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Chapter Text

The 76th Annual Victory Tour,
Two years after Katniss & Peeta’s Hunger Games
President Snow’s Mansion

(Katniss POV)

The Minister of Energy Production places a slimy wet kiss on the back of my hand. I grit my teeth in what I hope looks like a smile.

“My, my, you’re looking lovelier than ever these days Miss Everdeen.” He says in what I think is supposed to be a seductive purr.

I bite back the urge to tell him he’s due for another round of plastic surgery to pull back his double chin that grew in since the last time Peeta and I were here at the President’s mansion, two years ago.

I murmur a quiet thank you and turn away as quickly as I can. I look around for Peeta or Effie or even Deen Sparrow, District 12’s newest victor and the whole reason why this party is being thrown tonight. But I find no one I know. My nose wrinkles up in frustration. Where could he be? We’re not supposed to leave each other’s sides for more than 5 minutes at these kinds of parties, he knows that.

Finally I spotted him. He’s surrounded, cornered really by a group of giggling women in outrageous colors and styles. One of them is wearing a dress so low cut her breasts barely manage to stay contained within the practically sheer fabric. She gripped his bicep through his suit and squeezed playfully. Peeta looked extremely uncomfortable and was slowly trying to inch his way away from the group of predators. I rolled my eyes. He was still too polite for his own good. If it had been me, I’d have stomped on a few toes by now.

This sort of thing has been happening a lot lately. Peeta had mentioned to Haymitch how aggressive the Capitolites had become in pursuit of him ever since we announced our engagement at the beginning of this year. At first I thought he was exaggerating, but this sort of thing has been occurring with increasing frequency.

I stiffened my spine as I quietly slipped over to their group. I knew he needed me now. He never left me to fend for myself when we were in the Capitol and I in turn did the same for him. It was what we did, kept each other safe and alive in this dangerous place. His admirers didn’t even notice my approach, they were too busy fawning and pawing at him.

“You’ve grown so much this year! Taller and handsomer!”

“Your muscle tone is absolutely divine these days! What kind of regimen are you using?”

“What cologne are you wearing? It's simply scrumptious!”

They throw out compliments fast and hard, and Peeta, who is known for being silver tongued, finds a way to bring the conversation back into his territory.

"At my age I've got a few growth spurts still in the cards." Peeta replies quickly. Subtle way to remind them you're barely legal, and most of them are old enough to be your mother, good on you Peeta. I thought as I neared enough to catch the edge of their conversation.

"It's just the cut of the suit, our stylists are geniuses when it comes to tailoring." Oh, yes make them all think it's just a tailoring trick or the lighting.

"Katniss picked out my cologne tonight. I thought it was a little too earthy but you try arguing with the girl who took down three careers twice her size." I almost laughed at that. That was far less subtle. He was practically waving a warning sign at them. Cinna and Portia aren't the only geniuses here tonight.

But for all of Peeta's deflections and warnings the women continued to try and close in around him, staring at him hungrily like starved animals. I study his broad back covered in the expensive silk suit Portia dressed him in and the light catches on his carefully styled hair, making it gleam white gold. I can't deny that any of their assessments are wrong. He has grown up quite a lot this past year, and he's undeniably handsome no matter what he wears. But that doesn't give anyone the right to size Peeta up like a cut of meat at the butcher's shop. I quietly slip an arm around his waist. He bristles for a moment, until he turns and sees it's me. Then his whole body relaxes. There’s an uncomfortable silence that follows when my presence is noted. But I don't care. Let them see. Let them remember. Peeta's not here alone. I will always have his back.

By the tense set of his shoulders I could tell Peeta was searching for an escape from this just as I was. I just want to get away from this horrible party and these vapid people and sneak off into a coat closet somewhere with a plate of those apple and cheese filled appetizers. So I go for broke and snake my arms around his neck and stretch up to catch his mouth in mine.

The kiss takes him by surprise for a moment. But then he recovers and returns my kiss with slow languid responses from his lips, and eventually his tongue. I kiss him unhurriedly, almost lazily, like I have all the time in the world. Of course this kind of kissing starts to make me a little breathless. It's still fairly new, but since we're engaged now Haymitch and everyone agreed we need to make it explicitly clear that Peeta and I are a packaged deal. Practically sealed and signed. Most days that thought scares the living daylights out of me. But in moments like these I'm grateful for the protection we can provide each other. Even if it pushes my boundries slightly.

Peeta's lips continue to work on mine and it sends a little shiver down my spine. After all this time practicing we’re really good at this. It can be unnerving, since we’re really just friends despite the outward appearance we show to the world. But a little heat and showiness is required right now to make my point. These harpies will never let him go unless I stake a public claim. We kiss like this until someone clears their throat, and for a few beats after that. When we break the kiss, look around at the group of women with an unconcerned gaze.

“Sorry, sometimes I get a little impatient when he hasn’t kissed me in over 20 minutes. Right handsome?” I say, laying it on thick, as my gaze locks onto Peeta’s blue eyes again. His pupils are slightly dilated, and he looks a little flushed. I wonder if he’s been drinking too much champagne.

“Right, beautiful.” He answers perfectly on cue and drops his mouth to place a small kiss on the side of my neck. Which is new, and makes me feel just a slight bit wobbly in these horribly high heels. But his arm is around me now, and I don’t stumble. He must be eager to escape these women, since he’s laying it on thick.

“Oh, of course dear. Completely understandable. I'd be the same if he was mine!” Someone says in a high trilling Capitol accent. I can’t tell if it's the woman wearing the rainbow colored hat that’s blowing wisps of smoke in the air behind her head, or if it's the woman wearing what looks like a bikini made of vines and strategically placed flowers.

I frowned at her comment and tightened my hold on Peeta for emphasis. But Peeta cuts in to save me from biting back verbally by smiling and smiling at me in an adoring manner.

"I wish everyone could have what Katniss and I have with each other. There's nothing like it. Nothing and no one else even comes close." Peeta says in such a romantic tone I have to bite my lip as I stare back at him to keep myself from slapping his shoulder at his dramatics. But one glance at the the circle of harpies tells me their eating this up with a damn spoon. They're about two seconds away from ruining their expensive make up and hairdos as they blink their eyes against tears and pull anxiously at their hair.

After that most of the tension drained out of the conversation and topics turned to our highly anticipated wedding. While the women babbled in about colors and flower choices I remained tight lipped and took to simply studying them.These Capitolites were so strange and their fashions were simultaneously over the top and overly sexual. It made my head spin. I could only imagine what kind of mischief Deen was getting up to right now. He wasn’t as strong willed or morally fortified as Peeta. Hopefully Effie was keeping him out of trouble. Which meant everyone would probably be too busy to check on Peeta and I if we sequestered ourselves in a coat closet for the rest of the night.

We could get away without mingling for maybe the whole night! The idea took shape in my head and I could tell Peeta knew I was thinking something. He arched an eyebrow at me, as he fielded questions about our upcoming wedding, while I had been tuning out of the conversation.

“Look Peeta! Isn’t that the President’s head baker? You said you wanted to ask him about our wedding cake! Excuse me ladies, but I need to borrow my finance.” I say in a loud enthusiastic rush and grasp Peeta’s arm tightly as I tug him away. He chuckles soft and low, as we zigzag through the crowd.

An attendant carrying an entire tray of the appetizers I adore steps in our way.

“Grab that!” I tell Peeta in a gleeful tone and he has a quick word with the attendant and the tray is handed over promptly. Sometimes I’m really grateful for his silver tongue. I snatch a bottle of champagne and two glasses to go along with our provisions and Peeta actually manages to grab two slices of chocolate cake. I give him my best grateful smile and he grins back at me, obviously in a good mood now that he escaped the clutches of those handsy women.

The first three coat closets we try are already occupied. But finally we found an empty one. We settle our makeshift picnic on the floor and sit cross legged across from each other.

A moan of pleasure escapes me as I bite into the apple and cheese pastry. It tastes heavenly and I am famished. I’ve been too busy to properly eat because everyone seemed bent on asking questions about how District 12 had managed to win another Hunger Games so soon after Peeta and I’s historic win.

“That good huh?” Peeta says with a raise of his eyebrows as he studies my face in the low light. He’s smirking at me as I devour the tiny pastries without pretense.

“Shut up and quit judging me. I was nervous all day during Deen’s last interview, and I haven’t really eaten.” I tell him snarkily and he raises his hands in mock surrender.
“I know better than to get between you and your food. I just wanted to know if you liked it because it's good or if you’re just hungry. If it's good maybe I can ask for the recipe and try to replicate it when we get home.” He tells me with a more sincere smile.

“It's really good. But I think you already make something similar.” I say before sipping my champagne to wash my food down.

He bites into the pastry slowly, with a thoughtful expression in his face. I watch him savoring the individual flavors and parceling them out in that way only he can do. Peeta had become something of a culinary prodigy in the last few years, along with his painting hobby. Professional chefs were always complimenting him on his taste buds and his knack for identifying individual components of their gourmet food. I waited for his assessment.

“It's good. Slightly different from what we do at the bakery. More vanilla and a thicker cream cheese base, also hints of star anise and wildflower honey, I think. I’ll have to check with the kitchen before we leave.”

I just murmur my assent happily to him and he smiles as he sips his champagne.

I’m about to tease him about his growing relationship with the Presidential mansion’s chef, when we hear a loud noise that startles both of us. At first I thought someone must have fallen over in the linen closet next door to us, but then, to my horror, the bang is repeated. And repeated again, until there is a steady rhythmic thumping coming from the other side of the wall. The sound is unmistakable.

Then it begins to be punctuated with muffled groans and moans. I look over at Peeta in horror and find him red cheeked, with eyebrows strung incredibly high on his forehead.

“Oh, my god. Are they serious?” I ask incredulously as I try to scoot away from the offending wall and the sounds being emitted behind it. Peeta tries to stifle his laughter but fails and soon I’m failing right along with him.

We cackle and guffaw at the strange sounds our closet neighbors are making. I have to grab Peeta’s arm for support when I progress to full on belly laugh so I don’t end up in a heap of giggles on the floor. Eventually the thumping stops and I catch my breath.

“Gosh, how sleazy can you get? Sex in a coat closet at party.” Mutter as my laughter subsides. Peeta looks over at me, with a strange expression.

“You know that’s what everyone thinks we’re doing right now right?” He tells me with a pointed look. I roll my eyes.

“Well, yeah, but, we’re not. I mean, there’s letting people think it, and then there’s actually doing it.” I replied.

“Right.” He says with a huff. And I wonder at his reaction.

“It just seems terribly inconvenient is all I’m saying.” I tell him and he takes a sip of his drink before answering me.

“Katniss, I don’t think those people were worried about whether it was convenient or not.” He finally says. Then it's my turn to huff at him, albeit a bit indignantly.

“That’s because they’re imbeciles who can’t think past their own needs for gratification.” I say with uncalled for aggravation. I don’t know why the conversation is getting me so worked up.

“They could be in love.” He offers simply, and it throws me.

I let out an amused snort, eventually dismissing his theory.

“Sure. Love in the Capitol, I think that’s an oxymoron Peeta.” I tell him arrogantly and he turns to me quizzically.

“Maybe they’re not from here. Maybe they’re guests just like us.” He says quietly. And I squint at him. The comment, just like us, has me scrutinizing him. He looks away.

“I mean, there’s got to be some genuine affection at this party. It would be abysmally depressing to think everyone here is putting on an act.” He says finally, in a sad tone and he looks down at his hands. And I can tell I’ve been an ass again. I sigh.

Reaching over to take his hand in mine, I smile at him.

“Of course there’s genuine affection here. There’s you and me for starters.” I tell him and he looks back at me with a warming smile. But it's a little too sweet, a little too earnest. I gulp.

“And there’s Deen, and Haymitch, and Cinna, and Portia. And even Effie.” I add, hoping to pad my answer a bit. His smile falters for a brief second, then resumes. It's a little less bright this time. And I can’t tell if I’m relieved or not. I search his eyes, wanting to say something, wanting to elaborate. But my mouth feels dry as he stares openly back at me. I’m just about to try and say, I don’t know what, when the door is flung open.

I expect to see Effie standing above us with an impatient look on her face, but no. It's not Effie. It's President Snow’s personal assistant. I felt the color drain from my face.

“Here you both are. Come with me right away. The President wants a word with you.” She says in a clipped tone. A cold chill runs through me. Peeta stands and leans a hand down to help me up. I gratefully accept, and find myself clinging to his arm, as we exit the refuge of the coat closet, and set back into the dangerous world of the Capitol's Game.

Chapter Text

(Inside the Presidential office)

(Katnis POV)

Peeta and I stare at the two projections side by side. The one on the left shows my sister Prim and my mother sitting down to supper quietly in the formal dining room of my home in the victor's village. The other on the right shows Peeta's family, doing the exact same thing at the bakery.

There they are, the people we care about most, sitting in those rooms. Except for Gale and his family in their home, and Peeta's oldest brother who got married last year and moved into his own place with his new wife. We had just gotten the news last week that they are expecting. I can feel my hands start to shake and I have to grit my teeth in an effort to maintain my composure. My mind is spinning with questions. Why did they pull us away from the victor's celebration to show us this?

Is it just another one of Snow's attempts to remind us they are always watching, always in control? As if we could forget. But my eyes glide over Peeta's family quickly, and back to my own. There was no audio, so I couldn't hear what my sister was telling my mother but whatever it was it made the latter smile warmly. This is what dinner must be like whenever I am gone on my trips to the Capitol for the time Peeta and I have to work as mentors. How many times in the past 3 years since the Reaping and the 74th Hunger Games, have they sat down alone, just the two of them, trying to keep the conversation light while avoiding looking at the empty chairs around them?

They looked so normal and peaceful, like it's just another dinner, on just another day. They won't ever know that at this very moment their lives were in great danger. The holograms give a quick flicker and now show two different dinners. One, with Gale and his mother, and younger siblings. They have less to eat, and their home is smaller, grubbier with its noticeable layer of coal dust, but there they are laughing at some joke Posey has told.

Gale's smile is genuine, unguarded. I can't remember the last time I've seen him looking so relaxed. Things are still tenuous with Gale. And we are both still struggling to find some sort of balance, some normalcy. Everything is complicated, and very dangerous. The Capitol watches my every move, and the moves of anyone even remotely close to me. Gale is still on the list of people who play a very important role in my life, only we can never seem to come to any conclusion as to just exactly what his role is. My best friend? My...something more? We have never quite found the courage to move into the unsure waters of romantic tidings, but neither are we just friends anymore. Like an endless limbo, Gale, Peeta, and I have been carefully avoiding the issue for so long now it's almost second nature to the three of us. Our lives have been on pause since Peeta and I emerged from the arena, and were forced to sell our love story to survive. Our lives are full of half truths and deceptions that we must maintain to protect those we care about.

Peeta's oldest brother and his new wife are on the other screen, eating while holding hands. I always thought his older brother was somewhat intimidating, with his large frame and quiet presence. I don't think I've heard him say more than five words in the past 3 years despite Peeta and I having to spend time with one another's families on a regular basis to keep up appearances. But looking at him now, gently holding his pregnant wife's hand I realize I am wrong. The realization comes quickly and means very little in the grand scheme of things. My heart feels like it is being squeezed in a vice but I fight for composure, knowing there are guards just two steps behind us. We are in the middle of the large presidential office. Five steps away at least from any furniture or nicknacks that could be used as weapons, the guards have semi-automatic rifles and body armour while Peeta and I are dressed in our flimsy Capitol finery.

A thin, silvery dress for me that affords no protection at all if one of the guards decided to fire a bullet in my direction. Peeta looks refined and dashing even, If I'm being honest with myself in this matching silver coat and blue tie but he too is unprotected. I can tell he's nervous. His hands are clenched too tightly and sweat is starting to form on his temple. He's probably trying to think of the right words to say, the right tone to put everyone at ease. I hope he can do it, because I know I am not known for saying the right things. And if it comes down to a fight we aren't walking out of here.

I take a small side-step towards him and clasp his right hand, to steady myself more than anything. His large warm hand closes around mine firm and steady despite both our fear levels rising. It's so hard to deny my ingrained response, to want to fight, especially when I see Prim's face, soft and gently blossomed into that of a beautiful young woman. She's only 15. Still just a child. I've tried my best to protect her all these years, but it's been so hard. Pacifying the districts after we won the games was a monumental effort. I think it shaved at least 10 years off both Peeta and I's lives. But we did it. Well, Peeta and Haymitch did most of the work, staying up late to strategize, write speeches, and script romantic moments to be laid out for the cameras. All I did was take acting lessons from Haymitch, which was terrible at first for both of us. But we got through it.

Little by little we snuffed out the wildfire of unrest our berries created in the arena, and when it was done our families were safe. Then we had to become mentors and that was worse, so much worse. I almost couldn't handle it. But I made myself do everything I could to help them, the tributes that were chosen after us. Sometimes it still wasn't enough. The first year neither of our tributes made it. One died of dehydration, the other at the hands of a District 2 Career. Their deaths just added to the cadre of horrible nightmares that plagued me in the long nights. It was excruciating, but Peeta and Haymitch got me through it. And this year one of District 12's tributes actually won. A boy from the Seam side of town named Deen Sparrow. Now everyone was talking about District 12 like it was a new contender among the other districts for producing victors. Afterwards in his interview Deen had credited us, Peeta, Haymitch, and I for helping him win. The statement of gratitude had made me privately proud. I had finally done something worthwhile other than surviving the Hunger Games with Peeta. I knew from Haymitch that most years we wouldn't be able to save any of our tributes. But this year I felt the small flicker of hope rise up in my chest. I thought if I could save even a small number of them then my life would be bearable. Now, remembering Deen Sparrow's public gratitude and the very real attention it called back to Peeta and myself and our families I felt only a deep seated gnawing fear clawing its way through me. A door opened, and closed from the front left side of the room. I smelled his presence before I saw his face. The unbearable wave of artificially enhanced rose wafted towards us and I had to remind myself not to crush Peeta's hand in mine as I squeezed him tightly.

President Snow walked in and seated himself comfortably at the large mahogany desk in the center of the room. He smiled venomously at Peeta and I and motioned for us to sit down. We did so slowly, hesitantly. I didn't want to let go of his hand, at this point it was the only thing I was holding on to that was keeping me sane. But Peeta just gently released me, glancing at me for only a second but telling me with one look to let him try to do the talking. I was grateful again, as I had been these last few years, whenever he stepped up to bail me out. I was about 2 seconds away from launching myself over the desk at Snow armed with nothing but tooth and nail, a strategy that would surely get us both and our families killed.

"Mister Mellark, and Miss Everdeen," He said by way of greeting "Or should I say the future Mrs. Mellark? Only a few months to go now." He grinned at us knowingly. It had been another of our concessions, getting engaged now that we were both 18. That realization had been terrifying, yet inevitable. I spent months battling severe depression after our first two tributes died in the games, but on camera I had to act like I was fine. I had to smile and let everyone think I was crying tears of joy when they forced Peeta to propose on live television. They were not happy tears. They were the last dregs of sadness and anger draining from me to make room for the cold resignation that took its place.

Afterwards Peeta and I had been quiet, even when we were alone together. We don't talk about it, because I think we're both still finding a way to say goodbye to the last of our freedom and submit ourselves to plans the Capitol has for us. But we had had two years to plan for it, Haymitch had seen it coming all along. He had tried to help us prepare, but you can only prepare so much for something like that. Seeing Peeta's despondency was almost as difficult as dealing with my own crippling fears. But he never abandoned me. He still took my hands when they started to shake. He still came running to my room whenever we were on the train and I woke up screaming from a nightmare, or when we were staying at the training center mentoring the tributes. The only time I felt even remotely safe was when stayed with me, shielding me from the horrors that haunted both our dreams with his strong arms.

It was selfish of me to let him comfort me when the only things between us now are fear and sadness. But I have realized in the past few years that selfishness and desperation are some of the only things that keep most victors alive. Loyalty, and this weight we carry from having to give up so much has left us bonded together and yet unable to grow past being each other's security blankets. Limbo again. Which is a certain torture in it self. But the alternative is not something I think I would live with. Love, marriage, and children had never inspired hope in me. The world we live in is too cruel, too vicious to allow for tender dreams like those. But we decided to go through with it, and keep up the public facade of our romance. There really were no other options that didn't involve getting our loved ones killed or tortured, or dying in the wilderness if we tried to escape. The Capitol had been very careful to keep us busy, only letting us come home for a few months at a time. Always closely monitored, usually in the freezing winter months when any attempt to flee into the wilderness meant certain death for a group like ours, slowed down with children.

Haymitch had said the marriage didn't have to be real if we didn't want it to be, that it was only a piece of paper. But I knew better, I knew that one day Snow would come to collect on his investments. He would expect us to have children. He would expect to throw them into the arena so we would have to watch them die. I had asked my mother this year if there was anything, any herb or plant I could take that would prevent me from having children permanently. She had been shocked, appalled. But then she understood, after the engagement. She had seen my crippling fear before, had seen Haymitch and Peeta barely manage to drag me back from the brink of darkness. She said she didn't want to lose me like that again. And she had promised to find a way if that's what I wanted. It was the only plan that had allowed me to sleep at night, that kept me going. We were young. They wouldn't expect us to have children right away. And by the time they did start asking questions it would be too late.

"And it seems it was only yesterday that you two were winning your Games and going on your victory tour. So much has happened since then. The districts have quieted for the most part thanks to your well played love affair. And yet, today there were stirrings." He said as he fixed each of us with his cold, calculating stare. The one that always seemed to cut through me down to my deepest and most primal fears. Peeta was quiet, obviously waiting for Snow to elaborate. So I stayed silent too.

"Only small things, murmurs really, in the slums and poorest places of Panem. But still, as I told Miss Everdeen before you both went on your victory tour, we must watch even the smallest sparks. This year a boy from your district was crowned. How fortuitous for district 12! If things continue in this manner it's going to become very crowded in the victor's village back home. A dynamic that could veritably upset the balance of Panem." His eyes took on a dark and narrow expression, yet his mouth was still set in a friendly grin. It was unnerving. "For a district like 12 to be able to contend with the more advanced and civilized districts like 1 & 2 would invite an upset to the order of things. Above all, we must strive to maintain balance…" Snow trailed off sifting his gaze between Peeta and I. He was trying to read us. I just hoped my face wasn't discolored by fear or rage. The two emotions were threatening to choke me alternatively every few seconds.

"You want us to be more reserved in our mentoring of 12's tributes." Peeta stated, not asked. "We can do that." He promised.

Oh no. I think. He wants us to make sure our tributes lose. To let them die. To passively take part in their murders. Like I don't have enough blood on my hands already. I feel my body curve inward, involuntarily. Which makes sense to me distantly, because I feel like I have just been dealt a physical blow. Another one of my precariously held straws slips from my fingers, and soon I will have nothing left to grasp at. I feel my presence of mind slipping, muscles tense and I want nothing more in that moment than to vault over the desk and rip out President Snow's throat. I could use my teeth just like Enobaria did in her games. I would die, yes, but I would also be free. I can almost taste his venomous blood in my mouth already.

The warm rush of copper coats my tongue and I realize I've bitten deeply into my cheek. The pain brings me back to the moment. I can't kill him now. My whole family would be executed. Selfish ideas again seem to be tripping me up.

I look over at Peeta, and his face is impassable, but the hard line of his mouth suggests that this is the last thing he wants to do as well. Yet his eyes have that subtle alert quality that suggests he's surveying the battlefield, mapping out the weaknesses and defences before him. I want him to keep Snow talking so I can stop my heart from racing out of my chest.

Snow smiled at Peeta's words, his flowery lips twisting into something grotesque.

"I have always said you were the intelligent side of the duo Peeta." Snow complimented, and I stomped down the overwhelming urge to not lose my dinner all over the plush dark red carpets. Snow complimenting Peeta is too obscene, too monstrous. It violates the fragile barriers I have tried to build around those I care about and the pervasive wickedness that permeates the Capitol and everything Snow touches.

Peeta doesn't bat an eyelash, he just accepts Snow's assessments with a tilt of his head and shrug of his shoulders. He can play the game very well, I think to myself.

Snow nods, but then says "That's not going to be enough. Even if 12 never has another victor for the remainder of your lives, the damage is spreading now. So we are all going to have to work together toward a solution that ensures the safety and prosperity of Panem, as well as that of your families." Peeta tenses, and I can see him swallow. I feel as if something large and heavy has settled onto my chest, crushing the air from my lungs. So, even the small bit of hope Peeta and I had, the chance to help our district tributes has been taken from us. And there's more, I can tell that Snow is not done, not done by a long shot. This was just a warm up and he is getting ready to deliver the final blow. I grip the armrest of the chair that is the only thing keeping me from crumpling to the floor. I bite the inside of my other cheek until I feel hot blood soaking my mouth. Peeta leans back in his chair, trying to put some distance between himself and whatever punishment is about to befall us.

"Your wedding should be a nice distraction in the meantime. People have not forgotten your love story. They are still inspired by it, so I don't think it would be out of the question to suggest you move up your time table. With the Capitol's help we could have you married by the end of the year." Snow smiles at us.

I tell myself to breathe.

"We had planned for a Summer wedding, six months from now." Peeta says nonchalantly. He knows that wherever time is left before we have to consign ourselves to a life of falsehood is precious to me. He is still trying to buy us time.

"It will be just as lovely for the yuletide season. Lovelier even, the Capitol will take care of every expense." He promises with a tone that suggests generosity, but conveys the absence of any choice for Peeta and I.

I swallow spit and blood and bile that threatens to work its way up. The inside of my cheeks both thob. Every time I think there's nothing left for them to take, I am proven wrong.

Peeta glances at me, he must notice I am not doing well. He widens his eyes just barely and flicks them back to the screens for a split second. The ones that show our families, back home in district 12, unaware of everything that is taking place at the moment. Unaware of how much depends on Peeta and I appeasing the monstrous man in front of us. Peeta is reminding me of what our lives consist of now, sacrificing whatever we have to for our families futures.

I stare at the floor. I don't want to see the triumph in Snow's eyes. He knows he has only to say the words and we will have to hand over whatever he asks. This time it's a few months of whatever was left of my freedom. But there is one thing I will never give them, one ace I still have up my sleeve. I know my mother will come through. She called two days ago to tell me the sweater she was making for me was coming along well and would be ready by yuletide and my mother hasn't knitted our clothes since I won the games and we became rich.

Peeta drums his fingers on the arm rest, the same way he does when he's playing chess with Haymitch or Prim. He is composed, thoughtful. I have no idea how but I'm glad one of us still has the mental fortitude to play this battle of words. I'm better at solving things with a bow or knife, neither of which I have right now.

"Katniss and I will do whatever is needed to maintain the peace." Peeta replies smoothly. I nod numbly, not looking at Snow's face. I'm just counting the seconds until I can get away from here.

Snow smiles again, satisfied with his acquiescence. I take a breath, thinking we will be dismissed now. I am simply looking forward to finding Haymitch and Effie and leaving early so I can go back to my room and smash every breakable object I can find and then cry myself to sleep. But he makes no move to dismiss us. We both stare at him, and I can feel a wave of dread wash over me, larger than the first one.

"That's all very well and good my dears, but there is one last thing we need to discuss. I and many others here in the Capitol feel it would be advisable, no, what I mean to say is necessary, yes it would be necessary for you Katniss," He looks at me and I raise my eyes to meet him. His eyes are cold, and poised with a vicious gleam, like a snake ready to strike. "And you Peeta, to begin having children. As soon as possible after you are married." Snow finishes, and rests his hands together in finality, his eyes savoring the look of horror on my face.

Peeta's voice comes out hoarsely, when he tries to speak. "I thought since we are both reasonably young and have so many responsibilities as mentors that we could hold off on children for a few years." He swallows reflexively and Snow's inhuman mouth just twists into a small smile.

"Yes, I had thought so too. But as I have told you, the situation has changed. Panem needs to refocus its attention on the two of you, not District 12's new winning streak. Don't worry Peeta, I can honestly say you strike me as the type of man who would make a good father." Snow says, his voice clinical, his evaluation of Peeta is sterile and detached. The way a scientist would list the attributes of a specimen he is experimenting on.

Peeta and I are silent. The room feels too small. My head is pounding now, but still I just stare at Snow. There is a jubilant gleam in his eye. It's fascinating how much my misery makes him happy.

"Sir, we've always done what's required of us. We've met all the conditions you've set, I-" Peeta says calmly, so calmly I have no idea how. But Snow cuts him off.

"This is not a negotiation son, these are the consequences of your actions. You both endangered the peace of an entire nation, without regards to the effect it could have on your society, without thought to rules. Did you think surviving the games was the only price you would have to pay? The peace of your fellow citizens is now your responsibility, and if you fail to uphold that piece you will pay for it with the life of someone you love. It's only fair." Snow's voice is raised, his speech delivered with an undertone of anger.

"Then let us have the ceremony in District 12." Peeta counters, unfazed by Snow's reprimand. I whip my head up to stare at him, shocked he would plunge forward despite the severe surprise attack Snow just delivered. "Please, we have done everything you asked. We will continue to do so, for as long as we are alive. If we can't have a little more time to ourselves, without having to add the responsibilities of having a family, then let us say goodbye to our old lives. Everyone in our district gets married in a small ceremony, with very little fanfare. I only ask that we be able to honor that tradition as far ast the ceremony is concerned. Our family and friends won't be comfortable traveling to the Capitol. If we can have the ceremony at home, it will help to ease the transition. The Capitol can televise it. We can have the reception, and the honeymoon in the Capitol if you'd like." He says all of this quickly, pleadingly. He's arguing for a small ceremony, something that feels normal and feasible. It's something small that we both can hold onto, that means they don't own us completely. It will mean some small, even insignificant part of our lives will remain our own. It takes me back to the roof on the tribute center, so long ago it feels like another lifetime instead of just 3 years. Peeta had said if he had to die in the arena, he wanted to die as himself. I thought it was a noble sentiment, and also futile. This is very much the same.

Snow is quiet. His gloved index finger is pressed against his lips in a thoughtful expression. "Very well." He says, with a pleased air. Then stands abruptly. It seems we are being dismissed. Yet I can't seem to make my feet move. I'm just staring at the deep red color of the carpet that I can now see has the unmistakable color of old blood. And I don't want to get up, and go back to the party. I don't want to move because if I do then this is real. Then all my worst fears will close in on me. But Peeta is here, and he's helping me up, his strong arms have to practically haul me up, there is so little strength in my legs. He says something to me quietly but I don't hear him. I am thinking of my mother, and her medicines. I am hoping she can finalize her solution quickly because time has just run out. But before we make it to the door I hear Snow's taunting voice calling out to our backs.

"And do take great care of your health, Miss Everdeen. If something were to happen to you, or your future children the Capitol would not be able to sit back. We would do everything in our power to help you." He threatens in a softening voice. I feel a scream rising in my throat. I almost turned around. I almost don't care about the guns and the guards. All I want to do is scratch his evil snake eyes out his horrible old face before I die. But Peeta's arm grips me tightly, so very tightly. It's verging on painful and that makes me hesitate. Then he whispers in my ear.

"Think of Prim, Katniss. Think of Prim and your mother. Don't look back." His voice is so quiet I can barely hear him. But I do, and I remember that I must walk away for them, and for Gale and Peeta's families too. So I do.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

We tell Effie that we need to leave because I feel unwell. Which isn't entirely a lie, and on the way home they have to stop the car so I can get out before I throw up my expensive dinner all over the back seat. Peeta tells Effie I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me and he rubs my back soothingly in small circles as I throw up every last thing left in my stomach onto the Capitol pavement in the City Circle part of town. Deen Sparrow was left in the capable hands of Cinna and his prep team, they assured us they would get him back to train safely. Haymitch, who had too much to drink at the party, passed out even before Peeta and I started looking for him, and had been deposited in the back of the capitol car we were riding in. He sleeps blissfully unaware of the latest predicament in Peeta and I's ever increasingly dangerous lives. He will have to be informed later, when we can get away from our attendants, and listening devices that probably cover every inch of the train. Right now I try to suck in great gulps of air. Peeta goes to the car to fetch me water so I can rinse out my mouth. The streets are deserted. Everyone is either still partying or at home watching the celebration on tv. At least I won't have any more witnesses to my humiliation. That would be a real sight, Katniss Everdeen, drunk and puking in the street. At least that's what they'd all assume. They'd have no way of knowing my illness isn't caused by over celebration, but by deep rooted terror that is springing up in my heart. I stare at Peeta's retreating form and find myself wondering what Snow will do to ensure we have children. They have all sorts of medical and technological advancements here in the Capitol. Maybe all they would need is a strand of Peeta's wavy blond hair. Maybe I was a fool for thinking I could ever outrun this.

"I should have just eaten the berries." I say to myself as another spasm wracks my body and I dry heave nothing but stringy spit. I could collapse right here. I am so tired and scared out of my mind. Peeta brushes the hair that's fallen into my face back over my ears. I hadn't even noticed his return.

He hands me a small champagne glass filled with water, scavenged from the car's inside bar. I wash out my mouth with some, and then try to take small sips. But almost immediately I feel myself start to shake. Peeta drops down to sit beside me in the street. He's going to ruin his nice clothes, but this night has been such a disaster. What's one more thing? He rests his forehead against mine and tells me to breathe.

"Katniss," He whispers as he folds his arms around me, "Don't give up now. Don't give in." He lifts my chin and looks me in the eyes. His face looks so tired. The dark circles are still visible even underneath all the makeup they use to try and cover them up. He has been sleeping less than I thought. But his eyes are still the same light blue color. They are still kind. He doesn't deserve this. He deserves someone who will take care of him, someone who is strong and kind also, someone who can give him everything he wants. Real love, not confusion and emotional dependency. A real marriage, not this sham we are putting on. And, oh, God, children, Peeta deserves to have children one day because he would make the best parent. He doesn't deserve to have his chance at happiness destroyed by being tied to me. I sob into his arm once, holding onto him like the ground will swallow me up the moment I let go.

"How can you stand me Peeta?" I ask desperately. "Your life is ruined because of me." He shakes his head in disagreement. I start to speak in protest, I want to list all of the things he has lost, and will lose because of me. But he continues to shake his head and shush me like I'm a crying child.

"You're the only reason I've survived this long." He replies, tucking my head under his, where I can hear the pounding beat of his heart. I almost laugh because that answer applies to me as well. But the laugh turns into a choked sob. I am not good like Peeta, I have not given him the unconditional support he has given me. I can't even give him back half of what he has given me.

"And my life isn't ruined, Katniss. Every moment we're still breathing means we still have a chance." Now it's my turn to shake my head, to argue that Snow will never let us live normal lives. He will torture us, and everyone we care about until there is nothing left.

"He'll never stop Peeta, they'll just keep taking things from us, until there's nothing!" My voice rises to a shout.

"Katniss calm down!" Peeta commands, gripping my shoulders and looking straight at me again. He is trying to tell me something with his eyes. He's looking at me so intently, but I just feel sick and lost.

"As long as we're still breathing katniss." He repeats. "We just have to keep it up a little longer." He says so quietly, his mouth barely moving, I almost don't hear him. My mind does a double take at his words. A little longer? What is he talking about? We'll have to keep this up for the rest of our lives. Unless...does he have some kind of plan I don't know about? He's been so quiet and reserved lately, not doing much outside of playing chess with Haymitch, and our mentor duties. I assumed it was because the wedding was getting closer. I believed it was the thought of being shackled to a girl who could never be a real wife, or mother that was weighing on him. But I should have realized sooner. Peeta isn't the type to go down quietly. He has never been okay with being a piece in this twisted game the Capital has forced us into. Then again, neither am I. The defiant girl who called the Capitol's bluff with poison berries has been lost to me since the victory tour. I said goodbye and buried her to keep my sister and mother safe. I thought she was dead. Entombed under the nightmares of the Hunger Games and the lies that followed. But looking into Peeta's sure, and confident eyes, their brilliant blue shining in the dark night, I think that I feel her stir. We have survived their plans before, subverted them even. Maybe that girl who almost caused an uprising has just been sleeping all this time.

"How can you be sure?" I ask warily, not wanting to reach for a hope that might slip away. Peeta sits back on his heels studying me. Trying to figure out how to communicate what he's trying to tell me in the right words, that won't draw suspicion in case we are being listened to. For all we know the pavement and street signs could be bugged. It is the Capitol after all.

"If I've learned anything from playing chess with Haymitch all these months, it's that there's always another way." He replies, eyes intent on mine to see if I got the message.

His words turn over in my mind. There's something there, I know there has to be, but my overworked brain can't process it at the moment.

"But Haymitch always cheats when you play with him." I say, more to myself than Peeta. He knows this already. We all do. Haymitch makes up all kinds of ridiculous illegal moves. And then declares to the whole train car that he is victorious. It's only recently, very recently, this past week I think, that Peeta has beaten him, using an equally long and complicated strategy that wasn't legal at all. I thought Haymitch would knock over the table. But he just smiled at Peeta quietly before getting up to make himself another drink.

I blink and I'm back in the moment, sitting on the rough pavement of the Capitol street. Peeta's eyebrows rise expectantly and he nods his head, saying nothing but his eyes give me a very pointed look, as if to say "Exactly,".

Haymitch cheats. Peeta loses to him even though he could probably beat him if Haymitch was forced to play fair. But when Peeta stopped playing fair…... I lean back, thinking about this. After a few seconds I whip my head back in Peeta's direction.

He smirks at me. I grip his arm. "Feeling better Katniss?" He asks smugly.

"Yes." I say and I really mean it. I feel instantly better because Peeta hasn't been sitting around depressed and barely functional. He hasn't given in to feeling sorry for himself or made himself useless with unchanned rage. Those were all the things I did. Peeta did the opposite. He's been thinking this whole time, and now he must have an idea of how to fix all this. I look up at his face, slightly in awe of him even though I should know by now. He will never stop protecting the people he cares for. Even though I know I don't deserve to be on that list, it doesn't make me any less grateful.

He stands and extends his hand down to me to help me up. And when I'm propelled away from the cold rocky pavement and standing straight and tall again with much less fear because of who is beside me, I feel like I can breathe deeply for the first time since we left Snow's office. I resist the urge to kiss Peeta full on the mouth. Firstly because I just vomited up about a gallon of partially digested party food, and second because that would be breaking the rules.

Peeta catches the moment anyway, noticing the slight lean in my movement, maybe some look in my eyes that I didn't cover quickly enough. He stares at me, and I feel frozen. So I do the only thing I can at times like these. I intertwine my hand with his, and say with all the honesty I have in my broken worthless heart, "Thank you for protecting us."

He looks at me intently, starts to ask a question, but stops. "Of course Katniss, always." He replies with quiet dignity. The foolish urge washes over me again. Peeta, who always knows what to say has done it again and I am barely hanging onto my poorly constructed defenses. Then he just nods and we make our way back to the car.

Somewhere around midnight I am awakened by Peeta's nuge. I groaned, because I was getting some good sleep, the first really peaceful sleep I'd had in I couldn't remember how long. But Peeta won't stop nudging me, so I open my eyes to find it's still dark in the room. We must have been asleep for only an hour, maybe two. I turn to Peeta, start to ask why he is waking me but he just puts one finger against my lips in the universal request for silence. That's when I notice the dark figure standing at the foot of the bed. I fight the urge to scream, but if there is an intruder then he doesn't need to be alerted to the fact that I'm awake. I immediately reach over to the night stand to grab something, anything I can use to defend us with. Snow must have sent an assassin to kill us in our sleep. But Peeta's firm grip comes over my arm, stopping me from ripping the bedside lamp out of the wall to use as a makeshift weapon. Then my eyes are adjusted enough to the darkness to make out the familiar paunchy silhouette. Haymitch. He beckons us with a crooked finger and Peeta and I move out of bed as quietly as we can. We move to the back car, the one with the oversized rear window that is often used for observing the passing scenery. I am slightly cold, out of bed and in the thin silk pajamas that are always provided for us on the train. Peeta must have suspected something like this might happen because he is still wearing his thin cotton shirt and pajama bottoms. Usually he forgoes the shirt altogether since I told him long ago that I didn't mind whether he wore one or not. Our nights are not really about exposed skin or passionate embraces. They are about security, survival. We're way past the point of uncomfortableness with each other's sleepwear. We stop walking when we get to the left side emergency door. The one that is always locked. Then Haymitch pulls something out of his pocket and proceeds to open the door. I wait for an alarm to go off. Nothing happens. Haymitch and Peeta have already stepped out. I quickly follow them.

Haymitch must have stolen the key to the emergency exit somehow. Somehow disabled the alarm, or got someone to do it for him. I'm surprised he woke up so soon after he indulged so much at the party. I'm even more surprised that he somehow stole the key to exit and woke me and Peeta up in the middle of the night. Just when I think I have the drunken old mentor figured out, he goes and does something like this.

Haymitch fixes us with a disapproving stare. I return his stare with equal force, because if he thinks he can drag us out here in the middle of the night to lecture us about decorum or the value of our good reputations like Effie did so many times at first when Peeta and I started sleeping in the same room he is sorely mistaken. What Peeta and I do or don't do in private is none of his business. Haymitch rolls his eyes at me and huffs in exasperation.

"Sorry to interrupt snuggle time sweetheart, but we all need to talk." He says with his particular brand of derision. His voice is low, buffeted by the racing winds speeding past us. I wrap my arms around myself to try and stave off the chill from standing outside on the small deck when the train is moving this fast. Peeta, who is never cold unless the temperatures reach snowing levels, just nods for Haymitch to continue.

"Judging by the way you all practically ran from the party, and the way this one," He hooks his thumb in my direction, "tossed her cookies in the street, I'd say the old cold blooded bastard gave you another ultimatum." He says roughly. I stand in shock for a second because I have no idea how Haymitch knows this. He passed out drunk even before we got in the car.

Then I notice something. We are all standing pretty close together. Only a foot apart really, because the wind is so loud, and Haymitch is speaking quietly. It's uncanny, because I have never been this close to Haymitch without feeling like I'm inhaling fumes. But I can barely smell any alcohol on him. I scrutinize him for a minute while Peeta starts to tell him about our meeting with Snow. Haymitch couldn't have woken up from one of his binges that quickly. Something is off here. I study his eyes and they are alert and focused on every word Peeta is saying. His hands are twitching ever so slightly but other than that Haymitch seems the most alert and in control I've ever seen him. Peeta has stopped talking and during the lull I dive in and ask the question that's been growing in my mind.

"Haymitch, are you sober right now?" Both of them look at me at the exact same time. "Unfortunately and against my wishes and every desire, yes I am Katniss. Well, mostly." He adds with an extremely irritated edge in his voice.

"How is that even possible?" I blurt out, completely incredulous.

"Through great personal pain and sacrifice." He replies, truly annoyed with me. I look at Peeta. He is not surprised by this revelation. Not at all.

"Since when?" I demand.

"Gradually, for months now." Peeta answers cooly.

"Wow, thanks for keeping me out of the loop." I say, slightly hurt.

"Thanks for not noticing, pumpkin." He pins me with a hateful glare that's almost intimidating. "You've had your head so far up your own a-"Haymitch begins only to be cut off by a frustrated sound Peeta makes low in his throat "these days." Haymitch finishes, narrowing his eyes at Peeta before continuing. "But all of that is over. You don't have the luxury of letting him," He points to Peeta now, "handle all the hard work anymore. You've gotta get your head back in the game."

"What?" I'm starting to get pissed off now, because this is beginning to feel strangely familiar, like after the games when I found out Peeta and Haymitch had made plans behind my back to save me at Peeta's expense.

"Wake up and smell the contingency plan darling." Haymitch says in a frustrated growl. "Nobody on this team was ever just going to sit by and let you two be marched down the aisle at gunpoint. We've been planning how to circumvent this wedding for months."

I turn to Peeta, my eyes wide as saucers I am sure. I thought he had an idea. Turns out he has an entire game plan and has even enlisted help from our usually severely alcoholically incapacitated mentor. He stares back at me and nods slowly.

"Why didn't anyone ever tell me?" I cry out angrily. "Keep your damn voice down!" Haymitch whispers/yells at me.

I remember that this is a secret meeting, and so I adjust my volume but let my indignant rage clearly show.

"If we're a team why are you both keeping secrets from me again?" I demand quietly with all the anger I can exude while whispering.

"We were waiting for you to get better, Katniss, to get stronger." Peeta answers and I shake my head at him.

"I would've felt much better if I had known you were planning a way out!" I whisper yell. If Haymitch can whisper scream, I can whisper scream right back.

"Another reason we didn't want to say anything at first, was because we didn't want to give you false hope. We kept it a secret until there was a good possibility of the plan working." Peeta continued.

I chewed on that for a second. He had a point, but I was still pissed.

"It was the wrong decision. What if I had gone behind your back Peeta? How would you feel?" I ask in clipped and pointed tones.

"You can work it out in couple's therapy later. Right now we need to come up with a solution to the accelerated timeline." Haymitch interrupts Peeta before he can respond. I roll my eyes at his obnoxious comment.

But I recognize the logic in his words, even if my anger isn't anywhere close to subsiding. I nod quietly.

"Alright, we get back to 12 tomorrow, early evening. Let's meet after dinner. Someplace secluded." Haymitch says calmly.

"The woods?" Peeta suggests looking at me. He is already trying to make up for keeping me out of the loop, by suggesting somewhere where I'll feel most comfortable.

But Haymitch and I both shake out heads. The woods have been watched too closely ever since we won the games. With the wedding coming up there's no way all three of us could slip under the fence without someone noticing.

"There's an old abandoned house I know." And I proceed to give them both directions. Haymitch approves of the meeting place, but tells us we all need to leave at different times and have cover stories.

We each walk back to our rooms as quietly as possible. Peeta hesitates by my door, unsure if I am angry enough to refuse his company now.

During the walk back to our compartment my anger subsided somewhat so I just waved him in with an impatient gesture.

But when we get into bed I turn towards the window, facing away from him. I have not completely shaken off the sense of betrayal.

I can feel his gaze on the back of my head, but I don't turn around. I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep.

But I hear his voice, barely above a whisper.

"Katniss…" He just trails off, unable to find the right words, or unable to say anything because the room is probably, most definitely bugged.

I feel his hand brush the space between my shoulder blades. Despite the warm comforter I shiver. From anger I tell myself.

"Please," He says, his voice just slightly desperate.

Wasn't I so grateful to him, only hours ago that I almost broke one of our most sacred rules? No kissing on the lips when the cameras aren't around. He has been planning to save me, to save us this whole time. He even got Haymitch to radically tone down his drinking. I sigh.

I don't say anything, but I do turn around and scoot closer to him. He immediately shifts to allow me to rest my head on his arm, pulling me closer to him, I move to lay my head on his chest. Right under his heart beat.

He sighs, and says "Thank you." And within minutes his breathing evens out and he's asleep.

His heart, so steady and warm drums rhythmically beneath me, and it's not too long before I too, slip into a blissful dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

When we arrive home we are thankfully not the focus of everyone's attention this year. Deen, a lanky but strongly muscled 16 year old with olive skin and coal dark eyes, is clamored over by the entirety of the district. Girls want to kiss him, and boys want to be him, or at least be his friend. He smiles and waves, says all the right things. Peeta must have given him a heads up before we reached District 12's train station. Because now all he's mentioning is his gratitude toward the Capitol. We are passed over, and I sigh inwardly in relief. We go home, to change and rest before the celebratory dinner. Cinna didn't accompany us back, but left instructions with my and Peeta's prep team as to what we should wear and how to style our hair and makeup. This year I get to wear a deeply cut, figure hugging dark blue dress that's such a deep color at first I think it's black. But then Flavius walks toward me with the fabric swaying in his hands as he moves, and I see the elusive Mockingjay blue glinting in the light.

"Oh," I breathe, running my fingers over the light velvety fabric. It's so beautiful, and deceptively simple and understated. I have noticed that he has been adjusting my style for a while now, to help me appear more mature. I'll be getting married in a matter of months now, so the school girl dresses and the headbands have been abandoned for increasingly more alluring styles. This one however takes the cake. The team hangs the dress near the light of the portable makeup station they brought with them. They scrutinize the colors and test out swatches of eyeshadow on the inner part of my arm. They squint over Cinna's instructions, but after a while they start to paint my face, and everyone relaxes into the routine. I half listen to their inane gossip, but really what I'm thinking about is how to sneak out of the party tonight to meet up with Haymitch and Peeta at the abandoned house. It had been a regular government assigned shack that belonged to a family from the Seam. But last summer lightning had struck it, and a fire had started. A tree had fallen on a portion as well, but there were two rooms with intact walls and ceilings that made it ideal to hide out in. It was still standing, a badly burned wreck since the townspeople couldn't put out the fire fast enough in the summer swelter. So now it was abandoned, and the family had been assigned another residence. When my make up is done, and matching midnight blue heels are secured to my feet, my team slips the dress over my head, and proceeds to curl my hair into a mass of silky looking tresses and soft waves that frame my face in a complimentary way. I feel beautiful, and desirable as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. These past few years my body has filled out more than I was aware of. But now looking at myself in the dark blue shimmering fabric that does nothing to hide my shape I notice that I have more curves than I expected. The small, skinny thing that left on the train after the Reaping has managed to eat enough to gain more than just a mere suggestion of breasts. I blush, feeling more than a little exposed in this get up.

"It's kind of tight." I tell the prep team and they just laugh at my naivete.

