he was grateful for it.
He got to shower her in love every moment. He was able to show her off, arms tucked close and greeting the most important people in the Capitol far easier. She was darling, charming, every bit the sweet Songbird that had been idolized from the Games. And he did everything he could to show her his love.
He had never been one for poetry or creativity. Tigris was as creative as could be, as she always had been. Lucy Gray felt like a poem came to life, one that would always make his head spin. But if there was anything he could do, after coming back from the District, he would give her anything she wanted.
Tigris made the most beautiful of dresses for her, anything that came across her mind she tried to make happen. Anything that she wanted from the stores, he'd have it delivered to the apartment by the end of the night. He tried to spoil her, tried to give her everything she could ever dream of, and more. New instruments, new jewelry, new shoes and clothes. Anything that made her feel as beautiful as possible, he wanted to give.
And somehow… somehow it didn't always make her happy. Not truly. She'd give that brilliant smile, one that would blind anyone who looked for too long. But sometimes, it just didn't reach those eyes he loved so much. Sometimes, there was too much sadness in them like the tears were building up behind them and threatening to pour over.
Though he knew it wouldn't all be perfect. He was all aware of the fact. They didn't have all that much privacy when they'd first gotten home. Grandma'am had refused to let them sleep in the same room, and even as old as she was, her hearing was far better than it should be. There had been countless times Lucy Gray had tried to sneak from her cot in Tigris's room to his room and the woman had been there and spooked her.
It had taken far too long for the woman to allow them to sleep in the same room, let alone the same bed. But there was no denying that the two were young and in love. That it wasn't some impulse or some distraction to pull him from his future. That he would give up the life he'd been working on for someone. Even though if there was anyone that he would, it would be Lucy Gray.
But he did all he could to show her that. Everything he could to try and give her every bit of love he could. He could give her the things one could only dream of. Something he tried to do every single time.
It was in the little ways, too, something he made sure of doing every bit. In the peaceful moments, they got alone late at night, just holding her close before they fell asleep. In the moments backstage before she'd go on, covering her in kisses and praising her. In the afternoons he would find her in the rooftop garden, lying down with her in the sun. In the mornings he would wander down to the Plinths to find her, listening as she tried to explain some little craft she was working on.
He tried to be as attentive as he could, to make sure she knew he was there, even in the moments he couldn't be. It got harder a few months out of the year, days where he wouldn't go back to the Snow home in a row due to working on the Games. Or the planning of the extravagant party for the newest Victor.
His life, outside of Lucy Gray, rotated around it. Even when he was studying, it was there in the back of his mind. Every strategy and war he learned about was a source, something that could be pulled from just as much as built upon as President. Whatever it took to keep the Capitol safe, to avoid anything near the Dark Days. Especially when Lucy Gray was in the Capitol now.
He tried all he could to keep her away from it. To keep her protected and safe from the world that could hurt her so much. A world that could send her into such shock, into such a whirl, that it would take days to try and pull her back into the girl that he loved. It was the exact reason he tried to keep her safe from it all.
All he could do was show her love. It was what he did every moment when he wasn't at work. Whatever it took to try and soothe her, to try and keep her as steady and sure as she could be. Whatever it took to be able to keep her there with him, he would do. He loved her too much to lose her.
Each Valentine's Day was more extravagant than the next. It'd been easiest to get out of the apartment for some sort of privacy. Or well… public privacy was a better word for it. He'd be able to show her off as they went into some nice restaurant, have to pause at too many tables, or have too many others make their way to theirs. Everyone wanted a piece of their lives, to see just what was next for them.
They would stay somewhere nice, one of the buildings that towered even higher than their own. And they'd finally have some sort of privacy they didn't have at home. He'd shower her in love, in gifts, in anything that she asked of him.
His spoiled little Songbird. A name that she'd been called when he'd had to beg Dr. Gaul to let her stay at the Snow apartment. She'd had every intention to not allow it, wanting to keep as close of an eye on her in the Lab. That he had to be mindful, to not let her spin him all around and distract him from the goal. Even though the goal had included her from the moment his eyes had landed on her on the screen.
He'd lost track of time, honestly, of days. It was yet another stint of days working on things for the Games. The Victory Tour had gone off without a hitch, just as it had been expected, and they had dove directly back into the planning for the next. Each Game was expected to be as impressive or watched as the next, though the Tenth had completely changed everything. And trying to top something that was expected to pretend no longer existed was harder to do than expected.
