imperfect fit ; an everlark au based off of 'the selection' series

f i f t y - f i v e

I tug at my dress. "Isn't this a bit grand for the occasion?"

"Not at all!" Stacy insists.

It's late afternoon, but they've put me in an evening gown. It's purple, and very regal. The sleeves go to my elbows, since it's going to be colder at home; and a sweeping hooded cape is draped over my arm for when I get off the train. It has a higher collar, and they've pulled up my hair elegantly.

"I don't want to linger," I insist. "It's hard enough to go as it is. I just want all of you to know that I'm so grateful for everything you've done for me. Not only for keeping me clean and dressed, but for spending time with me and caring about me. I'll never forget you."

"And we'll always remember you, miss," Tig promises.

I feel my eyes well up, and fan my face. "Okay, okay, I've had enough tears for one day. If you could tell the driver I'll be right down, I'm going to take a moment."

"Of course, miss."

"Is it still improper for us to hug?" Stacy asks, looking at me, then at Tig.

"Who cares?" she says, and they crowd around me one last time.

"Take care of yourselves."

"You, too, miss," Stacy says.

"You were always a lady," Tig adds.

They step away, but Annie holds on. "Thank you," she breathes, and I can tell she's crying. "I'll miss you."

"Me, too."

She lets me go, and they walk to the door, standing together in a group. They give me one last curtsy, and I wave as they leave me alone.

So many times in the last few weeks I've wished I could leave. Now that it's here, seconds away, I dread it. I walk onto the balcony. I look down at the gardens, gazing at the bench, the spot where Peeta and I had met. I don't know why, but I suspected he would be there.

He's not though. He has more important things to do than sit around thinking about me. I touch the bracelet on my wrist. He will think about me, though, from time to time, and that comforts me. Not matter what, this is real.

I back away, closing the door and heading to the hall. I move slowly, taking in the beauty of the palace one last time, even though it's slightly marred by broken mirrors and chipped frames.

I remember walking down this grand stairwell the first day, feeling confused and grateful at the same time. There were so many girls then.

When I reach the front doors, I pause for a moment. I've gotten so used to being behind these massive blocks of wood that it almost feels wrong to go through them.

I take a deep breath and reach for the handle.

"Katniss?"

I turn. Peeta stands at the other end of the corridor.

"Hey," I say lamely. I hadn't thought I would see him again.

He walks over to me quickly. "You look absolutely breathtaking."

"Thank you." I touch the fabric of my last dress.

There's a breath of silence as we stand there, watching each other. Maybe that's all this is: a last chance to see.

Suddenly he clears his throat, remembering his purpose. "I've spoken with my mother."

"Oh?"

"Yes. She was quite happy that I wasn't killed that night. As you might have guessed, carrying on the royal line is very important to her. I explained to her that I nearly died because of her temper and attributed my finding a hiding place to you."