"Peeta's going to love it! You'll be the most ravishing thing at the celebration." Octavia gushes.

"Enjoy it while you can darling, pretty soon you'll be wearing aprons and house slippers!" Falvious jokes, alluding to my destiny as a housewife, as Peeta's trophy. At first this thought angered me. One, because I can't cook to save my own life, and so will find very little cause to wear an apron. Secondly, that they think all this, the way I look and what I wear is something contrived to please Peeta, who honestly would still moon over me even if I wore a burlap sack to our fake wedding. These clothes aren't for me, or Peeta. They're for the cameras, and the bored pampered people of the Capitol to drool over. I grit my teeth to keep myself from saying something nasty to Flavius, and then I remind myself that Peeta and Haymitch have a plan. I gulp down my anger, and focus on staying alert and flexible tonight. I'll have to play it right if I'm going to be able to get away. That means putting everybody in a relaxed and unsuspecting mood. So I smile at them, like their comments please me to no end. They fawn over me. The last thing for my prepteam to to do is outfit me in jewelry. Tonight I get to wear an impossibly thin and fluid looking diamond necklace. It drips down my collarbones, like a sparking trail of water that ends in a single diamond teardrop nestled in the hollow of my cleavage. It's the final touch and I'm transformed into a creature of midnight temptations, draped in the illusive color of the night sky and decorated with a sprinkle of stars. The room goes quiet as they stare at me. No one breathes, and even admit it's hard for me to look away from the captivating picture Cinna has painted with cloth and color. We're all startled by a quick knock, followed by the door opening to reveal Peeta in the doorway. He looks as handsome as ever, in a charcoal grey suit accented with the same elusive blue as my dress. The color brings out the dark blue notes in his eyes, and makes his blond hair seem more golden and glossy in contrast. He stands, mouth slightly open in shock staring at me. I stare at his reflection in the mirror for a beat before I turn around and cross the room towards him.

"Ready?" I ask him, extending my hand. His eyes are overly large and luminous as they take me in.

"Not at all." He says under his breath, but he takes my hand and folds it over the crook of his arm. We descend the stairs together in silence, but it's not the empty kind. It is full of unsaid things, and thoughts that echo too loud on the creaking wood. Deen waits for us at the bottom, Cinna having made him look handsome in a black and gold suit. A stencil of thin gold has been applied across his forehead in an intricate pattern to replicate the victor's crown. It makes him look powerful, and regal. His color scheme is more prominent than ours, because of course he is the victor this year and we are just mentors. Yet, for all the ornateness of his outfit I find I prefer the suit Cinna crafted for Peeta. Deen stares back, as we are coming down, and when he sees us up close he whistles soft and low.

"You two look great!" He says with a wide grin. "Sometimes I forget you're both only 2 years older!" He tells us, and for some reason this makes Peeta frown. I just tilt my head at Deen in a disbelieving gesture, but I smile to show that I find his comments humorous. Even though we are only 2 years apart, I feel more like his guardian or caretaker than his peer. The games have aged me inwardly far past my 18 years.

"We're getting married soon, so I'd say that gives us more credit." Peeta says in an almost defensive voice. I crinkle my brow in perplexity at the hostility in Peeta's tone.

Then I notice Deen hasn't turned back around. He's still staring at me. There's a blatant, almost unconcerned look on his smiling face. I glance at Peeta's face and see his jaw is flexed tightly. I roll my eyes at Peeta's consternation. Deen's a 16 year old victor who just cheated death and became an instant celebrity. Of course he's a little preoccupied with girls in dresses right now. Still, I shouldn't indulge Deen's adolescent preoccupations. I give him a little shove, and shoot him a look that says 'turn around'. He chuckles in that good natured, slightly mischievous way I've come to expect and finally looks away.

"You know if Cinna didn't want people staring at you, he shouldn't have put you in that dress." Deen says quietly with a touch of humor as he stares ahead, watching the doors again.

Peeta just huffs unhappily. I don't know what to say to that, it's true but I also think that it's part of the Capitol's plan to slowly put more focus on Peeta and I's upcoming wedding.

"What is that?" I hear Haymitch's outraged slurred words before I even realize he's standing behind us on the stairs. I was so deep in thought I hadn't heard him walk up behind us.

I turn around to look at him and he blanches at the sight of the front of my dress, which undoubtedly shows more skin than the back. He turns his head to the side to avoid looking at me directly.

Alright I'm starting to get annoyed at everyone making such a big deal over my wardrobe. There are victor's from other districts who walk around naked or practically naked in front of the cameras. Joanna Mason from District 7 comes to mind. My dress is tame by comparison. And really I'm getting tired of people criticizing Cinna's choices. I think the dress is beautiful, and I really like it.

"It's the dress Cinna made for me, and I think it's really good." I tell him, an edge in my voice challenging him to make any criticism.

"That," Haymitch says pointedly, gutting his chin in my direction, "Is worse than showing up in your underwear girl. It'll attract all the wrong kinds of attention." Haymitch says in a serious manner.

"I have no idea what he was thinking." Peeta tells Haymitch quietly. I turn his comment over in my mind.

"He's thinking people need a distraction." I whisper quietly, before I turn around. The air in the room turns a degree colder. And the conversation from last night swims unspoken between the three of us.

"Well," Haymitch says with a bemused snort, "he'll definitely get it then." He leans in to whisper in Peeta's ear sternly, "Boy, don't leave her side for a single minute." Peeta nods, and grips my hand tighter.

I find I don't like the implications of this command. What do they think will happen to me, here at a public celebration in my own district? I don't want to contemplate it, so I resolve to submit myself to Peeta's careful watch. The mayor's voice rings out over the sounds of happy chatter. He makes a short speech, and then introduces Deen, who steps out first with a grin wide enough to make the school girls shout and cheer in adoration. Then it's my and Peeta's turn, and when we step out the crowd's jubilee ratchets up a notch. Three new victors in three years. Who would have thought District 12 could do it? No one, that was the problem. It wasn't supposed to be possible. So I plaster a smile on my face and plaster myself to Peeta's side in hopes that people will soon forget about the incredulity of this feat, and forget themselves in the feasting and celebrating.

Everyone eats heartily at the rows of white tables filled with delicious fare. It's a treat for all the underfed people of our district to have another victory tour end with a feast in district 12. But I only pick at my food while we sit with Deen on the raised platform of the victor's table. Afterwards people line up to talk to us and offer congratulations. Peeta sticks to me like glue, his hand on my shoulder, around my waist, or in my hair like a neon sign declaring me 'off limits'. This year Deen is the one doing most of the shaking of hands, and chatting. Peeta, Haymitch, and I try to blend into the background as he's interviewed by the tv cameras. But towards the end of the short segment the cameras turn to focus their attention on us.

"And to the winners of the 74th Games, we only have two questions tonight! Peeta, how excited are you for your upcoming nuptials and Katniss who designed your dress?"

Peeta thankfully answers first. "We're extremely excited, we've been waiting for this for quite a while and now it feels like it will be the perfect ending to a dream come true." He turns to face me and looks into my eyes in that perfect besotted school boy routine that he's gotten down pat after all these years. "I mean look at her, doesn't she look gorgeous tonight?" His eyes hold me in place with all the gravity of one of the powerful clear tubes the Capitol used to freeze us in as we were lifted onto the platforms in our first games. I'm having trouble drawing breath while he stares at me this way. He turns back to the camera. I breathe and the spell his eyes cast on me is broken.

"Oh, I think everyone will agree she looks spectacular! So, Katniss this brings up the next question. Is this another Cinna original or did you design this outfit?" I shake my head and laugh at her question. I couldn't design a handkerchief. But the people of the Capitol don't know that. They think my victor's talent is fashion design.

"Oh, not a chance. I'm still learning from the master." I say with a laugh. "This is all Cinna, and I can only hope to one day be one one-hundredth as talented as he is." Everyone laughs, and the reporter ends the segment by saying how fortuitous it is to be a district 12 citizen tonight. The red light blinks off and I exhale in relief. I feel myself slump a little in Peeta's hold, but he just places his hand on the small of my back and leads me down the stairs towards the makeshift dance floor. The night isn't over yet, and we still have to find a way to sneak out.

I scan the crowd as Peeta and I sway to the easy melody spilling across the square from a live band of musicians. Other people dance as well, including Deen and a beautiful girl with strawberry curls that tumble down her back. She's not wearing one of Cinna's Capitol created wonders, but she looks very pretty in her green moss colored dress that matches the shade of her eyes. I smile over at them, happy for Deen. After all he's been through, he deserves some merriment in his life.

I feel rather than hear Peeta's intake of breath. I look up at him and see him studying me intently.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks.

"Oh, I was just happy to see Deen looking so cheerful. He deserves to find happiness with a girl his own age." I tell him with a mocking grin. Peeta chuckles, in a run of low notes that send a small shiver through me.

"He's a good kid, but he's just too cocky sometimes." He says quietly, his eyes still on Deen.

"Peeta, he's like a little brother. Sometimes I felt like his mother in the arena when I had to see him starving and cold, injured and afraid." I tell him seriously, hoping to take the edge off. He just offers a noncommittal sound in reply.

"You know I'm not interested in those kinds of attachments." I remind him. He rolls his eyes at me in disbelief and I start to work up a glare. But then something catches his eye over my shoulder, and he almost stops dancing. But then he seems to recover, and pulls me closer to him.

"That's a good thing actually, because I can see Gale from here. And he's not alone." Peeta mutters in my ear. I feel myself grow stiff in his arms. I don't turn around though, that would be too obvious. So I gulp down the strange desperate feeling that has started gnawing its way to my throat, and wait as Peeta turns me slowly as we dance. When I see them, I am unprepared for the flush of anger and embarrassment that floods me.

Gale is dancing with a girl with dark chestnut colored straight hair that falls like a silk curtain over her slim shoulders. She wears a white plain party dress, but she fills it wonderfully. I feel like a scrawny middle schooler when I catch a glimpse of her full hips, and long beautiful legs. She has her head resting on his strong shoulder, eyes closed in joyful satisfaction, obviously enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.

"You were saying?" Peeta murmurs to me and I resist the urge to stomp on his foot. I don't look at him, but I'm sure he is not actually enjoying the moment. His voice sounds sad, and slightly worried for me.

"It's a party." I say. "And it doesn't matter to me who he dances with." The sentence makes my mouth feel heavy, the lie weighing my tongue down.

Peeta just pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me as if to shield me from this uncomfortable situation.

"He must be really jealous, to do something like that." He says, his lips against my hair.

"What are you talking about?" I say, incredulous. If anything this is proof of how little Gale cares what I think. I knew it had to happen one day. That a young, desirable man like him would wake up and realize that he was wasting his prime years waiting for a girl who would never be free to make her own choices. I just didn't expect him to do it at the celebration feast.

"Oh, nothing." Peeta replies, his hand stroking down my back gently. The back of my dress isn't as low cut as the front, but its still low enough that I still shiver when I feel his fingers against my naked skin.

"Don't look now, but they've turned the cameras back on. I guess they're trying to get b-roll of everyone dancing." He whispers against my ear. I nod, I know what this means. We should probably kiss, and try to sneak off soon. It's become our signature move over the years. But I have noticed that all the adults in our lives have stopped seriously trying to stop us. In fact, back in the Capitol at the party before Snow called us in, Peeta and I had sat in a coat closet for 20 minutes waiting to be discovered by Effie or Haymitch. But neither had come, instead Snow's personal assistant had found us and ushered us into the presidential office.

"They're headed this way." He tells me, brushing a dark strand of hair away from my cheek.

I reach up to encircle my arms around his neck, and lean on my tiptoes to touch my lips gently to his. Peeta kisses me softly at first, but then deepens the kiss much faster than I'm used to. His lips have a hungry feel to them, and he tastes like the sugar cookies he had for dessert. I find myself pulled down into the deepness of our kisses as I try to follow him. My heart starts to beat a little too fast, and I feel my feet faltering in our dance. But Peeta just guides me effortlessly, his hands encircling my waist, brushing against my ribs. Between his kiss, and the dancing, and his hands, I feel dizzy. I gasp, pulling away breathless, resting my cheek against his.

What was that? I almost asked him. But then I remember we're surrounded by a lot of people and are probably being filmed at this moment. So I just try to steady my breathing, as he runs his hands down my back again. It does nothing but hamper my breathing efforts. He is breaking all sorts of rules right now, and I have no idea why. So I impatiently start to tug him away in the direction of the mayor's house. I want to get him a coat closet alone so I can interrogate him. He just chuckles darkly and I pick up the pace in annoyance.

When we reach the closet I shove him and he laughs instead of cowers in fear, and this makes me angrier.

"Peeta, what the hell?" I whisper-yell at him, once we're there in the dark enclosed space of the coats. I reach up to yank on the light string so I can analyze his expression. But unfortunately we have picked the one closet without a working bulb, so we are relegated to a conversation in the dark.

"Calm down Katniss. We're supposed to be in love, anxious to get to our honeymoon. Why do you think Cinna put you in that dress if he didn't want me to try and express that?" He says in gruff annoyance.

"Oh." I say lamely, but it makes so much sense when he says it. "I just would have liked a heads up Peeta. I'm not used to those kinds of kisses." I tell him seriously.

"I thought it was implied you understood what Cinna was trying to accomplish, when you said that the dress was a distraction." He tells me, seriously.

"I guess I understood that part, but I didn't consider the natural extensions of that strategy." I tell him quietly. I suddenly feel both naive and embarrassed.

"Yeah well, I was taken a little by surprise too." He says, in that tone that means he's running his hand through his hair in exasperation.

We've both become accustomed to our boundaries, over the years. We can kiss and kiss in front of the cameras for hours, and while it's always pleasant to kiss Peeta, it's not usually so intense. I feel a little off balance even now, remembering the way his lips traveled over mine in a new and almost dangerous way.

"What time is it?" I ask, trying to gage how much time we have until we need to slip out and meet Haymitch. Peeta pushes a button on his watch and it lights up the small closet in a soft blue glow that reveals he's much closer to me than I realized.

"11:00. We've got 30 minute or so till we can go." He tells me quietly. His eyes are unreadable in the blue electric light.

"Hummm." I say, wondering how we can kill half an hour before we need to go. I'm thinking since no one has come looking for us they'll just assume we snuck off to be alone, or that we left early. But I can't concentrate with the light spicy smell of his aftershave filling up my senses. It's light, and not overpowering at all. Peeta isn't one to overdo things like that. But in the darkness of the closet I find with my sight hindered, my other senses are more awake.

"We could talk about the food." He offers in a bored tone. But I know he doesn't really want to discuss it. We've been attending feasts for weeks, and I'm even tired of talking about all the delicious food.

I take a breath, "I think we should, um practice." I tell him in a quiet voice. I had been thinking of it ever since he said he had been surprised by the intensity of the earlier kisses himself. If we were going to keep up the pretence of being increasingly enthusiastic about the wedding we'd need some way to display our transition from love-struck teenagers to soon-to-be newlyweds.

"You know since we're going to be ramping things up until the wedding. That way we can get used to things, and come up with new, um rules?" I say, in an unsure voice. It's kind of going against my rule, about kissing. But I tell myself I'm following the spirit of the rule if not the letter in trying to improve my performance for the cameras.

"You want to practice kissing?" He says with a laugh. "Katniss, we've kissed so much I doubt there's that much we really need to go over. If it makes you uncomfortable I can tone it down." He says in a tired voice.

"Oh yes, that will be so believable. It's not just kissing. I mean well, that's part of it. It's also the...touching. I mean you were fantastic, believable as always, but I was so bad I almost fell over." I tell him seriously.

He says nothing. But he knows it's true. If we're going to keep selling this I have to look like I know what I'm doing, or at least look convincing enough to keep fooling everyone. He sighs, and I feel myself bristle.

"Sorry, didn't know it would feel like such a chore." I tell him petulantly. I'm about to tell him to forget it, when his hand reaches out and touches my arm in the dark.

"Oh, it's not that, believe me. It's just hard for me sometimes, to keep it all straight. Especially when the cameras aren't around. We're just friends after all." He says the last sentence with a funny cadence.

"Friends don't let each other make fools of themselves on national tv Peeta. We're 18 now. And I don't want to look like an inexperienced nitwit on camera." I tell him seriously.

"That's funny that you think people would ever think that about you." He says in a strange tone. I roll my eyes even though I know he can't see me in the dark.

"Just show me what to do okay." I say impatiently, taking a step towards him, while reaching for him in the dark. He takes a step back, almost involuntarily, but I just grasp the midnight blue lapels of his coat that match my dress so perfectly. His breath hitches, but he stops retreating.

"Okay," He says quietly, the word sounding full in the small space. I step into his space and bring my hands up to rest on his shoulders. The fabric of his coat is silky, but his broad muscles feel strong and hard under my hands.

"What about this?" I ask quietly.

"That's good to start with, but putting your arms around my neck would be better or if you really want to wow them, put your hands on my chest underneath my coat." He says his voice low conspirtal.

I've put my arms around his neck enough times, so I try the latter suggestion and slip them under his coat. The firmness that greets my fingertips is pleasant, but not unexpected. I've seen Peeta without his shirt on, and woken up enough times with my cheek pressed to his heartbeat that I already knew how strong his chest would feel. But touching him with my hands is different, I can't explain why but it is. And I find myself sweeping my hands along the planes of his muscles in a slightly fascinated way.

Peeta doesn't say a thing, he just lets me touch him. I get an idea, and lean into him, pressing my face to his neck, as I simultaneously trail a finger down his collarbone, and make small circles over his heart.

"That, for instance, is fantastic." He says in a thick voice, and I find my knees feel slightly weak again.

"Any other suggestions?" I ask, still tracing a lazy design over his chest.

He pulls me closer and wraps me in his arms again. His warm hands brush the skin of my back gently, stroking up and down. I feel the same breathlessness return, and try to acquaint myself with the new sensation. After a few minutes I find I can breath moderately well enough to pass for a girl who's been unofficially engaged ever since we came home from the arena.

Peeta's lips drop to the line of my neck, and he must feel me trembling, because he holds me securely against him as he traces the curve of my jaw first with feather light kisses until I can relax into his touch. The kisses start to linger, with more pressure and heat and I feel my breath hitch when he reaches the pulse at my neck which has become riotous. I fight the urge to push him away in embarrassment, sure that he can feel how hard my heart is pounding. I feel myself fidgeting with my hands, so I reach up to entine them in his hair. His tongue gently runs over the hollow of my neck and I feel like I've been struck by lightning. I grip his hair so hard I know it must hurt, but I can't help it. The feeling is so intense I need something to hold on to so I don't fall to the floor in a puddle of overwrought nerves. I need to kiss him. So I tip my head down quickly to catch his mouth in a kiss and it's so different from what we usually do. These kisses are not measured or safe. They are deep and wanting, and I can feel his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my hip while his other hand tangles in my hair. Our lips and hands and limbs entwine themselves together in the dark and I feel that secret warmth seeping into me. And there in the dark I don't run away from it, but entertain the idea shyly of just how far I'm willing to explore this new territory with Peeta. When my lips slip down to kiss along his jaw, he murmurs something that doesn't seem to have any meaning. I think it's more of a plea for me not to stop. I just push his dress jacket off his shoulders and start to undo the knot of his tie, so I can gain access to more of his neck. He's breathing roughly now, but so am I. His tie is discarded, and I pull his collar aide, maybe a little roughly in my haste. I press my lips to his neck quickly, hotly, and I feel him tense under my mouth. But I don't stop, because it must feel the same for him it did for me. A strong sweeping current of electricity that took time to get used to. But the more I kissed him, the more rigid his muscles became. I wonder if I'm doing it right when his hands come up to put some distance between us. I stop, confused, gasping for breath.

"I think that's more than enough, Katniss." He says, voice tight with some unreadable emotion.

"I'm sorry if I didn't do it right, maybe I just need more practice-" I start to say but he cuts me off.

"Actually, I think that was too much practice." He sounds like he's saying the words through gritted teeth.

"What, really?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah, besides it's 11:40 now. We need to head out or we'll be late." He says as he checks the time. He seems suddenly tired, his tone despondent. In the faint glow of the blue light I can see his disheveled hair, his rumbled shirt. I almost reach out to smooth it down, but then stop. It'll look better like this if anyone sees us leaving. They'll assume we're leaving early to find some more privacy, instead of two victors heading off to a clandestine meeting to discuss treason.

"Okay," I tell him softly, unable to keep a hint of disappointment from my voice. He peeks over at me, a confused look on his face that's barely readable in the dark. But I just step forward to open the door. This next part we have down pat. We tumble out of the closet with wild energy, and I pull him after me, ignoring the stares of waiters and various staff. We run, hand in hand through the kitchen and out the back and away into the night. If the camera crew caught anything it'll just seem like another romantic escape executed to perfection. If any of our family and friends see, or get word they'll know it is just another well rehearsed act. Either way it gives us an excuse to leave. We make it all the way to the Seam before we let go of each other's hands. Then we walk quietly, in a more subdued manner into the poorer part of the district. When we pass a house that has a light on inside, I take Peeta's hand again and urge him to duck behind a tree. After that we try to stick to the shadows. I keep his hand in mine, leading him because I'm familiar with this part of town, having grown up here for the majority of my life. When we reach the abandoned house we find Haymitch already waiting. He turns when he hears us enter and lets out an exasperated breath he's been holding in.

"You're late," He says this to Peeta, not me. I guess because Peeta is the more punctual one out of the two of us.

"Sorry, got caught up for a bit." He says, shaking his head. Haymitch looks between Peeta and I in a skeptical way. Peeta avoids his gaze, but I feel myself squirm guiltily.

Haymitch shoots Peeta a silent look and Peeta sighs. I look back and forth between them but can't figure out what they're saying in that code they use sometimes.

"Fine, come over here so I don't have to shout at the doorway." He beckons us in. When we're about a few feet from him he reaches into his coat pocket and takes out his flask. I wrinkle my nose wondering how he can drink anymore after all the ale he had at the party. But he doesn't tip it into his mouth. Dumps the contents into his palm and I hear a small tinkling sound as something small and thin and metallic about the size of a dime tumbles out of the flask opening. It blinks green and blue in the dark.

"Alright, we're ok to talk for about an hour or so. This here is a frequency altering scrambler. The science of it is lost on me, but suffice to say that it disrupts the transmission of bugs in a nearby radius and replaces the audio being acquired with a different frequency. Now this is our one and only bug scrambler, so I will be holding onto it for the time being."

"Okay…" I nod at the little device, a smile creeping on my face.

Peeta nods, approvingly. "Let's start then." He says in his practical voice.

"We've got a plan." Haymitch says, his voice quiet despite our location.

"What is it?" I ask.

"We're going to make a run for it, before the first snowfall." He says, his eyes grave in the light of the lantern. He can't be serious.

I look over at Peeta with a questioning look in my eyes. His expression seems serious as well.

"Do you want to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere?" I hiss at them angrily. I know Peeta has no idea about the woods, or trying to live off the land, but I expected more from haymitch at least.

"Don't start getting your tiara in a twist girl. We're not going in unprepared. I've got a way to get my hands on a map." He says, looking at me in annoyance.

"A map? A map to where exactly, Haymitch? There's nowhere else to go!" My voice is slightly raised now, I can't help it. Their lunatics and I'm not going to indulge their madness.

"District 13." Peeta says quietly, looking over at me. My eyes widen in astonishment. We've moved on from plain crazy to full blown delusions. I laugh humorlessly.

"Oh, yeah Peeta, District 13. Let's move there so my sister can grow a second head while we sit around and starve!" I'm really angry now.

"This is why no one lets you make plans. You're just too...irrationale." Haymitch says to me. I can't believe him. I'm the irrational one? Are we somehow living in an alternate reality?

"The map contains directions to a secret route. There's caves, and secret places where we can make camp along the way. We just have to bring our own supplies. You'll have to help hunt, and we'll all have to be on guard. But other people have made the journey before, others have escaped Katniss. They created a system to deliver the instructions. It was really hard to get in touch with them, but when they found out it was us, they decided to help. It'll be hard, but we can do it. I know we can. With the map, with you and Gale to help keep everyone safe, we can do it." He says in a steady voice.

I stare at him.

"We won't get five miles. They'll come after us."

"We've got a plan for that too."

Oh yeah does it involve some magical invisibility device like this magical map of yours?"

He grits his teeth in frustration at me.

"No, nothing as complicated as that."

"Then what?"

"We all have to die."

"Huh?"

"We fake our deaths Katniss, it might not fool them for long but it will give us enough of a head start that they won't be able to catch us. If we stay ahead of them, if we stay hidden we can make it."

I think this over quietly.

"What about the timeline? Hasn't Snow thrown everything off with this new plan of his?"

It's Haymitch's turn to talk again.

"We're still waiting on some pieces of the map to come in, we can't rush that or it will ruin the whole operation. So you two are just going to have to smile and play nice for a little bit longer. Go to the fittings, the cake tastings, get married. But before you leave for the reception and honeymoon we're hightailing it out."

I nod, absentmindedly. The plan could work, if we play it cool, and wait.

"Actually I have a plan for the ceremony too." Peeta says. My head turns back to him in interest.

"But we're gonna need Gale. He already knows about most of this stuff. Haymitch has recruited him to help us,"

This is news to me. Does everyone know? Have I really been that distracted? I had no idea about any of this?

"But since things have changed, I'm going to need his help more than ever. But if we can pull it off, we won't have to really get married."

"I'm listening." I say, a tiny excited note in my voice as I lean in to listen more carefully.

Chapter Text

Alternate POV of ch 3 "The Plan"

(Peeta POV)

By the time my prep team finishes primping and putting the finishing touches on me for the celebration feast tonight in District 12, it's later than usual.

They all patted themselves on the backs at job well done, giggling and fawning over the illusion of suave sophistication they painted and styled over me.

Of course, my wishes and tastes never come into play in these situations. Everything from the color of my suit, to the amount of hair on my body, to the tan that comes from a bottle, on my skin is for the audience.

They expect to see a confident, attractive victor. Not the shell of a person who doesn't get enough sleep, has no real romantic connection to the girl he's set to marry in two months, or the lonely and depressed amputee that battles PTSD on a regular basis.

Oh no, that wouldn't be sexy enough. As if either Katniss or I had any room left in terror filled minds to be concerned about how attractively we were perceived by the people around us. There may have been a time, especially on Katniss and I's first victory tour where I found myself preoccupied with ideas of sex and attraction. But I had been a 16 year old kid then, fresh off the Games, still holding out hope that the girl I loved and was obsessed with might possibly love me back. I had no idea how much of a toll this whole act would take from us. I had no idea that it could take just about everything, even blunt and snuff out the whispers of normal hormonal teenage desire.

By the end of that tour it was like we had hollowed ourselves out to give to all of Panem. We kept nothing for ourselves. Sacrificed it all to the stage, and the act, and the fucking horribly inconsequential bullshit of maintaining the peace and prosperity of a country, of a government that couldn't give two shits about its citizens.

And when on the train ride home, all I felt for the girl sleeping beside me was a double portion of sadness and regret, that's when I had first started planning my own private rebellion. I poured my fury, my anger, and yes even the energy from my misplaced sexual frustrations into finding a way out. For me, and for her, and for everyone we cared about.

Nothing else mattered. And finally, finally things were going to be set into motion. Tonight was the first step, telling Katniss the plan, and using the device we picked up in District Three, the technologically advanced district. We just had to get through the celebration feast. Luckily though we weren't the main attraction tonight. That would be Deen, in all his youthful brash confidence and rough edged appeal. They were already talking about him being the next heartthrob victor. The girls were already clamoring over him. I had made Haymitch promise me that he was going to keep an eye on him though. Because that kid was a little too reckless for his own good.

Portia, my long time friend and stylist dusts off my shoulders with a lint brush, and pronounces me ready. I nod, looking at the manufactured image of myself in the mirror and just resolve to get tonight over with. The dancing, and the kissing, and the acting that is detestable to me now, but is also second nature will have to be soldiered through.

I walk across the hall and knock on the door quickly. It's almost show time, and Katniss is definitely ready by now, she's just waiting on me to come and escort her down like usual. So when I open the door and take a step in I'm not prepared for what greets me inside.

The girl I loved (and somewhere deep down buried under a million tons of unrequited feelings still do) looks mouthwateringly, heart stoppingly, absolutely gorgeous.

I think my brain short circuits for a whole minute.

I just stare at her, open mouthed like a gawking idiot.

But I can't help it. She is...hot, really hot in that dark blue ass hugging, breast cupping, showing every inch of her body off dress.

I was not prepared for this. In fact I thought I was past this. Or maybe I just hoped I was. But no, my eyes are sending signals to my brain that I like what I see very very much. And I realize I hadn't noticed that she's grown more curves in all the right places since the last time I looked.

When did this happen? How could I not have noticed her increasing loveliness, her allure? She was like a full grown woman now, in a very obvious sense. With hips and cleavage and oh, god, so much more cleavage than even just last summer. That necklace was not helping, not at all. Had I really been trying to tune it out that much that I had blinded myself to it?

Yes, probably. I had probably been desperately trying to ignore it. Because it hurt, it hurt in a brutal yet almost pleasurable way to look at her. Knowing that I would get to touch her and kiss her and hold her close but only for pretence's sake.

Her eyes catch mine in the mirror, and I blush because she's caught me staring in a very obvious way. But she doesn't look angry, or offended. She just blinks at me.

"Ready?" She asks, and I try to swallow around the excess moisture in my mouth (jeez I need to get it together).

"Not at all." Is my startlingly honest reply. She just glides over like mist moving over water and I meet her halfway and place her small hand over my elbow. A million tiny tingles of electricity shoot up from where she's touching me, and I don't know, I really don't know if I want to feel this way tonight.

But what canI do? She can't control her wardrobe any more than I can. A far off, more logical part of my brain is wondering at Cinna's sudden cliff dive off from her usual attractive but wholesome style. But then I think back to some of the outfits she's been wearing.

A strapless balck gown that she wore in District 5 that revealed far too much of her golden brown skin. A deep emerald skirt and top combination that had made it a little hard not to stare at her silhouette, especially from behind, in District 9. And increasingly more fitted and low cut tops.

Well, maybe I had been paying more attention than I even admitted to myself.

Shit.

This was going to complicate things. I couldn't afford a return to those pathetic, forlorn feelings that had left me weak in the knees and constantly seeking out cold showers in the mornings we woke up wrapped around each other. I had already climbed that hill and died on it once, I didn't think I could do it a second time. It had been so hard, so very excruciatingly difficult to bury those feelings. Now they were creeping up again.

All because of a midnight blue dress.

But when I glanced down at her as we descended the stairs I could see with an artist's trained eye that the dress wasn't really midnight blue. It had far too many purple and green and even grey reflective tones as her body moved and the light caught on her delicious curves. No, not midnight blue, something else.

A mockingjay. Mockingjay blue. And suddenly I wished I had a paintbrush in my hand. I wished I was back in my private painting room at home. Where I could puzzle out the colors and the shine and contour of the lines of her body in a place that was safe and removed from the immediate danger of it all. That was the only place I allowed myself space to trace her form with my fingers, to caress her skin in the way I yearned to. Only on paper, only with a paintbrush. Far removed from the actual girl herself.

Well, no she was a woman now. She had been for sometime. We had both turned 18 this year. And yet I in all the ways my friends talked about, sex and love and parties and adventures, I didn't feel anymore mature. But I did feel weary, and worn down after all this time. Like someone who'd aged not from overindulgence but from lack of opportunity. Any chance at a normal adolescence had been stolen from us the minute we left on the train to our Games.

And here we were, terrified children in adult bodies putting on a play to make the whole world believe something that wasn't true.

The thought made my head hurt.

But a low deep whistle cuts through my musings.

Deen Sparrow, our winning tribute, and new victor this year is looking up at us with a wolfish grin on his roguishly handsome face. And I know that whistle isn't really for the two of us. His eyes roam over Katniss's body like a moth flitting around an open flame. And I feel some of that old phantom jealousy rise up, unbidden, and unwelcome inside me.

"You two look great!" He says with a wide grin. "Sometimes I forget you're both only 2 years older!" He exclaims in a tone that is overly familiar and more than a little suggestive. It rubs me the wrong way. He's just a kid. Yeah sure, he's apart of our strange little circle of broken damaged team members, but he's also cocky, arrogant, and he's trying to stare down Katniss's dress like sex crazed adolecesent.

Which I guess maybe he is, but still.

"We're getting married soon, so I'd say that gives us more credit." I say, going for maturity but it ends up coming out defensive and more than a little possessive. Deen's eyes sparkle with a wicked gleam, and I know he knows he's getting under my skin. And damn, if I hadn't just watched him fight through one of the most grueling things a human being can survive, the Games, I'd be telling him to pop his eyes back in his head and turn the fuck around.

But since I almost watched him die, numerous times in his Games, and me and Katniss had to coach him and nurse him and all around wipe his sniveling little nose afterwards when the nightmares and PTSD set in, I hold off. Its with great effort I kept my mouth shut. And just gritted my teeth. He's been trying to ruffle everybody's feathers lately and I didn't want to rise to the bait.

Still, the air gets thick with tension as he refuses to turn around and just keeps ogling her and practically undressing her with his eyes. And then I think, screw it, I don't care how many times he's almost died in the past few months. I'm not gonna let him get away with this shit.

And I'm just about to say something rude and challenging, when Katniss, who seems to have finally noticed that she's being mentally strip searched by her 16 year old protege, gives him a light shove.

That's it. Just a little shove. And shoots him a glance that indicates he should turn away.

Where was this nonchalant, uncaring girl when I said I had a crush on her 2 years ago? I had gotten thrown into the wall and ended up with cut and bloody hands for a simple school yard crush confession. But Deen gets let off the hook? What the hell?

This just pisses me off. Deeply. But then I hear Deen's next comment that he makes practically under his breath and I go icy all over.

"You know if Cinna didn't want people staring at you, he shouldn't have put you in that dress." Deen says quietly with a touch of humor as he stares ahead, watching the doors again.

I can't refute what he's said. Neither can Katniss. And that's when I realize I'm being unreasonable. This is not by any of our designs. We are all puppets in this sick game.

"What is that?" Haymitch's flabbergasted slurred words ring out on the quiet staircase, and Katniss and I turn around to face him. And I know what he's talking about. The back of her dress is low, with little cut out panels revealing swaths of tantalizing skin. But he actually looks really uncomfortable and even a little green when she turns around and he sees the minefield of cleavage that the plunging neckline reveals.

He has the good grace to turn his head to the side and look away from the offending yet hypnotic curves. But then again, Katniss and I are young enough to be his children's age. If he had ever had children that is.

"It's the dress Cinna made for me, and I think it's really good." Is her challenging reply. As if Haymitch were insulting Cinna's talent or skill. Right now I actually think the man might be a little too talented, a little too good at his damn job because no one, and I mean no one will be able to deny how stunning she looks tonight.

"That," Haymitch says angrily with a frustrated twist of his usual drawl, "Is worse than showing up in your underwear girl. It'll attract all the wrong kinds of attention." Haymitch says in a concerned manner. My eyes find his grey ones. He is concerned, very concerned and I think I understand why. It's like a clock is ticking somewhere, counting down for us all, reminding us of the ultimatum Snow had given.

"I have no idea what he was thinking." I say, because Cinna I believe with the utmost certainty would not do this to Katniss on purpose. He wouldn't draw attention to her this way. So, there had to be a reason. Something must have forced his hand.

"He's thinking people need a distraction." She says quietly, almost to herself. And then she turns around and stares straight ahead like a prisoner waiting to hear her sentencing. I wince. This night just keeps getting better and better.

"Well," Haymitch says with a humorless snort, "he'll definitely get it then." And I know he's right. Pamen will be riveted tonight, just as I was when I walked into her dressing room.

Haymitch leans in to whisper in my ear sternly, "Boy, don't leave her side for a single minute." And I get it. How dangerous this is tonight. Snow is putting her on display, he probably commanded Cinna to dress her this way. It's a subtle little reminder that if we don't get with the program and start making precious little victor children there will always be other options, other takers, and one way or another the Capitol will get what it wants. I grip her hand tighter. I won't let that happen to her, not in a million years.

I vow to be spectacular tonight. I vow to pull out all the stops and make it very very clear to our dear President that we fully intend to follow his commands.

So when we eat dinner I play with her hair absentmindedly. And when we shake people's hands I let mine roam all over her. And during the tv interview I turn on the obsessive, hazy, lust filled charm up to the highest setting it will go and make it very clear with my eyes and my voice and my body language that I am enjoying every inch of this girl on my arm. And I know she's not used to it.

It's been so long since we've had any sort of real romantic or sexual tension in our relationship that it throws her off just about as much as it does me. But I can't afford to phone in my performance tonight. I can't afford to give off the impression that I don't intend to follow through with Snow's new orders.

So I let myself feel it, and feel her, and want her. And I know I'm playing a very dangerous game, but better to hurt myself, and frustrate myself and go home and take a couple hundred cold showers than to leave her defenseless.

And I'm so preoccupied with trying to keep track of it all that I don't notice it at first.

One minute we're dancing and I'm trying to focus enough on the conversation we're having about Deen finding his own girl to dance with, and also simultaneously trying to not notice how good she smells this close, or how tiny her waist feels in comparison with the flair of her hips, but Gale is looking over at me like he's ready to beat my face in. And I understand the sentiment completely.

But he's also dancing with a very attractive girl. Maybe not as attractive as Katniss, but still she's got serious potential. And she's talking about how she could care less about romance and attachments, and I can't help it. It slips out before I can catch it. I'm trying to keep track of too many things at once.

"That's a good thing actually, because I can see Gale from here. And he's not alone." As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret them. She stiffens in my arms. She has the wherewithal not to crane her neck though to look, but I know she wants to. There's this tension in her shoulders now that just won't go away.

"You were saying?" I tell her in a sad voice. Because, maybe we should both stop lying to ourselves after all this damn time. She likes him, and he likes her, and they should just be able to admit it despite me, the unwanted yet unavoidable third wheel.

It's a party." She replies, with a voice devoid of emotion. "And it doesn't matter to me who he dances with." She continues, but I have known her long enough to know that when she sounds cold and unfeeling like this it is because she is trying very hard not to feel something. I almost sigh out loud. Will we never be done with the confounding, unending, exasperating emotions between the three of us?

"He must be really jealous, to do something like that." I mutter, as I lightly kiss her hair. I don't even think she feels it, her eyes are glued to his rugged face and tall frame, and the girl he has pressed against him.

"What are you talking about?" She asks in a quiet frustrated voice. But I just decided to drop it. No good can come of waking that sleeping dog tonight. But well maybe...maybe some good can… if we can use the frustration and pent up emotions. Katniss isn't a star quality actres that's for sure, but she does work quite well off emotion. And the cameras are making the rounds again. I can see them in the distance. And I think, well, if we're gonna sell this we might as well sell it for all its worth.

"Oh, nothing." I tell her, as I let the back of my fingers graze down the soft, warm naked skin of her back. It feels forbidden. It feels divine. And I feel her tremble just a little under my touch.

This night is going to be torture.

"Don't look now, but they've turned the cameras back on. I guess they're trying to get b-roll of everyone dancing." I tell her before she can ask what the hell I'm doing, touching her without permission, in a very different way than we've touched in a long, long time.

"They're headed this way." I whisper as I look into her grey glittering eyes that are alight with surprise, alarm, and something else I can't quite name. I tuck a loose wave behind her ear and feel her inhale deeply.

Two cold showers. I'll probably need two by the time we're done tonight.

But then she's stretching up to put her arms around me, and I catch sight of her chest heaving as she does, and I think, there isn't a shower cold enough in this world to put out the fire this girl is starting in me.

And then she's kissing me, and fuck, its everything I've been wanting all night. Her soft warm lips pressed against mine. Her delicate but enticing shape fitted to me. And I can't help it. I practically pounce on her. I devour her lips, ravenously like a starving man. And I realize that maybe all those feelings that I'd been repressing have been building up this whole time. I can hardly keep my hands in respectable zones. I ache to pull her indecently close. I'm dying to trace the curves that have me so mesmerized tonight. My hands wander as far as the span of her ribs, and she's so startled she almost falls down. I am vaguely aware of this, and I just hold onto her tighter as we dance and sway to the now very distant music as it's being drowned out by the blood pulsing in my ears.

Finally, because the poor girl can't breathe anymore she breaks away from me, shocked and flushed and panting a little. And I pant as she rests her cheek against mine. I am half ashamed of myself, but also a little past trying to pretend that that wasn't good, so good. But I can feel it now, her anger and I know I deserve it. I will have to answer for this, when the cameras are gone. And as much as I dread that moment, I also can't seem to find any soul crushing regret lingering behind that dread.

I had snuck it on her, for sure. But her performance had been entirely believable as I was sure mine was too. The cameras had caught every minute of that kiss. Snow was sure to see it. He would be convinced. She would be safe. And I would be left to find my way out of this maze I had wandered into again. But well, I had known this would happen.

But I don't even have the luxury of continuing to dance with her and fantasize about that perfect kiss, because she's pulling my arm, hard, in the direction of the mayor's house. And we're going to probably have it out in a coat closet or a pantry somewhere.

I guess that's just the price you pay to keep the people you love safe.

There's a slightly dangerous, and very angry look in her eye as she marches me to the coat closet on the second floor far away from the party goers and the music.

As if she's going to ground me or put me in time out. And I think to myself, sweetheart there isn't a punishment you could devise that would be worse than what I've already done to myself.

And it's true. I stripped away every defense I had carefully built against her over the years in a matter of hours. I was completely and totally vulnerable again.

I had let myself want her desperately again, as desperately as I had ever wanted her before. And I had done it to save her, the girl who didn't want me in that way at all. The irony makes me laugh, in a humorless and self depreciating way. But I don't think she catches this. The look in her eyes as she shoves me in the closet says she thinks I'm laughing at her.

"Peeta, what the hell?" She whispers furiously at me in the dark enclosed space as she reaches up to search for the string light and turn it on in our little self contained prison.

Here she is trapped with the boy she doesn't want. And here I am trapped with the girl I want more than my next meal, more than my next breath. And neither of us can do anything about it.

And the damn lightbulb is broken or burned out. So now we have to talk and wait and be close to each other in the dark. Great.

The thought just shoves me further into that angry, resentful space in my head. The one I hated and tried to avoid but had never really been able to when I let myself feel this way about her.

"Calm down Katniss. We're supposed to be in love, anxious to get to our honeymoon. Why do you think Cinna put you in that dress if he didn't want me to try and express that?" I reply in frustration. But it's misplaced. I know that. It's not her fault in any sort of way that really matters. But there's no one else here but me and her, and all that aggravation ends up coming out in my voice.

"Oh." Is her one word reply. As if she hadn't realized even that much of the intentions that had been woven into this terribly confusing night. And I feel like a jackass.

"I just would have liked a heads up Peeta. I'm not used to those kinds of kisses." She tells me and I fight the urge bang my head against the wall. As always Katniss is clueless when it comes to sex, or attraction, or whatever you want to call it. Or at least she is when it comes to that put together with me. She just can't imagine it, that I would see her that way, that she as my publicly betrothed would be expected to see me that way too.

It's a blow to my ego, and makes me feel oh so pathetic. And here I am, climbing that same old hill.

"I thought it was implied you understood what Cinna was trying to accomplish, when you said that the dress was a distraction." I tell her in an annoyed voice that I really have no right to be using against her, but shit, this is all so awkward. Having to spell it out. Having to talk about what two normal young adults should be feeling and doing and being confronted with the fact that we have to work so hard to try and pull off what should come naturally.

"I guess I understood that part, but I didn't consider the natural extensions of that strategy." She says and I cringe inside. Sometimes she is so….virginal. So pure. It makes me feel like some kind of a pervert.

"Yeah well, I was taken a little by surprise too." I say as I run my hands anxiously through my hair in an effort to remain calm. I hate talking about this, I hate admitting how weak she makes me feel. Isn't it enough to die quietly inside, without having to confess the exact effect she's having on me?

"What time is it?" She says, thankfully changing the subject. I almost sigh out loud in relief.

"11:00. We've got 30 minute or so till we can go." I tell her after I check my watch.

"Hummm." She says in that low voice that makes me shiver despite the stuffy cramped quarters of this coat closet.

"We could talk about the food." I offer, not wanting to talk at all really. I actually just want to go home and get a start on those cold showers.

"I think we should, um practice." She says in a quiet, almost shy voice that means she's talking about kissing. And it startles me. It throws me, way, way, for a loop. I'm speechless.

"You know since we're going to be ramping things up until the wedding. That way we can get used to things, and come up with new, um rules?" She adds quickly, as if needing to explain it. And I guess she does, because I couldn't find one reason, one excuse in my brain for why she'd want to kiss me here, in the dark where even the cameras wouldn't pick up on anything.

"You want to practice kissing?" I say incredulously. And then shake my head. No way. There's no way I can survive that. Not after all the feelings that have only recently come rushing back. "Katniss, we've kissed so much I doubt there's that much we really need to go over. If it makes you uncomfortable I can tone it down." I tell her, hoping she'll drop it.

"Oh yes, that will be so believable. It's not just kissing. I mean well, that's part of it. It's also the...touching. I mean you were fantastic, believable as always, but I was so bad I almost fell over." She replies and I grit my teeth.

Son of bitch, the argument actually has some merit to it. But I don't think I can do it. Not here, not now when I feel like I have a million feelings buzzing around inside me at once. I sigh out loud instead of in my head like I mean to and I feel the atmosphere shift immediately.

"Sorry, didn't know it would feel like such a chore." Is her deeply offended reply. And now I really, really want to beat my head against the wall. She has no idea, no idea at all.

"Oh, it's not that, believe me. It's just hard for me sometimes, to keep it all straight. Especially when the cameras aren't around. We're just friends after all." I tell her, or at least try to tell her what the real problem is while trying to hold onto a tiny shred of my quickly disappearing dignity.

"Friends don't let each other make fools of themselves on national tv Peeta. We're 18 now. And I don't want to look like an inexperienced nitwit on camera." She says and I am floored. I'm glad it's dark in here or else she would have seen my completely flabbergasted reaction to this statement.

"That's funny that you think people would ever think that about you." I tell her, and it is. Its fucking hilarious that she actually believes people are judging her based on how ready and willing she looks in my arms. If anything her surprise and inexperience just makes her look all the more desirable. To me, and probably to the whole damn country.

"Just show me what to do okay." She says taking an aggressively quick and close step into my personal space. And I can't help it, I take a step back in retreat. It's just natural self preservation.

But she reaches out and actually grabs the fabric of my jacket and stops me from backing away completely and it's so strange. Like it's what I want and what I don't want all at the same time. My mind can hardly make sense of it all.

But then...then I realize that she's right. And more of this kind of thing will be expected from here on out all the way until the wedding. So, maybe we need to get more comfortable with this. Maybe we do need to figure out how to draw new boundaries and traverse new territory with each other. If only I can figure out how to do it and keep from spontaneously combusting at the same time.

"Okay," I make myself say in as normal a tone as I can. But inside I am terrified. This is not the same old hill I'm climbing. This is a mountain. This is going to be a whole different battle all together. She takes another small step towards me and puts her small hands up to rest on my shoulders. I fight the urge to pull her close immediately.

"What about this?" She asks in a low voice that calls every cell inside me to immediate attention. And I realize, if we're going to sell it on camera we'll need to sell it here too, to each other first.

"That's good to start with, but putting your arms around my neck would be better or if you really want to wow them, put your hands on my chest underneath my coat." I say in a dark and secret tone, because it is a secret. It's something I've always wanted her to do. Something I've dreamed about her doing. So, maybe if she does it now, I'll be able to get my initial reaction out of the way and save only what will be needed to convince the cameras….later….

She lets her hands trail seductively (does she know how seductive it is?) down my shoulders and then she slips them under my jacket. It's like little sparks of fire are striking and catching everywhere she touches me. And surprisingly she touches a lot of things.

My pecs, my ribs, my stomach, my lower stomach…. Pretty much all my front upper half from the top of my tailored pants and up.

Shit...if I hadn't been half mad with desire for her already her tiny explorative fingers have driven me right over the edge. And I can't tell if I'm past caring about how bad it'll hurt when I finally come down, I'm so high up right now.

Then she has to go and lean into me further, and practically nuzzle her head against my neck, and she's tracing the line of my collarbone over my shirt, and using her index finger to make hypnotic designs over my heart. And it takes me impossibly higher.

"That, for instance, is fantastic." I tell her as I can't help but give into the wonderful, torturous feeling of her hands on my body. Touching me, the way I've always imagined, the way I've wanted for so long. My blood is pounding again now, and we're not even kissing. We're not even doing that much touching. But I want her so badly I can feel it everywhere.

"Any other suggestions?" She asks in a voice that if I didn't know her better, could have been mistaken for slightly intrigued, slightly….aroused? But no, no, this is Katniss. And she doesn't feel that way about me.

But I do, feel that way and more about her. So I almost can't help what happens next. I wrap her up, with my arms encircling her, and touch her like she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Because she is. I stroke my fingers down her bare back like I had before when we were dancing. Because she needs practice, because she needs to get acquainted with the feeling. I tell myself.

But it's just a flimsy excuse. And all my feelings, all my desperate yearnings are clamoring louder and louder at the undeniability of it all. But I cling to the illusion. And she trembles underneath my hands in a way I find both endearing and intoxicating. And then, almost imperceptibly she leans into my touch. I can't help the shooting surge of desire this causes. I can feel myself starting to become more than a little aroused. But I keep going, it's been so long since I've let myself even consider that she could want me the way I want her. For a second, I just pretend that she does.