He didn't even know what time it was, something that Dr. Gaul herself insisted on within the Citadel. No clocks. She was sure that putting a limitation on when one was expected to walk out the door kept the best work from being done. And the fact there were no windows, nothing to tell the true passage of time, he couldn't even tell anymore. It had all they needed. A sleeping quarter with bunks, showers, and a kitchen. Everything they could need was there.
He had his own little office, one that was thankfully as far away from the sound of the birds as he could manage. It wasn't much, filled with files and books and plans, things to work on and study and plan. A space dedicated to the future that was being laid out for him.
The moment he graduated, he had a position as a Gamemaker. In a few years, he would take over from Gaul as the Head Gamemaker. He would have a hand in every pocket of the government, just the same as she did. He'd be seen as just what Panem needed when Ravinstill finally croaked or stepped down, whichever came first. He had the hard and firm down, the knowledge, and the will to do whatever must be done.
And the gentleness, the relatability, the heart? Those all came from Lucy Gray. She was so widely adored, so sought after, that most would look past her title of having lived in the District. She made him softer. She made him good.
She made him want to be good, just the same. It'd always been something he'd heard Tigris go on about. That he had to want to be good himself, that he would have to put in the work for himself. He wanted to be as good as he could, to be able to have that heart still. The heart that was capable of loving her as much as he could. The heart that was capable of offering out a gentle hand instead of a stern fist as he would with his work. She kept him soft. She kept his heart open.
The lab was empty, from the near silence inside. There were a few noises, here and there, sounds of creatures and test subjects that disturbed the quiet. But from as far as he had seen, it'd just been him for a while, far too many plans sprawled across his desk. It was a time to be narrowing down, to be studying the districts themselves, in an attempt to make sure that all of them, all of those in charge of them, would stay in line.
A sigh left him, moving to rub at his eyes underneath his glasses. It'd been something he'd started to need a little more, especially with the long hours of endless reading. A break. Or hell, even just a stretch. Just a minute to stop and breathe and even try to figure out what day it was anymore.
His eyes lifted from the file in front of him, long-winded words on District Twelve, and landed instead on one of the few frames on his desk. Lucy Gray, smiling as beautifully as she could. One of those pictures that were just for them, where there was no pressure. Where all he had wanted was to capture a moment of peace, a moment of joy between them. It was one thing that kept him steady. The knowledge that he was going home to her before long. Even if in months like this, it was longer than usual.
The sound of footsteps caught his attention, moving to take off his glasses and settle them on the desk. They were quiet, ones that sounded like they were getting closer. And there was a sound of what he felt like was a second set, ones a bit louder. It was strange. But there was never any telling when people came and went these days.
A knock on his doorway caused his head to lift up and land at the sight of a Peacekeeper. He tried to keep up with them, to know what name he needed to be calling after, but more times than not, he failed at just that. “Mr. Snow?”
“Yes?”
“You have a visitor.” A visitor? “I was instructed to make sure you received her if you wanted her.”
“Of course.”
The first thing he caught sight of was the crochet bag. It'd been one he'd sat and watched her make with her head in his lap. It'd been something that Ma Plinth had taught her, something to help calm her nerves and focus on steadying her hands. Though he could see just how unsteady her small hand looked where it was wrapped around the strap.
“I've got her,” he said, attempting some kind of reassurance. “I'll walk her back upstairs to you when she's ready to leave. Thank you.” Some privacy, at least, or at least to where the man wouldn't stand right by the door to keep an eye on her.
The Peacekeeper gave a nod, giving one last glance to Lucy Gray before he disappeared from sight. They'd have to be mindful, at least, but they would have some sort of privacy. Or at least the illusion of it.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, taking in the sight of her. She looked as beautiful as ever. Though he was sure he thought that every time his eyes landed on her. She was in some red dress he'd never seen her in before, more than sure it was some new creation from Tigris. But she looked stunning in it, no matter how much she grumbled about the color.
“I should be asking you the same,” she answered, making her way into his office. “You know what time it is?” His head shook at the question, watching as she made her way over to his desk. “Almost two in the morning.”