I lower my mouth to her neck. Thinking this is really where I'll shoot myself in the foot, in the heart, in the head. But the pain, the sweet fucking agony might just be worth it, to taste her bare skin, here in the dark without the cameras, just this once…

And it is…

She tastes both like heaven and damnation at the same time. Feminine and slightly sweet, with just a hint of salt from the sweat we worked up dancing tonight….it's so good….so delicious to taste her...

I kiss her skin lightly, reverently, like she is something hallowed and divine. I let my mouth worship her in the way I've always feared, always dreamed about. And she doesn't pull away...no, she just relaxes again into me after a second. It's all the encouragement I need. I start to kiss her harder, with more heat and vigor and I feel her skin warm up under my lips, I feel her pulse quicken.

And I think, yes, yes…. please feel this way about me, just this once.

I'll be able to stand it, to live with it, if I know that even a small part of you is affected in the same way you completely decimate me.

And then her hands reach out, almost of their own accord to tangle in my hair and she is impossibly, undeniably, pulling me closer.

I can't help it, I get hard right then and there. I mean, I was already more than a quarter of the way there, but in that moment, I went from kind of ready to completely ready. And it's too much, the sensation, the smell of her skin, I forget that this is practice. I completely forget everything and then I'm licking her. All along her neck, and she grabs my hair in a hard and painful gesture that I think is telling me to stop, but at this point it's like trying to put the brakes on a freight train that has lost control and sped away.

And I try to get the control back, I try to slow down, and I think I've almost got it, when she drops her mouth onto mine possessively and sends me into a fucking tailspin.

Any small measure of control I had regained disappears the instant I feel her hungry mouth on mine. And I don't know how it started, or when it started, but she is kissing me like she wants me, almost as badly as I want her. And it's like we crash against each other in the dark, hands, mouths, teeth and tongues. We're frantic, we're impossible, we're desperate.

We're incredible.

It's a high impact collision and I know I'm going to be more than a little broken when this is over but right now I couldn't care less. All I can feel is her body in the dark. All I can taste is her warm breath and hot tongue sweeping over mine. My left hand is in her long dark silky hair, and my right hand is gripping the soft flesh of her beautiful hip hard, too hard…. But I have to hold onto something, I have to put my hands in places they are allowed to go...when all I want right now is to touch her in places I know I shouldn't.

And she breaks away from me, I think to tell me to stop, or that I'm making her uncomfortable, but no. She just begins to kiss down my jaw and oh it's brutal. It's like I was doused in kerosene from the kisses that preceded this, and when her lips travel down they are like flint striking my bare skin.

And I am only too happy to burn for her.

"You are killing me right now and I love every second of it." I murmur in a totally incomprehensible garbled way as she kisses down and down until her lips meet the collar of my dress shirt. But she doesn't hear me, and she doesn't stop. She slips my jacket off my shoulders in an unconcerned manner.

As if the move wouldn't shatter me. As if I could survive it.

But I can't...I just can't. It breaks the tenuous hold I had over myself, over this situation.

There in the dark I yield to her demanding mouth. And then my body goes taut with tension when I realize that maybe I won't be able to stop. And I know I will undoubtedly have to stop, soon, very soon.

All this, it's too much. My overstimulated brain and body start to fritz out. But she can't tell because I'm paralyzed. And I can't find the words or the breath to beg her to slow down, or stop. She's still kissing me as she starts to undo my tie, and my thoughts go fully to that place I usually try to avoid with her. It's my own personal hell, where I open myself up to thinking about her naked and me naked and us together. I can't always stop the images or the desire from shooting across my mind, but usually I can push it away with enough determination. But right now I have neither the strength nor the will to reign in my wild thoughts.

And she's pushing aside my shirt, hastily, and kissing all along my feverish skin. And the feeling lodges itself squarely in my groin and even though I've got my lower half angled away from her, and she's not touching me anywhere near there, I feel her like a phantom limb. And I wonder if I am literally going to come right now, just from her mouth on my neck. I feel the place where all the tension has gathered inside me pulse in time with her kisses and I know that yes, it could really happen. If I don't stop her right now, I'm going to humiliate myself and probably end up disgusting her in the process. It takes everything, every ounce of self control I have to bring my arms up between our bodies and push her away as I try to take a step back.

"I think that's more than enough, Katniss." I tell her in a strained, painful voice when she comes up for air and sways a little unsteadily on her feet.

"I'm sorry if I didn't do it right, maybe I just need more practice-"She pants in a breathless, sexy, torturous way. But I cut in, unable to stand hearing the glaring and apparent desire and confusion there. I think she's just as confused as I am as to how this all got so off track so easily. I chalk it up to latently developed hormones on her part. What else could it be?

"Actually, I think that was too much practice." I tell her as I try to internally scream at my body to calm down. My heart is still thundering in my chest, and the fabric of my pants are stretched so tightly over my erection it's damn painful.

"What, really?" She asks incredulously, and I'm half glad, half annoyed at our pitch black conditions. If she could only see the effect she had already had on me, after only making out for a few minutes, she wouldn't be so incredulous.

"Yeah, besides it's 11:40 now. We need to head out or we'll be late." I say, striving to get a normal cadence back into my voice, instead of the strained note that has been lingering as I check the time.

That's not all that's lingering...

"Okay," She says, and if I didn't know better I'd think there was a hint of regret or disappointment in her voice. And it throws me. As if I needed to lose any more perspective or get any more confused. But then she's just grabbing my hand and leaning towards the door and I want to tell her to please wait because I've got the final word in hard-ons right now. But then I don't, I can't say it. It's too embarrassing. And she'll never look at me the same again if I say something like that out loud.

So I just let her pull me out of the coat closet and lead me away in a wild, frantic escape through the house and out the back door. And if anyone noticed the sizable tent I had going on in my pants as we fled, I didn't hear it.

But it sure as hell took a long time before the feeling even remotely started to die down as we fled into the night.

….

Later

After we finish the meeting we all walk back together to the victor's village. I offer Katniss my jacket since her flimsy revealing dress probably does nothing to keep out the quickly turning cold night air. She smiles at me gratefully and I have to clamp down on the urge to turn that smile into something more meaningful than a friend or co-star's gratitude for a simple gesture.

But after everything that happened in the coat closet it's just really hard. We're almost home now and the night is coming to an end and all the things that happened seem farther and farther away.

And I hate it. I hate feeling like a petulant child who wants to yell about how unfair it all is when pretend time is over. I know it's my fault. I knew this would happen even before we stepped in front of one camera tonight. I just don't want to face her walking away like all the other times. I think Haymitch senses something is wrong, actually I think he sensed it even before the meeting. He had given me a very pointed and disapproving look as if he could guess what had happened just by the look on my face when we walked into the abandoned house earlier. So when he tells me with a look to let Katniss leave first, I sigh and wait for her to go. I know I'm probably in for a doozy of a lecture.

"Had trouble keeping it in your pants tonight did you boy?" He says the minute we hear her front door close. I fight the urge to groan in frustration. Damn old bastard has always been able to read me like a book.

"It was nothing ok? I handled it. Just got a little confused for a minute since we had to pull out all the stops for tonight's performance." I tell him trying to deflect the conversation to the obvious underhanded play Snow had orchestrated tonight.

"You both played your parts well. I'm sure we're covered on that front. At least for now. But then again you never did have any trouble jumping in front of bullets for that girl, even before the dress tonight." He says as he pulls out his flask and takes a slow lazy swallow from it. I feel myself getting angry, a quick unwarranted response that I know isn 't exactly reasonable because of the way I feel his words point out things I don't want to talk about right now..

"Haymitch, it's been a long night. And I'm tired. If you don't need anything else then I'm gonna leave." I tell him, opting to remove myself from the situation rather than get into a fruitless argument. What was the point?

"Kid, there's something you should know about that girl. She's got no clue when it comes to the sex stuff. Purposefully oblivious, and maybe you're aware of it, maybe you're not. But you're not doing yourself or her any favors disappearing into coat closets when she's practically worse than naked. Nobody is going to come charging in to save you or break it up anymore. You're both adults now, 18. So me and Effie and whoever else used to bail you out, well we're not going to be there. You'll be responsible for maintaining the professionalism of the arrangement between you two when no one's around. Thought about that yet?" He says and I stop right before I reach the door. I freeze actually. Because this is so damn painful and unfair and fucking frustrating.

I kick out at an empty bottle lying on the floor and send it careening into a pile of dirty laundry where it lands it a soft thud. I wished it had sailed wide and hit the wall. I wish I had broken something, or knocked something over.

So childish. I chastised myself. I grimace and turn to look at my mentor. And surprisingly there is something like sympathy in his eyes for me. It just makes me feel worse.

"Kid, I know you care about her. I know she cares about you. Don't shake your head at me like that, damn it. Just listen. Its fucking obvious to everyone but the two of you that things are different since the last Games. Even goddamn Deen's noticed it and he's drunker than I am half the time. I don't know what it means, and maybe she doesn't either. But you're both too important to this team to go and fuck up the dynamics over a hormone inspired one night stand or whatever."

I laugh, long and bitter. Who the hell did Haymitch think he was talking about? This was me and Katniss, not some normal 18 year old couple. Sex with me was the last thing on her mind.

"Go ahead and laugh, kid. I saw the way she kissed you. I'd say maybe about 60% was for the cameras. The rest was lots of pent up crap that's been accumulating. Probably from all those nights you spend cuddling under the covers together." He says, referencing the fact that he saw us sleeping on the train together. He's known for years about that though, and so has pretty much everyone else. Why he's been bringing it up lately is a mystery to me though.

"That's nothing new. And you know nothing ever happened, not once during all these years."

"There's a first time for everything, kid. And that girl has gotten so used to you she was practically sleeping on top of you the night I came in. I don't know how in the hell you stand it. But I have a feeling you're one more miniskirt or low cut shirt away from losing your grip entirely." He says taking another sip from his flask and shaking his head out at the incredulity of it all. I just gritted my teeth in frustration. Yes, Katniss was comfortable sleeping with me on the train. That's the way I preferred it. I wanted to make her feel safe, from the nightmares, from the lies and expectations, and most of all from me. I never wanted her to worry about me taking advantage of that part of our relationship. So I didn't put restrictions on how close she could get to me, because we both needed closeness to sleep and rest during the stressful trips to the Capitol.

"Haymitch, whether or not that's true, which I don't believe for a second it is, about me or her, the fact remains that she wouldn't even think of kissing me unless there were cameras and death threats involved. And I'll never be able to get that out of my head."

"Oh yeah? So how many cameras were there in the closet tonight?"

I have no response to this. So I stay silent. He shoots me a knowing look.

"Uh huh. That's what I thought. Like I said, things have changed. If she's letting you get handy with her pro bono then wake up and smell the damn coffee boy! You're one dark closet away from making a heat of the moment decision that burns down the whole fucking operation."

"Tonight was an exception. She wanted to practice for the cameras." I tell him but it sounds weak even as I say it.

He laughs so hard he almost drops his flask.

"Is that the fucking excuse she used?" He says, still cackling. I feel myself go red, from embarrassment or anger I don't know which.

"Yeah, but it probably had more to do with her seeing Gale dancing with some other girl tonight."

Haymitch's eyes darken at this information. He studies me quietly for a moment.

"That's even more dangerous than. If she wants to get back at him." Haymitch says quietly and I swear I could just take one of his arm chairs and smash it to pieces at the mention of this. The idea that Katniss was using me tonight, and that I was a fool who let myself get played, again.

"Look, I really don't want to talk about this stupid shit right now. I just wanna go home and-" I start to say, making for the door again before I lose it.

"Take a nice cold shower? Yeah, it'll have to wait. This...new ultimatum, it's putting both of you under a lot of pressure, ok? So don't go shutting her out like you did after your Games. That didn't do either of you any good. I don't know if she's trying to get back at that idiot. Maybe she finally felt free enough to let things happen with you, since he made it clear he wants to move on. I don't know. All I know it, she is not the kind of girl who's going to thank you for picking a coat closet for her first time. No matter what signals she's sending you at the moment. So stop letting the little head do all the thinking for you. If, and I say if, by some miracle she figures out her own mind enough to make a conscious decision that's one thing. But you need to wait for her to say the words, do you understand?" Haymitch tells me with absolute seriousness and I find myself nodding. I think I do understand what he's saying, well most of it anyway.

It's just the probability of Katniss Everdeen ever telling me out loud in clear terms that she wants me is just….well the odds would be astronomical. Haymitch smirks at me as if he can tell what I'm thinking again and it's really starting to annoy me.

"Stranger things have happened kid." He says with a shrug.

"I'll see you in the morning Haymitch." I tell him tiredly as I leave to make for my own very big, and very empty home.

Chapter Text

Katniss

The next morning dawned bright and cheerful, or maybe I just felt better than I had in months. Because we actually had a plan, and it had a good chance of working. It was a Sunday which meant hunting with Gale. I didn't exactly feel comfortable meeting him in the words after seeing him dancing with the girl whose name I didn't know. But Peeta had said he was a part of the plan. And no matter what I knew if we escaped and he got left behind Snow was sure to kill him and probably his whole family. So, I put aside my misgivings and dressed to go hunting.

I left a trail for him to follow, deciding to take him someplace far enough out that it was highly unlikely the Capitol had bugged it. I had never taken him to my father's lake spot, and it was much too late in the year to go swimming, but we could fish and build a fire and discuss the plan. If the girl came up, well then I guess I would get some answers. I at least deserved that didn't I? He had led me to believe he had deep feelings for me when I came back from the Games. And even though I hadn't expected him to wait for me, I had to admit I was a little perturbed that he had decided to give up when we were so close to being free of all the restraints the Capitol put on us. Then again, maybe he hadn't planned on falling for her...maybe it had just happened. I could understand something like that. I just wanted to hear it from his own lips.

I waited for an hour, and was about to pack up when I heard a rustle near the entrance. I looked up to see him practically towering in the doorway. His game bag bulges with what I can see are the tops of some rabbits bodies. His impossibly piercing grey eyes pinned me with a contemplative look as he stalked in on nearly silent feet.

"What is this place?" He asked, looking around, taking in the small concrete room that I referred to as the lake house in my mind. Really it was less a house and more a small room with only one window and a small fireplace.

"My father used to bring me here, before. I haven't been back in a while. But we needed to talk far enough away from everything that I thought of this place." I tell him, unbuckling my knapsack and pulling out some bread and cheese. I motion for him to join me cross legged on the floor. And though he sits, he doesn't immediately accept my offering of food. So I sit across from him, taking small bites of bread and sips of water.

"What did you want to talk about?" He asks, his eyes on the floor, not looking at me. I want to talk about the plan, about the new developments, but I can tell he's preoccupied with something. I think I can guess what it is.

"Who was she? The girl you danced with last night?" I ask him quietly, carefully.

His eyes briefly look up into mine, then they flit away.

"Nobody really, just a girl I asked to dance." He says in a careful tone.

"Gale, I'm not mad, you don't owe me anything. I was just surprised." I tell him in an even tone. But I know this isn't entirely true. I am a little mad, but I don't really have the right to be since I'm technically engaged to someone else.

He stares at me now, long and hard. And I can see my answer has perturbed him more than I thought possible. Why was he upset? I wasn't angry with him. At least not outwardly.

"I'm surprised you noticed me at all, the way you and your finance were necking on the dance floor right in front of everyone." He says in cold anger.

I blink at him. "Gale, you know what we have to do for the cameras. It's all part of the performance we have to give. Now that the wedding is so close we have to ramp things up a bit." I tell him, a little fire seeping into my voice now. He knows this already, I thought we were past this.

"Yeah well, last night was pretty damn convincing. You in that dress, him with his hands all over you." He says, glaring at me. There's such a fierce hatred in his voice for this image he describes, I feel shocked. I know I'm blushing, thinking about how he saw it from his perspective. Maybe it had felt too real, too intense as it had felt for me when it was happening.

"You weren't exactly holding that girl at arms length either if we really want to go down this road." I tell him quietly. There's a hint of something sour and bitter tasting to my words. And I can't help but think of her long legs, her beautiful curves, and the way she pressed herself into Gale, like he belonged to her.

"I only asked her to dance because I had to do something to stop myself from walking up and shoving him off you. You may think he's a really great guy Katniss, but let me tell you, the way he was looking at you last night wasn't a friend pretending to be a lover. There are some things you just can't fake." He says in a warning tone.

There is some part of me that does know this. Peeta's reaction when he first saw me, and the way Deen had gotten under his skin when he wouldn't stop staring at me. Then in the closet…..

But Gale's words upset me, for a reason I don't want to admit to myself. He wants me to justify Peeta's actions but I can't very well do that.

"Gale, whatever I do I do it to keep the people I care about safe. Including you." I tell him seriously. "You think it's easy pretending to be happy and in love for the cameras while the whole time in the back of my head I'm thinking, if I'm not good enough, if I'm not believable the punishment will fall on you, or Prim, or my mother?" My voice has gotten loud, a ring of desperation resounding through my words. He looks down, wincing slightly at the loudness of my rebuke.

"Do you have to be so convincing?" He asks quietly, so softly it melts the angry ice that had been forming in my veins.

"Yes, I absolutely cannot afford not to be, especially now." I tell him seriously. He looks up and I can see under the anger there is a deep hurt showing through. He has had to sit by and watch Peeta and I for three years, unable to do a thing about it. If I've felt disenfranchised and manipulated, and Peeta's felt used and ignored, then Gale has probably felt a mixture of all of those things plus the added pressure of being on the outside looking in on a fake relationship that's acted out so well it seems real.

So I scoot over to him, and take his hand in mine. His hands are strong, but scarred. The calluses that cover them tell the story of his character. A hunter, survivor, a miner and provider for his entire family, a trapper and a friend. I brush my fingertips over the peaks and valleys of his skin and I feel some of the anger bleed off from him.

"It's only for a little longer." I say to him, as I hold his hand warm and steady in my own.

"Yeah six months is a long time when you feel you're up to your neck in this stuff." He says brusquely.

"Actually that's what I came here to tell you. Things have been moved up. President Snow wants us married by yuletide and-" Before I can even finish he's up and yanking his hand out of my grasp.

"That can't be right!" He says, as he looks out the window, his eyes wide in shock and denial.

"Gale, please, let me explain." I tell him urgently.

"No I don't want to hear how he threatened you, or talked you into it! The plan won't be ready by then, they'll force you to do it! I can't watch you do this Katniss. I can't sit by and watch you throw your life away for things you don't even want. You can't get married to him. It doesn't matter if he's a good guy, it's all a lie! You don't love him!" He's shouting now, and I don't know how to calm him down. So I stand up, and even as he's shaking his head at me in a warning tone I ignore it and throw my arms around him. He's pushing me off, but I just reattach myself to him. Then I take his face in mine and try one last ditch effort to stop his rantings.

I kiss him.

It's more of a struggle than the mutual collaboration I'm used to. Kissing Gale after trying to avoid kissing him for so long is strange at first. He's resistant, but I'm determined. I know he's stronger than me, and if he really wanted to he could just swat me away like a gnat. But after a moment he stops trying to hold out against me. Then, slowly as I coax him with my lips gently, he stops resisting and just allows it to happen. The kiss is very uniquely Gale, what with the height difference between us. I have to crane my neck to reach him at first, but then he begins to bend to me. I wrap my arms around his neck and just concentrate on the way he tastes, like smoke and apples, and the way his clothes and skin smell, like coal dust from walking through town mixed with plain white soap underneath. His breathing evens out, and after a beat I'm sure he's settled down enough to listen. I break the kiss, resting my forehead gently against his chin. His stubble rubs against my temple and I sigh.

"What I wanted to say was I have good news. Since the timeline has been accelerated, so has the plan. We have a little over two months to prepare. Haymitch says it's better this way, that they won't be able to track us as easily in the snowy season." I tell him quietly.

"What? That doesn't make any-" I place my fingers against his mouth and brush them along his lips absentmindedly before removing my hand. He looks down at me, his eyes following my hand.

"We're going to make it work." Then I tug him back down, and this time he sits and eats as I explain the new and improved plan. The supplies Cinna will be sneaking in with the shipments of wedding materials. The timeline to do the construction on the escape. The plan to run the day of the wedding. He listens quietly, building the fire for us so we can roast some rabbit. I tell him all the tiniest details, including the new device Haymitch managed to acquire. So from now on, we'd find different times to meet during the week to update each other. As long as one person brings along the bug scrambler we'd be safe from electronic listening devices. Still, we had to take care to meet in deserted or places few people ever frequented, because we could still be overheard by human ears and turned in that way. Hence my idea to bring Gale to the lake. He nods along. And I'm so relieved that he isn't fighting me on this. I don't know how Haymitch and Peeta convinced him in the first place but I am beyond grateful to them at the moment.

I don't tell him about Snow's other condition, that Peeta and I start trying to have children right away. There's no need to say something that would only cause him pain. Besides, we'll be gone before the honeymoon even starts. As I tell him about this I can tell he feels more optimistic. The same way I did. Soon we're polishing off a nice lunch, and we're laughing as I tell him how I discovered Haymitch's sobriety on the train home.

"Oh, and Peeta said he's working on a plan to subvert the ceremony and is going to need your help with something." I told him. Peeta had said he had a few ideas, but needed time to work out which ones we could safely accomplish. He would tell Gale what would be required after the plans had crystalized.

"That," Gale said, swallowing his last bit of rabbit, "I can do." And he actually smiles. I smile back at him too.

"You know that's the first time you kissed me." Gale says, looking at me in a strange intense way. I shake my head at him, about to remind him of the time in the meadow after I came back from the Games.

"The other time didn't count, because I kissed you first." He says, and I understand the distinction.

"Well, desperate times and all," I say with a little laugh hoping we can shrug it off. It really had been a last ditch effort to get him to calm down long enough to see reason.

"Is that what you've been waiting for all this time?" He says in mock annoyance.

"Actually I've just been waiting for the feeling of having a figurative gun pointed to my head to subside. It's always looming over me, complicating the issue." I tell him sincerely.

"Well I don't see any Peacekeepers here, or tv cameras. So...you're at liberty to take liberties if you want." He says, eyes peering at me from across the fireplace. And because he's looking at me so expectantly, I do the stupidest thing I can and blush.

"Gale," I say, my tongue feeling all tied up in knots and words I have no idea how to say.

"Katniss." He simply replies.

"You know what you...mean to me. I just don't want to confuse the issue any more than it already is."

"What's there to be confused about? We've got a plan, we're getting out of here. There's no one around to rat us out to the Capitol. I wish you'd shown me this place ages ago." He says and I feel the situation getting away from me.

"I can't afford to think like that right now. We need to stay focused on the plan." I tell him, hoping to reign the conversation back towards safer waters. He squints at me, like he's trying to figure something out.

"You know, when Haymitch came to me with this plan, at first I told him it wouldn't work. Not because it wasn't a good plan. But because I didn't think we'd be able to work together, me, Peeta, you. I told him there was too much history there to be able to count on each other the way people need to when they go out in the forest, and survive in the wild. The next time he came with your baker in tow. They told me that it had to work, because you were trapped underneath all this, everything the Capitol was doing. They said you wanted to give up. We didn't see much of each other that year, with all your traveling to the Capitol and then the engagement. I actually didn't want to see you or talk about it. Because If we didn't talk about it, it didn't feel real. But they said if I cared for you, really cared I'd commit to doing this, for you, so you could stop choking on all the lies. But now that we're safer than we have been in the past three years it feels like nothing has changed between us. I have to wonder, Katniss, why you really kissed me? Was it for me? Or because you needed to get me to agree to all this?" He sweeps a hand out, including the whole of the previous conversation.

"Gale…" I say trailing off, unable to respond one way or the other.

"You were always a reserved person, but you were never dishonest. Do you even realize how much they've changed you? How much of yourself have you given up because of this game?" He tells me quietly. And his words stick in my chest as easily as any of the throwing knives Clove used to use.

"Even here, now, in the middle of nowhere, so far away from anything that could hurt you you can't stop playing their game can you? Tell me Katniss, what's going to change if anything when we get to District 13?" His eyes are hard as flint now, he's pinning me with that gaze of his. Like a hunter trying to figure out just how dangerous a particularly feral wild animal is.

I can feel wounds opening up from where his all too precise words have torn open my defences.

"You think I've changed? You're right. Some days I don't even recognize the person I see in the mirror. I haven't been able to eat, to sleep, to enjoy even one day without this overwhelming fear that's been strangling me since the day of the Reaping! I can't think about anything else, there's no room for you, or anything except this fear every moment. I don't know if getting away from here will fix my problems. They run so deep Gale, I couldn't explain it to you if we sat here for a year. I don't have any guarantees for you. I can't promise you anything except this, what we have right now. That I care about you more than my own life, that I think I'd never recover if I had to leave you behind. The thought terrifies me beyond all reasoning, and so yes I acted out of desperation. But that's my whole life now, every waking moment. And the only things I have to hang on to are you, and my family, and Haymitch, and yes even Peeta, because it's like we never left the arena. They're still trying to own us, using us as pieces in their games even now. And we're still trying to fight it, only now we need help from you, from my family, from all our friends and family to get clear of this. The only chance I have is to get away, it's the only thing that wakes me up in the morning. That's all I have. So please, Gale, please just give me some time." I say, my voice tired and weak from speaking so much at once. I sit down, unable to keep standing. I suddenly feel drained speaking about all of this. It's so dark, and terrible I usually try not to think about it too much. It's enough to have to deal with it without having to give it a name, and more space to occupy in my head.

He just stares at me for a moment, then very slowly and carefully he lowers himself to sit beside me. He braces my shoulder with his when I begin to slump against the wall, exhausted. I stop trying to fight it and let my head slip down to rest on his shoulder.

"Alright Katniss, we'll do it your way." he says simply, and then rests his head against the top of my hair. I just breathe as quietly as I can, fighting to regain some semblance of self that the moment had robbed. I don't have any tears, because I know they don't help. Not with things like this. The only thing that will help me is getting everyone I love somewhere safe. I'll pay whatever I have to, to accomplish that. Gale is quiet next to me, and I just try to let his warm strength seep into me and keep me from unraveling completely.

Gale and I leave the lake house in the late afternoon. We're silent as we make our way back to 12. It's not our usual companionable silence, it's heavy. Before we make it to the meadow, while we're still in the shadow of the tree line, he pulls me into a strong hug. He holds me against him like he can protect me from all the things that wait for us when we cross over the fence. I sigh into his chest, wanting so badly for it to be true. When I was a child and scraped my knee, my father used to wrap me in a hug, my mother used to bandage me up with a kiss and send me on my way. Looking back it seems like magic, how those simple things made me feel instantly better. I saw the world through the lens of love and protection my parents crafted for me, but now that image is shattered. And the world is much darker and our wounds are much deeper than we could have ever imagined.

His lips press down into my hair, and I close my eyes trying to take comfort in the moment. Gale isn't one for words. He's like me, we express ourselves much better with simple things. His gentle kiss tells me more than all the words that were said before. That's probably why we've had so few conversations about our problems over the past years. We always seem to say the wrong things to each other when all we want to do is keep the other safe. I reach my hand up to stroke his cheek, just once very lightly. Then, I untangle myself from the embrace and head for the fence.

When I make it home, I drop my jacket and boots in the mud room. My mother and Prim have set the dining room table for dinner. Someone has brought the small projection device into the dining room and set it up against the sideboard. Not that any of us really enjoy watching the Capitol programming, but after all these years it's a habit for me to study the way I'm perceived on tv. We watch my latest performance as we eat.

Most of the segment is about Deen, and the reporters gush over his clothes and his confident smile. Peeta and I only appear in the periphery for the most part. But at the end they played our interview. I have to admit we look great, so young, attractive, and in love. Cinna never lets us down. Some footage of us dancing comes on, and Gale was right. We kiss and dance like we're oblivious to everyone else. The cameras even get a close up of my flushed face when we break apart. One reporter fans herself with her cue cards, and comments that the wedding can't come fast enough for Peeta and I or our fans. Afterwards they show Deen dancing with several girls and make comments about district 12 getting its very own playboy victor like district 4's Finnick Odair. They all have a good chuckle about that, and then the program ends. All in all, not too shabby. I let out a relieved breath and happily went back to my food. But my mother's voice cuts through the easy quiet unexpectedly.

"I didn't find the dress or the dancing very appropriate." She says, in that soft voice of hers. The comment seems harmless, but I know her. If I don't explain, she'll be putting a call into Cinna by morning.

"We're back to focusing on the love story and the wedding, now that the Games are done for this year." I tell her discreetly, hoping she'll read between the lines.

"And that means putting on a very conspicuous public display?" She asks, a very uncharacteristic hint of anger in her voice.

"In part, yes."

"What else? Sneaking out and staging sleepovers for the cameras? Where does it stop? Why all extra drama? The wedding is still months away." She says, her voice angry and frightened. Prim is looking between us now, her eyes worried. I sigh, I hadn't wanted to do this now. But I'd have to tell them both eventually.

"Actually President Snow thought that it'd be best to have a winter wedding. We'll be married before yuletide." I tell them in a small voice.

My mother's fork drops, hits the floor with a clang. I don't have to look up to know they're both staring at me. Everyone is silent, and when I finally do look up I see the fight has gone out of my mother's eyes. Prim's eyes are watery as she stares at me. They know this isn't what I want.

I don't want to leave things like this so I walk over to my mother's side and pick up her fork for her. When I set it back down on the table I grasp her hand.

"Don't worry, it's just Peeta. You know how good he is. How respectful, and careful he is. The public affection isn't a big deal. He's such a great actor, and planner. I trust him with my life, with all our lives." I tell her as I angle myself so she has to look into my eyes. I can't say it out loud, but I know she catches on because she blinks and some color comes back into her face.

"Of course, he's a very nice boy." She finally says and then reaches over to take a sip of her water. I nod, and sit back down. We finish dinner in silence and after dishes everyone goes to bed.

As I lay awake thinking of everything that has to be done, all the things that could go wrong I find myself missing Peeta's presence. If we were on the train, I'd just scoot closer to him and listen to his steady heartbeat till I fell asleep. That perfect rhythmic sound never failed to drown out the day's worries for me. He used to say that it was no use worrying about tomorrow before it had even gotten here. But he's alone in his oversized house, and I'm alone with my oversized thoughts. So it's a long while before exhaustion finally overcomes the overwrought fears that run back and forth in my head.

I wake the next morning groggy and in a bad mood. Even after I managed to fall asleep, I was plagued by nightmares. It was always hard the first night back, but the sun seemed to literally shine in an offensive way in the morning. I got up anyway and showered, got dressed and headed downstairs for a quick breakfast before going out to hunt.

But as I descended the steps into the hallway I could tell something was wrong. I could hear my mother's voice, raised in vehement tones in the foyer.

I rounded the corner only to come face to chest with a tall overbearing Peacekeeper. I jumped back as if I had touched an open flame, but the man hardly even flinched. There was another Peacekeeper, equally as big and intimidating standing to his right. As I looked past their thick frames, I could see my mother speaking in a quiet but argumentative voice with a tall thin woman with pale sandy hair and thin silver frames over her icy blue eyes.

"I can understand your concern Mrs. Everdeen, but you are aware as is everyone else that your daughter is a legal adult. You don't have the right to make any medical decisions for her. In fact, as she is already 18, and no longer needs a guardian, this house isn't even supposed to be your residence any longer." Her voice is clinical, her tone condescending. I hate her on the spot, especially after the way she spoke to my mother.

I push past the guards without a second thought.

"I'm retaining this house until after the wedding. And my mother and sister are MY guests. No one will be moving out until Peeta and I are officially married." I say loudly, with my very nastiest scowl aimed straight at the intruder.

"In fact the only people who don't have permission to be in my home right now are you, and those two Peacekeepers you brought with you." I add with as much distaste as I can load into the sentence.

"Ahh, Ms. Everdeen. I've been waiting." She says as she turns to face me. She's a tall woman, thin boned and skinny. "Well, before you throw us out let me at least introduce myself. My name is Dr. Narsissa Sculapus, Panem's foremost genetic and fertility specialist. I've been requested personally by President Snow to pay you a visit." She extends her hand but I just stare at it, as if someone had extended a live grenade to me.

I feel myself break out into a cold sweat as I replay her words in my head. I swallow, not wanting to ask the next question but knowing I have to.

"What for?" The words are so quiet the doctor has to crane her neck to hear them.

"To acquire a baseline of your health and assess any complications that may hinder conception." Dr. Cat-eyes explains breezily.

"The wedding is two months away." My mother's voice is strained, weak.

I say nothing. I knew it would have been too much to hope to be left alone until the wedding. This is Snow, showing his strength again. He wants us to know how much reach he has. To get a very important Capitol doctor to come all the way out to district 12, it's almost ridiculous. In fact Dr. Ice-eyes is standing very straight, in the middle of the room holding herself far away from anything that could smudge her pristine white lab coat. It would be funny if it weren't so terrifying.

"How very thoughtful of him." I finally say.

"Oh, yes. My services are greatly sought after, people in the Capitol wait years just to get an appointment. If it weren't for your personal reference by President Snow, well I wouldn't even be here." The doctor says with such self-importance, such pride it would be offensive if she weren't so oblivious.

"Well, if you give me a moment, I'll get dressed and head down to the medical building with you." I say dryly.

"Oh there's no need for that. I've all the equipment I need on hand. And besides it's just a preliminary exam, we can do it here in your home so you'll be more comfortable." She says the last word as if she really doesn't believe anyone could be comfortable here. And my house, along with the others in the victor's village are the biggest and fanciest in the district. The way my mother and Prim keep this place clean you could practically eat off the floors, but of course to someone from the Capitol where the showers have about 2,000 different settings, our home probably looks like a government issued shack.

I just nod to this, hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible. I motion for her to follow me, and my mother shoots me an anxious look. But I just shake my head at her. The doctor is right, I'm 18 and can't very well ask my mother to hold my hand for a simple physical.

I lead the doctor to a spare bedroom that we always keep made up, and she instructs me to undress and put on a paper gown. I do so, while she digs around to rifle through her medical bag. She begins taking out recognizable tools like a stethoscope, latex gloves, a portable blood pressure reader, and a headband that had a light attached to it. When we're both done she instructs me to stand still as she takes my vitals. When she finishes she scribbles some notes on a clipboard. Then she examines my eyes, shining her light in them, my ears, my throat, my neck where my lymph nodes are, under my arms. She checks my chest for lumps, and it feels like being poked and prodded by a machine encased in flesh. Then she asks me to lay on the bed. She tells me how to position myself, as close to the edge as possible, with my legs propped up. This part is infinitely harder to submit to. And suddenly I'm wishing I hadn't brushed away my mother's concerns. I wish I had requested her presence, because this is very different than when I had to stand naked before my stylists, or when the Capitol doctors put me back together after the Games. This feels invasive and so personal. But Dr. Icy-Eyes must be as good as they say, because it only takes a minute for her to examine me, and then she's up and snapping off her gloves, and disposing of them in the wastebasket. She tells me I can sit up and get dressed as she scribbles the last of her notes down on her little clip pad.

"You're as healthy as any well fed and well exercised 18 year old. I see no reason why you wouldn't be able to conceive. But if you want more assurance I can order some blood tests." She states in a monotone voice.

As much as I want to refuse any other personal invasion, I try to put aside my initial reaction. As I think this is over, I realize Snow wants me to feel uncomfortable, and is looking for a way to scare me. If I agree to the blood tests now, maybe they won't check me again until the wedding or honeymoon. My blood is clean right now, as I haven't had a chance to speak privately with my mother about Snow's latest demand.

"That would be good, yes." I tell her and she withdraws a syringe and several vials. As she's taking my blood I'm thinking about the implications of this visit, her cold voice interrupts my thoughts.

"If you really are determined to give yourself the best chance, you might consider trying to conceive as of now."

"The wedding is still two months away." I tell her, trying to keep the sharp edge of fear out of my voice.

"Even if you conceived right away, it wouldn't be apparent until around the three and a half or four month mark. It would go a long way, medically speaking. I can note in my report your intentions, and that would show more progress than the fact that you appear healthy but still a virgin." She says in a very quiet voice. Her icy eyes are inches from mine, and I can't really read them. I don't know if this is a suggestion or something else. A warning maybe?

"I'll consider it." I finally say, and she nods. She collects her vials of blood and her instruments and organizes them swiftly and neatly back in her bag.

"Alright Ms. Everdeen, I'll be back in two week to check on you again. If all goes well, I won't have to come back here until the week of your wedding. That is, if you make sufficient progress." She says in that icy tone as she stares at me from the front of the room. A warning then.

"We weren't aware that the rules of decorum were going to be suspended for us. But now that we know, we'll be sure to take advantage of this...opportunity." I say the last word with hesitancy, not sure I even believe it.

"Yes, that would seem best." She says before she opens the door and sweeps from the room.

After they leave my mother announces she's going to make the rounds with her patients. But she points to a note on the counter, that after I read I burn over the stove before heading out. Prim has already left for school, so there's no one to miss either of us.

I find her waiting for me at the edge of the meadow, but shake my head at her when she opens her mouth to speak. I lead her deeper into the woods, as deep as I dare to take her so that on the walk back we won't be missed for long.

"What happened?" She asks, her hands are shaking. I turn away from her, not sure what to say. So I start at the night of the victor's celebration in Snow's mansion. As I speak her face grows paler, and her lips seem to thin out into two small flat lines. But she doesn't interrupt me until I'm done, until I tell her about the doctor's visit.

"Katniss…" Her voice is a whisper full of horror. Her round soft blue eyes are wide and incredulous. I hate seeing her like this, over me. It always reminds me of the time after the mine accident, when my father died.

"It's alright, Peeta and Haymitch have a plan-"

"I know about the plan." She cuts in. I do a double take, did everyone know before me?

"Well, things are going to be fine. We've made the necessary adjustments. We'll be gone before the honeymoon. It'll be okay." I tell her sternly, not wanting to see her slip away, not now when we're so close to changing everything. Not when I need her to stay present.

She nods, but I can see her mind turning over the words of the doctor just as I did. She must be working out what I have already realized.

"You can't-"

"Is it ready?" I tell her, grasping her arm. The question makes her flinch.

"Yes, but I can't let you-" She begins, but I cut her off.

"This isn't about you, or me. This is about everyone. Do you understand? Prim, and Gale and Hazelle and the kids, and Haymitch, and everyone who means anything to us."

"What kind of mother would I be!" She's loud now, close to tears, but I ignore her emotional outburst. I can't afford to give into it. If I do, I might lose my nerve.

"The kind that keeps her children alive. As long as you have it, and it works, then I'll be fine."

"Oh, Katniss there are consequences for things like this, that are just as serious as conceiving a child."

"More serious than you and Prim being carted off to the Capitol to be tortured and executed?"

She gulps, unable to answer. Then she bursts into tears. And I can't keep her at arms length anymore. So I wrap my arm around her shoulder and take a deep breath.

"Don't worry about me mom," I tell her as I rub her arm in an attempt to soothe her. I want to say it won't be a big deal, that it'll be like nothing. But somehow I know that neither of us would believe that.

"We've only got to hold on for two more months. And then no one will be able to use you or Prim as weapons ever again. Besides, it's Peeta. I can count on him, he's very...dependable." I say, searching for the right words, but still feeling like I've fallen short.

"Oh, darling, that boy cares for you so much. I just worry about how this will change you both."

"It won't." I promise her, but she just looks at me sadly, as if I can't comprehend her meaning.

"Tell me about the medicine." I urge her, changing the subject. And because she knows me so well, and sees there will be no changing my mind, drops it.

"I've been working on it for a while now, a combination of things that I've picked up over the years. A few of the women that I treat, ones that have too many children to feed already were interested in trying it. They've been taking it secretly, since a few months after you got engaged. None of them have conceived. A month ago, after Nella lost her little boy, she decided to stop taking it, so that she and Rocker could try for another baby. She got pregnant right away. So, from the limited testing I've done, I think it could work. You'll have to take it everyday, because it leaves the system very quickly. But I want you to know nothing is 100% sure, especially without more advanced equipment, and doing official lab testing. This is just my best guess using the limited tools available to me."

"It's good enough for now." I tell her and we head back in the direction of town.

"Katniss, what will Gale say?" She asks me in a hushed voice right before we reach the meadow. And the question stops me in my tracks. I feel slightly stricken, but then, before I can do anything stupid like break down or run away just grit my teeth.

"Nothing, because he won't know. It's nobody's business but mine, and Peeta's." I tell her, unable to think of any more answers than that. Gale can't know, not if I want him to come to 13 with us. The strange uneasy notion that he was right when he said I've learned to lie and play the Capitol's game too well shifts around in the back of my mind. And yet, I ease my conscience with the image of the girl with the chestnut hair, and the long legs. Gale has never been officially beholden to me, nor I to him. Back in school he had any number of girlfriends, at any one time. And I'm pretty sure they did more than kiss and hold hands. Most of the time the girls pursued him with a wild enthusiasm, easy pickings as far as he would probably be concerned. I don't begrudge him any of those romances. And maybe, if I don't hold those girls against him, he won't hold Peeta against me. It's a lot to hope for, but it's the only plan I've got. If he really can't forgive me, at least he won't have to know until District 13, after that he can walk away from me and be safe. I could live with Gale being angry at me, if it meant he was alive and far away from the Capitol.

Mother shoots me a worried glance, but I just tilt my head in the direction of the fence, motioning for her to keep walking. I follow her, a few steps behind, hoping that her worries are misplaced and she's just being overly concerned. But my mother does have more experience in these matters than I do, she was married for years and raised two children. Yet, for all that, I can't seem to find the desire to ask her advice on this matter. It is just too personal. I don't even know how I'm going to ask Peeta. I feel a point of pain begin to throb behind my eyes. And I have to remind myself to calm down before I give myself a stress headache. Really it would be the cherry on top of an already terrible day cake.

Dinner is a silent affair, and after I go straight to bed. I find it too difficult to stay lying down in bed, so instead I get up to pace. Peeta's light is in his room until 10pm. And when it goes out, I find myself staring at his darkened window, wondering about a million things. How was I going to do this? How could I convince myself, much less him to...what? Help me enact a ploy to take suspicion off us until the escape plan can go through. Except we wouldn't be lying this time. Or maybe we'd be lying more than ever before? My mind couldn't work its way through the logic.

Surely it's not moral to ask this of Peeta. Yet, so much of what we do, the roles we have to play have blurred the lines between moral and immoral from the beginning. The kissing, the time spent together, the promises of undying love and devotion. Even the nights spent in each other's arms. Even though nothing has happened other than nightmares and the occasional few hours of sleep, we have still been thrown together so much even he admits it's hard to keep it all straight. The entire country thinks we're in love, we've been lying for years to everyone outside of our close friends and family. And somewhere between being forced to lie and pretend we've come to trust each other implicitly. It shouldn't have been possible but it's true.

So, I finally admit to myself sometime around 3am that it's not the thought of being with Peeta in that way that makes me hesitate, or pace all hours of the night. It's what my mother said, about this changing us somehow. Because that is the scariest thing, the idea that I could change him or damage our friendship beyond repair by taking this step. I bite my nails down to the nubs, but it doesn't help. I can't see a way forward or backward that isn't impossibly dangerous.

It's like Peeta told me that night on the streets of the Capitol. Snow doesn't play by the same rules. The Capitol places no value on innocence or purity. They send children to their deaths annually for their entertainment. They tried to send my sister, but I managed to intervene. They did however, kill Rue, and Thresh, and Cato, and all the others. And they killed three of our tributes in the past three years. They've been murdering the children of our district without concern for decades, and then they have the gall to be upset when a few of the district 12 tributes don't roll over and die like dogs for their amusement. I shut my eyes against the anger and indignity of it all. Four victors in 76 years. Four out of hundreds, and yet Peeta and I are to blame for the unrest, for the rage that brewed in the hearts of Panem's citizens?

They rigged the game against us, and even now they don't even play by their own rules. So why should I? Why should Peeta? Wasn't he the one who told me he had figured out how to beat them? By forgetting the rules, and working outside them?

The trick will be playing Snow, while staying true to ourselves. And try as I might I can't figure out a surefire plan how to accomplish that. At around 5am, I decide that the only way Peeta and I can hope to stay on track while we play these new and dangerous roles will be to be upfront and aware of the reasons at all times. That way there's no confusion, and if we keep our priorities straight and our feelings at bay, then it shouldn't change anything too much. Maybe. At dawn I give up trying to work it out all the way through. I'll just have to ask Peeta and hope for the best. Surely he'll see the necessity of it. He's worked so hard to put this plan together, he'll understand how important it is to protect it and keep Snow from becoming suspicious. At least, I hope so.

I decide to sleep in, since I'll be useless in the woods or anywhere else unless I get at least a few hours of sleep. I wake at noon, and dress quickly. I leave a note for my mother who has gone out on her rounds. I walk over to Haymitch's and find him passed out. Now that he's home he still gets drunk every now and then. I leave a note stuck to his flask saying I need him and Peeta to meet me at the abandoned house after sundown.

Then I go into the woods and check the traps. After getting a decent haul and shooting two pheasants I head over to Hazelle's. I drop off part of the game and then hit the Hob to do some trading.

While I'm eating a bowl of Greasy Sae's mystery stew Darius joins me at the small makeshift tables. He sits on an old milk crate that is sometimes used as a chair, and starts chatting with me happily. He starts talking about his bad luck to have drawn a shift during the victor's celebration dinner.

"I had planned on asking you to save me a dance, but well fate had other plans." He says with a dramatic flourish of his hands. I laugh at his exaggerated expression of disappointment and tell him he didn't miss much other than the good food.

"Are you kidding? Me and half the Keepers on duty just about fell out of our chairs when we saw you on tv, and you came out in that tidy little Capitol number. I had to remind them about your knobby knees and gangly elbows from a few years ago just to get them to stop drooling!" He says with such fraudulent dismay I burst out laughing.

"Between me and you Darius, it's the Capitol makeup and the stylists that make all the difference. If we gave them Greasy Sae for half an hour they'd turn her into a fashion model, instant success, fame and more money than she'd be able to count." I tell him seriously and then it's his turn to belly laugh.

"I'll believe that one when I see it. But really Katniss, that town boy of yours is a lucky kid. I doubt he knows what to do with a firecracker like you though. Anytime you get tired of flour stained fingernails and teenage fumbling you let me know. A girl like you deserves to know what it feels like to be kissed by a real man before she up and marries a soft little baker for the rest of her life." he says this last part quietly, conspiritally. Then he winks at me. I roll my eyes at his feigned offer of romance and snort in disbelief. Darius is a notorious flirt, and he's been cracking jokes like this ever since I turned 16. It's all in good fun and part of our routine by now. But as I hand my bowl back to Greasy Sae I find my thoughts snagging on the comments he made about Peeta.

It's true that Darius is older than Peeta. As far as I know he's closer to 25 now, but at 18 Peeta's considered a man by most standards. And then there was the comment about teenage fumbling...

"Something wrong girl?" Greasy Sae asks as I linger around for no real reason.

"Oh, just some stupid joke Darius made." I tell her casually.

"That one's had his eye on you for sometime. But between the Baker's Boy and your uh, Cousin he's never had much room to work with. I guess now that the wedding's getting closer he's throwing out lines, hoping something will catch."

"Darius? And Me?" I ask her incredulously.

She gives a look like she almost feels sorry for me. "People do strange things, when they feel like they're running out of chances."

That I understand. I thank her for the stew and walk away quietly in the direction of the abandoned house. It's a little early, not yet sunset.

When I get there Haymitch is waiting for me. He grunts in greeting and pulls out his little bug scrambler. I walk over and ask him to show me how to work it.

I had originally planned to enlist Haymitch's help in convincing Peeta. But after the encounter with Darius at the Hob, well maybe there are somethings best said between two people in private. I think about how Darius might have been almost confessing something in between his lines of jokes, and how I never would have really understood unless Greasy Sae had spelled it out. I don't want Haymitch to have to spell things out between Peeta and I, any more than I'm sure Darius wanted his secrets spelled out by Sae.

So before Peeta joins us, I ask Haymitch if I can talk to Peeta alone. I promise to take good care of the scrambler. But Haymitch doesn't seem very concerned about the bug. He just eyes me suspiciously.

"And just what do you need to discuss with that boy that doesn't involve the three of us."

"Actually it's a private matter, as in none of your concern."

"Well if it's unconcerning, why do you need the scrambler?"

"I just do."

"Hmmm. I've known you long enough to know when you're up to something girl."

"It's not going to jeopardize the plan, Haymitch. It's just a precaution."

"Does this precaution involve toying with people's emotions?"

"I don't toy with people, Haymitch." I mutter, slightly offended.

"Oh really? So what pray tell, are all those cozy nights on the train about? Friends keeping each other warm? Anyone ever told you your compartment has electric heating?" He asks sarcastically, and I should've known better than to think I got off scott free after he saw us together in my room after the party at the mansion. Looks like he's gearing up for a long overdue lecture.

"Nightmares Haymitch, you know Peeta and I get nightmares." I say to try and stave off the onslaught of disapproval. Haymitch still had nightmares, surely he of all people should understand.

"Is it any wonder why? Have you ever considered his point of view? Being asked to share covers with a girl that drives you crazy and all she wants is someone to hold hands with all night long. That would give any teenage boy nightmares!" He's almost yelling now.

"I can hear you from outside Haymitch." Peeta's smooth voice interrupts our argument and I blanche.

Haymitch however just crosses his arms over his chest and shoots me a nasty glare. I cross my arms right back at him.

"Fine, but I'm warning you missy. You just better think before you go shooting that mouth of yours off." He says in truly stern fashion that would have been almost believable if he hadn't swayed a little on drunken legs before he headed for the door.

"And the boy's in charge of the scrambler. Because I just don't trust you at the moment." HIs final parting words are delivered with pointed disdain and then Peeta and I are left alone.

"What was that all about?" Peeta asks, quietly as he joins me in the center of the room.

"You know me and Haymitch, just getting under each other's skin like always." I try to play it off because I really don't want my opening gambit to include Haymitch's stamp of disapproval.

"That's funny, because it sounded like you were both discussing me." Peeta says, in a 'come on, really," kind of voice.

"Well, I asked him if we could discuss some things alone. And he got a little snippy, probably doesn't want to be left out of the loop."

"Why should we leave him out of the loop?"

"Because, this is something that only concerns you and me. It's not anyone else's business."

"Katniss, our entire lives are other people's business."

"Not this."

"Alright, why don't you tell me what 'this' is that you're talking about."

I'm quiet for a moment, trying to find the best way to lead up to it. But just like last night, all I can think to do is play my most serious cards first, to try and convince him of the necessity.

"A doctor from the Capitol came to examine me yesterday."

"I didn't see anyone-"

"She came straight to my house, early in the morning. You might have been at the bakery. She left pretty quickly."

"What did she want?"

"To do President Snow a personal favor and check up on my health. She's a fertility specialist."

The color drains from Peeta's face, and he leans against the broken mantle of the burned out fireplace for support.

"What? How-"

"It was just a preliminary exam, and some blood work. No torture instruments or brainwashing sessions have been ordered yet. But Peeta, she mentioned something she would have to add in her report."

"Are you sick? Is there something wrong? Katniss, we can get you help in the Capitol right away, we can postpone the plan, the wedding-"

"Peeta," I say as I grab his arm, to stop him from imagining life threatening medical scenarios.

"She said I'm as healthy as any young 18 year old could be, that wasn't the issue."

"Oh." He says relieved, then a second later his eyebrows are drawn together in confusion. "So then what was it?"

"She said she has to note in the report that...I'm well, still...umm…" And I can't say it, because talking about these kinds of things, even with Peeta, is just too embarrassing. I take a step back from him, trying to put the words together.

"What?" He asks, not following my inane rambling at all. I take a deep breath, and resolve that since I sent Haymitch away I will indeed have to spell it out for Peeta.

"A virgin." I say quietly, not looking at him.

"Oh." He still sounds confused.

"And that's a bad thing?" He asks in a careful voice.

"Apparently Snow doesn't feel like we're making enough progress on the pregnancy front." I say, with a hint of exasperation in my voice.

"The wedding is two- months away!" Peeta half exclaims, half whispers after he realizes in the middle of his statement that he's being too loud.

"Yes, and Dr. Ice Woman said that unless I promised to correct the oversight, she'd have to come back to 12, before the wedding, repeatedly. You and I both know what that will mean for our plans. If we have Capitol doctors and Peacekeepers poking around here as we get closer to the wedding it could ruin everything." I tell him pointedly.

"So, what are you saying?" He asks, his face a distorted picture of confusion and worry.

"I propose we correct the situation." I tell him honestly.

"You mean lie, or stage something?" He asks alertly, his brain starting to turn over scenarios.

"No, faking something would be too risky, and I'd be too easy for them to disprove." Then because I know the time has come, I take a deep breath and brace for what I'm about to tell him next.

"I'm proposing the real thing."

Chapter Text

Ch 6 Self Respect

"I'm proposing the real thing." I say looking straight into his eyes. I want him to know I'm serious.

"That's not an option." He says with an expression like I have just proposed drinking a vat of dangerous chemicals.

"Of course it is. Peeta we both learned how to handle ourselves when we played in the Games, and after. This will be no different." My voice is steady, and strong. I want him to know I'm not afraid or bothered by this proposal at all.

"It's entirely different! And you know that!" His face reddens with anger and he raises his voice without regard to our location.

"Stop acting like I'm trying to march you to the whipping post-" I hiss at him, lowering my voice and hoping he takes the hint to quiet down. I have no idea why he's objecting to this so vehemently.

"How am I supposed to act? Grateful? Ecstatic? Do you want me to send Snow a thank you card?" He asks with such disdain, with such casual contempt, I stomp down the urge to kick his good leg.

He must read the anger in my eyes because he says the next thing in a quieter, more serious tone.

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I have no self respect." The words are soft, but there's an undercurrent of anger, an edge to his voice.

Love? Really? I think. Yes, this horrified response to my suggestion of spending the night together really makes me feel special. But I don't say it.

"It's not as momentous or as demoralizing as you're making it out to be. Plenty of people-" I say in my most unpretentious tone, trying to reason with him.

"I wish you could hear yourself right now. What you're proposing is wrong on so many levels." He says this while staring at me gravely, as if I hadn't already considered all of the options.

"It will be completely safe, there's no real risk involved. My mother has medicine-"

"There are more consequences to crossing these kinds of boundaries than just conceiving, Katniss." He says with such severity, that it reminds me of my mother's response in the woods yesterday when I told her my plan.

"We can handle it, as long as we have protection." I say, sure and confident.

"That's like saying you can handle someone dropping a nuclear bomb in your backyard as long as you have an umbrella." He counters with a humorless laugh.

"I can't believe you're acting so...childish!" I cry out in frustration.

"Childish? I am trying to be anything but. I'm trying to be logical. There's no way we can do something like this." He says condecsendingly, as if I'm the child and he's explaining a simple concept. But I am not a child.

"Do what? Have sex?" I exclaim, angry and frustrated. I challenge him to say it, taking refuge in my indignation rather than the hot blush that creeps through me at the word. How mature is he really if he can't even say it.

"Yes sex, Katniss." He says quietly, almost with a sigh. He looks away from me, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Isn't that what you want?" I reply conversely, my own shoulders rolling back in response to his defeated tone, as if he issued a provocation. I don't know why I say it. I know I'm making him uncomfortable, broaching a subject we have mutually and silently agreed never to discuss. But I had woken up enough nights on the train to his desire pressed against me. I had never commented on it, and he had tried to hide it for the most part. But I knew, and he knew that I was aware. His cheeks flushed bright red, all the way up to his ears. But his eyes remained stern and serious. I hated that look on him. It twisted my stomach in knots as I gazed at the way the light from the flames flickered across his tinted skin.

"Katniss, none of this is about what I want." His voice is low, his words clipped and almost emotionless. He looks down at his feet. He went from I love you to wanting nothing to do with me pretty quickly.

"You're right. It's not. It's about protecting our priorities." I say, anger and the soft kindling of hatred for this conversation, for the way he has responded to me leaking into my voice.

"There are things that are sacred Katniss. Things that shouldn't be sacrificed, not matter what. You can't ask this of me. Its not fair."

"This was going to happen anyway Peeta." I tell him bitterly, thinking of the Capitol planned wedding and the lavish honeymoon. His eyes widened momentarily. Pain flits across his face, but then it's gone and he's shaking his head, and looking away from me.

"No. It wasn't. You know I'd NEVER Katniss, not in a million years-" His words alarmed, his eyes wide. I scowl at him, hating everything about this moment.

"I thought I could count on you!" I practically yell. I don't know why I'm furious, maybe because it doesn't feel like he's trying to keep me safe. Maybe it feels more like he's trying to put me off, in that unbearably kind and considerate Peeta Mellark manner. Like all those Capitol women who threw themselves at him. Maybe after all I've done, how many times I've shut him out, he secretly just wants to see me beg. He's still shaking his head at me, his jaw is flexing in anger, like he's trying to hold in words he doesn't want to speak. Still trying to appear gentlemanly. I hate it. I hate him. I hate that he's seen me this way, weak and asking for help, and he failed me. Too bad. I am not now going to, nor will I ever beg. I narrow my eyes at him.

"Okay then, you don't want to. That's fine. I'll figure something out." I say, my mind on Gale. Gale who has never let me down when I needed him.

"WHAT?"

Peeta says, his eyes widening unbelievably.

"We're done here. Forget about this conversation. I'm going home."

I say angrily as I jump up and head for the door.

"Katniss! Wait!" He cries out, but I am too fast, I sprint out the door before he can grab a hold of me.

"Keep your self respect." I mutter, not looking back as I disappear into the shadowy alleys of the Seam, taking an unexpected route home in case he tries to follow.

But I can't shake the sinking feeling in my chest. The waves of anger and humiliation ebb almost immediately, now that he's not in the room. And then I'm left wondering if he was right. If even discussing this topic has strained our tenuous friendship, maybe the consequences of taking part in the real thing would have been disastrous. Are things going to be any safer with Gale? I'm starting to feel like I'm in a no-win situation, and I realize that this is exactly what Snow intended. He wants to force me to alienate the people I care the most about. At least one, or more likely, both of them will end up feeling used if this plays out. But what choice do I have? I sit in the empty room until all the lingering light fades from the horizon. Then I force myself to get up, and start back home before anyone comes looking for me.

The next few days pass in an awkward blur. Peeta and I avoid each other surreptitiously and I never gather the courage to broach the subject with Gale even though we spend the majority of Sunday alone in the woods. When he asks me what's on my mind I tell him it's just nerves. He eyes me with a certain amount of skepticism, but doesn't pry. The day passes without me saying a word about needing his help. I tell myself I am just formulating a plan. Obviously my first pitch didn't go over well, so I pledge to work especially hard on my delivery for next time.

But when I go over the words at night as I lay in bed, trying to rehearse them in my head, they don't sound convincing or persuasive. Peeta was right, talk of priorities and responsibility, and sacrifice are not exactly passion inspiring. I am not very good at this. I certainly wouldn't respond positively to an invitation issued because of duty or obligation.

I rub my eyes tiredly, knowing I won't be able to sleep while this weighs on me. I feel stuck. And I can't figure out who to ask for advice. I run through the list of people who actually have the experience and know how to advise me. My mother would be mortified and so would I. Prim, thank heaven, knows even less than I do about these kinds of things. For a while I considered asking Madge, since she has had more dating experience. But the more I think about it, the more I realize it would be impossible. How would I explain the need to convince my fiance to sleep with me two months from our wedding? Most people assume Peeta and I's relationship is far past that point, and even if they believe it's not there's no outward explanation good enough to justify not waiting for the honeymoon that's so close.

On the other hand, I can't very well say I'm considering someone who isn't my fiance either. No matter how I try to slice it, there's no one who understands the situation we're in. Except maybe...Haymitch. The thought both repels and incites intense embarrassment in me. But I can't think of anyone else to ask for advice. He seems to be the only true confidant in my life. How has it come to this? I can't even imagine how Haymitch will react at first. He'll be livid for sure.

But I do know that if I explain, or at least imply why I think it's necessary, he'll understand. The next few months leading up to the wedding need to be perfect and above suspicion. We can't risk drawing Snow's scrutiny. There will be no do-overs. We have one chance and one chance only to escape and if it passes us by then Peeta and I will really have to be married in every way, for the rest of our long Capitol controlled lives. We'll have to produce children to send off into the Hunger Games. I know that of the two choices, actualizing my role as Peeta's lover for a brief time, or sacrificing my future children, which one is the lesser of the two evils.

I turn to stare out my window in the direction of his home across from mine. His light is on, and I think maybe he's awake like I am. Maybe he regrets the angry words we exchanged. He hasn't said anything though. And I am still trying to cover my bruised feelings. He knows enough about me by now to keep giving me space.

It's hardly the whirlwind romance everyone but those closest to us perceive. But we are old friends by now, familiar with each other's moods, and habits. If I'm honest with myself I would probably be asking him for his advice if things were reversed and it was Gale I had to convince.

And he would try to help me as best he could, that is if we were just friends and his feelings for me didn't get in the way.

And since I'm being so honest, I admit to myself that deep down the idea of becoming his lover doesn't frighten me the way it does with Gale. There is a surety in the idea of sharing myself with Peeta that I can't really count on with Gale. Gale would offer no guarantees to remain friends, I don't even think he'd try. He'd never look back. But Peeta would do his best to not trap me, to not push for things I couldn't give. That was probably why he got so angry that day, because he knows me too well, and he knows I am not capable of the depth of feeling he is.

I shake my head at myself. Becoming lovers wouldn't be the lesser evil. It wouldn't be evil at all. If the Capitol weren't at our backs, pushing us on, or if I was capable of being there for him the way he is for me. This I know as surely as I know that over the years I have thought of it, entertained the notion in the periphery of my mind. On the lonely nights after coming home from the train, back in my bed without him. The nights when I miss the feeling of his strong warm arms around me, the surety of him next to me in the dark. Those thoughts have been there, in the quiet, in the solemnity of moonlight. Sometimes the thoughts make their way into my dreams, and I wake up in the morning confused to be alone. I sigh, looking across the street.

But my wanting his proximity, his comfort, even the escape of his touch is not the same thing he wants. This I know too. Because Peeta is so true, so pure. His sharing of himself would never be inconsequential. I have no answer to that, so I am resolved to go see Haymitch tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The morning breaks chilly and misty in typical District 12 late autumn fashion. I shrug on a light jacket as I walk out early and as quietly as I can and head down the few houses towards Haymitch's residence.

I don't bother knocking, because he's likely passed out on the couch anyway. He courts sobriety outside of our District like an ardent school boy, but back home he has plenty of days when he slips back into the waiting arms of his old mistress. Luckily this is one of his easier days, and I find him tipsy but not really drunk.

"Here to bring an old man breakfast sweetheart?" He asks looking up at me from his kitchen table where he had been lacing his morning coffee with only half of the normal amount of white liquor I am used to seeing him douse it with over the years. I shake my head. Peeta would have brought bread, or some kind of thoughtful offering. But I'm not Peeta and we both know it. So I just go to the sink and scrape out the cleanest cup I can find, run it under the tap until the water is scalding and then fill it with coffee for myself. I hope the heat will kill most of the germs.

"I need some advice actually." I say as I take a seat across from him. He looks at me quizzically over his coffee cup.

"Well I know you're not here to ask about placemat settings or honeymoon destinations. Although District 4's coast line is gorgeous even this time of year." He says his voice is neutral. He knows for sure I'm not asking about anything having to do with the honeymoon. Peeta and I decided to give Effie carte blanche since we'll all be gone before we even get to the reception. She was so happy, it made me wince to think of all her hard work going to waste. But there wasn't any vacation on earth lovely enough to entice me to stay one minute longer in this gilded cage than I absolutely had to. Haymitch knows this but he's keeping up pretences for the sake of anyone who might be listening in.

"Actually, I had an interesting visit from a renowned Capitalist physician last week." I ease into the conversation as nonchalantly as I can. But Haymitch looks up at me, his eyes instantly wary.

"She said that it would be best for Peeta and I to conceive right away as soon as the honeymoon starts. Or...even before then." I look up at Haymitch and I can see that a good deal of color has drained from his face. He is staring at me with dread.

"You got this visit last week?" He replies, unconcerned but I can tell his eyes are angry, and worried.

"Yes, I didn't want to mention it until I got the chance to tell Peeta. But you know how busy he's been with the renovations to his parent's bakery. I finally got a chance to discuss it with him and he doesn't think we need extra assistance. He's convinced everything will work out according to plan naturally."

"And you're not." It was a statement from Haymitch, not a question.

"Well that's why I wanted to ask for your advice. You're our mentor, in your experience, do you think we stand a good chance of accomplishing our goals without any extra measures?" I ask him this as calmly as I can but I know the panic is simmering just beneath the surface. Haymitch must feel it too, because he takes out his flask and takes a fortifying gulp.

So it is as serious as I thought.

"Well, you're both young and healthy. But you never know for sure with these things." His eyes tell me that I am right to be afraid, and right to consider other options.

"I suggested to Peeta that we might start trying now, even before the honeymoon, that way if there's a problem we'll be ahead of it." I say this next part quietly, so very quietly that the drip from the facet sounds as loud as a knock at the door.

"I see. And what was his reaction to this suggestion?" Haymitch's voice is steel now.

"He wasn't in favor of it. You know he's very traditional. He wants to wait until the honeymoon, but I don't know if that's the smartest move." I answer him with my eyebrows raised in emphasis.

Haymitch rubs a grimy hand down his face in consternation. He thinks for a minute, formulating his response.

"It'll be tough to convince him. But you can do it, if you really think it's the smartest move." He says finally slumping back in his chair like the conversation has already taken all of his energy.

"My attempts to convince him so far haven't succeeded." I say through gritted teeth.

"Is that so? Well I can't imagine why." He says with a mocking edge in his voice. I roll my eyes at this. We both know I'm about as warm and inviting as a slug, the same description he used when I was trying to prepare me for my interviews before Peeta and I's Games. He had started drinking that afternoon as he tried to coach me into a halfway likeable person.

Times haven't changed that much because next his next order of businesses to take another swig from his flask. Then he settles a burning and fierce gaze on me, but instead of being afraid I am all ears. Finally I think we are past the code talking and I am going to get some real answers.

"You want him? You can get him, princess. But it's gonna cost you." His eyes already have that shiny look that tells me that the liquor is working its way quickly into his system.

I remain silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Oh I'm not talking about the physical stuff. That part will probably be the easiest. The damn tension between you two is so thick these days you can cut it with a knife. I'm talking about something else. All the things you've been trying to avoid this whole time. You've been afraid it's true, that you bought your own act, or that you're so desperate you don't care whether it's true or not anymore. The past 3 years have got you so torn down, you're practically dying for something to break you out of this cycle." He stares at me across the table and I stare back at him. I hadn't expected him to switch gears so fast. I wanted real answers, but what he's giving me is the inconvenient context of Peeta's and I's relationship that I would rather stay buried. But still his words have a ring of truth I can't deny.

"That makes it all harder because you think you can't trust yourself. You're not the type to give in to any kind of weakness, so you've been playing it real close to the vest. But on the other hand you're more terrified that none of it is true. If everything is a lie, then you're a terrible person who doesn't have the capacity to do more than fight for survival, and save your family, maybe. Those two things have been fighting inside your head for a long time now. That's fine, you're not gonna figure it out by tomorrow. But if you want him to take this step then you're gonna have to give him something he can hold onto. You'll have to be honest with him. I know, the thought is just terrifying." He says, his mouth twisting into a grimace that tells me he has no pity for me whatsoever.

"You want me to tell him how confused I am? How will that help anything?"

"You start with the truth. Whatever it is. He's someone you can trust with your life, with your secrets. He's never left you to fend for yourself, even when you probably needed it. Talk about what you can't help but like about him, even if it's something small. Right now there's a part of him that thinks you hate him because of all the expectations placed on you, he thinks you blame him."

"That's not true."

"Then tell him that. Just be honest, even if it's not what he's hoping for, it's more than what he has right now. And trust me, he's going to need more than the doomed resignation you've been staring at him with these past few months."

"I haven't been-"

"I've seen more hopeful expressions in front of firing squads. But it's understandable. It's also not his fault. So put aside the distractions, shut 'em out. Tell him the truth, even if it's that you're afraid of letting things become too real. "

"Isn't that counterintuitive?"

"It's an exercise in trust. That's what you two need right now. Now, this conversation is over. And we're never going to bring it up again. You're gonna leave because I am going to get very drunk in the hopes that I can forget about this." He gets up to start rummaging around in the mess as he searches for another bottle.

I get up to leave, but stop before I walk out of the kitchen. I turn around to look at him. I know that this conversation was difficult for many reasons, embarrassment not being the principal one. He really cares about Peeta, and I'm pretty sure he cares about me too most days.

"Haymitch, thank you." I say, wanting him to know that I really do appreciate the effort he's made to help me.

"You just be careful with him. You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve that boy." His answer is flat, and tired.

"Why do you think I've been trying to stay away from him?" I say over my shoulder as I turn and leave.

"Wait!" Haymitch calls just as I'm getting to the door. He walks over quickly and places something in my hand.

"Don't forget your jacket." He says aloud even though what he's put in my hand is smaller than a quarter. I nod to him, my eyes blinking a thanks I don't trust to put into my voice.

The cool metal feels smooth in my hand. It is Haymitch's gift, his blessing really. And I turn and walk out with the bug scrambler hidden up my sleeve.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day passes in a quiet blur. My mother asks what I'm thinking about at dinner, and I answer in code.

"I'm thinking the weather is getting colder. It'll be snowing soon enough and I could use a new sweater."

"The one I made is ready. I'll get it for you after dinner." She tells me with what sounds like a heavy heart.

"Thank you." I tell her, and return to eating my dinner.

If Prim is perplexed by our conversion she doesn't let on. She just eats her food quietly as well. Only my mother seems to have lost her appetite.

After dinner my mother retrieves a small box from the back of her closet. She hands it to me and I take it to my room. Inside are tiny capsules, ones that she probably emptied of their original contents and refiled with the herbs and medicines she made herself. Its arranged in rows of pills, enough for more than the required two months, along with sets of instructions. Times to take the medicine, how much to take, and approximately how long they will be effective. I'll have to start my first dose tonight and wait at least 24 hours for the medicine to work its way into my body. So I take the small green capsule with a swig of water, and then I decide to put the box away. But it doesn't feel safe to stuff it in the back of the closet, or under the mattress. So I sit on the edge of the bed and try to think of a place where I can put them where they'd be easy to get to everyday, but also well hidden. It takes a while but then I finally figure it out.

I go to my shower and empty the last bits of soap from a medium sized plain white traveling bottle of shampoo. I usually carry it with me when we have to leave home so I can have some of the special citrusy smelling shampoo my mother buys special from a soap maker here in our own district. It has notes of lemon and lavender and wildflowers, and on the hard days when I feel so far away from home I almost can't stand it, I pull out the shampoo and use just a little bit in my nightly shower. It's one of the tricks I use to calm myself down and feel better.

Well now it will hold freedom instead of just comfort. I use my hair dryer to make sure it's completely dry on the inside, and even swipe a few q-tips inside to double check. But finally it's ready for me to fill with my little green life savers. I store it on the far side of the shower, with the more unused products, far away from the spray of water. Every night I'll be able to take my medicine before my nightly shower, and rest easy. Something hidden in plain sight is much harder to find than something under a floor board or at the bottom of a drawer.

Having made all my preparations I lay down, feeling relaxed for the first time in days. Peeta's not the only one who can make plans. But he is better with words. So before I go to sleep I try doing what Haymitch said and I write down a list in my head, the true things, the small things, all the things I can't help but like.

I surprise myself by how long it is.

His character, his humor, his personality, his thoughtfulness, his fortitude, his appearance, and more, besides all that. Little things, so many of them rise up like sprouts in the garden of my thoughts. His hands, large and strong and always warm. His smile, which has so many different facets at different times, is kind, gentle, adoring, amused, joyful, mischievous, and even alluring. The way he knots his shoelaces. The way he dunks his bread in hot chocolate on most mornings on the train. The way he remembers people's names after only meeting them once. The way he made sure I ate and took breaks when it was my shift at the mentor box during the last two Games. The way he held me after our tributes died the first year…the way he offered to visit the families with Haymitch when I couldn't get out of bed for a week. Peeta had asked me then, what would help, and I had told him I just wanted to try and save some of them if I could.

His entire focus became mentoring the next year. I'm still in awe of how seriously he took training Deen, even though at first they didn't really get along. Deen was more than a little rough around the edges when he first got reaped, and he had a clear dislike of anyone from the merchant side of town. But had that stopped Peeta? Not for a second. He'd found the right approach, and won Deen's trust. Between the three of us, we had been able to save him. And it's just one more thing I'll be eternally grateful to him for.

The more I think about it, the more tangled threads unravel themselves in my mind to reveal how interconnected Peeta and I have become. I realize our lives revolve around each other in an undeniable way. Haymitch as usual was right in saying I've been afraid to admit I'm afraid of things becoming too real. Because the more I think about it the more I realize how easy it would be, to let myself give into feeling more for Peeta. In fact, I'm surprised all of these things have stayed contained for this long.

And then I think about why I haven't wanted the possibility of more with Peeta and my thoughts eventually come back to the woods, and sundays, and grey eyes. I shake my head at the thought. I can't afford to let myself backtrack right now. Haymitch said I would need to push aside the distractions. So I filter through the objections, and the distractions, and let myself really consider something new and unplanned with Peeta.

The more I think about it, the truer it becomes. That this is something I could want, if I let go.

It's an almost inexplicable sensation that spreads in my chest. If someone asked me to describe it, I would say it was like someone took the color of a pale pink rose in bloom and turned it into a feeling, and then poured that feeling over me slowly. I smile, thinking about what it would be like to let Peeta love me.

The feeling is so bright and warm, and all encompassing that I don't even feel it when I drift off to sleep.

I get up the next morning and feel so refreshed. It was startling. But I slept all night, and instead of nightmares I dreamed of flowers and a lush garden filled with thousands of colorful blooms. I dreamed that each one I touched opened in my hand and each of them smelled more beautiful than the last. There was almost imperceptible music in the air and I swayed to the sounds of a song that had no words.

I went down for breakfast early, and offered to help my mother with cooking. She looked startled to see my relaxed face. I was almost startled as well when I saw myself in the mirror. The dark circles had receded and there was a notable ease in my carriage. She instructed me to stir the oatmeal and as I did I added nuts and seeds and dried fruits and a few spoonfuls of sugar to make it delectable. When Prim tasted some after we sat down for breakfast she practically purred in delight. I smiled to myself and just ate my breakfast without comment.

I put on my hunting attire and headed out to implement the next part of my plan, the apology. But before I could go to Peeta and apologize I needed to secure a peace offering. I ran over his known preferences in my mind. Squirrel for sure, but also bobwhite quail. They were in season right now, migrating down for the winter. I had seen some the other day, about two miles out. So I resolved to bag Peeta at least two squirrels and one bobwhite.

By noon I accomplished my task and more. So I headed back to the victor's village with a light step. I knocked on his kitchen door, expecting to find him home, maybe preparing lunch.

"Come in," His voice calls from deeper inside the house than the kitchen. But I just take off my boots and leave my game bag at the door. I search for him in the living room, but don't find him. So I pad up the stairs quietly, looking into his bedroom.

His bathroom door is slightly ajar and it looks like he's busy shaving. I'm surprised at first, because usually that kind of task is relegated to the morning. But as I near the bathroom I see the dark circles under his eyes, the exhausted droop of his shoulders.

"Peeta-" I call out, with concern in my voice, and his hand slips and he cuts his cheek. He curses, I rush forward to scoop up a towel to hold to his wound.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, confused and a little agitated.

"I came to bring you some quail, but you weren't in the kitchen." I say as I place his hand on the towel as I go to rummage in his cabinets for a band aid.

"Quail?" He asks incredulously.

"Yes, as an apology, for the fight the other night." I tell him quickly as I grab some antiseptic and set to work cleaning the cut and applying the bandage.

He stares at me, like I've grown a second head.

"You? Apologize?" He repeats, not believing me.

"Yes, Peeta, it's what one friend does when they're sorry for upsetting the other." I tell him with impatience as I finish checking his cheek for other scrapes. Satisfied, I stand back and survey him. He's still wearing his pajama bottoms, but no shirt. His freckles look like a sprinkling of brown cinnamon on his shoulders, and I find myself staring at them a little too intently. The pattern is slightly mesmerizing.

"Sorry," He says as he leaves the bathroom to open his dresser and tug on a shirt. "I slept in today."

"Oh, you know it doesn't bother me." I tell him seriously, but I still feel my cheeks warm slightly.

But he doesn't notice because he's raking his hand across his face, tiredly.

"If you're still tired, I can leave the quail for you. But I was planning on plucking it and preparing it before I leave. I can do that and store it in the fridge if you want to lay back down." I offer, not wanting to keep him up if he's exhausted.

"No, I won't be able to get any sleep anyways." He says tiredly. "Come one, show me this bird." He says as he leads the way down stairs.

So I do, and he smiles when he recognizes the colors from the last time I brought him one. It had been last year and I had shot so many I gave away pairs to Greasy Sae, and Hazelle, and others.

"Oh, I remember these. From last year, around this time. You dropped one at my door and told me to roast it up with potatoes and pearl onions. You were right. It was really good." He says as he looks over it's feathers.

"I remembered you saying you liked it, so I found a few today." I say.

"A few? How many exactly?" He asks, surprised that I've brought more than one.

"Two, and some squirrels besides." I say.

"That's too much for me to eat, I live alone." He says practically. I had thought he might say this.

"Well you can share, with your family, or friends, or…." I trail off.

"Or who?" He says looking up at me expectantly.

"Me." I tell him with a small smile.

"Inviting yourself to dinner before the apology is even over huh?" He says with a short laugh.

"Well, I did bring my own bird." I say holding up another from the sack. He chuckles, then stops, and looks at me in a weird way.

"This wouldn't be a bribe by any chance would it?" He asks, his tone skeptical.

"Peeta, it's an apology. For springing things on you the way I did, and for asking the way I asked. It was wrong of me." I tell him sincerely.

"It was wrong to ask, period." He says stonily. And I feel my eyes widen in surprise. Does he really think that?

"I'm sorry if you think that, I wasn't trying to offend you. I was just honestly trying to...resolve the issue." I tell him in a dumbfounded tone.

"It's wrong Katniss, because we're not on equal footing in this scenario. I have feelings you don't, and even though you already know that you didn't even take me into consideration before you jumped ahead." He says seriously, and I cringe at his words.

"I'm sorry." I tell him angrily, even though I know I'm not the one who has the right to be upset right now. But it's hard to hear this from him, especially after all the thinking about him I did last night. I don't know what I expected, for us to cook dinner and fall into each other's arms? It seems so foolish now.

"Are you? Or are you just upset that I didn't let you get away with it this time?" He says tiredly, and it's this exact moment I realize I have seriously pissed off the boy with the bread.

I have alienated him somehow, and he is on the defensive with me.

"I'm sorry." I say more sincerely, not knowing what else to say.

"Look, I'm really tired right now, and it's making me cranky. Why don't we talk about this later ok? After I've gotten some rest." He says as he stands up.

"Ok." I tell him surprise. Peeta has never given me the brush off before, and it feels so strange. I get up to pull on my jacket and leave the birds and squirrels for him on the counter. When I leave, he's not looking at me, he's staring in the opposite direction.

I make my way home in a quiet daze. Who was that just now? Was that really Peeta, the happy gentle soul I'd come to know over the past three years? Or had I finally broken down his easy going nature? After seriously considering him for the first time last night I finally see where he's coming from.

He's been trying to help me, protect me, and also keep his feelings in check ever since I told him I can't return them. He's gone above and beyond for me, and when I told him that I wanted him to be intimate with me out of obligation, it was like throwing all those things in his face.

Let's sleep together to throw our enemies off, because the only way I'd ever want you like that is if I was lying, pretending.

Hot shame floods through me. Hyamitch was right. I am a terrible person who can only think of survival first.

I don't know what to do, or what to say. So I go home and take a long shower, trying to scrub the humiliation off my skin. But the problem is on the inside of my black heart, and so no matter how much I scrub I still feel like a fiend.

After dinner Prim and I do the dishes in silence.

"Your mood seems to have dampened since the morning." She says as she dries a glass next to me.

"Well, I thought I had found a solution to a problem, but then I realized it was much bigger than I initially thought. Also it's all my fault." I say sourly as I attack a pan with a scrub brush.

"Well, maybe you need to go back to the drawing board."

"I don't know if that will help. I've dug myself in so deep this time…"

She tilts her head, thinking for a moment.

"Well if saying sorry doesn't cut it, then you need a gesture."

"I already tried that. It seemed to upset the situation more."

"Well was it an honest gesture, or was it something done in hopes of sweeping the real issues under the rug?"

I turn to stare at her in disbelief.

"When did you get so wise, little duck?" I ask.

"Some things are less about wisdom and more about common sense." She tells me in a sage voice.

"That is something I seem to have trouble hanging on to these days." I admit.

"Well, give yourself some time, you'll acclimate." She tells me with confidence.

"Any more pearls of wisdom you'd like to share?" I say half humorously, half desperately.

"Well, sometimes when you really put your foot in it, a grand gesture can help."

"What kind of grand gesture?"

"Oh, you know, something you'd never do in a million years. Something a little ridiculous, but very sweet."

"That's not very specific."

"It's not meant to be. The idea is you have to think about it, and make little effort, you know, put yourself out there without too much help."

"Okay, now your smartness is just getting on my nerves." I tell her with mock annoyance, and flick a little bit of dishwater at her.

"Hey, don't punish the messenger." She cries out, and holds up a towel to defend from the onslaught of dishwater I'm splashing at her now.

We laugh until the moment eases into something normal and easy. And when all the dishes are put away I hug her quickly, and kiss the top of her head. "Thanks." I say before going to bed. She just smiles and heads to her own room.

I lay in bed, working through Prim's advice. It's early, only half past ten, but Peeta's light is out across the way.

I have settled a few things. One, I know that I don't want to leave things the way I did between Peeta and I. Two, even if I apologize again, the damage could already be done and he will never look at me the same. Three, there's only one grand gesture I can think of that might be stupid enough, dangerous enough, and humiliating enough to put Peeta and I on equal footing again.

So before I can lose my nerve, I get up and make my way down stairs to throw on my coat and boots before I make my way to Peeta's house. I get to his bedroom window and examine the skinny looking birch tree that is positioned adequately for my plan. But the night is a little frosty, and the branches might be a little slippery. Also the tree isn't as dense or sturdy as I'd like, but I guess that just counts towards the whole grand gesture part of it all.

I take a deep breath and start to climb, reminding myself of all the reasons I need to do this. At a little past halfway, I feel a branch start to give way, and have just enough time to pull myself up to the next one before it can break. Luckily it doesn't fall all the way down and only cracks in half. I give up trying to list the reasons why I'm doing this, and just concentrate on not falling and breaking my neck. I guess this counts toward the stupid but sweet part? At least I really hope so. It would be really bad if when he saw me he just closed the window in my face. But I guess the branch cracking was louder than I thought, because a small light came on in the room, a lantern or a candle maybe?

And I know I have to hurry up and reach the window before he starts shouting at me and waking up the whole neighborhood. I fumble in my jacket for the bug scrambler, and switch it on, just in case he decides to hear me out. I just barely make it up to the right branch before the window flies all the way up and he pokes his blond head out just a few inches from me.

"Katniss, what the he-"

"A little help please?" I cut in as I feel the branch sway unreliable beneath me.

He groans but reaches out to grab a hold of me and hauls me in quickly, my pant leg catches on a lingering branch and when he yanks me to get it free, we fall in a heap to his bedroom floor.

I land on top of him, and he grunts as the air is knocked out of his chest.

"Sorry,"

"Are you insane?"

"The debate's ongoing."

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"I was going for a whole grand gesture type of thing?"

"Was it part of your plan to almost get yourself killed?"

"Ah, no, but I'm hoping that counts towards the whole 'grand' part."

"Arrggguuhh!" He says in a universally recognized expression of monumental frustration. He shoots me a glare as he sits up, and sets me to the side of him.

"I don't know what you think you're doing but this isn't funny."

"I'm trying to apologize, properly."

"Proper usually includes entering by the front door!"

"Hey, I'm going for an out of the box approach since conventional methods failed earlier." I tell him.

He shakes his head at me, and I start to fidget. Okay, now would be a good time to say something before he kicks me out again.

'I wanted to say you were right. And that I've been...um... a pretty crappy friend."

He just stares at me in a way that says 'you're just figuring this out now?'

"Yes, I can be really slow on the uptake, and maybe I've actually been a little purposely...dense on occasion."

At this he crosses his hands over his chest and leans back a bit, scrutinizing me. He's not wearing a shirt again, but then he usually doesn't wear one to bed. But I don't let myself get distracted by this, and just continue.

"I wanted to ask if we could talk, for a bit."

"You could have called."

"Not for the things I have to say," I tell him and take out the bug scrambler and set it on the floor between us. His eyes take on a more serious look, and he stands up. When he offers me his hand, I take it graciously.

He walks over to the lone brown sitting chair directly in front of his bed, picks up the shirt he was wearing earlier that lay draped over the back and tugs it on and sits down. I tug off my coat and boots so I don't get mud on the floor and then decide it's best to say these things head on, so I perch on the edge of his bed, my knees drawn up around me reflexively.

"I've been trying, I think subconsciously, to ignore your...position about a lot of things. Not just the recent stuff. It's kind of a defense mechanism, if I don't see it then it's not real, and I don't have to be responsible for making any decisions...you know." I say to start off.

"Not entirely, but maybe you can explain it to me in more detail." He says, not bailing me out.

"Peeta,"

"Katniss."

"Ok, I know you think I blame you, for the engagement and the wedding, but I wanted to say that deep down I know none of this is your fault. Neither of us has much of a say in those decisions, which makes it doubly hard to maintain any kind of normal relationship." I tell him and he uncrosses his arms, listening.

"I've just been resistant to the possibility of anything real, anything more uncomfortable than casual friendship for as long as I can remember. And when you came into my life you kind of upset all my plans."

"I never planned on getting reaped Katniss."

"I know that! Don't you think I understand that?" I tell him, frustrated with his defensiveness.

"It doesn't really sound like it."

"Well, I'm not as good at talking about this kind of stuff as you are."

"Have you ever really tried?"

"Not really, that's part of the reason I avoid attachments, because it's just too much work."

"Right." He scoffs, really starting to get upset again.

"Peeta, I just want to explain some things, without getting into a screaming match."

"What kind of things?"

"True things, things that scared me, things that made me...difficult to reach, to be around."

"Alright, if you really feel like it will change anything you can try. But, I think I have a good idea about why things have turned out the way they have. And I don't begrudge your...privacy, or your decision to keep things safe between us. What I didn't appreciate was your decision to abandon your convictions, just because they're trying to put some pressure on us."

"That's what I want to explain I guess, I don't know it's so much of a conviction as it is, a fear."

"Fear, you mean you're afraid of me?"

"Yes, actually."

"Why? I've never tried to pressure you, I didn't try to hold you to the things that you said in the games."

I take a deep breath, ready to go for it. "You're right, you didn't, but you did get under my guard, before that."

"When? What are you talking about?" He asks, confused.

"You were the first boy I ever kissed, did you know that?" I say quietly.

Chapter Text

"You were the first boy I ever kissed, did you know that?"

He shakes his head, surprised. "Wait you never-" I know what he's going to ask, but I don't want him to bring up anyone else. Not here, not tonight. Later I will have time to worry about the consequences of this conversation. Right now there's no room for anyone but me and Peeta.

"No, it was you."

"That was for the Games."

"Yes...but there was one kiss…that- I don't know-may have meant as much for myself as...whatever else was going on."

"So out of 20 or 30 or whoever knows how many, maybe one kiss meant something. Good to know." His voice is bland, bored even.

"Peeta there was so much going on, it was impossible to focus. I mean you were burning up with fever. I was terrified. You were so sick, I was afraid you would die." The words tumble out of me quickly and disjointedly. I am babbling a little, I realize.

"So you felt sorry for me?" A sharp edge enters his voice.

"No! I...I just wanted to help you get better." I say in my best attempt at a placating tone.

This is not going well. I didn't really expect that my confession would change much. After all, I was just stating a fact. Haymitch said Peeta thinks I hate him.

Honesty. Remember Haymitch's advice. I tell myself.

"I had never planned on kissing anyone, ever. It was a rule I followed, because I never wanted to complicate my life more than it already was." I start out a little angrily, defensively, but then without meaning to, my voice softens. "But at that moment, I wasn't worried about breaking my rules. I was only thinking of you."

"Oh." Is his only reply.

It's like we have switched places. There were so many times over the years when he talked almost nonstop about things like bread, and paint, and any other little thing to keep a conversation going. Now I'm doing all the talking and sharing and he's just tolerating me. Okay. I need to try something else.

"Do you remember when I washed the mud off you after I found you down by the river?"

"Where is this going Katniss?"

"I want to say something. It's something I never said before because I was... nervous."

"Fine. Yes I remember. You were squeamish about the infection in my leg and the pus and seeing me naked, even though I was pretty much dying."

I resist my urge to defend myself and mentally remind myself to stay on task.

"I remember," I say, taking a big breath, "wondering whether they had changed you...if they had shaved your chest or maybe waxed it? They waxed me within an inch of my life and I wondered if it was the same for the boys. But when we got your shirt off I remember feeling relieved. Because they hadn't changed you. That was something I knew you were worried about. And..."

He is quiet, waiting for me to continue.

I pause, feeling my cheeks heat up at the thought of saying the next part out loud. I am grateful for the darkness of the room, and hope he can't see my blush. I take a deep breath.

"And I remember thinking that I was glad they hadn't changed you, because I liked the way you looked." I say quietly, the words let out in a rush of breath. Silence hangs in the air between us.

After a beat he turns to me. "So you like my chest hair, geez Katniss why didn't you just say so when you first got here? Now I'm really in the mood." His sarcasm would have deeply offended me if it weren't for the undercurrent of bitterness that I hear in his voice. Haymitch is right. I've withheld the truth from him for so long he doesn't trust anything I say.

"Peeta!" I exclaim in an exasperated tone. He looks away towards the floor, a similarly frustrated expression on his face. I don't know why he's making this so difficult. There was a time he would have been overjoyed to hear these words. Maybe I just waited too long to say them or….

Maybe he didn't understand what I meant. I was trying to tell him I...wanted him...

I try to reign it in, the embarrassment and frustration.

"Peeta, I'm admitting to...well...to...Look I never told you about these things. It's just an example of how you got under my guard…..of how much I'm inclined towards you... "

He stares at me incredulously...uncomprehendingly...and with a large amount of annoyance.

The room feels ten times as big, much more empty. It's like he's a million miles away instead of sitting right next to me. I get the humiliating urge to cry. I bite my lip, fighting it.

"Katniss, I think you should go." He says with a sigh.

Oh no, no. I think. This is not the way it is supposed to go. Panic starts to creep in but I push it down. I remember what Haymitch said. Honesty. He said start small, but Peeta doesn't need crumbs. He's been starving for so long for any possibility of us that he doesn't trust these meager offerings.

"Wait!" I say with desperation leaking into my voice. "Please, there are things I need to say."

"I think I know what this is really about. And you're not going to change my mind. It's not going to happen Katniss I've told you that." He says with uncharacteristic gritty determination. I feel myself go rigid with equal resolve.

"I can accept your decision, whatever it may be, I'll respect it, completely, but first I think we really need to clear the air. I just, I think I know why you're so angry." I tell him, not letting him put me off so easily.

"Do you? If you really did, you wouldn't be trying to manipulate me right now." He says quietly, but with enough force behind the words that I bristle from head to toe.

"That is not what I'm doing!" I snap angrily. Because the moment I finally decide to be straight with him he decides he doesn't want to hear it. How convenient.

"Then what the hell are you doing? Because all this talk of first kisses and the way I looked without a shirt on and inclinations...it doesn't make one bit of sense!" He's practically shouting now and I grit my teeth against his volume, but remain undeterred.

"That's because you're not listening!" I tell him with a furious bite in my voice, and he looks at me in an assessing manner, as I breathe a little heavily.

"No, that's because you're not saying what you mean." He tells me in a quieter tone...his eyes searching mine out in the dark. I fight the urge to look away. And there is such a skepticism in his gaze, such a suspicious look about his face as he studies me….it infuriates me.

"Hell's teeth Peeta! I'm saying I want you! OK? Plain and simple! There!" I shout. And the silence that follows is deafening.

I look over at him. But his face is an absolute blank. Expressionless.

"Did you hear me? Or were you not listening again?" I ask him after a whole minute goes by. I'm still breathing hard, still angry, but I also feel incredibly vulnerable. So very...unprotected it makes my chest ache with the need to get up and run right out of this room, out of this house, and head for the woods or someplace I can hole up for a day or a few weeks.

But I know if I do that, right now, there will be no coming back. This moment right here, it's important. I can feel it...like the moment right before a warm breeze starts blowing or a freak storm kicks up. There's just something in the air. It's charged with energy. Ready for change, but undecided as to which way it will go.

So since he's obviously not going to say anything...I decide to take a chance and start talking like Haymtich said. I don't even know what I'm trying to say, I just start blurting out words.

"Look, there are some things you don't know, that you should know. Not because they should change your mind, but because I've been keeping them from you, and I've realized it's wrong and selfish of me to still be keeping secrets. It's stupid, and I've been...well I've been unbearable. After the last time we talked I realized something. I've been so busy trying not to fall apart completely these past two years that I never asked myself what price I was paying to block out all my fears. I know there's this...wall between us. I know it's my fault. There are so many reasons why I've built it, you know about most of them anyway." I say and catch a breath, I don't have to mention the complications with Gale, I think he understands at least that.

"What I want to tell you about is what happens on my side of things. Things you can't see because I've kept them from you, from myself too. I'm tired of pretending, of lying to everyone, to you especially. Because omision is a kind of lie too." I say as I look down at my lap, just afraid of meeting his gaze right now. But then I make myself look up at him.

His face turned toward me in the dim light. Really looking at me openly for the first time since I got here. I know I was babbling, but there was enough truth mixed in with the extra words to keep him listening. I take another big breath.

"I've never wanted to fall in love with anyone, it wasn't because of you in particular. I just couldn't afford to give anymore of myself up. There was always this fear in me, after what happened to my father. So, to start out, you should know there was almost nothing you could have said or done. Before the Games, or after. There was no room for you or anyone else. I know what you think. That I was secretly wishing for someone else when we had to pretend to be together. But I want to say, once and for all, that's not true." I tell him with an air on finality, confidence even. Because it's true. While I did worry about what Gale thought about all the kissing Peeta and I had to do, I never once imagined Gale in Peeta's place. I hadn't wanted to kiss or be in love or get engaged to anyone.

Peeta's face is skeptical again, like he doesn't really believe me. He is wary of the vagueness of my claims. I don't want to bring up other people right now...especially a certain grey eyed coal miner we both know. But I need to get this out of the way first or there's no going forward.

"I wasn't wishing for anyone else, I just wanted things to feel safe. I kept a very close guard on my feelings, with everyone. So if...if things between us never progressed, it wasn't because of you. It wasn't because you didn't matter. I just couldn't afford to indulge in any weakness. I thought I knew how dangerous it was to care about someone before the Reaping. Since then I've learned that it is so much worse than I ever could have imagined." My voice is small, and I hear the hollowness in it as I speak these words into the dark. I've looked away from him sometime during my speech. I'm staring at his right hand, that's gripping the armrest of the sitting chair very tightly. Even though he hasn't said anything, I feel it. That pull that floats between us like an unseen thread.

These words are hard, they are not what he has dreamed about hearing from me. I'm not confessing my undying love for him, that's for sure. But everything I've said is the truth, and I have never shared this much of myself with him before. Even after all this time, and everything we've been through, I've kept him in the dark. A real friend would never do something like that. It was so unfair of me. Haymitch was right, I'll never deserve him.

"The worse things got, the more terrified I became. It felt like I would never feel safe again." I say, going on. He knows the time I'm talking about. Our first year as mentors. When I was in danger of slipping away completely into a vast sea of depression.

"I tried to shut out everything I didn't know how to deal with. Everything that was confusing or difficult. You were part of that. And I want to say, finally, that I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry." I look up, searching for his eyes.

He can't hide the pain there, in fact he's not trying anymore. He's staring at me with openness and I can see how painful it is to speak about this part of both of our lives. We were hurting, we were broken. Maybe me more than him, or maybe my pain was just more apparent. But I had shut him out and it had devastated him. Oh Haymitch, I could live a thousand lifetimes, and more, and I will never be able to make up for this.

I impulsively reach out and take his hand, he flinches and I feel a tear slip down my cheek. I want to slip from the bed and kneel beside him. I want to rest my head in his lap and feel his fingers brush through my hair like so long ago. Then I thought, why not? It's something I honestly want right now and Haymitch said to be honest.

So I do, and I hear his soft intake of breath, his surprise at my closeness. The prosthetic on his left leg is cold against my shoulder, but his lap is warm. He smells like bread and clean soap.

"I didn't want them to take any more of what was real from me. I didn't want to give them anything that was true. So I never said it out loud. I never told you," I pause gathering my breath, "that I trust you probably more than anyone, with my life, with all the things I care about, with my nightmares, with all the things that are missing from me. You are one of the most important people in my life and I don't know how I would have survived without you." I say gently, but loud enough so he can hear every word. I'm holding his hand so tightly, I have to tell myself to loosen my grip a little so I don't hurt him.

"I want to say it now, so you know. So you'll always know, just how much I...need you." I say, my mouth running just a little dry.

"Katniss…" His voice is full, sadness and longing mixed together in an inseparable melody.

"When I asked for your help, it wasn't only because I was scared. I'm afraid, yes, but that's nothing new. I knew that I would never have made this decision myself. I never planned on sharing this part of myself with anyone. But, after I got over the initial terror, I felt ok. No, that's not completely true. I was glad. Because...because...I trust you." I pause again, making sure he's listening. I can't guess if he understands just how big this is for me to admit, but I can't worry about whether he's getting it all, I have to keep going.

"Everything I've ever trusted you with has been safe, and cared for. You've never abandoned me, or let me down. Even when I really deserved it, even when I didn't deserve you. So I was glad, Peeta. I was glad that it would be you." I look up at him and find his expression incredulous. I reach out to lift my hand to his cheek.