His brow furrowed at the answer, rubbing at his eyes once more. That would explain his want to sleep. And just how quiet everything had been for a while. “You should be at home. And asleep.”
“So should you,” she answered, moving to settle the bag on the edge of his desk. It was careful, gentle, eyes scanning over the files. “You were supposed to be home last night, actually.”
“Last night?” He couldn't think of any promises that he had made about it. Or anything he had said that would give her that idea. “I have a bit more to work on, baby. Trying to get this all done so I can have Valentine's off. The whole day. Have a whole plan.”
The look she sent him looked unimpressed, which only caused his brows to furrow once more. “And when is that, do you think?” He could see the way her fingers continuously curled up and loosened, trying to steady herself. She'd never liked being here in the Citadel. The fact that she had come willingly was a surprise in itself.
“Two or three days,” he answered with a small shrug. “That's why I'm working on getting all this taken care of. Try to spend as much time as I can with you,” he reasoned.
She seemed to be taking in the sight of him, trying to search over his face. It was something he did as well, though he would grumble whenever he saw her do the same. She was studying, searching, trying to piece together whatever was going on in her mind. “Last night.”
“What?”
“It was last night,” she repeated. “As in, ended two hours ago last night.” Shit. “As in, sat on the couch for hours in this dress waiting for you to come home in front of Grandma'am only for you to not show. She thought it was quite funny, actually.” The woman was still so unsure of Lucy Gray, even after all of the years she'd been in their home.
“Are you sure?” He asked, shaking his head. He wouldn't forget. He wouldn't get so lost in his own searching and studying that he would just miss it all.
“Very sure,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders. “Tried calling. But I was told you were much too busy to be reached.”
“Lucy Gray,” he started, his lips pulled into a frown. “I… I really didn't know. I'm so sorry.” He meant it, too, every word. It was something that they both had had to adjust to, the days he wouldn't come home. But that didn't make them any easier by any means. “I think you're the first glimpse of sunshine I've had in days.”
His words made her eyes roll, though it caused the smallest bit of a giggle to leave her. It was something, he figured. “I'm just glad it was a mistake. And not you running off with some other girl.” It was a ridiculous notion, one that they both knew wasn't even an option. He had been wrapped around her finger since he'd seen those big brown eyes.
“I'd cut my own throat before that was the case.” Dramatic. But they both were, just a bit. She'd rubbed off on him in more than one way over the years. “I'll make it up to you.”
“I know,” she answered, giving him a small smile as she settled on the edge of his desk. She moved to start unpacking the contents of her bag. “But, I figured you should be checked on, at least.”
He watched as she settled the contents carefully, chuckling at the sight. It was all so mindfully packed, something that looked like a meal. Food. Food was always a good option.
“It's nowhere near as fancy as whatever reservation you had planned for us,” she started, moving to undo the tops. “So I'm sorry if you hate it. But it was the best I could do on short notice.”
It was such an odd combination of things, likely whatever she could make quietly in the kitchen without disturbing the rest of the house. Mac and cheese, sliced up apples and strawberries, a few pieces of chicken he was sure were leftovers warmed back up, potatoes. And in the last that she peeled back, bread pudding. Something that only caused his smile to grow.
“It should be warm enough, hopefully,” she answered, reaching back into her bag to pull out two forks. She offered one out to him, nudging it against the one in his touch. “Cheers.”
A soft chuckle moved through him, shifting to stand and steal a kiss. She was something else entirely. How, no matter what was rushing through her head, she was always thinking of everyone else. “Let me set the table properly.” He shifted to slide the files out from underneath the containers, getting them stacked up and into his desk. “Want a drink?”
“Have I ever turned one down?”
He chuckled, pressing another kiss to her temple in passing before he made his way across to one of the cabinets. It was some sort of liquor, meant for celebrations and the end of the Games. A time to finally attempt to relax. And there seemed no better time than then. “You look beautiful.”
“I was waiting for you to tell me that,” she tsked, moving to pick up an apple slice with a smile. “Might be a new record on it taking so long.”
His eyes rolled fondly, pouring them both a drink into the glasses before he carried them over to the desk. “My apologies,” he breathed out, settling at the desk and patting his thigh.
Her eyes rolled just as much, slipping from the edge of the desk and easily settling into his lap. It was peaceful, at least, a moment when they could be close and enjoy it all. Even if it wasn't ideal, or how he had hoped it would be. Maybe, just maybe, it was better. “You owe me, y’know?”