"Katniss, stop." He says, eyes wide, his voice shocked, angry even. He bolts from the chair, slightly wobbly, and backs away from me toward the window. His eyes are on me, wary. He thinks I'm trying to convince him with lies. He's only half right. This time I'm trying to convince him with the truth, only I've kept a secret so long from him and even myself that both of us are having a hard time accepting it.

"You don't mean that." He mutters, more to himself than to me.

"It's the truth Peeta." I say defiantly, angry with him for contradicting me the moment I finally open up to him.

" I told you, I'm done trying to hide it from myself. You deserve to know, more than anyone. It's not pretty, it's so messy, and complicated and I know it will never be enough. But I won't let Snow silence me this way anymore. He's been orchestrating our lives to try and destroy the possibility of anything real, anything that he can't control. He wants to break our trust in each other by forcing us to question everything we do. But he made a mistake." I've made my way to him, slowly, carefully, like approaching a frightened animal. When I'm close enough I place my palms on his chest.

His breathing turns ragged, I can see the urge to run surge up in his eyes. So I wrap my arms around him tightly. His body feels rigid and tense in my arms but I hang on.

"He never counted on you being so good, Peeta, or so kind. He miscalculated how much we have learned to depend on each other. He doesn't understand trust. He can't even fathom what it is to need someone else. He has no idea just how much faith I have in you. So, you see, he can't own this part. Because he didn't fabricate it. It's not something they created in the Capitol. It's not sparkly or hollow. It's real, and it's stronger than their lies. And they can't steal it from me, if I give it freely." I finish, my last words, just above a breath, a hushed whisper. I trace my index finger lightly over the knuckle of his left hand. Both of his hands are clenched tightly by his side. He has been standing so still in my arms, not pushing me away, but not pulling me closer either.

"This isn't what you want. You would never have chosen this." He says in a frustrated hiss. His hands come up to put some space between us, and I lean back, but I don't step away.

"Actually, I do want this. I have ever since I realized that it's not something they are going to own, or that they can take away from me." I say with a bit of anger of my own. "Without this push, I never would have realized how much of me is still left. How much they will never have. This has given me back so much hope. That I can choose, and right now it's you and me." I say, placing one hand on my chest, trying to convey the depth of my feeling, the truth of my words.

A light flickers somewhere inside Peeta. I just barely catch it as it flits across his eyes. Yes, I think. I can fight for this. This is something we both want. Maybe it has been for much longer than I care to admit. Why should they own the way we feel? After all this time, and all we've sacrificed...if Peeta and I both want this...why shouldn't we let ourselves have this?

I lean in, he braces nervously for me to kiss him, to try and override his reservations. But I just rest my forehead against his. "I know what I want now, but if it isn't something you want, I'll go home. I won't say anything else. We don't have to talk about it ever again." This is a gamble, and I know it. I'm counting on things having changed as much for Peeta as they have for myself since the beginning of all this. But if he refuses me I'll have to respect that. Even though saying all of this aloud and being here so close to him has just made it a thousand times more real than it felt in that small secret corner of my heart.

He laughs, breathless and without humor.

"Katniss I want this more than anything I've ever wanted in my entire life. I just don't know if I'll be able to survive the aftermath." He says with unguarded honesty. He breathes deeply, closing his eyes and relaxing for a moment against me. His fingertips brush mine, and I almost jump at the current of electricity that sparks from his light touch. My breathing speeds up and I revel in this moment, the sweet possibility of him.

"Do you love me?" He asks matter of factly, removing his forehead from mine and straightening up.

I'm left off balance by his sudden retreat. I have to reach out a hand to steady myself against his arm, to keep from falling. I want to assert his claim, but I can't. My mind is whirling by the sudden turn he has taken. I want to go back the moment before this, I want to hide from his question. But I know I can't, it's unfair not to answer, especially after I've left him without answers for so long. I almost say I haven't tried yet. To hold out some small token of possibility or hope. But that's not true. The opposite is true actually.

"I've always tried not to." I say finally, honestly.

There's disappointment on his face, but also acceptance. He nods, to himself as if he expected as much. Maybe he understands this is just a part of who I am. I am only capable of so much.

"Well I do. Love you." He says, again in the same straightforward manner. "So, I don't know if I can...if I can give you only a small part of how I feel." He looks at me, a warning in his eyes above the underglow of desire he is not making an effort to hide.

I gulp, and just nod. I don't know what to say about how he feels, because it is so much more than what I can return. But it is also beautiful and precious and it makes my heart expand, in sheer amazement at the exquisiteness that lives in his soul.

"I promise not to run." I say, it's the only thing I can promise. He takes a deep breath, and places his hand against my face, cupping my cheek with his warm palm.

"I had already made peace with the way things are between us. It wasn't what I wanted. But it was better to be friends, than to lose you. If I...give in and let myself have this, if I have you this way once Katniss I don't know if I'll be able to make myself stop wanting more ..." He is being so honest right now. I have no idea how he can say these things out loud. But he says it without a hint of self consciousness. He's looking right into my eyes unreservedly. He is laying all his cards on the table, holding nothing back.

I suddenly feel so very ashamed of what I have done to Peeta. I have tried to trade pitiful broken glass for priceless jewels. His feelings are so real, so pure, I am loath to compare them to what I held out in return for them. I do not deserve him, I think for the millionth time tonight.

When I stay silent he takes this in stride, forging on.

"You said you always tried not to love me. Will anything change if we make it to where we're going?" He whispers, his voice is so soft, so hopeful. I don't want to hurt him, but I can't lie, and I can't hide.

"I don't know." I say, cupping his cheek as he did mine before his face can fall. "I just know I want to start over if we get the chance. No cameras, no pretending. Just….us. I can't say what will happen either way, but I do know that you won't ever lose me completely. There's no way to take back all the pieces of my life that are blended with you. I'll always need you." I say, looking into his blue eyes, that are lighting up the dark again.

He closes his eyes for a moment. Then his hand drifts up to cover mine over his cheek. His thumb travels over the skin on the back of my hand letting me know he relishes the feeling of me touching him.

"I think I can work with that." He says with a small twist of smile that I haven't seen in so long. I exhale, not realizing I was holding my breath. It feels amazing, my chest feels a million times lighter and I find myself buzzing with a strange eagerness for what will come next. I lean in to find his lips but he pulls back quickly.

"I have some conditions though," He says in answer to the confusion on my face. I wait patiently because if I've waited this long tonight I can wait a little longer.

"You have to promise that we'll stay friends no matter what." He says seriously, and I know there is no room for any doubt or disagreement on my part. He won't budge if this will endanger our friendship.

"Okay, I can do that." I say as I nod in agreement. I do not want to lose him either.

"And you have to keep telling me the truth." He says so seriously, so authoritatively it's almost funny. He reminds me of a parent chastising a child for telling lies.

"It makes things much easier on me." He adds quietly. And I know what he is really saying is please don't shut me out again, it hurts too much. I nod looking into his eyes, to let him know I understand.

"I promise." I say to make it clear that I know what the rules will be. He sighs, and I can almost see a weight lift off him just like it did with me. He wraps his arms around me and finally tuggs me into the embrace I've been waiting for expectantly. We stay like that for a moment, acquainting ourselves with the warmth of each other's arms. I tip my face up to catch his mouth in a kiss, thinking now he will let me kiss him like I want to.

But he pulls away again, and I am confused, bewildered really.

"Not so fast sweetheart." He says with a low chuckle. There's a shadow over the moon and I can't read his features clearly. So I don't know if his expression is playful or vengeful. I know I deserve one but I find myself praying for the other.

"I think I want to revisit the earlier conversation, the one where you were telling me about all the things you find irresistible about me." He whispers as he drops his lips to my ear, his voice a note lower than usual. I shiver, and it's not because of the cold night.

I let out a shaky laugh that sounds just a bit strangled. Oh it's revenge for sure. But it's also playful, he wants to make a game of this. He wants me to work for every inch of territory even though we both know he's been willing to secede everything to me for a long time now. But I've come this far, I can put aside my pride for this. I can be humble for Peeta, heaven knows he's sacrificed enough of his dignity for me to last a lifetime.

"Okaaay…" I reply, while I search my mind for the right words, true ones that will help my cause.

I stare at him, suddenly unable to single out just one thing. I want Peeta tonight because he is himself, and it's hard to break that down into smaller pieces I can say out loud. But I know I have to try. He waits for me, his eyes sparking mischievously betraying the fact that he's enjoying watching me struggle just a bit.

"Your eyes," I say, bringing my hand up to trace the side of his face, close to the intersection formed by the corner of his eyebrow and cheekbone. The skin there is soft, and warm beneath my fingers.

"And your eyelashes. Whenever I see you in the sunlight they look like transparent gold, it's almost like magic." I breathe shakily, as I tell him this. A small relaxed smile turns his face into a lovely painting in the moonlight. I am encouraged by this, so I start to say more, things that are small but are against the rules. More secrets to share with this warm precious boy who is holding me together more than he knows.

"Your shoulders, the freckles on your back." I say almost under my breath.

"In the morning on the train, I see you sometimes before you put on your shirt. The freckles...interest me." I finally say, burying my head in his soft cotton night shirt. I wish he hadn't put it on when I came in, I want to feel his skin, but I know he won't let me, not yet.

"Mmm." He replies, not really saying anything but he does let me rest for a moment with my head on his chest.

"You hands," I say, when the moment stretches a beat too long. I bring my hand down away from his face to hold his hand in mine, interlacing my fingers with his.

"What about them?" He prompts, not letting me get away with avoiding an explanation.

"They hold me steady. They're strong and warm, and good." I place his hand, palm open above my heart and he sucks in a breath. "Sometimes holding your hand when I'm scared is the only thing that keeps me from falling apart." I say, in a hushed voice, the truth again, tuned to perfect clarity for him.

The gleam has turned into a spark in his beautiful eyes, and I see fire catching in them. His fingers flex against my shirt, and I wonder if he can feel how hard my heart is beating beneath him.

"Anything else?" He asks, voice thick with desire. He wants to kiss me now, but he doesn't want me to stop telling him all of these delicious secrets. There is more, so much more, but if I tell him everything then there really will be no going back. And I promised we would remain friends no matter what. So reach up two fingers to caress his lips.

"Your lips." I say simply before stretching up to claim the kiss that was waiting for me. It's magnificent, the kiss. So different from all the ones we acted out for the cameras. Unhurried, and unpressured like the kisses in the cave when we were scared and sick and starving. It's full and soft and warm, and when he slowly deepns it I follow him without hesitation. And then my hands are tangled up in soft hair at the nape of his neck. And I can feel a slight tremor run through him. He wants me, and I find that my desire for him might be more of a match than I thought.

"Katniss…" He gasps against my cheek when he breaks our kiss to catch his breath. I'm close to breathless myself but I have the advantage of playing the role of pursuer. So I just turn his face back toward me with an almost impatient redirection of my fingers, and capture his mouth again.

This kiss is different from the reverent one that preceded it. More like the kisses from the night of the celebration, the ones in the coat closet. It's fierce warmth spreads throughout me, unchecked and filling the darkest corners of my inner self. I feel my skin come alive like it does some nights on the train when I can't sleep. It's not always because I have nightmares, sometimes it's because I can't calm the wild electric feeling that buzzes in my blood at every place his bare skin touches.

My skin is alive again, just like those nights, only Peeta isn't asleep, unaware of what he's doing just by being this close to me. He knows. He runs his hands down my back, drinking in the way it ignites my kisses. When I brush the tip of my tongue against his top lip, his arms cage me to him, like he doesn't want to give me any chance of leaving.

But I'm not going anywhere.

We kiss, and kiss and kiss. But instead of finding it exhausting, like when the cameras are on us, this time it's exhilarating. The fire that was in his eyes has spread onto my skin, seeped into my bones and I'm fitting myself flush against him, wanting to eliminate every inch of space between us. He stifles a groan, and the deep tortured sound does funny things to my stomach. I feel breathless, but bold. So when we both break apart to fill our lungs, I don't whisper the next word I say. In fact, if I'm being honest I kind of pant it. "Bed."

He lets me tug him in in the direction of the large piece of furniture in the middle of the room. And for a second it seems ten times bigger than before. But then I just clasp his hand a little more tightly and tell myself that it's Peeta, and everything will be okay.

When we reach the mattress I turn around to face him, wanting to tug him over me as we settle into the soft expanse.

But he just perches at the edge of the mattress, catching his breath while still holding my hand. I wait impatiently for him. He notices and laughs lightly.

"Katniss we have all night." He murmurs, making me blush. That simple sentence tugs on my imagination, and I find myself both disconcerted and intrigued as to what I could do with Peeta for one whole night. And then I realize quietly, in the back of my mind, that I don't know if it will be enough…

I snap out of that line of thinking. I remind myself of my promises and all the things I want right now. So I leave the questions for another time.

I inch closer to him. Unsure of how to proceed. More kissing? More touching? What comes next? This is the farthest I have ever ventured into waters like these, and I find myself out of my depth. I face him, waiting for some kind of direction or signal.

He just studies me, not saying anything, his eyes slowly moving over me the way they do when he's studying something he wants to paint. I feel myself grow self conscious. I hadn't thought there would be this much down time between kisses. The intensity of his gaze makes me want to bolt, but I can't, I promised him I wouldn't run away.

So I sit quietly, letting his eyes take in my hair that has fallen out of its braid, my rumpled cotton pajamas, my face, plain without the sparkle of the Capitol makeup. I wonder if I should have made more of an effort in hindsight? Peeta must think I rate myself very highly if I have worn my old cotton pajamas with the hole under the left arm to try and seduce him. I reach up and undo my braid, as a last ditch effort. His eyes crinkle as he smiles at me. I open my mouth to say something about how I don't plan very well, but he cuts in before I can speak.

"You're so very beautiful, you know that?" He says softly, still only holding my hand. But his words are like a caress against my skin, and I feel relieved.

"I've always thought you were handsome." I answer in a small, nervous voice, not daring to look at him at that moment.

"Really?" He asks, unbelief standing out starkly in contrast with my confession.

"Yes," I say honestly, looking at him now. His eyes are round, drinking in my words and they seem to fill him because a smile spills over his lips.

"Well, that certainly makes the next part easier." He says frankly and I laugh. He laughs. Some of the tension bleeds out of the moment and we both relax a little.

"Do you know," I begin to ask tentatively, "about the next part?" I don't know what I want his answer to be. Prior experience would come in handy right now, but there's a part of me that isn't interested in being practical. I don't know if I want to find out that there have been others.

"Yeah," He breathes the word and I feel a strange twinge of pain seize my chest. "Well, in theory at least." He finishes and I feel myself exhale.

"I shared a room with two older brothers growing up who talked about girls nonstop." He says with a wry smile. I feel my heart lighten at this admission. It's funny and sweet, and so like Peeta, that I smile up at him.

"Theory is good. Better than what I've got." I say with a chuckle.

"Oh, what you've got is more than enough." He says, his voice just above a whisper. He trails one finger tip down the inside of my wrist. My heartbeat, which had been steady just a second before, gets a jumpstart. His way with words leaves me feeling exposed and unprepared.

I can't take this quiet tension building between us again. I need to feel his hands on me, his mouth on mine again before I lose my nerve.

I scramble across him and settle into his lap. He's so shocked he doesn't move to stop me. I take the opportunity to circle my arms around the back of his neck and I bury my face against his collar bone.

"Kiss me, please." I say, my mouth moving against the soft fabric covering his skin. I can't help but wonder what that skin would feel like against my lips. Then I think, tonight is about finding out. So I tug his shirt down, just a fraction and press my lips against him softly. I hear his breath hitch.

"I will if you keep doing that." His voice is a rumble and promise. And before I can kiss him again as requested he lowers his lips to my ear, grazing my ear lobe with his teeth. Then it's my turn to gasp.

And we're kissing, but our lips are everywhere but on each other's. He kisses down my neck and laps his tongue against the hollow place where my collarbone meets my chest. I kiss along the side of his jaw, surprised to feel the light brush of stubble. He kisses along the inside of my wrist, and then along my arm. I move down his neck and he tightens his grip on the edge of my pajama top. I realize we're both wearing far too many clothes. I slip my hands under the edge of his shirt and tup upward. He helps me maneuver it off, and I sigh at the familiar sight of his firm bare chest. I have definitely been fooling myself about not being interested in some things…..

Time passes slowly and simultaneously too fast. My body keeps wanting to rush forward but the rest of me wants to linger over these moments. Then I realized what Peeta was doing when he was staring at me. He was trying to freeze time.

My heart breaks open just a fraction of an inch wider and I hold him against me. I want this moment to stretch and spin and go on forever. He's breathing heavily, and I know he needs to be able to touch me like he let me touch him. But he's not one for taking liberties, even now. I think he doesn't want to rush me, or possibly scare me. He's letting me take the lead, which I appreciate because it helps me feel more in control, but it also hampers our progress.

"Touch me the way you want to." I whisper into his ear, giving him permission. His head whips up to me. There's a sound that comes from deep in his throat that surprises me, I think it surprises him a little too. I think it's a growl, or something like it. He crushes me against his lips with one hand and his other hand begins fumbling with the bottom button of my shirt. I help him undo the buttons one by one, not breaking the ferocious kiss we're locked in. We finally manage to get the shirt off after much too long, and it's tossed on the floor with more ire than should ever really be reserved for any inanimate object.

I wasn't wearing anything else under the pajama top. I think Peeta stops breathing. I'm still pressed against him, my chest to his, so I don't feel entirely exposed. But when he runs a finger lightly down my bare back I feel myself tremble under his touch. "So beautiful," he whispers under his breath. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I'm nowhere close to that. I'm still too scrawny even though food hasn't been an issue for years. I'm small, plain, and without the eye of the stylists and the flourish of the makeup it must make for a very underwhelming reveal. But maybe what they say is true, and love really is blind, because Peeta is staring at me like I'm the most beautiful thing in the world.

I blush furiously, and can feel the blush spreading down my neck. I am more aware of the way my skin feels against his now. It tingles and my nerves feel like someone has attached their ends to a million live wires. I lean back, disconnecting us so I can drag his hands that are tracing circles of fire up and down my back to where I need them. I place his left hand low, on the soft skin of my stomach and his right in the middle of my chest. He exhales. His fingers splay over me, covering the expanse of my skin. I can see now that his muscles are tense, like a bow pulled taut. I rest my forehead against his, running my fingers over his chest, waiting for him to catch up. For a second he just breathes. Then his hand dips down,and his fingers brush the outline of my curves.

"Katniss…" He breathes, his eyes following the path his hand is taking. I close my eyes, because it feels so private, this adoration. I want to wrap up the way he says my name and tuck it away somewhere safe. He touches me, softly, feather light and I lean into his touch. My skin is sensitive, so very aware of everything he is doing. And then he is kissing me again. My mouth invites him in with cheerful abandon and I feel warmth spreading everywhere inside me as his tongue tangles with mine. I can taste his joy, it's intoxicating and I drink him in while his hands explore the lines of my body. He takes his time. His fingers travel everywhere, his mouth not far behind them. No inch is left neglected. He is very precise and I simultaneously love and hate it. I want to unravel his control the way he is unraveling mine, but I find I don't know what else I can do at this point in our venture. So I simply submit to his attention and try to hang onto my control as well as I can. The battle proves too difficult, and when his lips find the crest of my curves I can't stop the sound my throat makes. It sounds a little like an animal that's been wounded and is in pain, and I feel mortified. But apparently Peeta is only encouraged by this reaction, because he repeats the move.

"Peeta!" I choke out, my voice a very unfamiliar squeak. He just laughs, breathlessly, mercilessly, and keeps going. I feel myself slip under the waves of the sensations rushing over me. Our touching is more frantic now, our kisses fast and searing. He begins to untie the knot of the string that holds my pajama bottoms up and I bite down softly on his shoulder. He curses, dropping the string, and the knot he was working on. I smile against his shoulder, proud of myself.

"Katniss," He pants, "you're driving me crazy. Just take it easy ok? Or this will be over before it even starts." He mutters the last words with a bit of exasperation. I just chuckle darkly and swivel myself off of him so I can reach the pajama tie myself. I unknot it and wriggle out of the bottoms with his help. And then he is leaning over me, easing me back against the soft sheets. They are very fine, these sheets. They must be expensive. I would never buy anything like them, but they feel exquisite on my bare skin, like I'm wrapped up in a silk cocoon. I smile thinking tonight I'm grateful for Peeta and his love of beautiful things.

I expect him to remove the last of my clothing, or to start taking off his pajamas, which to be fair really should be off by now like mine. But he just starts kissing a line down my body. I think maybe he just wants to enjoy this feeling for a little bit longer before we move on, so I lay there enjoying the soft silk of the sheets against my back and the soft trail of his kisses. When he reaches my stomach I feel my muscles tense in a strange new way. He dips lower, kissing the outline of my hip and the fire is back, spreading everywhere his lips touch. I reach to stop his progression, the sensations just a little too strong, too much. But he restrains my hands with his own.

"You said I could touch you the way I wanted. This is what I want." He breathes the words against my skin. And I relent, remembering I have to keep my promises tonight. I relax my arms and he lets them go. He resumes his slow progression down my hip but stops when he gets to the band of my underwear. I expect him to look up, to ask for permission, as before.

So what happens next is wholly unexpected and absolutely surprising. He grips my underwear in both hands and pulls quickly, tearing the thin fabric in two. Then, before I can even register what has happened, he tosses the pieces over the back of his head without concern. I am astonished. I don't react quickly enough before he dips his head down and drops his lips to the inside of my thighs.

I try to snap my legs together but it's too late. He braces his arms against my legs to hold them apart. He's kissing and sucking, and biting, and...licking his way slowly up. A wave of terror mixed with embarrassment washes over me as I realize what his goal is. I squirm trying to get away, to put some distance between his mouth and a certain part of my body I had never in a million years imagined someone would try to kiss. But his grip on my legs is like iron, and I can't make any headway. I pant and he pants as we both try to recover from the struggle that is playing out.

"I can't believe you-"

"Katniss just relax."

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

"You can't be serious Peeta."

"Try me."

"Oh my god."

"Save that for the end."

He resumes his kissing without another word and I cover my face with my hands, trying to block out the soul crushing mortification. He is gentle, but firm with his mouth. My legs are shaking, but he holds them steady. I open my fingers to peek down at him.

All I see is the top of his blond hair, and my legs on either side of him. The image of him like that makes my breath catch in my chest. Embarrassment slowly gives way to curiosity. What will it feel like to have him kiss me everywhere? I swallow against the dryness in my mouth. I guess I will know soon enough.

When he finally gets there, I am a trembling, quivering, nervous mess. And he looks up at me, his eyes dark and hazy with desire.

"It's okay Katniss. You know I love you." He murmurs quietly, running his hand over the top of my leg to comfort me.

I remind myself to breathe. I know this, and yet I am very very afraid of someone, anyone seeing me like this. It feels so personal. But I guess all of this is personal, and I know enough to be aware that this is not the finish line. It will only get more personal from here on out. This might just be a detour along the way, but it's one that Peeta really wants to take.

"I'm scared." I admit, lifting my eyes to his. His breath comes out in a huff but he keeps his eyes locked on mine.

"You don't have to be, I would never hurt you." He promises. And I breathe in deeply.

Don't run away, I tell myself. I gather my courage.

"Okay." I nod to him.

He smiles at me warmly. His eyes are full of light and gentle love.

"Okay." He agrees, and renews his efforts.

At first it feels strange. I can hear my heart pounding as I try to remind myself to resist the urge to clamp myself shut. But then it changes, and as I try to focus less on my self consciousness, and trepidations, I begin to feel a strange stirring. My skin that was overheated a minute ago from embarrassment begins to glow warmly with desire. My whole body feels flushed with some kind of strange longing, a deep rooted ache begins to unfurl in my lower abdomen. I can't catch my breath now matter how hard I try. Fire ignites in my veins, burning its way through my embarrassment and reservation. I feel my body responding to him in a new and powerful way. I am amazed at Peeta's intuition, he seems to pick out just what feels best for me before I realize it myself. I close my eyes, trying to feel my way along this new and unexplored path. The feelings build inside of me, the desire and the pleasure side by side. I realize that Peeta is carefully leading me somewhere with his precise attention and carefully measured endurance. My legs tremble, but not because of fear. I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily against him. Peeta just holds on, doubling down on his efforts, and I feel myself unable to keep from shattering apart against him.

It's crazy and amazing and terrifying all at the same time. I think I said his name more than once, but I can't be sure. But he doesn't stop until I collapse back against the soft mattress, boneless and dazed.

He plops down beside me, resting for a few minutes. His hand traces lazy design down my stomach.

"Peeta, how did you know how to do that?" I ask incredulously after a while, looking over at him with newfound awe.

"Oh, well I've heard about some of the mechanics from conversations between my brothers, I surmised it's mostly about paying very close attention. And I always pay close attention to you." He says softly, smiling over at me.

"I guess so." I manage to say, still completely amazed at this quiet unassuming boy who holds the secrets to making me fall apart so completely close to his chest. I look over at him again. His broad powerful shoulders, his firm lines, the stubble on his chin. These are not the features of the blond boy I remember from 3 years ago. I realize Peeta hasn't been a boy for sometime now. I guess I'm not a young girl either. We're both past the cusp of adolescence, progressing into adulthood now. Tonight is proof of that.

But I know tonight is not over, there is more to do, more to experience. I find myself very enthusiastic all of a sudden. And I reach over to hook my fingers in the waistband of his pajama bottoms so I can drag him towards me.

"Uhhhh-" He blurts out unintelligibly. I take a page out of Peeta's book and don't stop to ask permission and yank the thick flannel pajama bottoms down past his thighs, then his knees. Thankfully he hadn't secured them with the tie, and I used my feet to push them down over his ankles. I kick them forcefully and they go flying into the dark. I reach down and run my fingers over his left thigh, the one that ends in a prosthetic. I stroke his skin lightly, letting him know that it doesn't bother me in the least.

"Very handsome." I whisper against his shoulder, trying to give him some words of my own.

"Wow..." He gets out before I plaster myself against him. I take his face in my hands and murmur against his lips.

"My turn." I say as I kiss him long and hard. A groan escapes him and I catch it in my mouth, letting the sound settle over my teeth and my tongue.

He crushes me against him, and I feel a strange pressure against my stomach. It's hard and firm and at first I think one of his arms is crushed between us. But that doesn't make sense as both of his arms are wrapped around me. I feel curious about this development but not enough to break our kissing. The pressure won't go away though, if anything it just becomes more apparent. And then in the fog of our kisses my mind turns over a few memories I have kept in its recesses. My mother once treated a miner who had a deep gash on the inside of his upper thigh. He was bleeding heavily, so she and Prim stripped him naked before I could completely leave the room and I got a flash of something I tried to put out of my mind very quickly. There was some connection between this memory and Peeta, and the pressure that seemed to keep shifting as we kissed and tangled ourselves in the sheets. So it was more out of curiosity than design when I reached down to explore what exactly pressed between us so distinctly.

I felt Peeta jump nearly out of his skin when I barely brushed my hand against it. Interesting I think to myself. I am now certain. The soft feel of his cotton undershorts are still ingrained in my finger tips, like a memory, as is the shape of the firm flesh underneath. I open my eyes to ascertain his reaction to my investigation.

His face is flushed bright red, his breath coming out in short gasps.

"Katniss, I think we should slow down a bit." He says when notices my frank appraisal.

"Why?" I ask, surprised by the implementation of this double standard. I trusted him, didn't I? Why couldn't he do the same with me?

He shakes his head as if guessing my thoughts.

"Oh believe me, it's not because I don't want you to. It's more because…" trails off unable to finish his explanation. He scrunches his forehead in concentration, trying to find the right words. I wait patiently, trying to give him the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

"Do you remember earlier, when I told you to take it easy?" He asks carefully, slowly, as he watches my expression.

I nod, remembering when I softly bit his shoulder and he stopped me, which was actually pretty tame compared with what he did after that, so don't immediately see what the problem is.

"Well it wasn't because I didn't like what you were doing." He says with a breathless chuckle. "Actually, I liked it just a little too much." He says, his eyebrows raised in emphasis.

I just stare at him. What is he getting at?

He stares back at me waiting for me to make some kind of connection that isn't forthcoming. The silence stretches between us and we are uncertain how to proceed. I find myself not only annoyed by his rebuff, but also still entirely too confused by his attempt at explanation. He pinches the bridge of his nose and hangs his head for a moment.

I wonder when we will get back to kissing, and how we're supposed to proceed without me being allowed to touch him. Finally his head snaps up and he looks at me hopefully.

"Ok, think of it like this. Your body is naturally built for a marathon, when it comes to the stuff we've been doing." He says looking at my face again.

I think about this for a second, and realize it could be true. The things he did to me didn't tire me out at all. Instead I seemed to get more energized as things progressed. I look up and nod at him, to let him know I understand this time.

Relief washes over his face and he smiles, grateful that I'm following him. "Okay, so if you're built for a marathon, my body is geared more towards a sprint." He said, his cheeks growing a little rosey from the words, but his eyes hold mine to make sure I understand.

I think about this piece of information. If somehow we are running concurrent races, and it takes me longer to reach the finish line than it does him…. My eyes snap to his, I blink and realize I understand. "Oh," I say lamely. He just nods and reaches out his hand to take one of mine. He pulls me toward him and I find myself cradled against his chest. There is so much happening, so much I don't know, that I am learning on the fly right now. I suddenly wish I hadn't stomped out of the house everytime my mother tried to bring up this subject. I shake my head and think I wouldn't have been able to pay attention to the dry medical terms anyway.

"It's ok, we're both learning new things tonight." He says against my hair.

"I particularly liked discovering the way my name sounds when you are completely out of breath and about to-" I reach up and clamp my hand over his mouth. I feel him chuckle against my fingers. He turns me in his arms so he can face me.

"Katniss, this has all been so wonderful." He says with a reverent smile as he stares at me.

I nod, agreeing with him. I tuck my head under his chin, wanting to feel his arms around me and he obliges. It's been surprisingly easy for the most part to walk through this with him. He's been so diligent and gentle. I can't imagine sharing this with anyone else.

But as soon as I have the thought, I realize it's untrue. I freeze, trying to rein my thoughts back in and away from that line of thinking. It was a stray thought, and it's been banished, I tell myself. Tonight is for Peeta and for me, and I won't let my stupid confusing brain ruin what really has been wonderful. So I anchor myself in the moment and reach up to stroke his cheek softly. He catches my hand in his and kisses the inside of my palm, making me shudder at his warm breath and soft lips. He leans down to dip his mouth across mine for a kiss. I feel myself start to slowly come alive for about the hundredth time tonight. And even though it's been a slow progression I have a feeling that this time, with this kiss we are finally gearing up for the last leg of our journey.

After everything that has happened I didn't think I could still have any lingering fears left in me, but I think my brain might just be hardwired for panic, because I feel my heart fluttering unsteadily in my chest as he nuzzles my neck. His hand dips between us and I see that he means to touch me, similarly to what he did before with his mouth, only this time with his hand. Instead of tensing up when he touches me, I surprise both of us by relaxing into him. He breathes out a sigh against my shoulder before lifting up to kiss my mouth. The kisses build as before, warm and strong and deep, but there is now the added sensation of his hand on me. I reach the point I had earlier in the evening much faster than I anticipated, and he touches me only long enough to make sure most of my trembling has subsided. He doesn't take a break this time to lie down beside me. Instead he quickly moves to take off his undershorts, and toss them somewhere on the floor. The last barrier between us removed, I feel a quiet settle over both of us. I know that this is what the night has always been building towards. He moves to settle between my hips and my breathing which has just begun to return back to normal, pitches back up to a mad pace. He adjusts his prosthetic leg, so that his weight is distributed as evenly as possible. I can feel the anticipation stretch inside both of us. I bite my lip to fight the urge not to stay still, my body having just woken up again with an eagerness for him and all the surprising things he can do to it. He's looking down on me with such passion, and adoration I feel like I have become as transparent as clear glass. I fear he can see all of my shortcomings compared to his seemingly bottomless devotion. But he just sighs.

"I love you so much." He says, his hand tracing my hip again. I feel startled, caught off guard by the sheer enormity of the moment. Panic climbs in my chest, because I can't answer this with words of my own. Anything my pitiful stony heart can dredge up won't be good enough to give back to the boy with the bread. Not after all he has given.

I open my mouth to say I don't know what, but he hushes me and places his index finger against my lips.

"That was a rhetorical statement Katniss." He says, and I feel my breath rush out in relief. He leans down to kiss me and I feel his body press against me in an utterly perfect way. No more words are needed. We just knit ourselves together.

When it happens, he's kissing me so deeply my gasp is lost against his lips. His progression is painstakingly slow, and he never stops kissing me the entire time. At about halfway through, I feel an increasing discomfort. It's not pain exactly, just the strange feeling of being overfull. We both pant, and he whispers to me that we're almost there. I remind myself to relax, as I can feel the muscles in my back and shoulders tense from the intrusion. When I do he exhales and closes his eyes. There's a mixture of intense pleasure and strain in his features. He's holding himself so still, I almost want to hold my breath when I examine him. I guess the sensations of joining his body with mine feel differently to him at first than they do to me.

When he is finally completely joined with me, his shoulders are trembling and there's a slight sheen of sweat settling over his skin despite the chilly night. He rocks his hips against me slowly, taking me by surprise. The sensation I feel when he does this is hard to describe. Not quite pleasure, but almost. It grows slowly, with his movements, until I understand that what is supposed to be happening here is a rhythm. My mind unfolds and wanders into thoughts of music.

Yes, I can feel it now. Peeta is building the rhythm of a song between us. He's writing the notes as he goes, feeling his way through the music. There is a sweet undercurrent, like the beat of a bassy instrument as he kisses me on the mouth when he moves over me. An inviting friction builds deep inside of me and I feel myself wanting to join in his song, to contribute somehow. I tilt my hips up just slightly and am rewarded by his gasp, and small explosion of sensation on my part.

"Katniss-" He says my name through gritted teeth, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.

But I don't heed his warning. I can see the shape of the song now, spreading over me, through me. I can feel the notes rising to sing in my blood. I angle myself against him and feel the music lifting me, whispering the strains of the melody I had been searching for.

Peeta is panting now, and I kiss him full on the lips, trying to reassure him of my aims.

I lift my hips up to meet his exquisite rhythm and feel the melody pour out of me, my body filling in the notes that had been missing before. And we are in perfect sync, both of us matching the other simultaneously.

As I reach the crescendo, he is right there with me and we fall apart together.

Afterwards, we catch our breath and wait for the trembling in our limbs to subside. Finally, he extricates himself and settles down beside me. I tuck into his side. My body feels light and heavy at the same time. I can feel my eyelids drooping but my soul feels weightless enough to blow away with the slightest breeze.

Peeta lays on his side, resting his head on his hand as he gazes at me.

"Are you ok?" He asks me quietly. I am so undone all I can manage to get out is, "Mmmmmmm."

Which is not a real answer but seems to satisfy him and he lays back and closes his eyes.

Then we fall asleep, deep and dreamless without the hint of a nightmare anywhere in sight.

Chapter Text

I wake a little before dawn. It's still dark outside Peeta's window, but I can see his face in the faint light. Usually when we're home, he is already awake and baking. I guess a lifetime of getting up before the sun to start making bread is a hard habit to break. Well today is the exception. He is out cold.

He looks younger while he sleeps. His face is placid and his breathing is even. We're very warm, tucked in a cocoon of soft sheets and each other's body heat. I think I got more than four hours of continuous sleep last night. Which means I've had almost two straight nights of sleep. That's a record for me. I feel very well rested. It's tempting to stay here, encased in this warmth, but my family will be waking up soon and I need to get home before any awkward questions arise. But Peeta's arms are so solid. They're like bands around me, and I don't have any wiggle room.

I nudge him gently. "Peeta," I say quietly. No response. "Peeta," I repeat a little louder.

He shifts slightly and lets out an "Mmmmmm." I laugh silently as I realize that he's quoting me from last night unconsciously.

"PEE-TA." I say, enunciating the syllables of his name, my voice a little louder this time and then I shake his arm for emphasis.

"Hum?" He murmurs sleepily, finally coming around.

"Peeta, I need to go." I whisper.

"Huh? No!" He says, tightening his arms around me. I grit my teeth to keep from trying to push him off. His voice sounded confused and husky with sleep. I don't think he's fully awake.

"Peeta, I need to get home before my family wakes up." I say patiently. He was probably deep in sleep, and I woke him. I want to kick myself. The nights we both get to sleep without nightmares are few and far between.

He blinks at me, his eyes focusing.

"Oh, sorry," He says, his arms releasing me, "I think I was still half asleep." He says as he rubs his eyes.

"I'm really sorry to wake you up. I tried to slip out without disturbing you, but you're really strong, even when you're asleep." I say with a dry chuckle. I sit up, and start searching for my socks. The floor will be cold this morning for sure.

"Oh, I'm glad you woke me. I'm usually up by now anyway." He says, turning on his side and propping his head up like he did last night to look at me.

My back is towards him as I sit on the edge of the bed and put on my socks. I can feel him staring at me. I wonder now that all this has happened, what will our day to day lives be like? I shake my head and stop trying to predict the future, and focus on finding my clothes.

"Are you sure you can't stay for a bit? It's still going to be freezing outside right now." He says nonchalantly. I shake my head again, I know I can't. "I can cook breakfast, something really delicious if you want." He offers, and I can hear the hopefulness in his voice. I slip on my pants, foregoing underwear since the pair I was wearing got ruined and I can't even find the pieces of what's left of them. That simple fact makes me smile quietly as I button up my shirt.

"My mother might try to stay out of my business now that I'm 18, but the minute she thinks we're setting a bad example for Prim there will be no stopping her from butting in." I warn him seriously as I lace up my boots.

"I forgot about how strict she is." he says with an amused laugh, probably trying to picture my quiet and reserved mother sitting him down for a lecture.

"We're going to have to be very discreet." I tell him as I braid my hair back in my usual style.

He raises his eyebrows at me in surprise. I then realize how that statement sounded and blush furiously.

"I mean not that I'm planning on making this a-a-routine." I cover quickly and feel my blush spreading in embarrassment. I lean back down to re-tie my laces even though they are fine. Great now he thinks I'm going to be climbing in his window every night.

"I can be discreet in whatever way you want me too." He says smoothly, leaving the metaphorical door open for me just in case.

"Oh, well, I don't-I ummm…." I clear my throat to stop myself from continuing to bable ridiculously. He chuckles softly.

"I'll leave the decision up to you,'' he says and flattens out on his back, interlacing his fingers together behind his head. He's still shirtless, naked actually, beneath the sheet but he seems completely comfortable. I envy his relaxed and easy manner. I feel that my worries and anxieties have resurfaced with the sun, which is starting to make its appearance in the sky.

"You should go back to sleep, if you can. I really am sorry about having to wake you." I say and I make my way to the door.

"I'm glad you did. I wouldn't have wanted you to leave without telling you good morning. So, good morning Katniss." He says with a bright and downright cheerful smile.

"Oh," I say, stopping, not having considered this. Now that I think about it, slipping out without saying a word might have given the impression that I was upset, or something like that.

"Good morning." I reply softly, turning around to face him. I turn the words over in my head, examining the way the greeting feels slightly different on my tongue this morning. And before I can overanalyze it, I walk back and place a light kiss on his cheek.

His eyes are closed when I pull away, like he's savoring the moment. I am sorely tempted to crawl back under the covers and bask in the warmth of the small smile he's wearing.

"I think I'll paint today." He says, quietly, mostly to himself.

"That sounds nice." I reply as I make my way back to the door.

"See you," I say as I leave.

"See you." Is the reply I hear him make before I climb down the stairs.

I go out through Peeta's back door, and quickly take a roundabout way to my house since walking straight across would leave telltale footprints in the mud. It's going to be a cold, freezing day, but I feel strangely warm and at peace for a moment as I trudge through my backyard and open my own backdoor. I am greeted by the unexpected surprise of seeing my mother slumped over asleep at the kitchen table.

"Mom!" I exclaim as I rush over to her side to check whether she's sick or hurt.

Her head snaps up and her pale eyelashes blink quickly as she takes me in. I can imagine what she observes. Her daughter, coming home at dawn in her coat and pajamas. The awkward silence that follows is excruciating. We both just look at each other. Finally she nods, and takes a deep breath. I brace myself for a lecture, but all she says is:

"Are you ok?" Her voice is quiet, her eyes are searching my face. Suddenly I feel very small, like a young child again. Here she is waiting up all night out of concern for me. She must have started worrying when I asked for the 'sweater' the other day. My heart swells at the fact that she has waited for me. Not to lecture me, but to make sure I am alright.

"I'm fine, good actually." I tell her with sincerity. I want to put her at ease, glad I don't have to lie.

She nods, reaches up to cup my cheek. She holds me there for a minute, just looking into my eyes. I don't know what she's searching for, or if she's trying to convey something she can't say out loud.

"Did you remember your sweater?" She prods.

"Yes, of course." I answer her honestly, there's no way last night would have happened without that guarantee. "You don't have to worry about me this much mom. I'm old enough to handle these kinds of things."

She sighs, then gets up to presumably walk back to her room to catch what little sleep she can in an actual bed. But before she gets into the hall she turns around and looks at me again.

"I can't help it, you'll always be my little girl." Her light blue eyes are tired looking, but she smiles at me weakly before she turns and walks away.

"So much for being discreet." I mutter under my breath and make my way to my own room.

Peeta

I lay in bed and watch the way the rays of the climbing sun wash over my room slowly. I don't want to move. Everything feels perfect. I breathe in the lingering smell of her lemon shampoo that wafts up gently from the pillow beside me. Last night feels like a dream in the morning light, and I would chalk it up to having an incredibly overworked imagination except that when I woke up she was still beside me. I lay my hand over the impression she left on the mattress and close my eyes remembering all the incredible things that happened. Yes, that all really happened. It's hard to fathom, but I smile anyway. If someone would have asked me last week, last month, or even last year if I thought I'd be spending the night together with her, I'd have said not in this lifetime. Despite being officially engaged, and spending so much time together the past three years, I had felt our relationship had only become more strained as time went on. I had started to feel like a glorified nursemaid, there to soothe her nightmares and hold her hand when she was in danger of crying or breaking something. But there was never a hint of anything more than that. She kept everything hidden so well. Every confession she shared last night blew me away.

She's so much more guarded than I ever thought possible. I think silently, considering what this means for the future. I know she said she doesn't love me. But some of the things she said, and so many of the things she did call that position into question.

She said, "I've always tried not to." when I asked her point blank. What the hell does that even mean? It's better than a flat out no, though. Trying not to do something implies some kind of struggle on her end. That's interesting. And then this morning she implied, maybe unconsciously that as long as we're careful it could happen again.

Oh God, I think fervently, I hope it happens again. Even though I'd imagined it before, every single fantasy paled in comparison with the reality I experienced. And I feel a wave of desire wash over me, unbidden but none the less real. I can't imagine what I wouldn't be willing to give to have her, the girl who set me on fire, back in my bed. The thought is honestly a little dizzying. So I force myself to get up and search for my wayward clothes. I smile when I find my pajama bottoms in a crumpled heap under the sitting chair. She threw them so forcefully they were partially tangled around one of the legs of the chair. That was another thing I hadn't expected, her enthusiasm. God it had been incredible to see her like that, pursuing me for a change. Incredible and extremely problematic. I almost had a heart attack when she just reached down and grabbed me, no timidness or pretence. I groan. That had been so hot.

I pull open the closet door and gather my painting supplies. I need a creative outlet, or I'll just drive myself to distraction dwelling on last night. I'll paint until noon, then I'll walk over to Haymitch's to take him some breakfast. Yes, that sounds like a good plan.

I work all morning painting the sunrise. It was fading by the time I started, but I had just enough time to capture the main details of the perspective and surrounding features. Everything else I would have to paint from memory. But that sunrise isn't going anywhere. It'll probably be burned into my brain until the day I die.

I walk unhurriedly over to Haymitch's. I don't bother to knock, since he's probably still asleep anyway. I just pick my way through the obstacles course of garbage and clutter to the kitchen. Haymitch is there, sitting up, alert and waiting. I'm surprised, because he usually gets at least partially drunk when we're back home, even though he's been working on toning down his drinking.

"Morning." I call out as cheerfully as I can and unwrap two thick loaves of hearty bread I baked yesterday.

"Morning sunshine." He says in a tired voice, reaching for the loaf on his left. Since they're not hot he just tears off chunks and stuff them into his mouth unconcernedly.

"So I guess I get the day old stuff today. What happened? Your fancy oven break down boy?" He says in that gruff manner that usually means he's fishing for information and trying to cover it up with rude misdirection.

I resist the urge to look concerned about his question. Discretion was one of Katniss's rules.

"I took the morning off to paint." I say with what I hope passes for nonchalance, and then shrug. He eyes me suspiciously, but keeps eating.

"You didn't get drunk." I comment objectively.

"Couldn't. I had to stay sober enough to put out any fires that might have started last night, you know the kind that if left unattended could blow up in all our faces." He says quietly, narrowing his eyes at me.

He knows. I realize, and inadvertently swallow a huge chunk of bread without finishing chewing it. I choke. Haymitch pounds my back until it comes loose.

I sit back to catch my breath and stare at him. Trying to decide just how much he knows. How he found out is a mystery, maybe he saw Katniss sneaking to my house last night. He is a night owl whenever he doesn't drink himself into oblivion. Maybe he just has a sixth sense when it comes to us. He's surprised me before with his insights into the complex dynamic she and I share.

"Well," he prompts, waiting for me to spill the beans. But even though I trust Haymitch with my and Katniss's lives, there are some things that should stay private between two people.

I shake my head. "I don't have any disasters to report." I answer truthfully, but keeping the conversation general and vague.

"Hrumph." He huffs out, seemingly relieved.

"You declined the offer?" He asks, still seemingly not satisfied. Again I wonder where he's getting his information. I almost ask if he and Katniss discussed things beforehand, but then I shake my head, that couldn't have happened. Katniss would never discuss things like that with anyone, least of all with Haymitch.

"Everything's good." I reassure him, "Great actually. No need to worry." I add a relaxed smile, hoping he will drop the subject. He eyes me, respectively, and a grin slowly spreads across his face.

I wince. There must have been some give away in my expression or tone. Great. Just great.

He nods over the table at me, appraisingly. There is a strange and completely off putting gleam of pride in his eye. And I find myself regretting ever leaving my house today.

"Well," he says and claps a hand over my back in a bewildering show of approval. "I was beginning to think this day would never come." He pulls his flask out of the pocket of the coat that's draped on the back of his chair. "This calls for a toast." he says, unscrewing the cap with a mad glee and holding it up high. A tidal wave of humiliation washes over me, but I know the more I resist, the longer this will take. So I decide I'll have to embrace it and get it over with.

He offers me the fask and I take a swig quickly, resisting the urge to cough as the strong liquor burns it's way down to my stomach. I grimace and hand the flask back to my mentor, hoping he will get drunk quickly so I can escape.

"To those rare and unexpected moments when the universe decides to stop kicking you in the ass and issues you a short reprieve." He says with sarcastic appreciation, and gulps down the remaining contents of his flask.

I nod, surprised to find myself agreeing with the sentiment. Last night was probably by definition a godsend, at least in my view.

"Well now that you've got your foot in the door, this is your chance boy, don't waste it." He says quietly, almost inaudibly.

I mull over his words, the alcohol already kicking in and making my mind feel a little sluggish. I hate the white liquor he drinks. But I think about what he said. He can't know what was discussed between Katniss and I. She still hasn't admitted any feelings for me other than friendship, except maybe a decent helping of attraction. Which is better than nothing. I could settle for that if I just wanted to claim some physical part of her. But I want more than that, much more.

"It might just be a one time thing." I reply, deciding to take the chance and invite his own analysis.

He scratches his chin, thinking.

"Well then you've got to figure out how to sweeten the deal." Haymitch says finally.

"How do I do that?" I ask nervously, wondering if I'm reading too much into his words, worried I might not be understanding enough.

"Simple, romance." He replies.

I shake my head emphatically. "She's not the type of girl who goes for that stuff." I say, wondering if Haymitch has forgotten who we're talking about.

"Every woman needs a little romance son." He says with a blech. I wonder how he knows this, since he clearly does not have many romantic prospects himself. But maybe he did once?

"You just have to figure out what brand they respond to."

"Brand?"

"Well some of them like candy and flowers. Others like to be wined and dined. Some of them like to be manhandled." He chuckles distractedly, possibly recalling some past fling. I suppress a shudder, trying to put the idea out of my head.

"What do you think her brand is?" I ask, trying to steer him back to the conversation rather than a trip down an alcohol soaked memory lane.

"Not sure. I wasn't even sure she was capable of unwinding that much." He says matter of factly.

"Well now that it's been verified, what would your best guess be?" I ask, a little impatiently.

"She's a tough one to read, but if I had to guess, I'd go with subtle." He asserted, and then pulled another bottle up from underneath the table. He offered me another drink but I turned him down, saying I had some things to do.

"Go on," He said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "there's no time like the present."

As I left I thought, not for the first time, that Haymitch might have made for a decent father if he hadn't been picked for the Games. It made my steps a little heavier as I walked home, but I also thought about how if he hadn't been chosen, Katniss and I probably wouldn't be alive. So maybe there is such a thing as fate. And if so, I just might have a shot too. I've got a few hours to come up with a game plan. If this is going to be my only chance to get past her defences, then I need to give it all I've got.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

The rest of my day passed quickly. After the encounter with my mother at sunrise nothing else was ever said about my absence last night. So I was surprised when Peeta dropped by at the end of dinner. Prim jumped up to answer the kitchen door so fast I hardly had the time to swallow my last bite of food before he was walking into my kitchen. I stared at him and it felt like he had taken up all the space in the room with his kind smile and his broad shoulders. He laughed at some story she told him about Buttercup getting into the pantry last night. He smiled at her warmly, like she could be his little sister too. But of course Prim’s easy to love like that. She’s like a favorite little sister to practically everyone she meets, and now half the country.

“I got inspired this afternoon and baked some butter cookies, your favorites,” He says and holds out a bag to her, “that is if you're done with dinner and can have dessert.” He looks over at my mother, asking permission. So typical Peeta, I think. To try and make up for any perceived infraction with his winning smile and some fresh baked goods. I almost rolled my eyes at him.

My mother, instead of ordering him from the house for deflowering her daughter, simply nods and then asks him if he’s eaten dinner yet. He says he has not, so she fixes him a plate while we all sit back down at the table. He eats quietly while Prim unpacks her cookies and chooses the ones she likes best. This is not new. He has a habit of baking her treats every now and then, when he has the time. She always chooses the most beautiful ones, with flowers or swirling patterns, and my mother and I eat the rest. I try to focus on the pattern in the weave of the placemat so I don’t have to look directly at him. Who knows what will be written on my face if I do?

“Peeta,” Prim says in a curious tone, “Are you trying out some new designs?” She has divided out a small number of flower shaped ones but is holding up a small square one that has a distinct design drawn in icing on the front.

“Yes, I am.” He answers simply. He smiles that charming, good natured smile and I find myself curious to see what new alteration he’s made to the usual treats. I crane my head to peer down and over at the cookie that Prim’s inspecting.

The icing design on the front of it is a picture of a chair. And not just any chair, it's the sitting chair from Peeta’s bedroom. What in the world?

I examine the rest of the cookies that she has separated from the flowery ones.

A half moon, a window, a lemon, one with several small white plain buttons, and one square that is simply coated in a layer of misty grey icing the exact color of his bedsheets. I feel my face heat. He has captured the pieces of our night and made them into edible snapshots. I feel like I could fall right out of my chair.

How does he always manage to do things like this? I lift my eyes to look at him, I can’t help it. He stares back at me with such an open sincerity I almost can’t breathe. He made them to show me how much it all meant to him. What I wouldn’t have wanted him to say with grand speeches or flowers, or anything else he has captured in this simple secret way. They are for me to see and know, and to enjoy before their secrets disappear into my mouth. I smile. They are perfect.

“They’re very nice, but they’re kind of abstract.” Prim says scrunching up her face as she puts down the chair cookie and picks up one that has the white buttons from my pajama top on it.

I reach over and pluck the cookie out of her hand and quickly use my other hand to swipe up the pile containing the other odd ones.

“Hey!” she says with a cry of surprise and annoyance.

“If you don’t like them then I’ll eat them.” I say simply, and take a bite of the one with the lemon painted on it. I don’t remember that one from last night so I think it's ok to eat it first. It's light and buttery and sweet, and tastes just like all of the cookies he’s made before. I save the rest under my napkin. I want to really look at them later, privately, before I eat them.

A small satisfied smile spreads over Peeta’s face. He knows I have understood his message, his gift.

“What about mom?” Prim protests. She’s upset because mom and I usually split the leftovers, and is probably worried she’ll have to sacrifice some of her beloved daisies and violets.

“Oh, I’m not hungry anymore.” Mother says quickly before an argument can begin. She gets up and starts clearing the dinner plates.

“She can have the rest, besides they’re for her.” She says as she makes her way to the sink. I feel myself blush again, at her words. So she noticed too.

I sneak a look at Peeta, and he’s beaming, a big foolish grin plastered across his face. This time I didn't resist. I roll my eyes at him. He just chuckles under his breath and begins gathering the glasses, to help my mother.

I sit quietly, eating my lemon painted cookie in small, slow bites.

Later that night I laid in bed staring up at my hands holding the small square cookie with the window painted on it. It’s his window, even the curtains are the same color. I trace my finger over the tiny window panes. I closed my eyes, remembering how his face looked when we stood in front of it in the moonlight. The half moon from that night is there too, along with the rest, still tucked in my napkin from dinner. They sit quietly on my nightstand. I’ve been examining them one by one. I don’t know why I keep looking at them. I only know I haven’t been able to fall asleep. It must be close to midnight, but I feel wide awake. Not from fear, or worry, but some strange kind of anticipation that keeps building in my chest, in my blood. I sit up in bed.

Yes, I think to myself. I can have this, just for a little bit longer. I dress quietly in the dark, determined not to turn back.

When I get to his back door I hesitate. What if it's locked? I don’t want to climb the tree again, not in this weather. So I tell myself that if it's locked, it's a sign. What we shared was for that one night, and I’ll have to go home. But if it’s not….

I reach out, and the handle turns easily in my hand. The house seems quiet, but then I hear a low stream of sound coming from somewhere inside.

He’s sitting on the couch in his living room. One elbow propped on the armrest and his head resting against his knuckles as he watches the television with a bemused expression. There’s a man on the screen with freakishly sharp cheekbones who is trying to demonstrate how to properly fold a dinner napkin in the shape of a swan. I watch him quietly, observing the lines of his face in the dim light. His face snaps towards me, noticing me finally, as I stand there staring at him from the doorway.

“Hey,” He says in a simple greeting.

“Hey,” I reply, unsure of what to do or say next.

“What are you watching?” I ask him, not at all interested in the seemingly pointless show.

“I have no idea. I wasn’t really paying attention, just trying to pass the time.” He says, smiling up at me.

I can’t think of anything good to say to that so I just take a small step into the room. He rearranges some couch pillows to make space for me to sit beside him, and I hurry over, grateful not to have to explain out loud why I have appeared here in the middle of the night.

I nestle into his side and he slides his left arm around my shoulder. I sit there, pretending to watch the stupid show, but really I’m breathing in his clean scent. The tv personality finishes folding his 12 th swan, and places it alongside the others in a neat row.

Peeta reaches up his hand to stroke my hair, absentmindedly. I lean my head against his shoulder, waiting for him to do something. He just sits beside me, apparently content to just stay here, while our brains slowly turn to goo. I breathe and breathe, gathering my courage again.

I reach out with my left hand to slowly stroke along the top of his thigh. He turns to me, with a deep searching look in his eyes. I rotate my body towards him and grasp the sides of his face between my palms. I lean in to kiss him and he moves in one fluid motion to lift me into his lap. We kiss over the noise of the irritating babble about place settings coming from the tv. We kiss, and kiss and I feel my blood rushing through my veins in that same kind of joyful abandon as before. The kisses are so good, and he holds me so closely to him. When I reach down to tug up the bottom of my shirt, he breaks our kiss and says, “Maybe we should go upstairs.”
“Sure.” I reply, as I toss the shirt into a dark corner, and then I place both my hands on his shoulders pinning him to the couch. “In a minute, I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had trying to learn etiquette.” He returns my mischievous smile with one of his own. His hand snakes up to secure the back of my head as he brings my mouth down onto his.

We don’t make it upstairs.

(Peeta POV)

She straddles me as we sit on my sofa. I dive into her hot wet mouth with my tongue, tasting her unlike ever before. Kissing her like this is a fucking privledge. It's so different from the way we used to kiss. She’s not holding anything back from me anymore and it's intoxicating. I feel like I’m getting drunk on her kisses alone. For so long I’d been holding back, reigning myself in, not letting myself explore the sweet expanse of her mouth fully. Because she was never mine to kiss like this. But now she moaned as I bit down gently on her full bottom lip, and finally, finally I was free to possess her mouth the way I’d always dreamed of. She was needy, her breath coming in hurried gasps. Her skin felt hot to the touch, as I raked my hands down her sides, her hips, finally to cup her ass. She bit down hungrily on my lip, desperate for my kisses and well as for my body. I could feel it in the way she rocked her hips against my hard on as we made out. Then it was my turn to moan. I remembered the texture of the skin of her thighs. I remembered the glorious visage of her dripping folds spread before me. I felt my erection strain against the fabric of my pants.

So fucking sexy. I thought to myself as I reached back to help her undo her bra. Then I had to pause for a full second to take her in. She had beautiful breasts. Perfect handfuls, perky and delicious. They were everything I’d been dreaming about for longer than I could remember. Soft and round and golden toned with such warm colored tips. How many times had I imagined what she’d look like, flushed and naked in my lap with her shirt off and begging me to squeeze her gorgeous tits? The thought alone had gotten me off on numerous occasions. But reality was better than fantasy hands down. I lowered my head to sweep my tongue across her erect nipple and she gasped. That sound reverberated through me, and settled deep into my groin. I responded by suckling her nipple, and using my other hand to knead her other breast. She rolled her hips against me and I let out a pained sound. She felt too good. She was too worked up. I needed to get her off before she made me come in my fucking shorts just with the sounds she was making alone.

“Katniss, let’s take off your pants so I can take care of you ok?” I told her gently before she could grind herself against me again. She nodded, her eyes half lidded as she gazed down at me. Oh, she wanted what I was going to give her. The thought thrilled me to no end.

And after the first time she knew I could follow through. There wasn’t a single thing in the world I would rather do right now than to get her naked and coming for me. That was a fuckng privledge too. I wanted, no I needed to see the look on her face again. The mix of awe and surprise, giving way to fluttering eyelashes, raised eyebrows, her lips parted as she gasped in pleasure that was completely new to her. I had done that for her. I had made her feel that way. And I would do it again. I would learn her like a recipe, I’d follow all the steps, I’d taste test her with my mouth, and temperature check her with my fingers, and do everything, absolutely everything to make her pleasure my masterpiece. Even if it took all night.

We helped each other get naked, in a dizzying rush. Her eyes zeroed in on my hard cock and a look of complete lust filled her gaze. It was all I could do not to spread her legs and plunge into her right then and there. Who would've thought Katniss could look at my cock like couldn’t wait to have me inside of her? Damn it, I really needed to make her come, and good. She was just too perfect. Absolutely perfect for me.

“How do you want it?” I ask her, my voice husky with desire I can’t hide. She looks up at me a little bewildered, and I remind myself she’s never done this before. She’s never even really talked about it. Our first time had been so heartbreakingly sweet, since I had to literally stop and explain why her giving me a handjob while I was so worked up would end with me finishing before we even got to the actual sex.

And while her touching me with her hand had been great, I’d much rather be inside her. But first I needed to get her off, preferably multiple times before I got to come.

“Um...well?” She says in an unsure tone. I chuckle softly, and kiss her cheek.

“I mean do you want me to use my mouth on you or my hand first?” I clarify and I can see the moment realization dawns on her. She lets out a breathy laugh and her eyes go a little wide.

“I liked both, but can you use your hand again?” She says in a quiet voice and I nod.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need. Always Katniss.” I breathe the words into the soft skin of her neck as I begin to kiss her and lick slowly at her delicate skin. She shudders against me and I trace lazy designs on her bare back again. With my other hand I lift her hips and brace her on my thighs, then slowly I work my way down her body. I knead and massage her back first, then her breasts, her stomach and hips. I take my time, and when I finally reach her hot center, she is absolutely dripping for me. And panting.

“Peeta…” She whispers into my neck, as she grips the hair at the nape of my neck tightly.

“Yeah?” I respond, already knowing what she will ask. She’s quiet for a brief moment, and I wonder if she will really say it, if she has the capacity to trust me enough to voice the words to ask. I’m just about to sink my fingers into her, when she speaks.

“Please?” She whispers and it just shatters me. I capture her mouth in a rough kiss as I sink my index and middle fingers inside her. She bucks into my hand, and I groan. She swallows my kisses as she rocks herself back and forth. I regain my composure, and begin to pump my fingers in and out of her. She whimpers into my mouth and the tortured sounds of her pleasure fill me with rapturous delight.

I feel her silky walls tighten around my fingers as she bears down on me, her moans are getting louder, and more frequent. I take this as a sign to introduce my thumb to the occasion and start to apply light circles of pressure right above her clit. She stills, for a brief second, overcome by the sensation, and then she starts riding my hand in earnest. Her back arching, and breasts swaying in a hypnotically divine rhythm. I can feel her muscles tense in time with the movements of my fingers, and I know she’s building. So I apply just a bit more pressure directly to her clit and she lets out a sharp but pleased cry of pleasure.

“Yes, Peeta, yes.” She says between gasps and oh, god, it's wonderful to hear her say my name while my fingers are buried inside her. I chew on my bottom lip, as I try to gauge her reactions. I decided to curl my fingers slightly, in a move my brothers always swore worked like a charm, and her reaction was immediate. Her hips falter in their rhythm, she shudders, I feel her pussy clench down hard on my fingers. I look up at her face and see it.

She’s coming. Her dark brows are lifted skyward in wonder, her eyes are closed and her long dark lashes are splayed over her rosy cheeks, her full soft lips are slightly parted. She breathes out a name as the spasms overtake her. My name.

“Peeta,” She whispers, and then she gasps, rolls her hips and and I pumps my fingers into her to help her ride out her orgasm. She moans my name as she keeps coming, and its the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Then I have a new goal. To see how many times I can get her to say my name like that. I start making a plan to eat her out, and then finger fuck her again, but the next thing she says cut my plans short.

“I want you inside me now.” I look up at her and she’s smiling. My heart stops absolutely dead in my chest. She’s radiant, and glowing. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled with delight as she looked down on me. I felt my cock twitch at her words, eagerness getting the better of me.

“I wanted to make you come a few more times, you know, use my mouth, and then-” I start to say but she interrupts my explanation with a litany of deep kisses. She pulls my hand from in between her thighs and brings it back up to her breasts. I palm them gently alternating between the two as we kiss.

“Maybe next time? Right now I just really want you inside me again.” She says quietly, as she breaks the kiss and her silver eyes, like bright liquid metal burn into me, and through me.

“Well, when you put it like that…” I finally manage to say and she chuckles.

“Let me lay down.” She murmurs and I stroke the back of her hair.

“You don’t want to try being on top?” I ask her, because it would be really hot to see her ride my dick right now, like she just rode my hand. But she shakes her head.

“No, you be on top again. I still need to get the hang of it before I try.” She tells me and I nod. It warms me, to the fullest point of my being, that she trusts me this way, and I vow not to cheapen that, or take it for granted. I lift her off me easily. She’s still a little thing, even with all the curves she’s gained in the past year. I lay her down on the couch and she opens for me. A shiver runs through me at the sight of her naked and exposed completely to me. I’d like nothing more than to stare at her like this for an hour or two. But the weight of this moment settles around me. The privilege again, along with the responsibility become crystal clear.

Here is the girl I waited for. Here is the girl I wanted above all else, above everyone else. Finally mine. Finally wanting me. For a moment it almost feels like too much. And the emotions that had been masked by nervousness and lust the first time, come out in full force.

She trusts me so much. I think as I stare down at her with what I can only hope is reverence and not an idiotic expression. I take myself in hand and slide along her entrance, hoping to lubricate myself well enough to make sure it's not painful when I enter her. I just want to be worthy of this. I just want it to be good and right.

“Tell me if it hurts at any point.” I say, as I position my tip at her entrance. She nods and smiles up at me. It makes my heart race a little more, and I can feel my good leg shaking a little underneath me. I swallow, past my reservations and push in, little by little.

And oh, fuck, the warmth of her greets me like a dream come to life. Just like before. Except this time there’s no barrier to hamper my progress. I flashed back to this afternoon, when I looked down at the small reddish stain on my sheets. She had been a virgin. Even though all signs had pointed to it, and it had certainly felt like it when we had sex, the spots on my sheets had made it a reality in a way that was impossible to ignore. She had given that to me, in the same way I had given myself to her. All those years, turning down women’s phone numbers and the key card to their hotel rooms. All the waiting. It was worth it. She had been worth it.

Her soft moist heat enveloped me fully as I finally buried myself up to the hilt inside of her. She had her eyes closed in concentration. No doubt trying to adjust to my size. She was very tight. The sensation drove me crazy, but I forced myself to remain still.

“Are you ok?” I ask her after a few seconds and she opens her eyes and sighs. It's such a contented sound, like she feels as complete as I do when we’re joined like this. I have to use all my willpower not to thrust into her on reflex. She smiles at me, and rocks her hips experimentally.

“I’m good.” She tells me and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I start out slow and shallow. She murmurs against my skin as she plants soft kisses on my neck. I have to focus on my breathing and concentration. I feel her muscles relax just slightly and I take it as a sign to increase my pace just a bit. She moans, when I do and bite down on my lip against the wonderful sound. She presses up against me, and I start to pant a little, breaking a sweat now as I try to hold back. She’s not making it easy though. She feels so damn good, so wet and tight and amazing.

I increase my pace gradually, and the depth of my strokes. She starts to respond and when she hooks her legs behind the backs of mine, the real leg and the artificial one, I have to stifle a groan and slow down. She chuckles breathlessly.

“Am I doing it again?” She asks with a devious smile and I glare at her in mock disapproval.

“You know very well you are Katniss. And if you want to come again, I suggest you fucking take it easy, I’m about one more well placed moan from losing it.” I tell her breathlessly and her eyes widen. She’s not used to me getting after her. But I can tell she kind of likes it. Her eyes glitter with a strange kind of appreciation. It makes things worse for me, and I have to shut my eyes.

I decide to take matters literally into my own hands, and I reach down between us to massage her clit. She bucks into me reflexively and apologizes when I throw my head back in mixture of pleasure and pain. I don’t know if I can out last her. But then I feel her gripping me as I continue to rub her clit and she moans quietly against my chest. And the end is sight, I gather all the energy I have left and focus on getting her there.

“You’re so fucking sexy you know that? Do you know how many times I wanted you like this? Naked and wet for me, right on the edge? All those nights on the train Katniss. All those times in the fucking coat closets. In the mornings when I’d wake up with you in my arms. Deep down, I wanted you like this. Moaning for me, saying my name while I gave you my cock. Fuck, you feel so good. I almost can’t take it.” I tell her. I give her these words that belong to her, even in their explicitness. She moans louder underneath me, clenching me hard, so hard. I speed up the circles my hand is making and thrust into her harder, deeper. And I start to feel her fluttering around me.

She cries out, loud and breathless, something wordless but full of pleasure. She continued to come, gasping and writhing underneath me. I buck into her, and feel myself lose it as she pulls me into unmeasured bliss.

“Peeta, oh my...oh!” She exclaims, and I empty myself as her body wrenches the last vestibules of my orgasm from me.

“Katniss,” I breathe as I exhale against her neck. My limbs feel like lead, but I force myself to hold my weight on my forearms long enough to slip out of her and turn on my side to settle next to her. I felt so good. Somewhere in the background the tv droned on about silverware placement. She grasped my hand and smiled.

(Katniss POV)

Afterwards we lay tucked together side by side on his couch, laughing breathlessly in the dark.

“I think I’ve found a new appreciation for Effie’s lectures on decorum.” He says, joy painting his features in the soft glow of the screen lit room.

“They’ll certainly be easier to sit through after this.” I say with a grin so wide my cheeks are starting to hurt. But I can’t help it.

It had been wonderful. I think I actually sighed out loud the moment when he finally joined his body with mine.

He stares at me again, in that silent reverent way that makes me want to fidget. But I make myself stay still under his gaze. I understand the desire to memorize these moments. So I give him the time he needs. I stare back at him, feeling so warm and relaxed for the first time I can remember in I don’t know how long.

“Ready to go to bed now?” He asks with a teasing smirk.

“Actually I was looking forward to the next segment on how to bleach my eyebrows at home.” I reply, deadpan.

“I’ll record it so you can see tomorrow.” He says with a yawn. It must be at least 1 am. I yawn too.

“Alright then, let’s go upstairs.” I say and pull him up beside me. His hand stays in mine all the way up the stairs, through the hall, and when we settle into those soft sheets he still doesn’t let go.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

I wake to the smell of bacon frying. I stretch out and find Peeta gone. But the delicious odor wafting upstairs from the kitchen must mean he is making breakfast. I look over at the window and it’s still early, right before dawn. I don’t rush to get dressed or anything because before I left last night I wrote a note saying I was going hunting early and left it on the kitchen counter for my mother to find. So after languishing for a minute or two I get up because my stomach is grumbling. I don’t feel like scavenging for my clothes downstairs in the living room where I left them, so I just go to Peeta’s dresser and pull out an old worn cotton shirt of his. Its hem falls mid thigh on me, and I tug on some of his boxers so my legs won’t be so cold in the chilly morning air. I brush my teeth quickly, borrowing his tooth brush, knowing he won’t mind.

My feet pad downstairs and am treated to the sight of a shirtless and messy haired Peeta plating up two servings of bacon, eggs on toast, and two big glasses of orange juice. My mouth waters. And not just because of the food. Gosh, he has gotten much more muscular and just all around manly over the past two years. It feels like I blinked and missed the transition. And now that I had cause to look him over, without a shirt, I couldn’t stop noticing these things.

“Looks delicious.” I say scurrying over to the counter to lift a piece of thick cut bacon into my mouth without pretence. He stares at me for a second, and I wonder if I surprised him by showing up quietly. My mother says I sneak up on people. But then I see him looking at the shirt I’m wearing and I blush.

“I borrowed it, sorry, I didn’t want to come down wrapped in a sheet. I think most of my clothes are still in the living room.” I explained quickly.

“Oh, it's no problem. It looks really good on you actually.” He says with a bemused smile.

I pick up a slice of toast that has a fried egg baked right in and take a nibble. I close my eyes and groan in pleasure at the taste of the buttery goodness.

“This is really yummy,” I say as I pull up a stool and start digging into my plate. He sits down on the stool next to mine and takes a sip of his juice.

“I went to the general store yesterday to grab a couple things.” He explains around a bite of bacon. This meal must have cost a pretty penny. But both he and I have more money than we could probably ever spend, so I don’t feel all that guilty.

“Confident you’d be cooking me breakfast today?” I ask, peering at him over my glass as I take a drink. The bright citrus flavor cuts through the other flavors of salt and fats and wakes my tongue up.

“Not at all,” He says with a laugh, “But I like to be prepared in any case.” His voice is quiet but his eyes are on me, drinking in the way I’m hungrily chowing down on my food.

“It’s a good thing you’re the planner then.” I say after I finish my first slice of egg toast.

“And it’s a good thing you’re hungry or else I wouldn’t have gotten to see what your hair looks like at 6am.” He reaches over and tucks a strand behind my ear that keeps falling out of my hopeless braid.
I swallow my bite of bacon and run my hands self consciously over my hair, trying to tame it somewhat. He just shakes his head and removes my hands, holds them in his for a moment, and looks at me adoringly. If I hadn’t already swallowed my food I would have choked. His stare is so intense. Then he just puts the orange juice in my hands and turns back to his plate. I sip my juice quietly, contemplating him.

His face looks well rested, the circles under his eyes at least are much lighter than they were 2 days ago. His shoulders look firm and golden in the sunlight streaming in from the kitchen window. His hair sticks out in messy waves, but retains its burnished gold color in the morning light. His eyes lower to his plate as he eats quietly and his eyelashes do that strange thing they do. I reach out a hand to touch his arm before I can stop myself. He looks up at me quizzically. His lips are slightly greasy from the bacon, but that doesn’t stop me from leaning in and kissing him quickly.

Surprise registers quickly on his face before it's replaced with a sweet smile.

“Thanks, for this,” I say, leaning back into my seat. “For making breakfast.” I clarify in case he doesn’t understand.

“Your welcome,” He answers, “Thanks for staying...for breakfast.” He says raising his glass in a little salute. I raise mine and we both take big gulps before returning to our food.

“Your mother’s ok with you um, having breakfast here?” He says when we finish and start to clear the dishes. I stand at the sink, rinsing the pots and pans.

“I left a note that I was going hunting early. Actually I still need to do that.” I say. But last night instead of wearing my pajamas I put on a regular long sleeve shirt and pants under my hunting coat, so at least I won’t have to go back home to change.

“Oh, well if you need to head out I can take care of the dishes.” he says as he places the dirty plates on the left side of the sink.

“I’ve got time.” I say and begin washing the plates. He got up before the sun to cook an extravagant meal, the least I can do is wash up.

“Mmm.” He hums against my temple before kissing my hairline quickly and beginning to put away the bottle of orange juice and the carton of eggs back in the fridge.

We work quietly and when it's done he helps me hunt for my clothes in the living room. When he finds my underwear stuffed in between the couch cushions he just stops for a moment and gets a far away look in his eye. I realize he’s remembering last night and it makes me blush. I reach up and grab the underwear from his hand and add them to the growing pile of clothes we’d recovered. He shakes his head as if to clear away a daze and then looks over at me.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I liked everything about last night. I hope you did too.” He says matter of factly. My mouth feels dry at this, and I just nod without looking at him. I mean couldn’t he tell after the way I’d reacted to all the things he’d done, that we’d done together? Why did we need to discuss it?

“I’m just trying to expedite this process. If every piece of clothing takes us down memory lane then I won’t be fully dressed until noon.” I tell him exaggeratedly, trying to change the subject.

His arms wrap around my middle unexpectedly, and I look back at him with a start. And I thought I was sneaky.

He nuzzles my neck and I feel the light stubble of his chin graze my shoulder. His shirt is loose enough on me that it's slipped off one of my shoulders crookedly. It’s so strange because I never really see his stubble unless he’s in direct sunlight, but it's there, prickling my skin and driving my senses slightly crazy. I take a deep breath and relax against him, leaning back into his arms.

“I’m very much in favor of you not wearing clothes until noon, actually I think we could extend the timeline-” I reach back and cover his mouth with my hand before he can make any more jokes about being naked. He kisses my hand and I shutter a little. The situation is quickly becoming complicated so I slip out his grasp and move around the back of the couch, pretending to look for a lost sock. Really I’m trying to catch my breath, my heart has started pounding so fast it’s beyond ridiculous.

He just chuckles in that deep, slightly infuriating, slightly intoxicating way he’s been doing for the last few days and I don’t look over the couch until I’m sure my face isn’t even slightly flushed.

When we finally find all the clothes I head to the hall bath to get dressed. He returns upstairs to no doubt get dressed as well. I look at my own face in the mirror after I rebraid my hair into something respectable, and notice that I have lost that pinched anxious expression I’ve been wearing ever since the last victory tour. My dark circles look a shade lighter, and instead of looking pale and slightly haggard I see normal healthy color on my cheeks.

Who knew? I shrug as I head out, intending to look for the hunting bag I dropped on the kitchen floor on my way in last night.

Peeta’s there in the kitchen, pouring something in a thermos as I walk up. As I get closer I recognize the smell of hot chocolate. He holds out the thermos to me, a sweet thoughtful offering to take with me on this chilly morning. And that’s when I know I’m in big trouble.

Because he really is too good, and too considerate, and oh dear, this boy knows too many of my secrets. I wrap my hands around the warm container and blink up at him.

“In case you get thirsty.” Is his only explanation. I blink at him again, fighting the moment. But the breakfast and the hot chocolate, and the cookies from last night, and all the tiny gestures win out and I’m sliding the thermos on the counter and then turning to wrap him up in an unscheduled embrace. Our lips find each other’s and I know he’s already had some of the hot chocolate because I can taste the sweetness on his tongue. He’s pulling me closer to him, his arms wrapping me up in return, and the kisses are warm and sweet and slightly feverish. When his hand dips under the back of my shirt I break away, knowing if I let him start touching me I will not make it to the woods this morning, and then I will have no excuse for being up and out of the house before the sun.

“I really have to hunt,” I say slightly breathless.

“Yeah ok.” He agrees and reluctantly releases me. The effort it takes for him to take a step back makes me smile sympathetically at him. I peck him quickly on the cheek before I stuff the thermos into my bag. I want to savor the chocolate later, and think about everything in the quiet of the meadow.

“Want me to bring you anything in particular?” I ask over my shoulder as I tug on my jacket.

“One of your squirrels.” He answers. I turn around to look at him before I leave and he raises his hand in a small wave.

“I’ll be back later.” I say quickly before I can stop myself. And then I’m out the door, before I can do something stupid like kiss him again.

I shoot one big fat goose, find two rabbits on the snare line, and get two squirrels by 10am. It’s been a productive morning so I head back in the direction of the meadow and stop a little away from the fence to sit and enjoy my hot chocolate. The quiet of the meadow in early winter helps me organize my thoughts.

The biggest hurdle is over. When the Capitol doctor returns I’ll be ready. The rest of the details are going to plan, and if nothing too monumentally bad happens we’ll be out of here before the first real snowstorm. One month and a couple of weeks, that’s all I have left, to say goodbye to my district, to anyone who isn’t coming with us. Such a short time to spend with Peeta, before we have to start over.

Friends

I swirl the word around my mouth, testing it against the taste of the hot chocolate. Friends make each other breakfast, and hot chocolate. Friends make each other cookies and wash dishes together. Do friends stop by after dark to curl up on the couch and watch stupid tv shows together? Do friends kiss and touch each other like we’ve been doing? Do friends make your toes curl and your entire body shake with uncontrollable pleasure?

No. They don’t.

But we have, and the more I think about it the more sure I am that I don’t want it to stop. Not yet, not until it absolutely has to. Because despite the icy tendril of fear trying to snake its way around my heart, I also feel filled to the brim with warmth and peace. Yesterday was like an experiment, I asked myself all day if I felt any different, if I felt somehow wrong. But the wrongness never came, if anything I retained that feather light feeling I experienced the night before until long after the sun went down. Even now I carry it with me. It thrums alongside my heartbeat like a silent song. The feeling is strange and unnamable but pleasant and reassuring. So I finish my hot chocolate in silence, letting the morning wash over me and when I’m done I head back under the fence.

When I start making my way back into town it hits me like a sack of bricks. I have to drop by Hazel’s to bring her and the kids meat. A knot grows in the pit of my stomach. It's weighted down by guilt and magnified by the traitorous feeling burning under my skin. How could I have forgotten about Gale?

Luckily it's a workday and he’s not home. But Hazel opens the door when I knock with her usual tired but cheerful expression. I sit and show her my haul, asking her what she’d like. The whole time I’m trying no to look at the extra pair of workboots lined up beside the door. She takes a while to choose, but eventually settles on half the meat from the goose, and one of the squirrels. I don’t know what makes me do it but I offer both rabbits instead, saying I was planning on saving the squirrels for a stew later. She agrees readily enough, and begins deboning the meat. She offers me tea, but I tell her I’m alright. When we finish I stand up and have to force myself not to dart out of the house like a guilty thief.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by.” She calls over her shoulder as I exit. I cringe, but I’m already outside so she doesn’t see it. I head home, trying to shed the feeling of heaviness with each step.

(Peeta POV) (recommend listening track: In Case you Didn’t Know-Boyce Avenue Cover)

I feel like someone has opened up a cage inside my chest. One that held all my worries about her never seeing me as anything other than an obligation. Those fears fled with the second sunrise we spent together, and have roosted somewhere far away. She had come back last night, and even though I hadn’t made the first move we’d still ended up together on my couch. That was the way I’d told myself it had to be. She had to be the one to initiate things the second time.

I had wanted her so badly, the moment I saw her smiling at the secret images on the cookies during dinner. It felt like a revelation. I thought I knew what it was to hunger for her after three long years of waiting. But all the waiting, all the secret yearning, had been nothing compared to the feeling of sitting there on the couch patiently trying to hold myself back from throwing on my coat and trying to sneak in her window like she snuck in mine. Because like I had told her, after I experienced having her, it had just made me want her so much more than ever before.

When I saw her standing there in the doorway of my living room I had thought I had conjured her image out of sheer desperation. But no, she was real when she sat down beside me. She had been so quiet, just watching the idiotic show I had picked, I thought for a moment that she would be content to just snuggle up on the couch like we did in her bed on those nights on the train or in the training center. But after we had been together, really been together, I didn’t want to snuggle. At least not until after. And when she had touched my thigh shyly, I hadn’t been able to pull her on top of my lap fast enough.

We laughed afterwards, like a couple of normal kids sharing a secret. She had seemed so young then, with her hair falling out of her braid and her skin glowing in the light of the television. I hadn’t been able to stop staring at her, even though I’ve seen all of her on more than one occasion now. But afterwards I never felt the sense of boredom or indifference that my brother Dill had assured me came after sleeping with a girl more than once.

In fact, it was the opposite. I felt a fathomless desire, to be the only one she wants like that, the only one she needs, to be the one she makes love to until she’s grey and old and can’t string a bow anymore. And I had felt my heart contract as I stared at her lying on my couch, cheeks still rosey from fusing our bodies together so eagerly. That was the other thing. Being with her like that, the actual act, was so intense and addicting that I could feel it even now, the craving for her skin, for the way she made me feel. And for the way she looked when I did something she liked. Her pleasure was something I craved as deeply as my own, and I found myself drawing out the love making to try things I thought would gratify her body.

She on her part was so unexpectedly responsive I had a great time trying to hamper my own reactions at seeing her enjoying the things we did together. It might have been a little selfish on my part, because in the back of my mind I had this idea that if I could make it good, really good then she would keep strolling over to my house after dark. And I just wanted this chance, this time to know her this way. To have her finally let me in and let me see who she was behind the walls and the defenses she built to keep everyone out. I also was really enjoying the sex.

I didn’t know if it was like this for every couple. From the things my brothers and even my friends said, I surmised every girl was different. Some girls were more compatible and responsive in that certain way, and others were not. Some of my friends and even my middle brother seemed to delight in trying to decide which were which. Who would be shy in bed versus who would be wild. As for me, well things felt so perfect with Katniss, she was such a perfect mix of the two, that I knew that if she decided she wanted this forever I’d be content with only experiencing her. I think I had known this, or at least suspected it for years. She had been the only one for me for so long, it really wasn’t a surprise. But now I know for sure.

It’s a freeing feeling. It feels light and easy, like contentment.

I think about all these things as I work on the sunrise painting. The one after our first night together. It was almost finished. It had taken most of the day, but she had said she’d be back later and I wanted to try and finish before she returned. I wanted her to see it. It was part of my subtle strategy that so far seemed to be going well. This morning after I handed her the hot chocolate I had made for her to take on her hunt, she kissed me like she was considering staying. That had been a marvelous possibility.

I’m finishing the last of the highlights when I hear my back door open from downstairs. I dry my hands off with a spare towel and remove my smock to hang it on a hook. When I get down stairs she’s there in the kitchen looking strong and lean and beautiful in her hunting jacket as she slides off her game bag and places it on the counter.
I smile at her and she returns it shyly. The simple cute gesture makes me want to grab a hold of her and kiss her. But I know she’s more reserved than me, at least until our clothes start coming off. So I just sidle up to her and pretend to be interested in her haul. Really I’m secretly studying the curve of her cheeks and the span of the small smile she’s wearing as she tells me about her hunt.

“Two squirrels? And half a goose? Inviting yourself to dinner again? I say teasingly as I brush my hand over her waist. She blushes, and I feel my pulse pound a little unevenly.

“Well I dropped home before I came over and my mother was out. She left a note saying she and Prim went to see a patient in town who was bed ridden, and they wouldn’t be back in time for dinner. I could go home and reheat some quail from yesterday or….”

“Stay.” I tell her sternly. “And I’ll make us something good.” I promise.

“Okay.” She agrees, her smile becoming a real grin.

I decided to get busy heating a skillet with oil so I can fry up the squirrels. She settles down at the counter and starts working on deboning the meat. We work together quietly, in an effortless rhythm to prepare the meal. I mix up a special batter my father invented for frying squirrel meat. She decides she wants split peas and potatoes baked whole in the oven for sides and I agree. She stirs a pitcher of lemonade and asks me how much it cost me to get them at the general store since they’re not in season.

“Oh, it wasn’t a bargain by any means. But I just couldn’t resist.” I tell her with amusement.

“If they were so expensive, why did you buy them?” She asks.

“They reminded me of your shampoo.” I tell her honestly, with a small self deprecating laugh. “I guess I was feeling nostalgic.”

“It hadn’t even been 24 hours.”

“Like I told you in the cave. You leave a lasting impression.” I tell her as I finish placing the last piece of fried squirrel on a draining rack lined with paper napkins.

“Well you’re not exactly forgettable either.” She says under her breath as she moves behind me to start plating the vegetables now that the meat is done.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise but I know she can’t see me. This comment is very encouraging.

We grab out plates and head to the small kitchen table. I raise my glass to her in a salute.

“Here’s to making memories together that last.” I tell her and she gets this look like I’ve just embarrassed her to no end. But I don’t let it bother me too much. She’s here, she’s with me, and maybe if everything goes to plan she might stay.

“You know, I used to think that beguiling charm was something you put on for the cameras in the Capitol. But over the years I’ve discovered it's just you, how you really are.” She tells me with a wide eyed disbelieving look.

“And I used to think that the solitary, girl against the world act you put on was for show. But you’ve got it in spades. Luckily for me you’ve got a weak spot for hot chocolate and fried squirrels.” I tell her with mock seriousness.

“Is that why you think I’m hanging around?” She says playfully, with a tilt of her head.

“Definitely.” I say, as I nod like it’s a foregone conclusion.

“You’re right there’s no question. I’m after your battered fried squirrel recipe Peeta Mellark, and as soon as I get what I want you’ll never see me again.” She says with a fake flutter of her eyelashes. I feel my heartbeat unsteadily, but I keep my outward composure.

“Then I guess I’ll have to guard the secret recipe forever, so you’ll never get away.” I whisper conspiratorially.

“There you go again.” She says, throwing her hands up in phoney exasperation.

“I thought you found me charming.” I tease her in a hurt voice.

“Did I say charming? I think I was confused. The word I’m looking for is...annoying.” She says as she leans across closer to me.

I put my hand across my chest, pretending to be wounded by her words. And she just reaches across my plate and steals one of my fried squirrel pieces.

“Hey!” I tell her in mock outrage. And then she does something I’d never think she’d do in a million years. She giggles.

It's quick, and it’s not like a full on little girl laugh. It's only really two high notes strung together, but there’s enough amusement and joy in the action that I find myself staring at her in amazement.

She sees me looking, and she looks away. She’s blushing, from embarrassment or maybe just because we’re having such a good time. But I suddenly want to show her what I’ve been working on all day. I reach over and take her hand.

“Come on, I finished something today that I want you to see.” I say tugging her up.

“Uhhh,” She says in surprise. But I just pulled her upstairs behind me. I have to beckon her with a tilt of my head when she pauses outside the door of my bedroom. I smile though, at what she was probably thinking.

I take her to my painting room and pull her over to the easel.

“Oh.” She says softly as she walks towards the painting, her hand outstretched.

“Careful, it's not dry yet.” I tell her gently.

“Peeta this is…” She trails off, her voice soft and almost reverent in the quiet of my makeshift studio.

“Yeah.” I’m glad I don’t have to explain it for some reason. I hoped it would be like the cookies, and when she saw it she would just know. I can see in the way her eyes are roaming over the colors and the landscape that she knows exactly what it is.

“You know, I think this is the first painting you’ve done that doesn’t make me want to cringe.” She says as she follows the lines of the trees and the mountains with her eyes.

“I know you hate it when I paint the games.” I say in a low voice.

“Yes, but you’re so talented, you’ve only gotten better in the past three years.” She says in a hushed voice without taking her eyes off the painting. I feel oddly proud that she can’t stop looking at it. It’s like me when I stare at her.

“Well, I painted it for you, as a gift. Once it dries, you can take it with you if you like.” I say, hopeful she’ll want to hang it somewhere in her house. Maybe in her room. And whenever she looks at it, it can remind her of us.

“Okay.” She says softly, and finally turns to face me. And I see it, the desire that mirrors mine in her eyes. I hold out a hand to her and she closes the distance between us in three quick steps.

She lays her head on my collar bone, and traces spirals over my chest. Just like in the coat closet at the celebration feast. I remember her dress from that night, the way she looked in it when she walked, when she danced. I remember being so proud to have her on my arm, even if it wasn’t real. She looked so absolutely gorgeous, I had thought I would never see anything more beautiful ever again. But then I saw her in the moonlight in my bedroom and the soft glow of the candle on my dresser without makeup or diamonds, and I realized I had been wrong. And I wish I could tell her how beautiful she really is, how much she drives me crazy with just a look. But I know too many words make her uncomfortable. So I just start tracing a line down her jaw with my lips, to her neck and her collarbone and her shoulders. She shivers under me, and when I use my tongue to follow the curve of her throat she whispers that we should go back to my room. I just chuckle as she leads me down the hall.

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“Peeta, where did you get these sheets?” She asks me as she lies languidly on her stomach after we tire ourselves out from making impromptu love on my bed.

“Oh, on one of our trips to the Capitol. I can’t remember which one.” I say absentmindedly. I feel so good, so satisfied that my mind can’t focus on anything more immediate than the feel of her warm body next to mine, and the smell of her delicious shampoo perfuming the air.

It's barely 7 in the evening but I feel like falling into a deep sleep, it's so peaceful being in here with her.

“Why?” I ask her, not wanting her to think I’m tired of talking to her.

“They’re nice, that's all.” She says and then she flips over on her back and turns to stare up at the ceiling. I shift my arm so she can rest her head on my bicep and she snuggles a little closer to me.

“I can order you some if you want.”

“Oh no, if you do that then I’ll have to sleep in my own bed more often, just to justify the expense. I bet they’re ridiculously overpriced.”

“Oh, well that’s definitely out then. I want you here with me for as many nights as I can get.” I tell her as I nuzzle my cheek against her delicate neck, breathing in her light warm scent.

“I like being here.” She says softly, so quietly that I almost don’t hear her. My breath catches at this statement, this secret. And before she can say something to try and take it back I capture her mouth in a slow burning kiss. And it's funny because we just finished making love, but I’m almost ready for her again, that’s how much I want her. But I keep my body angled away from her, not wanting to pressure her. It’s more of a reaction to being close to her, and hearing her actually admit that she’s enjoying this almost as much as I am. But then she’s running her hands down my chest, and exploring with those nimble fingers of hers and I can’t hide how much I want her again. She whispers something against my neck and I nod.

Oh, yes I’ve been waiting for this.

She perches halfway on my chest, light and graceful as she kisses down my stomach and I feel myself shudder at her intoxicating touch. I get harder the lower her mouth travels over my skin and body. She pumps me a few times in her hand and, oh, it's great. I’ve come to love the feeling of her small hand trying to wrap itself around me when I’m aroused for her. She looks at me with a wicked smirk as she strokes along my length, causing me to moan quietly. Then she lifts herself up and over me, looking a little nervous, but I just help brace her with my hands so she doesn’t lose her balance.

When she settles over my thighs and sinks down onto me it’s the best feeling in the world at that moment. And then she’s moving and my body relishes the rhythm she sets, the way she tilts her hips and the breathless sounds she makes in her throat. I didn’t know how exactly it would go with her being on top, but it's even better than I imagined. I can’t tear my eyes away from the image of her, breasts swaying gently, hair loose and tumbling over her bare shoulders, and her finding her own way to pleasure with my body as her instrument. I have to force my eyes closed, so I don’t finish before she does. But the way she’s moving against me feels so amazing, I have to resort to biting down on my bottom lip to not give into the desire.

“You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” I tell her sincerely as she moves over me, picking up pace and driving me crazy with intensified pleasure. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted this much...I want you so much Katniss, it's crazy.” I whisper and her grey eyes flash hotly at me as she stares down into my face. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s a look in her eyes that’s so intense I can feel it pulling at me from the deepest part of my being. She swivels her hips, then grinds down into me and the move makes me groan and simultaneously lose focus and all sense of self for a bit. I pant, trying to keep my composure.

Shit. How can she be so sexy? We’ve only done this a few times and already she’s doing things that make me forget my own name for a second. It’s unbelievable how good she feels, how right it already feels to do all these things with her. Thankfully, not long after, she’s gasping and trembling above me, sputtering my name as she rides out her orgasm and I know I can let go and follow her. I’m so grateful that she comes quickly, I would not have lasted long in that position. So I make a mental note for next time to only try that after I’ve gotten her off at least once. She has a bit of trouble lifting herself off, complains of her legs feeling like jelly, and I just laugh lightly as I help her up. Her hand brushes my cheek affectionately as she lowers herself to the mattress in a tired fashion. We lay lethargically beside each other, dozing lightly, wrapped up together like pieces of a puzzle put into place. But as the sunlight fades completely she begins to stir.

“What time is it?” She asks, sitting up. I don’t want to answer because I’m afraid she’ll say she has to leave.

“Maybe half past eight, I’m not sure.” I tell her as I move to lay on my side so I can look at her.

“I’m really late. I need to get going.” She says as she gets up and starts getting dressed.

“Oh.” I say and try to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

“It was great Peeta, dinner, the painting, everything.” She tells me with a glance over her shoulder.

“Well if you get a craving for fried squirrel you know where to find me.” I tell her, making an attempt at lightness when I suddenly feel downcast at the thought of spending the night without her sleeping next to me.

“Yes, I do.” She says in a low voice, and before she leaves she adds, “And I’ll be back for my painting tomorrow.” I smile up at the ceiling, feeling much better.

Chapter Text

(Peeta POV)

There's this delicious feeling wrapped around me in my dreams. Warm and soft and enveloping. And it's so different from the usual cold dread I am familiar with and have come to expect when I'm falling asleep or just waking up. It's been so long since I can remember having a good night's sleep I think I've almost forgotten what it's like to go to sleep unafraid. My mind is puzzled at this new development and I think I quietly wonder what the reason is before I feel the sensation shift, and the warmth begins to recede from me.

No! I think in panic. Don't leave!

My arms reach out in their sleep automatically trying to trap the warmth with my bare hands.

"I just need to use the bathroom." I hear a voice say after calling my name.

"Huh?" Is my sleepy response. I blink and when my vision focuses I am surprised to see a pair of grey eyes staring back at me.

"Bathroom. Like right now please." Is the annoyed response I get and I let go as fast as I can.

My awareness is starting to come back, as the figure, a girl, a woman, glides from under the covers and scampers quietly to my bathroom and closes the door.

My mouth feels dry, and not just from sleep. She had been completely naked.

I close my eyes and just think about this for a moment. The impossibility of it, the improbability too. Sometimes when I first woke up I forgot it was real, and for a moment it was almost like waking up and finding a stranger in my bed. A warm beautiful stranger, but still a surprise nonetheless.

But no, she was here again. For the fourth time this week. Or was it the fifth?

There's the sound of movement in the bathroom and I hear the shower start to run. I understood the impulse. I had in a moment of distraction turned the heat way up inside the house so it would be nice and warm when she came over. But it had backfired, when our clothes came off. There was something on the fritz with the furnace, it had just kept getting hotter and hotter until we ended up a pile of slick sweaty limbs with plastered hair against damp foreheads.

She had demanded I turn the damn furnace off, and we'd gone to sleep naked and sweaty under the sheets.

But it had been a happy kind of naked and sweaty, nonetheless.

I still couldn't believe it. This was what she wanted. This was what she chose. To spend the night with me not once, but now it seemed that despite whatever she said that first morning after, it was becoming something of a routine.

I left my kitchen door unlocked. She walked over after everyone had gone to sleep.

We curled up on the couch or she perched on the kitchen counter while I whipped up midnight snacks for us. And we'd talk, about anything, about nothing, about everything. And then she'd get this look in her eye that said she was done talking… and sometimes we'd make it to my bed. And sometimes we wouldn't.

But always, always we'd end up together in that new and fierce and all consuming way we'd never been together before. It was new to both of us, that much I was sure of. I could just feel it in the way things progressed. Once we got past the basics, well it had been interesting, endearing, and oh so fucking hot to try new things with her.

And she liked trying things, surprisingly. It was like once she got a taste of what was on offer she couldn't get enough. Sometimes we'd stop and start all night. Sometimes after one time we'd just pass out in a coma of bliss and wouldn't wake up until the sun was blaring in from the windows. It didn't matter to me how many times she wanted me on any given day. I was just happy, no I was ecstatic, that she wanted me.

Maybe it was a little pathetic. Maybe I was fooling myself. (That thought hurt me to admit even just inside my head) But I remembered the way she'd held my hand in the moonlight that first night. Like a wish, almost like a prayer….

All the words she'd finally given me. Answers to questions I'd never asked out loud when I'd find her eyes lingering on my skin in the morning on the train. Or when I'd break a kiss we were performing for the cameras and she couldn't stop herself from grabbing onto the back of my shirt like she didn't want to let go.

Small things...sporadic and rare...but they had happened over the years…..

And I'd realized I could have had a shot this whole time. Maybe for years if I believed the story. All the things she confessed she liked, that she wanted. My hands, my eyes, my shoulders, my lips...well if they had lodged in her brain so long that she had literally built a fortress around herself to keep them a secret then they meant something. Really meant something.

And Gale, he had proclaimed to everyone and Kaniss herself he was moving on the night of the celebration feast. That had been such a shock, but also if I was honest with myself, a blessing.

It freed Katniss and me up to...well to explore things together without having to worry about stepping on other people's toes.