“I know,” he assured, moving to take a bite of the potatoes. “Going to take you to the nicest place in the Capitol.”
“I meant for dealing with Grandma'am last night,” she chuckled. “She really was hoping it was a sign that I'd be getting kicked out.”
“She loves you,” he assured, though a snort left him as he saw the look she sent his way. “She likes you.”
“She tolerates me,” she corrected. “And not very well.”
His shoulders shrugged, wrapping an arm around her waist. “She'll get there one day.” There was hope. But he still wasn't quite sure he could believe his own words.
“Probably when I'm as old as her,” she reasoned with a small snort. She reached for her drink, shifting to face him properly in his lap. The movement was enough to shift the necklace around her, one that she wore more moments than not.
It had felt ridiculous, entirely, the thought of it. Their first Christmas together, one where they were still just trying to settle after all that had happened out in Twelve. They'd had money, far more than he could ever remember, and he'd gone all out with gifts for her. But the one she had loved most was some silly little necklace he had gotten out in Twelve at the market.
It wasn't fancy, by any means, not even something that expensive. He'd been able to scrounge up a few leftover dollars and some of Ma's sweets to get it for her. A little silver pendant hanging on a chain around her neck of a snowflake. He'd offered, over the years, to buy her something far nicer. Something that was actually worthy of hanging around her neck. But she'd been insistent. It was perfect.
It was a claim on her, every bit, a reminder of just who she belonged to. One that she would have worn just as proudly around District Twelve as she would have in the Capitol. His love, his girl, his Lucy Gray.
It was every bit as peaceful, just getting those moments alone with her. As much as he loved showing her off, making sure everyone saw her, there was something so nice about moments like that. They could just enjoy each other's company, some assurance that they were there. Something they both needed at times.
They had gotten to their bites of bread pudding, just as content as they could manage to be tucked in close. It had been both of their favorites, some small thing that had connected them from the beginning. And it was something that always reminded him of just where they'd come from.
“Oh, I got somethin’ for you,” she hummed as if the idea had hit her out of nowhere.
“You didn't have to get me anything,” he answered, something he told her every single time. Even though she never listened for a moment.
She moved to lean out of his lap, reaching across the table to grab her bag. She tugged it out, as carefully as she could be as she sat it in her lap. “I didn't know where you might want to put this,” she started. “It's breakable so maybe not here, but I wanted to give it to you.”
“Breakable?” He repeated, settling the fork down into the empty container before he shifted to take the small box from her. “Should I be worried?”
“No.” Her head shook in response, giving him a smile. “This wasn't just me who made this,” she started, which only caused his brows to rise. “Me and Ma saw one out one morning and I thought it'd be really nice to try and make one. It's what I've been working on down there for a while.” More times than not, it's where he'd find her, especially if Tigris wasn't at the house too.
“So it's handmade?”
“Made with love.”
“My bad, of course. Made with love.” He snorted at the thought, shifting to open the box that was surprisingly heavy. His brow furrowed as he worked to pull out the gift.
It was so delicately done. A glass dome over some sort of art, one that was currently being covered by pieces of glitter that looked like little snowflakes. A snow globe, he was sure, was the name of it.
“So,” she started, pointing at the inside of the dome. “That's us.”
Inside were two little figures curled in close to one another. The taller, the one he was sure was him, with a headful of blonde curls and in red. The smaller was pressed close, the other's fingers on the small of her back, looking like they were frozen in time while dancing. Her little figurine was in colorful ruffles, likely the closest they could get to her dress. They seemed to be in a field of flowers, sure it was meant to be the meadow just outside of the Covey home.
“Turns out Strabo knows how to whittle.” Of course, it had been a Plinth. It sounded like such a District thing to know. “And then I painted it. I wanted it to be ours. None of the couples in the ones I saw were like us.”
There were no couples like them, was the thing. There would likely never be either. There was no way anyone could ever capture the shine that was Lucy Gray. Or the way that his face showed every second and thought of love when he looked at her.
“In the meadow?” He asked, smiling as he tilted in his hands, watching the snow falling inside of the globe.