So, when she'd climbed in my window that night, and confessed she wanted me I'd thought maybe….maybe this was my one and only chance at convincing her we could have something real. There were so many things we already were to each other, friends, allies, neighbors, co-stars, grief counselors, etc. Why not real lovers?

Why not? If she had told me that night she didn't love me and never could I would have told her to go home. That we'd figure something out when the Capitol doctor came back.

But she had said she always tried not to.

The same way I'd been trying for years to keep things platonic between us.

So maybe these things that we'd both been working so hard to keep from happening were….

Inevitable?

Unavoidable?

Undeniable.

Maybe instead of fighting it we should have been savoring it all along.

Because we had slipped so easily into it. It felt so natural. Sometimes I felt like I knew her body better than she did. And the reverse seemed true for me. The things she made me feel... in my flesh, my mind and my soul all at once were astounding. I felt like a different person on many levels. And I knew it wasn't just because I'd finally lost my virginity.

No, it was more than that. It was giving myself the chance to step out of that relegated role I'd been playing for so long that had never really fit.

The tragic unrequited lover.

The platonic best friend.

Because even if she didn't fall in love with me when this was all over...at least I'd know that somehow on some level I'd been wanted and desired by the girl I'd also wanted and desired for so long.

That alone almost made up for so much of the time I had wasted.

Did I want more? Of course. Now that I'd known what it was like, the absolute unbelievable joy and satisfaction there was to be found in being together with her and not just sexually, but together intimately...in a way that brought our deeper selves close, I knew I'd never want anything else.

So I tried to take Haymitch's advice to heart. I tried to build it up, subtly, this thing that was growing between us. Because if I could get her to see just how undeniable it was, just how incredible, then maybe...just maybe...she'd ask me to stay.

So I get up from the bed and pull the sweat soaked sheets off. Toss them down in a crumpled heap in the corner. Then I pull out fresh ones and slap them onto the bed corners as quickly as I can. And when that's done, I head for the bathroom.

"Mind if I come in?" I ask as I creak open the door.

It's steamy and humid in the bathroom, but the shower is still going.

"Peeta, it's your house. And your bathroom." She tells me in a voice I know is being paired with a spectacular eye-roll even though I can't see her through the steamy glass of the shower.

Well, I can't see her clearly. At least not entirely

There is of course the slightly blurry outline of her body visible as she stands in the middle of the shower

"Well right now it's your shower, and I don't want to intrude if you'd rather be alone. But I was hoping to wash off some of the sweat from earlier." I tell her, going for brevity and chivalry in the same stroke.

"I think I'd prefer that." She says lightly and I chuckle. Then I open the door to the shower and slip in. The sight that greets me is so pleasurable.

Warm golden skin covered in beads of water, long dark wet hair plastered against a smooth back, slick and wet curves that make my heart start racing. I find the image intoxicating and very very worthy of being burned into my brain for all of time. She's just standing there under the spray with her eyes closed as she rinses the shampoo out of her hair.

"I also changed the sheets." I tell her quietly and she opens her eyes to peer at me.

Tiny raindrops on dark eyelashes that frame otherworldly grey eyes. I guess I know what my next painting will be…

"Oh that's fantastic." She says with a relieved sigh, and then takes a small step to the side to offer me some room so we can share the stream of water coming from the showerhead. I try to watch my footing on the slippery tiles. It's always a bit tricky to keep my balance in the shower since I could only sense the traction and stability of my steps with my one good leg.

But she had never said anything about it. And in all the years of sleeping side by side on the train she had never shied away from me when I removed my prosthetic to sleep at night. Recently I had taken to keeping it on until I was absolutely sure we were done for the night. But in the mornings, sometimes she'd want to do things...even before I had time to put it back on.

I guess we had an advantage in that, since we'd been friends for so long at first, we knew most of each other's secrets and frailties. But now I was more aware of the disability...sometimes it made some of the things we wanted to try a little precarious.

But if we lost our balance, or if we fell down, or had to change our initial plans because the leg made it difficult, she'd just switch gears. She'd chuckle good naturedly and suggest the couch, or a different position. And I felt only a slight flash of embarrassment, because then she'd start kissing me again making me forget about everything except just being with her.

It was wonderful. She was wonderful.

I was so happy sometimes I thought I would burst. Like right now. Her being here in my shower felt incredible but also a little uncanny. Some of the things that had been happening lately felt like old teenage fantasies coming back to life.

How many times on the train had I been forced to relieve some tension in my private bathroom when even the coldest showers weren't helping me anymore after sleeping with her in her bed? How many times had I envisioned her, naked with me under the water.

And now she was.

And it was surreal.

I let the water wash over me and I thought back to all the previous incarnations of my past self over the years.

Desperate tribute. Love sick co-star. Rejected victor. Determined friend. Loyal ally.

All of those moments seemed to coalesce into this one. As if someone was distilling me down to my essence and giving me the chance to leave behind those characters and finally be myself. I smile, and reach for the soap but her quick hand darts out and snags it before I can.

She grabs the sponge that sat next to the soap and begins to work a lather in her hands. She looks over at me. Curiosity and a gentle expression in her face. I smile over at her. Not in a hurry to take my turn with the soap. I could watch her lather, rinse and repeat all day if necessary.

But then instead of using the sponge on herself she steps forward and glides it across my shoulders. I can feel my left eyebrow quirk up in surprise. She blushes and looks down.

Oh...how I loved this girl and her blushes...after everything that had happened between us she still got shy sometimes about the simplest things. I smiled down at her and let my eyes express my intense gratitude and appreciation.

She looks up, sees my expression and rolls her eyes. That only made my smile bigger.

Her hands made a slow soapy progression across my skin and I closed my eyes just relishing the heavenly feeling of it. The texture of her fingers as they moved across my skin, the way she washed me, it felt different, very different from the way I normally showered. And well, she was naked, and so was I...and she was touching me all over…

By the time she got down to my waist I was more than a little enthused. Okay, fine, I was so hard I was probably cutting off circulation to other major organs...my brain probably being one. And of course she noticed. It was impossible not to. She looked up at me and I just gave her a helpless shrug.

She smirked in an amused way and reached down with the sponge and her other hand to wash me...a particular part of me that had been dying to feel her touch for a few minutes now.

Between the feeling of her hand wrapped around me, and the soapy bubbles, and the water and all the nakedness I was definitely enjoying it all. So when I reached down and put my arms around her to drag her closer, it was like...an open ended question that was finally being answered.

And she tilted her mouth up to kiss me. And I captured her against my lips as I let my hands touch her everywhere, absolutely everywhere I had always wanted. The drenched kisses burned through me until I was sure I was providing more steam than the shower and then I was backing her against the shower wall, and fitting my body to hers. She moaned a little, just a soft sound really but still it sent a spike of electricity through me. She panted, as she broke the kiss and whispered in my ear.

"Can you lift me?" She asked and I knew what she wanted. It might be a little risky, here in the shower...but life was about taking chances and this was definitely something I wanted to do.

"Yeah, wrap your legs around me on three." I whisper back to her and she nods. I count to three and lift her up, at just the right height, and she wraps her legs around me before I lower her, letting her sink down onto my lap. And it feels amazing. Just like every time before.

But it's also tricky, to keep both of us balanced this way. So I tell her to let me do most of the maneuvering, since I will be able to more accurately control and predict the traction I'll need to maintain. She nods, and a breathless little noise escapes her throat as I move against her. It makes me want to go faster, harder, but I try to tramp down on these urges. We've only been doing this kind of thing for a short time, and I've heard stories about girls getting sore if the guy isn't careful. So I opt for deep, slow strokes and she tilts her head back in an expression that's wrapped up in pleasurable sensations.

I memorize it in minute detail as I both simultaneously take and give pleasure to her. I close my eyes and concentrate on the tension I feel building in her, on the way her muscles respond to me. It's a torturously rapturous feeling, when she climaxes around me. Sharp and vivid and encompassing. I wait until she is almost...almost done...and then I allow myself to break free.

She clenches around me again, not quite as hard as before, but hard enough for her to gasp and say my name. That sends me into overdrive and I can't help it...I pound into her for the last few strokes. She bites down on my shoulder and I curse.

And then she's looking up at me in that slightly bewildered, slightly awestruck way since the first time I made her come with my mouth. I smile down at her as I catch my breath.

"Well, that was nice." She says after a beat. I laugh.

"Best shower of my life." I tell her honesty, and she practically chortles. Then I move to let myself slip out of her body, and I'm lowering her carefully down so her feet can reach the slippery tiled floor.

"Would you mind if I borrowed a shirt of yours?" She murmurs as we exit the shower and start to towel off.

"Darling, take whatever you want. My clothes, my food, my….everything." I tell her with a sweep of my arm to indicate the whole house. And I meant it. Whatever I had to give she could have. House, bed, heart. All of it belonged to her deep down. Just like me.

She looks a little startled at this and I remind myself that Haymitch had advised subtlety.

"But for tonight, how about starting with one of my shirts and a turkey sandwich?" I offer instead something smaller that I hope will put her at ease.

She relaxes, visibly and nods her head.

"That sounds perfect." She tells me, and I smile.

Subtle, it seems, is working out very well.

(Katniss POV)

The next few days slip by, filled with snapshots of uncommon contentment. I don't see Peeta overly much, because he still puts in work at the bakery and I still have to hunt, trade at the Hob, and go home for appearances sake, but we find as much spare time as we can. He keeps adding little touches to the painting he's making me, insisting it isn't quite perfect yet, even though it looks so real and detailed by now that it's almost photograph quality. I think it's just an excuse to keep me coming over.

When my mother asks why I'm dropping by Peeta's house for the fourth time that week, I tell her he's painting something for me. She eyes me knowingly, and says "Must be some painting." Before turning around to finish chopping the carrots for dinner. I have almost gotten used to her new humor, the pointed looks, but this comment has me running for the cover of my bedroom from embarrassment.

On Friday the Capitol specialist shows up again, to examine me with icy fingers and an indifferent gaze. She stays for only half an hour, but after she completes her examination she nods at me.

"Everything satisfactory?" I ask her innocently.

"Yes, I believe you've made sufficient progress. Nothing to do now but wait. You'll have another check up in 1 month. I'll be leaving you a prescription of prenatal vitamins and my office extension. Give us a call if you miss a period." And with that she whisks her bag and Peacekeepers out of my house and I sigh in relief.

Saturday brings more relief when I start my period. Even though I have enough products, I still walk over to my mother's room in the morning and ask to borrow some. The look of relief on her face makes me walk lightly all day.

Sunday is infinitely harder. Gale is his usual quiet, stoic self but he's also making efforts to put me at ease. He's cautious, gentle, and considerate. And it makes me feel traitorous. On the way home I can't shake the uneasy feeling that I am sneaking around behind his back even though we're not really together. But I know if there was no Peeta, no Reaping, no demands from the Capitol, Gale would expect us to be together. And when I ask myself what I would do, in that scenario I can't find an answer.

Would Gale and I have become lovers under different circumstances? I used to think something like that was impossible for someone like me. And yet, because of a different set of circumstances, I had found myself proven wrong. I asked myself if it was all down to timing, or unforeseeable directions my life had taken, to take Peeta as my lover, and not Gale. Was it a twist of fate, like his name being drawn on the same day as my sister's? Or would he have walked up to me one day and charmed his way into my life?

The second scenario seems unlikely. Three years ago I had no use for friends, besides Gale and Madge, and certainly no use for town boys with impossible crushes. But things have changed so much since then. And now Peeta is such an essential part of my life, I couldn't imagine him not being around. Even before all the new stuff, I recognized how necessary he was. But just because I need him around, does that mean I should give into this new attachment that seems to be forming between us?

I hadn't really planned on making it a routine, going over to his house nightly. But it happened so fast. One day we were friends, barely on speaking terms with each other, the next I was closer to him than I'd ever been with anyone before. The thought was still a little terrifying. What was more terrifying was the fact that most days the fear didn't make me hesitate to fall into his arms. We've been together now, so many times. Yet, each time he reaches out to touch me, to kiss me I feel myself filled with an enthusiasm that overrides the fear. It feels so very good to be with him in that way. I wonder if the feeling I have when we're together is what happens to everyone? Is this what drives people a little insane, makes them forget about the dangers of the Reaping, life working in the mines, and the struggle of child birth in a district with little to no medical assistance?

I had never understood it before. That pull to tie yourself to someone without any guarantee of tomorrow. Life in the districts was hard enough just surviving, much less putting all your hopes and dreams into a relationship that might not last the decade. Look at what happened to my mother. Look at what happened to Gale's family. Peeta and I were neither safe nor free to take these kinds of chances with our emotions. But something had grown out of the first night we spent together. Something small and unnameable. It had taken up residence in the back of my thoughts. I hadn't known what to call it until I laid awake in bed that night, in my own home instead of sneaking out to him. My mother had been right after all. And I knew as I stared at his lighted window, the sign of him waiting for someone who wasn't coming, that things had in fact changed.

That small, unnameable thing was actually something dangerous, and forbidden. Something I couldn't afford to give in to until we were safe, until we were free, if ever. It was a feeling I hadn't felt in so long.

Hope.

(Peeta POV)

I woke up groggy, and feeling worse than I had in the past seven days. She hadn't come by last night, or all that day. I knew why. Yesterday was Sunday. I had been dreading the day's appearance all week long.. The day she reserved for hunting with him. As much as I wished and hoped and prayed to anyone who was listening, I knew it would be too much to ask for her to just forget about him. Last night fears had run through my mind. Images, conjured up out of waking nightmares. Them in the woods, kissing, touching, doing things only we were supposed to do. Her, saying his name in the same way she said mine. Him, pleasing her, making her forget about me. It felt like being put through the ringer. Fighting Cato had been easier in comparison. At least when I dreamed about the Games, and losing her, they were normal dreams, familiar. These dreams were just as dark, only this time she didn't die in my arms. Instead she jumped happily into someone else's. I don't know what the hell happened. I mean Gale was seeing that other girl, or maybe other girls in general right? Or had I misread what happened at the celebration feast? Had his dancing with the other girl been a knee-jerk reaction to him seeing Katniss and I together acting cozier than usual? I mean I had pulled out all the stops that night to throw Snow off our trail. Uhhh, I just didn't know. I felt sick, and exhausted. When she hadn't shown up by lunch I could barely mix the dough I had tried making correctly.

I knew I was worrying myself to death, but I couldn't stop. I decided to just bite the bullet and head over to her house myself.

Her mother said she was in her room, and when I asked her to let her know I was here, she just waved me upstairs. I didn't know what to make of that but I went up anyway. I found her, perched on her bathroom sink, knees drawn up around her as she stared into space. The image disturbed me, it was so close to the nearly catatonic state I had found her in after we lost Maisy Evans, and Leed Turner, the two tributes from our first year as mentors. Leed had been 14, but little Maisy had only been 12. Katniss still couldn't stand to talk about them, or even hear their names even after two years.

Just as I was gearing up to go into caretaker mode, she looked up at me and blinked. Then the cloudiness was cleared, and she just looked a little tired and a little sad.

"I was getting a little worried about you. Thought maybe you'd fallen down an old mine shaft or something, out in the woods." I say as an opening.

"Nope, just taking some time for myself." She replies, looking away from me.

"I didn't know you were feeling smothered." I know I'm jumping to conclusions, but it grates on me that after how good everything was going she decided to go back to hiding and running away from me.

"I wasn't. I'm not, I just...I don't know." She sputters, and then gives up.

I knew. She was feeling guilty, it was plain on her face. She felt at fault for what had happened between us this last week, because she had seen him yesterday.

"You could have called or left a note. I waited up." I tell her, trying not to sound pathetic and failing.

"I know, I'm sorry." She doesn't sound sorry, she sounds annoyed. Which makes me feel like a complete idiot and a lot of other things besides.

"You seemed fine on Saturday, better than fine. So I can only assume whatever brought on this change in feelings happened on Sunday. Which doesn't make much sense to me, because I thought you said this was nobody's business but ours."

"It isn't."

"Then what's the problem Katniss?" I ask in a frustrated tone. I don't want to make this about Gale. I just want her to be honest with me.

"The problem is there's a lot happening really fast."

"We talked about this, before anything even happened. You said you wouldn't try to run away. But here I find you holed up in your house, avoiding me."

"I just needed some time to think."

"Well, I had a lot of time to think. All day Sunday, and all night. This morning too."

"And what did you decide?"

"That I miss you, more than I can put into words. But even so, if you don't want to keep spending time together just tell me now, before we go any further." I give in and just put it all out there. If she's going to ice me out, then she'll have to do it knowing exactly how I feel.

She closes her eyes against my statement, as if it's a physical blow she doesn't want to see coming.

"Did you come to any conclusions?" I ask, after what seems like quite a long while waiting for her answer in silence. I'm just wanting to get it over with. Maybe she's decided it was all a mistake. If that's the case I'd rather face it quickly, than give myself anymore time to agonize.

"You were right, and things have changed. For better or worse I don't know yet. All I know is, I feel like a cheat and a liar even though I never made promises to either of you, beyond loyalty or friendship. And the things that have been going on aren't very wise, Peeta."

I sigh, and lean against the opposite side of the counter, thinking for a moment. She had said she had always guarded herself against attachments the night she climbed in my window. I hadn't believed her at first, thinking that her and Gale had most likely had an understanding before we got Reaped. But then the more she talked the more I got a view into just how shut off and unapproachable she really was. It all stemmed from fear. Fear of the reaping, the Capitol, the death of her father. Now she was tangled back up in that web. The pinched anxious look was back in her face, her shoulders slumped inwards, trying to protect against things that couldn't be prevented.

Because no one had any guarantees against those kinds of fears. Even without the threat of the Capitol, life was unpredictable, uncontrollable. But after so much loss maybe it was too much to expect her to just be able to shut out all her fears after one week of bliss.

"Well, sometimes in life you have to take chances in order to take control of your own destiny. You're a survivor, you know how to make the best out of tough situations. Maybe we don't have all the options we'd like, but we make do with what we have and what we do have is this." I use my index finger to connect an imaginary line between us. Because there is something between us she can't deny, even if its just how good we are together, as friends, as teammates, and now even as lovers.

"Peeta, I don't even know what 'this,'" She draws the line back for me "is. It's getting hard to define."

"So don't. We're both still figuring things out. Let's not put a label on anything right now. We're still a month out from the wedding, and maybe we shouldn't make any decisions until afterwards." I say hoping this won't come back to bite me. But I don't know how else to preserve what I've been trying to cultivate between us. If it were up to me I'd shout it in the town square that we were finally and truly together, that she wanted me for once. But she's such a private person, maybe she just needs time to get used to the idea of being in a relationship.

She mulls this over for a minute.

"Okay. That sounds...feasible." Then her shoulders relax a little. But the next second she's frowning and I feel my relief evaporate.

"What about…" She asks with her face scrunched up in anxiety. I know what she means, or rather, who she means.

"It's your decision to tell him or not. Only you know how he'll react, or if he'll even understand." I tell her. Because he's her friend, and she really should be the one to tell him in her own time. I have no doubt he'll be less than pleased. Hell, he might even try to kick my ass. But I'd have to cross that bridge when we came to it.

"Alright." Her voice is softly sullen.

"Okay." I tell her, and then I turn around to leave, thinking maybe she needs some time to think of what she'll say to him. But I feel her slim arms wrap around my waist, and I freeze.

Her arms hold me lightly, her forehead pressed between my shoulder blades. I hadn't even heard her get off the counter. But my entire body relaxes into her touch. Every muscle loosens, and sheds the tension that had been coiled in my cells from the past 24 hours. I've missed her small hands. It feels so good to have her holding onto me, like she missed me too, so I let her lean into me.

"It's hard sometimes, to put away all the distractions." I hear her say against the thick fabric of my winter shirt.

I turn around and take her in my arms. I lean my forehead against hers, closing my eyes.

"I know. When it gets too loud, just close your eyes and remember those promises. I'll be here for you no matter what, and all you need to do is tell me what's going on in that head of yours. And not run away."

"Easier said than done."

"Close your eyes, and I'll show you how easy it is for me to block out the world when you're with me."

She closes her eyes and I kiss her, long and soft until I feel her fully tuned into me, into the kiss and nothing else. Then I release her gently, and I smile at her when she frowns.

"Your mother let me come up here without a chaperone, and it's been a pretty long time already. I'd better get going before I fall out of her good graces."

"If deflowering her eldest daughter didn't get you on the naughty list then I doubt there's much else that can."

"When you say it like that it sounds so...bad." I exclaim, uncomfortable when considering that maybe her mother thinks this on some level about me.

"Peeta Mellark, bad apple and lothario extraordinaire. Who would have thought?" She teases as we walk out of her bathroom and towards the stairs.

"Not me." I admit.

She just shrugs in that unconcerned way of hers as she says, "Life is full of surprises."

She walks me out, and on my way home I feel like I can actually breathe. I don't know if everything will stick, or if it will be too much. I just know that now that I have her, even if it's just in this small way, I don't want to lose her. I'll do whatever it takes to hold on to her, always.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

(Recommended track: Just Give Me a Reason-P!nk & Nate Ruess)

After speaking with Peeta in my bathroom I resolve to tell Gale about how things have changed between us. He may be furious, it may jeopardize our plan, but it just feels unfair to not consider his feelings when it comes to something like this. I have a speech prepared, about how like Peeta said we all have to decide how to make the best out of bad situations. I hope that he'll understand. If he doesn't, well then I may have to rethink Peeta's suggestion that we keep seeing each other until the wedding.

I decided to catch him after his shift ended in the mines. I take the back ways, trying to avoid being seen. The majority of District 12 thinks we're cousins, but there are some people who didn't buy into the Capitol's story that we're related. So I try to keep a low profile. But I don't see him in the crowd of tired workers that are making their way home. This immediately makes me worried. I wonder if maybe he got hurt or was seriously ill. I turn around and make my way back to town, heading in the direction of the Seam to check with Hazel. My feet walk quickly, and my mind fills with images of him injured by mining equipment, or worse…..

The thought almost makes my heart beat out of my chest. My throat feels tight, and I'm running over the last day we spent together, his eyes, his light tread, his shadow of stubble, his quiet voice…..

"What do you want?"

I hear the voice I was imagining, Gale's voice, but instead of his soft deep tones I hear frustration and anger in a raised volume.

I whip my head to my left. I was heading to a shortcut through the merchant shops back alleys. I'm just about to reach the alley behind the candlemaker's shop when I stop short.

"I wanted to talk to you." A female voice says, clear and bright sounding like the ring of a bell.

I peer around the corner and see them through the slits in the wooden pallets left stacked against the back of the shop. Gale, and the girl with the chestnut colored hair. She's wearing thick denim pants and a soft brown colored sweater that looks worn but hugs her curves in a flattering way. She's facing the setting sun and the dark brown color of the top brings out the honey colored streaks in her hair in the red and gold light. She's even more beautiful than I thought up close. I can see from here that her eyes are a very light blue color, like a pansy flower.

"What do we have to talk about?" Gale says in an uncaring, detached voice. I find myself startled at his rudeness. What happened between them that he's being so rude to her?

"You didn't have fun at the celebration feast?" She asks him in a challenging voice.

"It was fun enough, I guess, but I told you it was just a dance."

"And the kiss?" She asks, her voice steely in the quiet of the alley. I feel my eyebrows shoot up. I don't know if this is something I should be listening to. It's a private conversation, and it feels wrong to eavesdrop. But before I can make up my mind to leave I'm startled by what he says next.

"That was fun too, but it was just a kiss." He replies, cold hearted.

"Really? Because it felt like you enjoyed it more-" She says confidently, before he interrupts her.

"I told you, I'm not looking for anything serious." He cuts in, trying to dismantle her argument.

"I know that's what you said. But I know what it's like to kiss at a party for fun. And when we kissed it felt different. It felt like you liked me, but after you decided to hold back for some reason." She says without embarrassment, or reservation.

"Sorry, I don't know what to tell you except you're mistaken." Gale replies, but his answer seems a bit forced.

"If you say so. I just don't want to see you waste a connection like we have just because you're waiting on something." She says as she flips her long hair over her shoulder, probably completely aware of how attractive she looks at the moment. I don't even know her name, but this girl is a force to be reckoned with. Even after all the rudeness and contempt Gale has treated her with she is seemingly unfazed. She is even pressing her advantage, putting him on the defensive.

"Waiting? What would I be waiting on?" He asks, unconvincingly. I cringe at their words. Because I think I know the real answer to her question.

"You're next life maybe, I don't know. I just thought you should know that I feel it too. How good we could be if you gave it a chance." She asserts, and fixes him with a stare that is equal parts challenge and invitation. It makes my face heat to see this exchange between them. She is obviously not the shy type. If the circumstances were different, and Gale were someone else, I might even admire her guts. As it is though, I just feel incredibly awkward and even a little foolish standing behind the crates listening to her tell him just how much she wants him.

Gale however doesn't seem embarrassed in the least, instead he looks like he's seriously considering her offer. His eyes travel over her quickly, blatantly, and this shocks me. I know Gale is only human, and he's young and handsome and greatly sought after in our District, but I don't like watching him look at a girl this way. But the mystery girl doesn't even bat an eyelash at his obvious appraisal.

Just as I think he's about to succumb, he shakes his head at her.

"Girls like you don't come without strings attached. And that's not something I'm interested in right now. So why don't we just forget it?"

She considers him, takes a step closer and reaches up to brush a stray piece of hair that fell over his forehead. He takes in a breath, holding himself really still.

"I can afford to waste some time." She says softly with the shrug of one shoulder. The next thing happens so fast, I blink and I miss the movement in between.

One second they were standing a foot apart, the next he had her crushed against him. Then he was kissing her, hard and hungrily. She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and the force of their embrace had them moving backwards until they were pressed up against the bricks of the building behind them.

I turned around and left then.

(Lily POV)

Kissing him was like getting struck by lightning. It burned, it ached, it shot through me at a rapid uncontrollable pace. Like running into a summer storm and letting the rain plaster my clothes to my skin, I let him bear down on me. It felt wild, and magnetic, and so so good.

His lips on mine and his hands in my hair. It was nice actually being able to tilt my head all the way back while kissing since I was kind of tall for a girl especially here in 12. But he was taller...So tall, strong, and handsome as hell. Even covered in coal dust and a whole day's worth of sweat, he tasted delicious. Like something woodsy and crisp underneath the gritty top layer…

He pressed himself closer to me, not afraid to let me feel how his body wanted me. And I wasn't afraid either to want him. We swirled around each other, kissing and touching and pressing everywhere. It was a lark, a wild whim that overtook me when we started but the more he kissed me the more I found myself sucked in.

So when he grabbed me around my waist with those nimble hands of his, and he put his long strong arms around me, I didn't hesitate. I let him lift me higher to fit me around his hips, my legs on either side of him so that we could feel each other with only the fragile barrier of jeans and work pants between us.

I ran my hands underneath the back of his shirt all the way up to his shoulders and gripped them to pull him even closer to me. He groaned, a deep and infatuating sound that seemed to match my breathless murmuring for him not to stop…

But he did stop, eventually…

"Let's get out of here," He whispered in my ear after breaking our hungry kiss.

"Ok."

That was the only word he needed.

We left the back of the candlemaker's shop hand in hand.

The quiet walk to the abandoned house was filled with charged energy and possibilities.

His eyes looked like storm clouds in the twilight.

My heart felt like it was running, running, faster and faster...trying to outrun his storm.

My body wanted to get swept away when his lips found me again, but my heart whispered to me to run.

I didn't listen….

(Gale POV)

She really was very beautiful. One of the most beautiful girls I'd seen, with or without clothes on. Nice breasts and hips and long shapely legs since she was so tall. Her skin was soft, and she smelled like something sweet that I'd want to eat. So when she lay naked under me, I did. I ate her out and she fucking loved it.

The way her blue eyes darkened, like a blue shirt dunked in water, seemed to make the color deeper and richer...that's the way her eyes looked when I made her come.

And it had been so long since I'd made a girl come. Since before the Reaping, six months before that. So what three and half or maybe close to four years since I'd had sex?

Damn, it felt like it had been so long. Like an eternity...until I sank into her and she gasped against my intrusion into her body. Even though it had been a while, all of me remembered what to do. I may have been a little insistent, a little rougher than I should have been, especially to start out with, but then she just reached down and grabbed my ass and pulled me in deeper and oh, fuck, that was so hot.

For a while I didn't think about anything. Nothing but the way she felt under me, and how warm and wet she was wrapped around me. And I couldn't believe it had been so long since I'd let myself feel this way.

And when I got the urge to see her blue eyes darken again, I switched up my rhythm. Something with more sway and give instead of a driving pace and I felt her start to tighten and clench around me. I leaned down to kiss her, and possess her mouth at the same time as I did the rest of her body, and in under a minute she was coming again, moaning my name against my lips.

And it felt good.

It felt even better she offered to finish me off with her mouth.

That had been almost, almost as good as being inside her.

It certainly helped take the edge off.

But afterwards I didn't feel good.

Her blue eyes sparkled with delight, and she was beautiful with rosey cheeks and a broad satisfied smile on her pink lips.

But I would have given anything to take the moment back.

I wanted to rewind time and undo what I'd done.

A moment's pleasure, a moment's peace, that's all I had received in payment for betraying the girl I actually loved.

And it didn't matter how beautiful Lily was, or how good she made my body feel.

I didn't love her.

And I never would.

(Katniss POV)

As I walked home I felt strangely numb. It had been like watching another person, not the friend I'd known since I was 12 years old. And yet the way he had tried to shut her out, and shut her down seemed eerily familiar.

I got to Peeta's door before I realized why. It had reminded me of myself with Peeta when we first met, and I was trying really hard not to like him. I tell myself I wasn't that mean, but then I remember shoving him after he confessed his crush on me during our tribute interviews. The thought has me hovering outside his back door, stuck.

There are a million tiny loose ends slipping through my fingers as I try to get a hold on this. When I had comforted myself with the thought of Gale and all the assumed past girlfriends or lovers he had, it had been a desperate attempt to justify something I thought I had no choice but to try and do. But today had made all those imaginary girls a very clear reality. And a very present one.

Aside from all the emotions that threatened to confuse me, I knew that I didn't have any claim on Gale. He had tried again to move our relationship into the next stage just recently, but I had rebuffed him saying I wasn't ready. Had I expected him to wait? To pine away for me like Peeta? It's been three years since he kissed me that day in the meadow. And I had waited three years to kiss him back, and even then had admitted that it was an act of desperation. I close my eyes against these thoughts.

Everything feels so complex and confusing. What is happening to us? Did Gale and I always have this many secrets from each other? Had there been other girls, other flings that he had indulged in because I was emotionally and physically unavailable? Was I doing something similar? And what did that say about the both of us? Are we both liars or is it just the impossible situation that we find ourselves in that has driven us to seek comfort in the arms of other people? If that's true how fair is that to the people we're spending our time with?

Peeta had agreed not to try and define our relationship, even though I'm at his house practically every night.

These questions left me feeling angry, ashamed, and lost. The light in the kitchen window came on as the evening light began to die out. I know he will begin to worry about me soon. We had left things on a positive note yesterday, but there was so much that kept getting in the way. It felt like getting lost in a maze of endless wrong turns.

For a moment it felt overwhelming, and the only thing that was holding me up became the grey bricks of his home against my back.

I closed my eyes, and tried to find some balance.

Then I heard Peeta's voice, but this time it was in my mind.

When it gets too loud, just close your eyes and remember those promises. I'll be here for you no matter what.

It's just a whispered memory in my head, but it's enough to bring me back to myself. I shake my head to try and clear away the haze of lingering questions. I don't have the answers. I don't know if I ever will. But Peeta had said that we needed to make the best of our limited options. Maybe that applied to Gale as well.

If we all were just trying to survive this impossible situation with as much of our sanity intact as we can then maybe we all deserved to be cut a little slack. Things were rarely as clear cut as they appeared, and perhaps that meant Peeta was right in wanting to wait until after the wedding to try and figure things out. Until then we were all locked into these roles and there was only so much pressure a person could take before shattering.

So, I resolved to walk into Peeta's kitchen without putting myself under any more undue pressure. Because there would be time to try and untangle the mess later. And if it couldn't be untangled, then District 13 would offer all of us a fresh start.

Chapter Text

(Peeta POV)

She lays next to me as I stroke her hair gently. Her eyes are heavy lidded, half closed. She's sleepy and beautiful. And I let my fingers trace the curve of her cheek softly. I'd always wanted to do that on the train as she fell asleep. I'd wanted to touch her so many different times, so many different ways. Sometimes it was like this, something simple and sweet. Sometimes I'd want to feel the lines of her body, and memorize her with my hands. Always I wanted to touch her.

I both loved and desired her. And now that she was with me, it was incredibly satisfying, and liberating to be able to finally touch her, just because.

I make another sweep back up and this time I brush the back of my knuckle down from her temple to her jaw. She smiles a little, and it makes me grin like an idiot I'm sure.

"I always wanted to do that on the train." I tell her softly, not wanting to break the peaceful atmosphere that we've created in my bedroom.

"It's nice. Friendly even. It would have been ok with me. Why didn't you?" She asks me quietly and I think about it for a minute.

"I guess because I wanted you to feel comfortable with me. I didn't want to pressure you. We both got enough of that during the tours. Besides, I probably knew on some level that once I'd started it would be impossible for me to want to stop."

"Hmmmm." She replies, noncommittally.

I huff out a laugh. She opens her eyes fully and peers up at me.

"I wanted to trace your freckles sometimes." She admits and I raise my eyebrows in surprise. She usually just accepts compliments from me. Occasionally she'll respond by bringing my lips to her for kisses, or more...

"Oh really?" I ask and then I'm rewarded with one of her beautiful blushes. It warms her olive skin, and spreads across her cheeks and a little down her neck. My eyes trace the movement with fascination. I never knew she blushed so hard. Then again, I'd never seen this much of her bare skin to be able to track her blushes until she climbed in my window a few weeks ago.

"Why didn't you? I certainly wouldn't have objected." I tell her with the utmost certainty.

She rolls her eyes at me. And I love it. She's so comfortable and herself here with me in my bed. It's heavenly.

"I guess I was afraid of the same thing….not knowing where it would lead. Not knowing if it would stop at that."

"This is the first I'm hearing of this. I find myself very intrigued to know more." I tell her as I lower my lips to her bare shoulder and place a soft kiss there on her delicious skin.

"I already told you about it. The first night. I mentioned your shoulders and the freckles then." She says, slightly annoyed.

"I do remember. And I recall exactly what you said. You said the freckles interested you. Not that you wanted to touch them." I tell her with confidence. Those words, all those precious beautiful words she'd finally given me were burned in my memory. Every single one. I'd never forget them.

"Well, I don't know. I guess I thought you'd read between the lines."

"Darling, I've made the mistake of misinterpreting things before…" I tell her quietly, and she looks up at me, more serious because of the tone in my voice, "and I never want to take your feelings for granted again. They're too precious to me. So if you want me to know something, you'll just have to make it plain and simple, like you did that first night." I tell her gently and she just stares at me for a minute.

Her stare is full, heavy with understanding and recognition of what I've said. She knows what I mean. Back during our Games, I had thought she really fell in love with me in the arena, even though it was all an act. She sighs deeply. She moves closer to me and buries her head against my shoulder.

I have to admit this makes me feel monumentally better. Even though she's here naked in my bed after we just made love so passionately it would make a fever dream seem tame, it still hurts to make any reference to that time when we were barely on speaking terms. If I was honest with myself and her, I was heartbroken when I found out back then that her feelings hadn't been real. But it seems so long ago now, especially after all that's happened. I smile down at her gently, without accusation.

But I can see the guilt in her features, the old wash of shame and regret that used to color her face during those days. And I hate it, making her feel that way again. I don't ever want her to have those kinds of feelings. Not here in this bed, in this house where all I ever want her to feel from the moment she arrives is happy and content.

"Katniss, I didn't say it to hurt you, or make you feel bad. It was a long time ago. But the lesson holds true, maybe now more than ever. I love this, what we're doing. I love having you in my bed, in my arms. These things, whether they're for now or for...longer, they are precious to me. When we're together like this, whether I'm asking you what you want for breakfast or I'm asking you where you want to be touched, it should be because it's what we both want. If that means we have to spell things out sometimes, while we get the hang of this, well then that's just all the better. I'll never make you eggs when you really want pancakes. And I'll never touch you if you don't want me to….." I tell her with as much lightness, as much grace and honesty as I can. Because I need her to understand what it means. I need her to know that it's important, for me, to know that these things between us are real.

When her eyes meet mine again, there is agreement in them. She nods, slowly, and reaches up to touch my face. She caresses my cheek for a long while as she stares into my eyes with a look somewhere between deep appreciation and well...longing. It still startles me to catch her wearing this look when we're together. I can never quite find it in me not to be surprised.

"Peeta….Peeta, I want you to touch me now." Her quiet request surprises me, but only for a moment. And then I feel like I'm fully awake and alive. She takes my hand that had been resting against her hip and brings it up to her left breast. And I feel a sudden wave of desire. My hand curls in, to cup her breast. She's so beautiful. I touch her with my hands and kiss along her neck gently, just enjoying the feeling and the taste. I wish I could capture the warm golden color of her shoulders, even in the dark. I wish I could find just the right shade of peachy brown perfection that could be found at the tips of her breasts, and order gallons of paint in that tone. I wanted to paint an entire room in that color and live in it for a month, a year. I leaned my head down to lower my mouth to her other breast. She arched her back and squirmed closer to me impatiently and I smiled as I used my tongue to stimulate her.

Her hands wandered down my chest, my stomach, and eventually to my stiffening desire for her. I felt the sensation like a current of electricity that jolted up and down my body when she took me in her hands and began to stroke up and down my length. I stifled a groan and she let out a breathy laugh. She tightened her grip around me and increased her pace. I felt my heart beat faster and then an unstoppable louder groan of pleasure escaped my lips. This time she chuckled and oh, it drove me almost mad.

"Oh, you don't get to have all the fun." I tell her darkly as I slip from her grasp and lower myself to start kissing down her body. Her laughing stops and she looks down at me as I situate myself between her legs.

Her grey eyes glint darkly with desire as she stares at me, a silver spark in a grey fathomless sky... I trace my fingers along the inside of her thighs, slowly, lazily. She huffs a little. I smirk.

"Want me to touch you….here?" I ask as I let my fingers wander up, and up.

"Uh huh," Her voice is high, and out of breath.

"How about here?" I ask as I trace my finger along her entrance which is already evident with arousal. The beautiful slickness of her... it makes my mouth water...just seeing the way she responds to me. But I'm resolved to tease her a little tonight. She's in a phenomenally good mood. So I don't automatically progress to touching her where I know she wants me to. I linger just out of reach massaging and kneading her thighs and hips. She strains her body towards me, almost unconsciously. Then catches herself doing it and stops. I grin up at her. She looks down at me embarrassed but her cheeks are also flushed with lust and just a bit of desperation. I stifle a laugh. She looks at me incredulously, a little bit angrily. She knows I'm waiting for her to give a spoken response, and it's annoying her.

"Peeta, shut up and just...oh….." Her annoyed protests are cut off by the interruption of my mouth and hands finding her. And all her annoyance is forgotten. It's cathartic on some level to finally be able to strip away her resistance and natural impulse towards defensiveness. I like that she needs me, specifically in this moment, specifically in this way. It's a heady rush of a feeling that comes with realizing just how much her desire for me has grown in this short amount of time that we've been doing these things.

She moans as I swirl my tongue around her favorite spot. And not for the first time I'm glad for all my brothers' late night conversations about the female body. I'm sure Katniss and I would have figured things out on our own, eventually, but knowledge beforehand, even if it was second hand information, had certainly helped ease our transition into this territory. Especially that first night. The first time I had been able to make her orgasm, it had been a personal triumph. The look on her face after, a mixture of awe and unfiltered gratification, had had me daydreaming for weeks. Sometimes I still get hard just thinking about it.

She lifts her hips in time with my movements, and I know she's getting close. She's panting now, and her thighs press against the sides of my face at moments when she's lost to the pleasurable feelings I'm giving her. I pick up the pace, and alternate using my hand more frequently while putting more pressure on her with my mouth. She squirms around me, anxious and needy, so I slide my hands under her body, cupping her exquisite ass and dragging her down, harder onto my mouth. This sends her over the edge and she cries out sharply, unrestrained, and I'm glad, not for the first time since all this started, that I live alone. Sometimes, she gets loud. And I fucking love that about her too.

As soon as she's done, I'm clamoring to get on top of her. My urge to be inside of her is getting on the more desperate side. And when she reaches out to grip my hips as I slide inside of her, I can't help the sound that escapes from my throat. Part ecstasy, part plea. I don't start out slow. It's been a while since the first time, and we're both used to each other. And I'm so turned on right now, slowing down would just be torture for us both. She wraps her arms and legs around me as I dive into her sweet warmth, over and over, while pressing my face into her neck. She murmurs nonsense into my ear, not words really, just noises of encouragement and pleasure. I want to make her come again, but I'm so close, I don't know if I can hold out unless I pull out completely.

"Peeta, don't stop. Come on, I want you to-"

They're the last words I hear before I can't hold back anymore. Her telling me she wants me to come sent me over, way over, and I come so hard my vision goes blurry for a second and I can barely feel any sensation in my one good leg. I have to concentrate to get my arms to obey me and hold me up long enough so that I don't crush her underneath me. But I manage to roll off her, and fall heavily beside her on the bed. I labor to calm my heartbeat and catch my breath. She snuggles into me, warm and pliable as she fits herself against me. It wasn't the most adventurous or the longest encounter we've had. But it sure was satisfying as hell. And she tells me it was good, before kissing my shoulder and closing her eyes.

And I can't immediately think of a single thing wrong with the world at the moment.

(Katniss POV)

After seeing Gale and the mystery girl behind the candle shop I decided to take Peeta's suggestion for all it was worth. No labels meant no promises other than the ones we had already agreed on and it also afforded me a respite from the dogged guilt that had been eating away at me, at least during my waking hours. My sleeping unconscious mind however could not always be reasoned with. But that didn't stop me from seeing Peeta.

Mainly because I thought it would be harder to try and force things to go back to the way they had been before. I honestly didn't know if it was even possible. It was like opening up a can of worms, and watching as all the resistance I had built up over the years crawled away in the light of sharing myself with him. In the back of my mind I knew that I was safe for the remainder of time until the wedding. We didn't really have to keep sleeping together, but it was too hard to stay away from him, with his soft words and fierce kisses, and marvelous hands. And I distracted myself with learning all of him and all the things that felt special and secret about the boy with the bread. We went to cake tastings, and met with an official Capitol wedding planner. We made a hundred little decisions that didn't feel pressured or even important since we'd never have to sit through the wedding reception anyway. Still, I found myself enjoying these frivolous activities simply for the opportunity to make mischief for Effie when I deliberately chose some horrible color for the place settings or table covers. Spending extra time with Peeta was also a factor. He made me find amusement in it all in a way I hadn't before. Always there had been this line between us, this tension that was hard to ignore, but after everything that had happened in recent weeks, well, I found myself enjoying his over the top flirting and charm and self depricating jokes. Somehow it made everything just a bit light-hearted and helped me to curb my anxiety.

I put the boy from the woods out of my mind, and I knew it was only a temporary solution. I had nightmares, even when I was lying in Peeta's bed, in his arms, of getting lost in a path of endless descending twists and turns and never being able to find my way home. But Peeta's arms were there for me as they had been those nights on the train, and now his lips were too.

I became as preoccupied with his hands as I was with his eyelashes. Their lines, their firmness, the small freckle on the skin in between his thumb and index finger. They way he used them to make me feel simultaneously safe with him and dangerously hungry for him. We settled into a new routine, of revolving around each other and there were moments, long spaces of time when I didn't think of the Capitol, or Snow's threats, or anything else. In those moments I felt almost free.

But then a few days after the incident in the back of the candle maker's shop, Effie had called saying that a camera crew was coming out to do a spot on us about the wedding preparations. It felt like being blindsided. I had to stay on the phone for an hour going over the details with Effie even though she called weekly to give me updates.

"Katniss, we talked about this last week, remember? Your honeymoon is going to be in a lodge in district 7. Ice and snow and mountains for miles, as per Peeta's suggestion. Although I don't know how much fun that will be. You'll be cooped up right now in the dead of winter with nothing to do but ski and build snowmen." She says this last part with aggravation. No doubt Haymitch was right and Effie had been planning on sending us to a sunny beach in district 4.

"Actually that sounds great Effie, I'm glad he suggested it."

"I'm not, I think it will all be dreadfully boring. What does he think the two of you all will be doing for a week straight? Roasting chestnuts and toasting marshmallows by the fireplace?"

"He probably thinks we'll be doing what newlyweds do, you know sleeping in, breakfast in bed, all that."

"That won't look so good for the cameras." She chides.

"Not everything has to be about them." I say, anger seeping into my voice.

"Katniss." She says in exasperation. "I just worry you both will have too much down time, and won't know what to do after the first day."

"Don't worry Effie, I'll find something to do with him." I tell her smartly. She has no reply for this. Because as formidable as Effie is, she's still too cultured and good mannered to dignify my implication with a response.

"All right, well that's settled then. I'll be sending you packages. Keep a lookout for them."

"I will, thanks Effie." I say in a more subdued tone before hanging up.

We hang up and I find my mother looking at me. Her expression is slightly worried, slightly disapproving. I know she doesn't like it when I tease Effie. But this whole impromptu tv spot has got me on edge. There are so many things going on in the periphery, that the cameras absolutely cannot be clued in on. All out preparations for the escape for instance.

Gale had finally been able to finish getting all the pieces we needed to build our own makeshift tools. It had been done at great risk to himself, and I had worried about him so much I had nightmares for three days straight. This night would be the last Peeta and I would be able to sleep the whole night together. Because the construction would be starting, and it would have to be done in secret, at night when there was less of a chance of being discovered. That has put stress on us too. Even though we'll probably still be able to steal moments here and there, we won't really have the privilege of going to sleep or waking up together anymore. So after the long exhausting day of getting everything ready for the cameras, I snuck out to be with him.

"Did you really tell Effie that I wanted to honeymoon in a winter resort in District 7?" I asked after we had settled in for the night. We had satisfied each other voraciously on his living room floor half an hour ago, and after that decided to retire upstairs to his bedroom.

"Oh, yeah. I thought it'd be more believable than you deciding to go skinny dipping with me off the coast of 4."

"What?"

"Yeah they had this whole segment planned, with the two of us swimming in a waterfall on a private island, but I told her if they were going to film it it wouldn't be very private. She got really upset because apparently she had planned it all out, right down to the fish that would nibble at our toes. She told me if I didn't like the idea then I had to pick the place myself. Then she sent me a list of tourist destinations, and I just picked the first one that sounded like you."

"You think I'm cold and isolated and boring?"

"What? No, who said that? It pricked it for the trees, and nature. They even have little log cabins. I thought it'd be cozy."

"Effie didn't think so, when she called me. She said she had no idea why you'd pick district 7 for me, or what we'd do with all that down time." I tell him with a raised eyebrow. It's even more incredulous since I'm lying here with my head propped on his chest, naked as a mockingjay underneath the sheets. And he's just as naked as I am. The thought makes my blood warm slightly. And I almost laugh, at how easy it is to get sidetracked around him now. The conversation is pointless really, since we'll be gone by then. But sometimes I just like to pick his brain. And tonight I try to keep the conversation going so we won't have time to think about what the morning means.

Peeta laughs good naturedly and I love feeling the rumble of his chest beneath me.

"Oh, believe you me girl on fire, it'd probably be easier to think of all the things I wouldn't do with you behind a locked door." Then it's my turn to laugh, and it turns into a snort. We've certainly covered a lot of territory in the short time we've had. It had been fun, exploring things with Peeta who was so easy to join forces with. He's very good at reading me and my reactions. He's also excellent at remembering just what I like. But the moment settles around us, and he holds me a little closer.

"I want to take my painting with me tomorrow. And don't say it's not ready." I tell him before he can protest.

"There's still a bit of texture work I was thinking about adding…" He begins to make excuses and I know what he thinks. He thinks I will not be coming back.

"I want to hang it in my room, so I can see it before bed. Since we won't be able to do this for a while." I say as I motion to the two of us lying here in his bed.

He closes his eyes, not wanting to answer.

"Peeta, we still have time. We just won't have the nights." I say softly, snuggling into him. He breathes and even though most of the tension in his body fades, I can still feel a tightness in him.

"I haven't gotten the secret recipe yet. I can't go anywhere until I figure out how you manage to make that crispy golden batter." I say as I look up at him, willing him to stop being so serious. Because if he keeps getting sadder and more disappointed then I will too.

"Right...I remember, I think I stashed it somewhere." He says, snapping out of his funk. His blue eyes search the room back and forth, and then he lifts up the sheet covering us.

"I think maybe it's under here somewhere. Maybe I should check…" His hands start wandering and I'm laughing uncontrollably as he tickles me.

"Stop!" I scream as he tickles me until I literally roll off the bed trying to get away from his roaming hands. He jumps down beside me and we tangle up in the fallen sheets laughing and horsing around until the tickling turns into more than fun and games.