“Yeah,” she hummed. “It was our happy place.” It had been. It'd been where they'd finally gotten to kiss. Where he had never felt so much relief to see her again. “And I always thought it was such a shame you never got to see it when it snowed. The closest to Heaven you could get while still breathing.”
His smile only grew, watching the little snowflakes there. She was so perfect, so darling. There was no denying in his mind just how much work she had put into the little gift. Only for him to have forgotten and gotten lost to miss the night itself. “This is amazing.”
“You ain't even seen the best part, baby,” she whispered, twisting it in his touch. There, along the back, was a wind-up key. “Now, I'll admit, we didn't come up with this. Used a base from a different one, I'm not that clever.”
He didn't believe that for a second. There was just something about Lucy Gray. She was every bit as clever as they came. He shifted to twist the wind-up key, as tight as he could manage, settling the snowglobe back on the table to watch it.
It was the smallest movement, the two little figures of them slowly twisting in their own little circle. There was a sound that was coming from it, a soft hum that he was trying to place. It didn't sound like the normal song that came from music boxes, instead, it sounded like it came right from her chest.
“This is you?”
Her head nodded, her fingers brushing gently through his locks. “Mhm,” she hummed, tucking her chin against his shoulder. “Thought about singing it, but thought you might get annoyed by my voice, so I hummed it instead.”
“I could never.” He loved her voice. It had taken him wholly the moment he had heard it for the first time. The longer he sat and listened, the easier it was to place the song. His song. The first song she had ever written him, the song she'd confessed her love for him all those years ago. “It's amazing, Lucy Gray.”
“I hoped you'd like it,” she hummed, leaning in to peck his lips. “Thought it'd be nice to remember how things were. No matter how far we are from it.”
She'd always been so sentimental about it all. About their time out in District 12, more than anything. Sure, they had had their moments in the Capitol during the Games, but it'd been such a hard time for her. She still had nightmares from time to time about them. But the District? Where they'd gotten to sneak off from the rest of the world and exist? Where her Covey was? Where there had never been anything expected from each other than love? She talked about it more than anything.
He knew she missed her Covey. That was like a majority of the reason why she talked about it as much as she did. That had been her home, no matter how much she didn't consider herself to be from there. It had her favorite people. It felt simpler there.
There was no real politics, not like there were here. There were no real worries. It had been the start of what was supposed to be a new life for all of them. And it'd been yanked away from her for her own safety.
It'd been something he thought about, more than he should have. That damn Mayor, the one that had made her life a living fucking nightmare. One who was only being kept around because he was believed to have been as loyal to the Capitol as he could be. He’d been one of the reasons why they hadn't gone to the District since they had gotten back. One of the reasons she hadn't seen her Covey in years.
“Is it still snowing in February?” he asked softly, catching her attention from where she'd been watching the snow globe. When he saw the furrow of her brow, he shook his head. “Out in Twelve?”
“Usually,” she answered, giving him a smile. “Not as much but there's still some that comes through.”
His head nodded, looking at the version of them spinning around so peacefully in their meadow. He was sure he had some strings he could pull, some debt he could try and collect to get the chance. And hell, with the dirt he had on the Mayor, they might even get a show with their visit. One that would allow for a safety they wouldn't have to worry about. Where the man would sing his last few words to be echoed back by the last remaining jabberjays.
“Dr. Gaul wants some research done. For the Games.” He could see the way she was fighting back whatever emotion came bubbling up at the mention. “Some trips to the Districts.”
Her head nodded at the thought.
“I think it's about time that the Songbird gets a chance to fly home for a visit. Remind them who they've been missing. I've got some things to take care of out there.”
He watched as she seemed to start to register just what he was suggesting. The way her furrowed brows started to raise instead, her eyes widening as she thought it over. “You mean…”
“Think you could show me that Heaven you're talking about if you'd wa-” He hadn't been able to finish his words before she had nearly smothered him with her lips. Her hold grew tight, gripping onto him for dear life in thanks, peppering his lips and face in kisses. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” she laughed, sniffling a bit as she sat back, pecking his lips once more. “Yes, of course. We're really gonna go?”
His head nodded, reaching to push back a few curls from her face. She looked so happy, so hopeful, something he didn't always see from her. And something he wanted to see a thousand times over. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she whispered, leaning back in for a few more pecks. She was as gentle as could be, tucking away into his hold. “You're going to love it, Baby.”
Not as much as I love you.