He makes love to me without taking his eyes off me for a second. I find myself fixated by his intense attention. His golden lashes so long they look like they'll just get tangles up with the blond hair falling over his eyes. He's due for a hair cut soon. It makes me smile, the fact that I've noticed this. And even though we started out laughing, things quickly became serious and poignant till we both find out how to say all the things we wanted to each other, just not out loud. I can feel it in the way he holds me close, so close when he comes. The way he buries his face against my shoulder and says my name over and over. His whole body shudders with pleasure and effort for longer than usual. I know how he feels. Recently I could swear my own orgasms were becoming more intense, if possible. I didn't know if we were just getting better at having sex, or what exactly it was. But everything just felt more...real lately. Less dreamy and fantastical. More...just more. When we climb back in bed I reach up to stroke his hair lightly, and his eyes drift closed.

"Sweet dreams." I whisper against his skin, before falling asleep wrapped up in his steady warmth.

The next morning comes all too quickly. And because of our night time tickling session we wake up late, having accidentally knocked his alarm clock down the night before. It was probably broken.

I curse, a long string of really filthy words that makes Peeta's eyebrows shoot up higher and higher with each consecutive expletive I manage to link together.

"Wow. I mean. Just wow."

"Peeta, they'll be here any minute! And I haven't even bathed! They'll catch us and broadcast it live!"

"Ok, well, hold on. I've got a bathroom, and a shower. You can use it while I go down and make some food, to keep them distracted. I'll keep them away from upstairs until you finish."

I think this over, and find it's better than any solution I can come up with.

"I'll need to call my mother, and let her know what to say, so she can cover for me if I don't make it back before they get here."

"I'll call her. Go, take a shower."

I go into turbo mode, and shower like a fiend. Just quickly and thoroughly enough to get the job done. Then I throw my clothes on and creep down to his hall bathroom. He leaves the window open now ever since Hyamitch walked in unannounced and I had to hide in a linen closet until Peeta could get him to leave.

I brace myself for the cold air, but it doesn't help much with my wet hair. When I get to my kitchen back door I see it blocked by my mother's dressy blue top she wears when we have visitors from the Capitol blocking the view through the half glass. I back away slowly, knowing that they're already in my kitchen. I feel like a rabbit caught in a trap, waiting for the hunter to come and finish the job. But then I hear a window open and I see my sister's slim hand waving to me from inside the spare bedroom.

I race to climb in, and she has to jump to get out of the way to avoid me tumbling into her.

I try to catch my breath and she closes the window and grabs a sheet to try and dry my cold wet hair.

"Are you trying to give yourself pneumonia?" She scolds me in a quiet angry whisper as she rubs my hair.

I shake my head, feeling ridiculous. I have no idea how I'm going to explain this to Prim. But it's unavoidable, she's seen me sneaking over from Peeta's house. There's no denying it.

"Prim-" I say, my eyes wide, fearful, and pleading as I look at her.

She surprises me by rolling her eyes at me, in a gesture that's more mine than her usual graceful and gentle expressions. I am taken aback to say the least.

"You didn't honestly think I wouldn't notice that your bed hasn't been slept in for weeks did you?" She tells me with a raise of her eyebrows.

"I….." I can't answer because, yes, I honestly didn't think she'd notice.

She just looks at me like I'm unbelievable. Then she giggles. And because it's so strange, and unlikely that this would have ever happened, I laugh too. "Are you at least having fun?" She asks between quiet giggles. And I swear my heart jumps into my throat. I croak out a weak wheezy sound that is neither a yes or no, and she just rolls her eyes at me again. "I'll take that as a yes." She replies and shakes her head at me. I can only stare back at her, dumbfounded. And I feel like we're kids again and I'm sharing a secret with her, one that only sisters could know about without judging each other. So I nod, just once and smirks at me like she knew what my answer would be all along. I blush furiously. She gives me a final pat before saying she'll go get me my robe, so it will look like I just got out of the shower instead of running an obstacle course.

After she brings me the robe and smooths down my wet hair, I walk into the kitchen to join my prep team. They are sipping coffee and talking loudly. My mom shoots me a 'you are in so much trouble' look. I can't remember the last time I needed her help so much so I try my best to look remorseful. But then everyone's greeting me, and exclaiming over my split ends and chewed up fingernails and it's decided that coffee must be abandoned. I am obviously a disaster and in need of a lot of work. So we go up to my room and they get started making me over.

They get to work quickly and are surprised to see I have kept up with shaving my legs. I don't offer any comment, because if the truth were to be told I actually miss my downy leg hair. But now that I'm not the only person who looks at my body on a regular basis I've had to make a few concessions in the way of personal upkeep. After all the cosmetics and hair styling is finished, I am outfitted in grey fur lined leggings, supple leather ankle boots and a slightly over long pristine white sweater that is so soft I give in and ask the prep team what the name of the material is.

"Vicuna!" Venia exclaims in delight as she applies a light mist of hairspray to the back of my head.

"It's really comfortable." I tell them as they finish outfitting me with jewelry. They just giggle at this, and say I'm adorable.

When they're done I stand in front of the mirror and assess their work. I look attractive in a comfortable and believable way. The leggings and the sweater hug my body but not as obviously as the blue dress from the celebration feast. I guess since the interviews will be taking place in our homes and in town they wanted us to look relaxed and at ease.

First they interview me alone, and ask about how the wedding plans are going. I smile and go through the list of preparations for the reception including the music, food, and decorations theme. Then they ask me if I'm excited or if I feel nervous about the wedding day. I reply that I think I'm equal parts of both, and it's actually true. Because I am eagerly anticipating the day when I can leave all the cameras, and the interviews and the invasion of my privacy behind. I am also nervous as can be hoping that we all make it to that day.

Next they interview my family. My mother smiles nervously, and tries to answer their questions. And although she doesn't overuse words, she expresses that she thinks Peeta will be a very good son-in-law. Prim talks about how she already considers him her brother and mentions his almost weekly delivery of butter cookies and daily delivery of fresh baked bread.

Then we take a short break to regroup at Peeta's family's bakery where Peeta and I enact a scripted conversation where Peeta tells his father that he's planning on opening a branch of the family's bakery in the Capitol in the next year. His father pretends to be surprised and proud of his son, and we all smile as believably as we can at each other when we discuss how happy we all are to become family. Our families are dismissed. Then they ask us to walk around town and do some shopping and chatting with the merchants for b-roll. We walk hand in hand everywhere and Peeta makes me smile easily when he fills his basket at the general store with breakfast foods. I return the favor when I get him some lemon scented hand soap for his bathroom. When they ask to get some shots of us kissing we oblige them easily enough. And this time it feels different kissing for the cameras because there's an ease underneath it all instead of tension. When they finally drop us back off at Peeta's house it's late evening. I'm so tired I just kick off my boots and stretch out on his couch. He goes upstairs to change and then the next thing I know he's touching my shoulder gently and calling my name to wake me up. I blink as I look around in the darkened room. I must have fallen asleep. I look up at him dreamily, wanting to kiss him. I reach out to take his hand, but instead of letting me pull him down onto me he's pulling me up to a standing position.

I hear someone else clear their throat, and notice Haymitch's pale hair gleaming in the thin slits of moonlight filtered through Peeta's curtains. I blink, trying to reacquaint my waking mind with the real world.

Oh yes, I think, tonight is the first night of the construction.

I rub my eyes and stifle a yawn. I know we all have to be quiet, so I don't greet Haymitch, I just start walking towards Peeta's basement.

I get about halfway across the room before I notice his tall form in the dark. There's a thin strip of pale moonlight that falls across his grey eyes as he takes me in. I stop momentarily in my tracks, surprised. The expression on his face is unreadable but I can tell from the tension in his shoulders that he saw me reach out to Peeta earlier. I blink at him and he just stares right back at me.

And then I think of seeing him with the mystery girl. And I just turn my gaze back to my path. We have work to do tonight, and there is no time for petty disputes. Then we all head to the basement to get to work.

Chapter Text

Gale POV (Recommended Listening track: I'm so tired…-Lauv & Troye Sivian)

& Payphone-Maroon 5

I roll my right shoulder after I finish clocking out. It's been hurting like a sonofabitch lately. Especially at the end of the day. But at least I'm not as bad as some of the older guys on my crew. Some of them are so stiff and injured after years of working in the mines they can hardly stretch some mornings. But ever since I started pulling double duty working in the mines and then working in the Baker Boy's basement every other night I've felt my muscles protest in agony on the cold mornings.

Thankfully I was off tonight, but that was little comfort after seeing her lying on his couch the first night. I had no idea what the hell that had been about, and couldn't even speak to ask her since the house was bugged. It had been like being blind-sided. I certainly hadn't walked over there in the dark of night after a long day's work to find out just how cozy the two of them had become.

Haymitch, the old drunk, had been waiting for me beside the gate to the victor's village. He had beckoned me to follow him to a spot in the fence where the gnarled trunk of a willow stretched up to almost the top of the fence. On the inside, a few planks had been braced against the fence to ease the descent of someone climbing over. I climbed over quickly, as quietly as I could but I still saw Haymitch wince when the boards creaked slightly under my weight. He shot me a look and I just shrugged. I'm 6'3, and swing a pickaxe for a living. Even with all the stealth training I've had of hunting in the woods, I can't change my genetics.

He just shook his head and indicated for me to stay low. We crept through the shadows until we got to the back door of Peeta's house, and then Haymitch let himself in with a small silver key from his pocket. The kitchen had been dark, and at first I thought maybe the soft little Baker Boy had fallen asleep before the real work had even started. I felt myself exhale, trying to get a grip on the anger that always seemed so close to the surface whenever I had to see him and all the things that had just fallen into his lap. A big house, more money than he could ever spend, safety for him and his family from starving, although as a merchant kid he had never been in much danger of that really, and her. As if he had done anything to deserve any of it, except get his name drawn in the Reaping. Not for the first time, I thought I should have just volunteered and took his place that day. How simple things would have been then. She and I could have been together, and she wouldn't even know his name.

It was aggravating seeing how close they lived to each other, how available he was to her, day or night. I mean he hadn't even invited his family to move in with him after the Games. And if that hadn't been a strategic move I don't know what would qualify. Suddenly I heard heavy footsteps coming down on the carpeted stairs.

Jeez, does this guy just stomp around for the fun of it? I thought to myself, as he made an appearance in the kitchen. So he hadn't fallen asleep. At least he looked like he was ready to work, in some sturdy boots and loose but thick looking pants and a long sleeve shirt. He nodded to Haymitch and me, and when Haymitch raised his eyebrows at him, obviously in an unspoken question Peeta just hooked a thumb in the direction of his living room. Haymitch followed him there but I lingered in the doorway, not feeling entirely comfortable roaming around his rooms.

But even from the doorway I could make out the sleeping silhouette of the small frame stretched out on a large navy colored couch in the middle of the living room. She was asleep soundly, her face smooth and placid in the dim light of the dark room. She laid on her back with her feet propped up on the armrest, and one arm over her stomach, the other crooked under her head as a pillow. She was wearing full makeup, and her hair was loose and styled to the smooth perfection of Capitol standards. And then I remembered hearing it announced on tv earlier in the week that the Capitol reporters were going to be visiting to get an update on the wedding planning. Wedding, another word that made my blood boil if I thought about it for too long. But that was why I was here tonight, to stop that farce from ever happening. She was too good, too strong to be forced into becoming his wife. He didn't know the first thing about what she needed, the freedom of the woods and the freedom to make her own choices. He'd never understand her like I did. How could he? When he had lived a life of ease and safety, she and I had fought together for years against hunger, poverty, and the burden of providing for our families after our fathers had been killed.

He loved her like a boy, admiring her beauty, her toughness, something he had very little of. He probably only wanted her because she had refused to give into him, unlike a lot Seam girls did for the merchant crowd. He had no idea what it had taken for her to build up that part of herself. The determination, the resolve not to give in even when things seemed impossible. He hadn't seen her in the starving years, the lean years. That had been me. And we had become partners first, friends second, and I had loved her, the real her, not some made up fantasy of a little girl who liked to sing in class, or the Capitol created product with glossy hair and perfect skin. I had seen her grow from a gangly awkward skinny thing with bigger elbows than breasts, into a quiet beauty. I knew what she sounded like when she laughed when no one was around. I knew what she looked like when someone kissed her with stray leaves in her hair from the lingering autumn breeze. I knew how she came alive in the woods like she never did when she was in town and prying eyes were constantly watching every move she made. I knew the secret self she didn't show to the world.

But here she was, sleeping on his couch, comfortable as a cat curled up on a bookcase. He moved in to shake her shoulder and wake her. He whispered her name, in that gentle way that makes my stomach churn bitterly. And her eyes had drowsily opened. She looked sleepy, dreamy, but then she smiled at him in a nauseating way. It looked almost sweet, like she actually enjoyed that he was the first thing she saw when she woke up and I felt my heart lurch incredibly in my chest.

What is that look for? There aren't any cameras around here. The thoughts rattled around in my brain like loose change falling down a flight of stairs.

Then she reaches up, to pull him towards her? I think for a moment that she actually wants to kiss him or something, but no, she wants a hand up. He reaches down and pulls her to stand quickly. Haymitch clears his throat quietly as he stands in front of the fireplace. And her head snaps to him in the darkness, she blinks and rubs her eyes sleepily. When she looks at Haymitch again, her eyes are focused and alert. But she doesn't nod at him or say anything; she just starts in the direction of the door. That's when she sees me. She stops for a second like she's surprised, even though she had to know I would be here. Who else was going to teach three amateurs how to dig properly in less than two months?

She stares at me, and I stare back at her, trying to keep my face blank because this is so fucking awkward, and I don't want stupid Baker Boy thinking I'm sweating her cat nap on his couch. She gets this funny look on her face, and for a second her gaze is hard, like she's mad about something. But I blink, and it's like the look was never there, her face is expressionless and she's turning away from me, like nothing happened.

We all head down to the basement, and everyone is all business. Haymitch pulls out the small device that supposedly cancels out the signal from the spy bugs that must be hidden in every room. He switches it on, and then speaks for the first time to tell us we have approximately two and a half hours before the battery drains and it has to be charged. With that short amount of time I know I'll have to explain quickly how to hold the tools, which muscles to use so they won't injure themselves, how to stand, and how to swing the pick axe safely. Everyone gets to work after my brief demonstration.

I worry about the noise, but Haymitch explains that the only people in the neighborhood already know about the construction that needs to take place. We only get a small section cleared, with me and Peeta doing most of the work. And I have to grudgingly admit that he's not as weak as I assumed. Looks like all that readily available bread growing up helped him develop a decent amount of strength, and he drives the axe half as well as me, after just one lesson. Katniss of all people comes in third place, as far as clearing her section, but not because her technique is good. Mostly because Haymitch's hands shake so much from what I can only assume to be alcohol withdrawal. Katniss at least can hold the pickaxe steady, but she's not as strong or fluid as me or Peeta. In fact I have to correct her swing several times, since she tends to coil her power between her shoulder blades, like she does when she draws back her bow. I tell her she needs to swing from her legs, and she just looks at me confused until I straighten her arms, and rotate her feet into a better position. When she swings again, she does a halfway decent job and I nod to her. She smirks at me, in a familiar way and I smirk back. But when I turn around I see Baker Boy watching us from the corner of his eye. I just go back to breaking up my section, but there is a small sense of satisfaction in my swings.

After the first night I never found her on his couch again. In fact she usually doesn't make an appearance until after Haymitch and I both arrived. Even though I don't go every night, they keep making decent progress. But we just barely stay on schedule. And I've been thinking of increasing the number of nights I go over to work during the week because if anything happens, or if we fall behind schedule, it could mess everything up.

But when I get a few blocks from my home I see her. Not the dark haired, grey eyed girl I had been worrying over. But a brown haired, blue eyed one that I had filled some of my spare afternoons with when the loneliness had started to eat at me.

Lily

She smiles at me, like a cat that just ate the canary. And I can't tell if I'm glad to see her or not. She falls into step behind me, and I take a breath. She was a hard one to shake loose. Even after telling her countless times I wasn't interested in anything regular or serious she still turned up in the strangest moments, usually when I was feeling like my head might explode from trying to figure out just what the hell was going on between Katniss and me, or Katniss and him.

She was a good kisser, and she was good at other things too. And she fit against me like a second skin. Called me on my bullshit enough to keep things interesting, but not entirely annoying. But her arms were soft, not thinly muscled from hunting every day. And she smelled like vanilla soap, not lavender and citrus. And whenever I touched her she didn't shudder like she wasn't used to being touched by a man.

She looked over at me from beneath the fan of her thick brown lashes and I could tell she wanted to ask if I was up for spending time together. I didn't say anything, just headed off a side street away from the direction of my house. She walked with a lighter, happier step then. I took her to the abandoned house we'd been to a few times before. A lot of kids knew about it, so sometimes I had to look in the windows to make sure we would be alone. Today it was empty so I headed in without preamble, and she followed me quietly. She didn't wait for me to say anything, just walked up and laced her fingers behind my neck and brought her mouth to mine. She was tall for a girl. 5'8, if I had to guess, and I didn't have to crane my neck down too far to kiss her. It made things more comfortable. So I closed my eyes and let the sensations take me out of my head until all I was thinking about was her warm body, her spacious curves, and the way she swirled her tongue around mine. It was a temporary solution to the need that lived inside my veins. And I knew the answer wasn't going to be found with this girl, in this place. The things I did with girls to get to the place Katniss could take me to with just a look were getting pretty out of control lately.

I hadn't felt this way since after my father died, and there was just a big empty spot where his example used to stand inside my mind. I had pursued girls then, and they had pursued me. But I had been 14, and looking for a way to feel something besides the gnawing pain in my chest whenever I woke up and saw my mother's hands raw and broken from scouring laundry all day, and my brothers and sister growing thinner each week.

Now my only excuse for running around like a fool kid was that I felt like time was running out for me and the only girl I'd ever wanted for more than just an afternoon. If we couldn't make the plan work then she would be forced into an arranged marriage. She would have to live with someone else, and sleep in his bed, and give him children one day. And the thought of that left me gasping and choking in fear and rage in the middle of the night, when nightmares snuck in to steal my sleep. My mother worried, and Rory, now 16, had been asking questions I couldn't answer. Like why I couldn't sleep anymore, or why I was always so tired.

I broke the kiss, knowing that today there wouldn't be any relief in kissing lips that weren't the ones I really wanted.

"Actually, I think I'm just really tired. Sorry, but I think I'm going to head home." I tell her, with a shrug and turn around to walk away.

"It's your cousin isn't it? The one that's getting married." Her voice says quietly behind me before I can reach the door.

I stop dead in my tracks, fear, cold and gripping seizes my chest and I turn around searching for a quick lie.

"I may be just another poor district 12 miner, but even I don't go in for mixing blood with relatives." I say with a laugh, trying to throw off her suspicion.

"Yeah, that would be pretty disgusting. Unless she's not really your cousin."

"Look just because I don't feel like kissing right now doesn't mean I've got a thing for my cousin."

"So she is related to you?"

"Yeah, can't you tell we look practically like brother and sister."

"So do a lot of people from the Seam. A lot of the merchant folk favor each other too, but having the same hair color and eye color doesn't make you related." She volleys her words at me, and I'm staring at her, dumbfounded by how this conversation blew up so quickly.

"What's this really about Lily? Are you mad because I'm not that interested? I told you-"

"I know what you said. I also remember you looking at her the night of the celebration. And you know what? I don't look at any of my cousins like that. And they don't look at me that way either. So why don't you just stop lying?" She says as she crosses her arms over her chest and scrutinizes me with angry eyes.

"If you want to make up crazy stories to soothe your wounded ego, go ahead. I don't need this aggravation from a girl who I'm just passing time with. From now on, don't wait for me, don't come by my work or my house. Find yourself some other guy, and leave me alone." I tell her as coldly, as hearlessly as I can because she can't know.

No one can know what's really going on between Katniss and me. It would call everything into question, our years of close friendship that to the outside world seems like a normal familial bond would begin to be scrutinized. And then people would start looking at everything too closely.

"Fine. But if you think she'll choose you over another rich victor, you're the one trying to soothe your own ego with crazy stories." Lily says quietly but viciously to my back as I walk out. And the words almost stop me, but then I remember that I have to keep walking because if I stop now she'll know she's right. So I walk home, and when I get there I keep going because I can't stand to be cooped up in the house with all these feelings, having to wear a mask for my family so they won't know just how badly I'm dealing with things.

(Recommended track: Somebody Else-Jonny Brenns)

I head to the meadow and when I reach it I feel like breaking something, hitting something, just to get the feeling out. But there's nothing but an outcropping of rocks towards the far side, and a whole bunch of dead grass and mud that will soon be frozen over, come the first snow. But I'm so angry I can hardly think straight. Sure, I'm poor, I've got nothing to offer her except something that's real instead of made up. Even knowing her hatred for all the cameras and pretending there's this huge part of me that thinks it'll never be enough. She'll pick him to keep her family safe, and eventually he'll wear her down and she'll fall for him. If there's one thing that blond bastard has, its persistence. I come up to the biggest rock I can find that isn't taller than me, or wider than four feet across, and I push, lifting from my legs and using every ounce of strength in my arms to try and move the thing that's in my way.

It feel futile, like I'm trying to push a mountain, but then I think of her face when she looked up at him from the couch, and the way he touched her bare skin when they danced during the celebration feast, and all the times she had to kiss him and let him hold her close, and God knows what the hell else. And the rock moved, but just barely. And the more I tried to move it, the heavier it felt, and then after one last push of strength I felt a spark of pain shoot up from the middle of my back.

I let go, in shock and discomfort, and almost slumped to the ground in pain. But I'm out beyond the fence, and it's gonna be dark soon. I have to head back before anyone starts looking for me. I put one foot in front of the other, even though every step brings a strained shooting pain to my body. And I know I've hurt myself badly.

I barely made it to the door. My mother lets out a gasp when she sees me. She runs to help me over to the couch, and then she calls for Rory to fetch Katniss's mother.

I try to argue, to get up, but the pain is so intense after walking all the way home, I just collapse against the couch and hope that her mother comes with Prim, or even alone, or with anyone besides that girl who's driving absolutely out of my mind.

(Katniss POV)

I clear the dishes with Prim and help dry them as it's her turn to wash. We had watched the interviews when they played during dinner earlier and everyone had said they thought it went well.

"How's school?" I ask Prim who's humming quietly to herself as she scrubs the dishes. We haven't really talked much since the morning of my great escape, since I've been busy most afternoons with taking Effie's calls about wedding and honeymoon stuff and I just try not to rip my ears off listening to the boring details. But tonight Effie hadn't called. So it was a rare opportunity to catch up with Prim.

"Good, I'm passing all my courses."

"You better be a little duck. You're too smart to get assigned to the mines." I tell her and she laughs, like the tinkling of a little bell. She's so feminine and girly, I have no idea how we ended up related.

"And your friends?"

"They're good too. They were sad that you won't be having a big reception in town, since they were looking forward to all the great food, but they're over it now." She says with a shrug, but I can see that there is something underneath her nonchalant statement. I study her for a second, and realize that maybe she is sad about leaving. I had never considered our escape from Prim's perspective. Unlike me, she's a social butterfly, and could make friends with just about anyone. It was probably worse that she wouldn't even be able to tell them goodbye, since no one but those closest to us could know about our plans. It makes me sad, and a little angry to have to put my sister through this to save her life. She's fifteen, she should be having sleepovers and talking about clothes and which boys she had a crush on. Not gearing up to leave her entire life behind. I think for a moment about this, and what I can do to lessen the blow of it all.

"I'm sorry about that. I tell you what, since we can't have a big party, how about you invite a few of your girl friends to my bridal shower? That way we can eat tons of great food, stay up late and tell scary stories, and just have some girl time?" I ask her, and she turns to me, her face lighting up like a candle. She throws her arms around me and I feel the excess water drip down my back. But I hug her back without concern, because she's been so good about all of this. She hasn't complained once, in fact she's gone out of her way to help me and make things easier for me, and no one could ask for a better little sister.

"Oh! That's amazing! I can't wait to tell them! They're all just going to die of excitement!" She's dancing now, and I'm spinning her around the kitchen as she laughs. My mother peeks her head in from the living room.

"What's this?" She asks in a quietly confused voice.

"Katniss said I could invite my friends to sleepover for her bridal shower!" Prim exclaims with glee.

My mother's eyebrows go up in surprise but then she just smiles at us warmly and nods at me.

"We'll have to get the house ready." I tell them both, but they just laugh. They know what I really mean is that they'll have to clean while I go hunt for extra meat to feed everyone. The Capital may be throwning my wedding reception and paying for my honeymoon, but we were footing the bill for the rest. I hadn't really even planned on having a bridal shower, but now I guess we'd have to scrape one together on short notice. At least I could invite Madge, my one female friend my own age.

Prim is already discussing the color scheme and which activities to plan, and I just shake my head at her. One of us had to have been switched at birth or something. I looked between her and my golden haired mother and knew that if it was true I was probably the odd one out in this trio. Maybe they had found me in the woods one day, a wild feral thing and decided to bring me home at their own peril.

Just then the sound of the front door pounding furiously startled us all.

Oh God, its Peacekeepers. I thought in horror. They've found out somehow, and they're here to arrest us all. I immediately shove Prim behind me, but the pounding just continues frantically. My mother swallows past her no doubt dry throat and says maybe it's just a very sick patient.

When she opens the door we're all surprised to see Rory, almost a miniature version of his big brother at 16. He explains what the problem is, and asks my mother to follow him back to his home. I feel a cold dread fill my limbs, but I quickly throw on my jacket and boots and follow Prim and my mother and Rory out into the cold night without a second thought.

My heart hammers in my chest every step of the way.

Gale. Oh Gale. How did he hurt himself so badly he can't even stand?

But I know the answer. Digging 6 days a week in the mines, and four nights a week in Peeta's basement that's how. I hadn't wanted him to put in so much extra time. I had originally thought that after the first night he might now have to come back, with me, Peeta, and Haymitch working on the construction together. But after the first night I knew we'd never be able to finish on schedule without his help. Peeta and Gale were the only one's healthy enough, and strong enough to make a real difference. Even me, with the years of lean muscles I had developed from hunting and tracking couldn't match their speed or precision.

What were we going to do?

We reach Gale's small, shabby house that's almost a twin of our old home from when we lived back in the Seam. I've been here so many times to drop off game, or see the kids, but never really past dark. Hazelle is waiting at the door and she opens it before we can knock. Gale is slumped half on half off the threadbare couch, his face a mixture of pain and irritation when he sees us come in.

"I told you Rory not to bring-" Gale starts to scold his little brother.

"Yeah well you try arguing with Katniss Everdeen." Rory spits back at him angrily. Gale just groans, and I feel myself getting a little annoyed. So he didn't want me to know he's hurt, how idiotic is that?

My mother leans over and begins examining his back, and when she touches a space near the middle left side, he gives a small cry of pain before he can cut off the sound. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest and before I know it I'm by his side, grasping his hand. My mother instructs Prim to help her remove his shirt and even that small movement brings a wave of pain that washes over his face. And I find my eyes blurring with tears. It must be something very bad to reduce normally stoic and tough Gale to his knees, fighting to not exclaim in pain at my mother's gentle prodding.

"Pinched nerve." My mother murmurs to Prim and then she instructs her to get some medicine from her bag. I'm murmuring to Gale soothingly, and rubbing the ridge of his knuckles as my mother and Prim apply some kind of herbal concoction that is supposed to numb the pain. The effect is somewhat debatable, since the application of the medicine on his skin seems to cause him discomfort as my mother has to practically knead it into his skin so it can sink in deep enough to be of any effect. I ask her angrily if she had to be so rough, but she just ignores my question as if I had never spoken. I want to raise my voice at her, and make her listen to me. But Gale shakes his head at me, as if to tell me to calm down, and it takes a great amount of effort on my part not to start shouting. I grit my teeth and bite the inside of my cheek as I watch him wince at her slow progression over his muscles. But afterwards he relaxes a little and hangs his head down in exhaustion.

"Can't you give him something stronger?" I ask when my mother stands as if to leave.

"He's alright now. He just needs plenty of rest and absolutely no work for at least three days. He'll be fine."

"How do you know that? Will whatever you gave him repair his nerves? How is he supposed to rest, or sleep, if he can't even lay down? If it's about the money, I'll pay for it, whatever medicine it is!" I tell her angrily, amazed that she's just going to walk out and leave him in pain like this.

"Katniss, it's not life or death. He could maybe take some sleep syrup or at most a couple of painkillers but other than that his body just needs to heal on its own." My mother answers in a bland unconcerned voice. Prim's eyes dart back and forth between us, and Hazelle seems to be unsure who she wants to side with.

"What painkillers? Do we have any? Just give them to him, you can't walk out and leave him here like this!" I say, and it's finally a shout, and it causes Gale to stir, and I choke out a sob at the tortured sound he makes when he tries to move. My mother looks to Rory and commands him to take me to the back room, and sit with me there while she administers some additional pain killers. I push against the young 16 year old, but he's almost as strong as Gale, and eventually I stop fighting when I see my mother dig around in her bag for some of the precious pills she usually saves for people who are very ill or even dying. I collapse on the small narrow bed he sets me down on, and cry angry wracking tears.

I don't know how long exactly I lay there. But when I look up Rory is gone. Minutes tick by and I realize it's Gale's bed. The pillow smells like him, and it's the longest bed in the room, with two smaller cots set up against the other walls. The other beds must belong to Rory and Vic. I cry into Gale's pillow and think about how hard he has been working to get us all out of here. How much he's sacrificed to keep us safe. He kept my secret, about not being in love with Peeta after the Games even though keeping it meant his own pain. He pretended to be my cousin when he really should have had the title of my boyfriend. He had to stand by and watch as I acted out a love story with a boy I hardly knew. And then I imagine our roles being reversed. And I ask myself how I would have responded if Gale had volunteered to save Rory at the Reaping. Would I have remained friends with him if he pretended to fall in love with some other girl, and came back with her in tow? I imagine the girl with the chestnut silky locks kissing him on a tv screen, I imagine them moving back home and living 25 yards from each other, I imagine him asking her to marry him.

The intensity of my anger, and my pain almost takes my breath away. How could I have brushed aside his feelings? I kept him waiting for three long years, no wonder he went looking for someone else to fill the empty space I refused to step into.

(Recommended Track: That Way-Tate McRae)

I get up from the bed that smells like his skin and his soap and all the unfulfilled dreams I've left him with and make my way to the living room. Hazelle is directing Rory and Vic to try and lay Gale flat on the floor, so he doesn't have to sleep in an uncomfortable position. My mother and Prim appear to be long gone. They must have left knowing that it would be futile to try and get me to come home while Gale was still so sick. I rush over to help, and between the three of us we manage to get him down without too much trouble. He barely even makes a sound.

"What did she give him?" I ask Hazelle as she sends the other kids off to bed.

"A few pills and some sleep syrup." She answers as she looks down at my hand gripping his. She smiles sadly at us, and then says she'll walk me back whenever I'm ready. I shake my head at her and tell her I'm going to watch over him in case the medicine wears off. She nods her head, and shuffles off to her room without argument. My mother left a tincture of numbing medicine to apply to his skin on the kitchen table, so I know if he wakes up in the middle of the night in pain I can at least apply some of that to his back.

He's sleeping now, lying on his stomach, with his head turned to the side towards me propped on an old couch pillow.

I scoot closer to his face and reach out to stroke his cheek. The prickly brush of his stubble tickles my hands and I marvel at how rugged his skin feels beneath my finger tips. I trace his thick enigmatic brows, and the straight bridge of his nose. When my fingers move down to his lips, I marvel at the smooth fullness of them, and the warm rush air that tumbles past his parted mouth. Remember the way he kissed me at the lake house, hesitantly at first, then deeply, serenely, as if my lips had calmed some disquiet in him. How could I have missed all the things he was trying to say to me? Just because he wasn't good at expressing himself, didn't mean he didn't try to communicate with me. It was all there in that kiss. How much he just needed me to want to be with him, just for a moment. But I had been so stubborn, not wanting to get involved when I knew I couldn't completely return his feelings.

There was a part of me that still didn't know if I could. The ghost of Peeta's fingers on my skin, the taste of hot chocolate on my tongue that now felt bittersweet, stopped me from leaning down and brushing my lips against Gale's full soft ones. Because how could I kiss him, when I'd been kissing someone else at night?

Yes, Gale had kissed other lips. Maybe a lot of different ones. But it was unfair to hold a grudge against him for that, because I knew about the mystery girl, and he didn't know about Peeta at all. Wasn't it? I would have to tell him, finally, no more putting it off. He deserved to know. He might not forgive me. But I couldn't keep lying to him or myself. Because I wasn't ok with him kissing that girl, not really. And I knew he wouldn't be ok with what happened between me and Peeta. So I stroked his hair as gently as I could, and tried to brace myself for the inevitable fall out. I leaned back against the bottom corner of the arm chair at my back, and tried to rest my head as I kept a careful watch over the boy from the woods.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

Gale sleeps mercifully until after dawn. I woke up a few times to check on him. Once when he groaned after trying to shift onto his side, I whispered for him to be still and his eyes opened for a moment recognizing me in the dark of the living room.

"You still here Catnip?" He asks me in a sleepy whisper.

"Couldn't chase me away with a stick if you tried." I whisper back to him, as I stroke his hand absentmindedly, sleepy myself. This makes him smile, so gently, he looks like a little boy for a moment and I feel startled at how happy my simple gesture to watch over him makes him.

"If you're here in the morning, I'll know it's real." He says quietly, almost to himself. The sleep syrup must be making him feel a little uninhibited. My mother says it has a similar effect as alcohol, and makes people say and do things they normally might not.

"I'm not going anywhere." I promise, and stroke his hair until he falls back asleep.

Now in the dim light of the morning I see him still asleep. He still lays on his stomach, one hand under the couch pillow to give his head extra support, and the other hand still clasped around mine. He's still not wearing a shirt, and my eyes travel over the lean expanse of his back. His skin looks unmarked, unbruised so whatever injury he has has to be deeper than that. His shoulder blades look smooth and perfect in the grey light of a cold morning. I look over to the fire and see that it died out sometime during the night. I sigh, knowing I'll have to get up and restart it before everyone wakes up cold and freezing. Gale's home isn't insulated like my new home. Without the warmth of the fire or the kitchen stove, it gets cold very fast in the winter months. I gently pry my hand from his, and tuck it under the warmth of his couch pillow. Then I grab an old throw blanket, and cover him as gently as I can. I turn around to see Hazelle looking at me from the doorway to her room. I motion to the dead fireplace and she points outside in the direction of their firewood cache.

By the time I collect the wood, restart the fire, and check on Gale's sleeping form again, Hazelle has already made breakfast. It's plain porridge, sweetened with goat's milk. It's probably Lady's milk actually. Prim is still good friends with Rory and Vic and Posey, so she probably brings some by every week for them. I thank Hazelle for the food and eat quietly.

"Did he wake?" She asks me quietly, not wanting to speak too loudly and wake her oldest son.

"No, slept through the night. Must have been the sleep syrup." I say, a little guiltily as I put down my bowl still half full of porridge. I would try to save the rest for Gale's siblings, who might have to cut back on their portions since they had a guest. I realized I would have to apologize to my mother for last night. I had thrown a fit and it must have been really bad for her to kick me out of the room. But if I had to do it again, I couldn't say I would have just stayed quiet. I was glad she had given Gale the medicine. He had been in so much pain.

The kids came out then, and I handed Vic my portion after I saw him staring into his half full bowl. He smiled up at me, and I put my finger to my lips, indicating it would be our secret. Hazelle saw us though, and pretended not to notice. I looked around then, at their mostly pleasant faces around the breakfast table. But I noticed the pinched expression on Rory's face, and I peered at him, trying to figure out what was upsetting him. He was staring at his brother's unconscious form, asleep on the floor. And then I realized what time it was. It was almost time for Gale's shift.

Oh no. Gale's job at the mines. Even though he was injured, he would still be expected to show up this morning. The only excuse the overseers accepted was usually death or something close to it, and since Gale wasn't a corpse or close to one….They would want him to go back to work immediately. But my mother had said he absolutely couldn't work for at least three days. We were at an impasse. I stood up abruptly, and announced that I needed to go home. I pulled on my coat, and boots and told them that I would be back as soon as I could get some things straightened out.

I practically ran home, and found my mother in the office seated at the large wooden desk where she was balancing the household budget. Good, I needed to secure some funds to bribe the overseer..

"I need some money." I say, when she looks up at me.

"Katniss,"

"It's for Gale, so they don't fire him or penalize him for not being able to work. You said he couldn't work for three days-"

"I have the money. I anticipated the need for it. But, you can't be the one to take it down to the mines. It'll be too suspicious."

"What?"

"You'll need to go with Peeta or Haymitch. They're better at talking to people anyway."

"But I can-"

"We can't afford any complications with the wedding so close. But it's your choice who to ask to go with you. You better hurry, the first shift starts in 20 minutes." She says as she lays a small leather pouch filled with coins on the desk.

I reach over and snatch the bag before hurrying out.

I try Haymitch's first, and he's home but in a foul mood. I can tell by the way he answers from the kitchen it will be a battle to get him to leave the house this morning. He's probably pissed that I never showed up to help last night with the construction. Which he has a right to be mad about, but it's just a little inconvenient at the moment. So I decided to cut my losses and try Peeta.

He's awake, and up in his kitchen, already baking. I burst in and tell him I need him to get dressed and come with me right now. He sees my expression and doesn't hesitate. He just pulls off his apron and shrugs on his jack before following me out.

As we walk I explain what happened last night, about Rory coming over, my mother and Prim and I leaving to treat Gale, and then realizing this morning that Gale would be in trouble for not showing up to his shift. His brow furrows as we walk but he remains silent until we get to the main entrance to the mine.

"So, do you think you can, you know, talk to them?" I ask, my voice sounding worried and anxious even to myself.

"Yeah, give me the bag." He says and I hand him the pouch. I see people watching us as we enter, and I impulsively reach out and take his hand, and he just accepts it with a small squeeze.

We look for Gale's crewmates, and when they spot us they walk over. Peeta exchanges a few words with them, and even slips them a few coins from his own pocket explaining that since Gale will be out for a while they might not meet their quotas. They just nod and point out which overseer we need to talk to.

He's a stern man who looks to be around 40 years old, with a balding head of dark hair mixed with grey. His name is Farlow, and he doesn't seem to be able to make any expressions other than a grimace at all times. Peeta shakes his hand introducing himself, even though the man obviously knows who we are. Then he explains that we're here to plead Gale's case. He makes up a story about Gale saving me after slipping on some ice while trying to carry in a box of wedding dresses. He says Gale carried me upstairs even though he had fallen on the ice as well, and how he had injured himself. Then Peeta says since it was his finance's fault they were short a miner today he was willing to make a contribution to the mine to cover the loss of productivity. Farlow eyes Peeta with a greedy gleam, and then they proceed to haggle over how much three days of Gale's work is worth. Finally they settle on a price, shake hands, with Farlow more enthusiastic this time, and Peeta slips him the small leather bag of coins. I see the man smile for the first time when he places the hefty bag inside his coat pocket, and I wish he had just kept grimacing. We turn to leave. He tells us in a stern voice that Gale has three days to get better, or else he'll report him.

Peeta and I walk hand in hand back towards town, and I breathe a sigh of relief as we get farther and farther away from the mines.

"Thank you." I tell him and squeeze his hand.

He just nods solemnly, looking straight ahead, and I wonder if he's mad at me.

"I'm sorry for not getting word to you last night. I just got preoccupied by the emergency." I tell him in a slightly pleading voice. He nods again, seemingly to barely hear my words. He seems lost in thought.

I stop walking and he continues for half a step before he notices that I've stopped.

"What are you thinking Peeta?"

"Oh, a lot of things."

"You're worried, aren't you?" I ask, because I know it's true. He sets his jaw a certain way whenever anything Gale related comes up.

"Peeta, he's really injured. He couldn't even stand. And it's all my fault, asking him to come over and dig after working in the mine for 10 hours each day…" I trail off as he stares at me quizzically.

"It's not your fault," He says in that confident tone, like he can't understand where I'm coming from.

"I wish I could believe that." I reply, and start walking again because I need to get back and check on Gale.

"It's true, but I know better than to try and waste time convincing you when you're in a mood like this."

"A mood?"

"Yes, Katniss, your 'I need to save and protect everyone' mood." He says with a sigh. And walks to keep pace with me.

"That's not a mood Peeta, it's a...goal." I tell him as we reach the intersection in town where we'll have to part ways. He'll head back to the victor's village or his parent's bakery. And I'll go back to the Seam.

"You take on too much," he says with a sigh, and I can't help but cringe a little at his words. But what does he expect me to do?

"I'm watching him until Hazelle finishes work. The rest of the kids will be at school, and there's no one else-" I say, feeling the need to explain, for some reason. But he turns around and gives me a strained smile. And I think-there-that's the reason.

"Alright, I guess I'll see you when I see you." He says, his voice slightly hesitant, his brow furrowed.

"Peeta-"

"I'm here, whenever you need me. And all you have to do is be honest with me, and not run away." He says quietly, his bright blue eyes searching my face.

"I'm not running away." I say reflexively, even though part of me knows that isn't entirely true.

"Sure." He says in a way that sounds like he's not convinced at all, but is pretending to me for my sake. Suddenly I feel very guilty, as if he somehow can read the doubt and the events pf last night written all over my face. And I don't know why I feel this way. I'm not supposed to feel like this. I just know I don't want to end the conversation this way.

"You've got things of mine." I whisper, quiet and almost inaudibly as my breath curls warmly in the frigid air.

He raises one eyebrow, still unconvinced but curious.

"The secret recipe, my thermos for hot chocolate, my painting, and…"

"Yeah?" He looks back at me with such hope, such warmth. It runs through me like a warm summer rain.

I don't have the words to tell him what else he has of mine that I can't afford to forget about. So instead I just reach out and pull him into a kiss. And he accepts my lips, and my cold hands against the sides of his face on the chilly morning.

"A few other things.." I tell him when I finally break the kiss. His eyes are closed, and his eyelashes look like pale yellow straw against his flushed cheeks.

"Okay." He says finally looking at me, and I release him and take a small step back. He gives me a small smile, partly hopeful, partly doubtful, and it settles over my chest like a heavy weight.

"Dinner tonight right?" He says seriously. And I nod. He nods back before kissing me lightly on the cheek and turning to walk in the direction of his family's bakery. I turn around and head in the direction of Gale's home.

When I get there the house is emptying. Vic and Posey have filed out and are heading towards the school, and Hazelle has already left for her first client's home. Rory sees me from the window and walks out with a grateful smile on his face.

"I didn't know if you'd make it back. I didn't want to leave him alone." He says as he walks down the steps leading from the front door.

"I'm back. I'll take care of him. Don't worry" I tell him confidently and he clasps me on the back in a grateful way, before heading off to school.

(Recommended Listening Track: Can I Be Him-James Arthur)

I walk in and start to shed my coat before I hear Gale's deep voice ring out in the quiet of the house.

"That you Catnip?"

"Yeah." I say, as I unlace my boots and line them up next to his large work ones at the entrance. The town square had been muddy.

"How'd you know it was me?" I ask him as he's still lying on his front, stretched out on the living room floor. He couldn't possibly have seen my feet, he's facing the other direction.

"Oh, I know your steps." He says with a chuckle.

"Hmmm." I reply, accepting this is a real possibility since we spend so much time in the quiet woods together.

"When I woke up and you weren't here, I thought maybe I had dreamed up last night." He says quietly but the words feel large in the small empty house.

"I just needed to go down to the mine, to take care of your crew and work things out so you don't get in trouble." I tell him slowly as I walk over and pick up the medicine to apply to his back. I am starting to kneel beside him when he looks sharply up at me.

"You what?"

"Took care of things, so you'll still have a job in three days." I say, slightly aggravated and bracing for a fight with him. Gale hates charity, or anything of the sort. But he's just being a pig headed idiot in this case since the whole reason he's lying on the floor out of commission is because of me.

"You had no right-"

"Gale, it's necessary. Besides, why should your crew, your family, and you suffer for helping me? If it weren't for me you'd be fine." I told him seriously.

"You don't know what you're talking about, and me and my family don't need handouts!"

"Yeah well I need you, to take this help please, for me. I need you to be ok, Gale." I tell him, lowering my face close to his to pin him with that same piercing gaze he uses on me when I'm being irrational.

He seems to be caught in the look, and I think that at least he's not arguing anymore. So I just position myself by his right side to where I can reach his entire long torso when I apply the medicine. I try to blow on my hands so I don't shock him with cold fingers, and I catch him looking at me over his shoulder. I ignore his gaze and once my hands are a temperature closer to human flesh rather than icicles, I scoop out a little bit of the medicine and begin to apply it lightly to his skin.

He lies very still, and quiet as I work. In the soft light of the morning I can see the curve of his spine, the small star-like birthmark under his ribs on his right side, and even a few freckles, though not nearly as many as I'm used to. Gale's shoulders are firm and powerful, with defined muscles, but they are slightly narrower than someone else I know. Yet his torso is stretched into graceful proportions because of his uncommon height. And there just seemed to be so much of him to cover in there in the solitude of the deserted living room. When I reach the sore spot I tell him to tell me exactly how much pressure is ok, and he quietly instructs me as I massage his firm muscles. It's quiet, and I get absorbed in the work, because the majority of his back from the middle down is sore from the injury and probably from mining from the last two years for six days straight. I try to be thorough, and he doesn't complain, and after a while he relaxes so much into my touch I think he might have fallen asleep again. But he startles me, by speaking and breaking the quiet, so that my fingers splay over his skin for a moment.

"Your hands are so small," He comments as I finish massaging the base of his neck.

"Well, not everybody can be a giant like you." I say quietly, wishing we could go back to the quietness. Words usually got both of us in trouble. I turn to cover the medicine searching for something to do with my hands now that they are unoccupied.

"Most girls like it when the guy is taller…" He says quietly, trailing off into silence. And I close my eyes in frustration. Why is he saying things like this?

"Most guys don't try to keep secrets when they get hurt so bad they can't even stand up." I told him snapily, because I'm still pissed he didn't want me to know he was injured.

"Didn't want you to worry." He grinds the words out in irritation, and I feel my anger flare a little.

"Too late." I bite the words out, and slam the tin of medicine on the small end table closest to me. The tension builds uncomfortably in the small room, and the peace that had been wrapped around us like a cloak disintegrates. His jaw is flexed, like he's trying to keep from biting back an angry retort at me. Just when I think he'll start arguing again, he just lets out a deep sigh.

"I...I'm sorry." He says quietly, and I stop to stare at him for a moment, surprised. We are so alike, I know how much it cost him to apologize.

I huff out a little frustrated sigh of my own, but just sit back down next to him, with my back against the arm chair so he doesn't have to crane his neck to look at me. He stares up at me, in a soft and even grateful way. I just roll my eyes at him, because the kind of look in his eyes is unsettling.

"You stayed." He breathes the next words, despite my attempts to derail him.

"Why wouldn't I?" I murmur.

"Because, it's not your problem. I'm not your...responsibility or obligation."

"You're...important. And maybe I haven't always shown that well enough." I tell him looking up at him, wondering how I can explain who and what he is to me, and then reconcile that with what is going on between Peeta and I.

"You show it when it counts, and that's all that matters, Katniss." He says and reaches out to take my hand. His large hand covers my small one completely, and I fight against the feeling of a flock of birds trying desperately to flutter and pitch inside my chest. His fingers rub against my knuckles in a similar way to what I did last night to soothe him and I feel my cheeks pink in realization.

"Gale," I tell him, eyes wide and startled in the small space of his very empty home.

He doesn't say anything. His eyes just travel over my face slowly, admiringly, and it's not the blatant desire I saw when he looked at the girl behind the candle shop, but something deep and meaningful and full of potential.

"I felt you touch my face last night." He murmurs, and I think my cheeks blaze a million times hotter.

"I thought you were asleep." My voice is a surprised squeak.

"I thought I was dreaming. But then I heard your voice in the morning, talking with my mother, and my family. It was nice, waking up to that sound."

"Uhhhhh…" I feel like someone has pulled the rug out from under me.

"Cat got your tongue Catnip?" He says as he drags my knuckles across his lips lightly. I snatch my hand away, and he smiles at me unperturbed.

"You're incorrigible." I tell him, cradling my hand against my chest, willing the strange feeling to fade.

"Definitely, but you're the only habit I don't want to be cured of." He says so smoothly I feel like a lesser being might have fainted at the unbroken wave of heat in his gaze. I, however, at least have the advantage of being very awkward in these situations.

"You can't say things like that!" I blurt out at him, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

"Why not? It's true." He replies, in an unconcerned fashion. And I find myself exhaling a groan in aggravation.

"Because we're friends, and things have to stay that way, for the wedding." I tell him, looking down into his eyes seriously.

And all the playful light leaves his eyes, and is replaced by a hard, stony look that makes me flinch.

"Friends don't touch each other in the dark." He says angrily, and I gape at him open mouthed, shocked at his use of those kinds of words. But what can I say? He was right. I wasn't thinking of being his friend last night. I wasn't even thinking of being his friend this morning, until Peeta's sad eyes searched my black heart in the town square.

Haymitch might have made an understatement when he said I don't deserve Peeta. In all reality I probably don't deserve anyone, being the wretched, selfish, creature that I am.

"You're right. I shouldn't have done that." I tell Gale in a quiet whisper, resolved to forfeit the traitorous desires that had eclipsed my common sense when I saw him injured and in pain.

He lets out a frustrated, displeased sound in the back of his throat and just stares at a spot on the wall with what can only be described at the fiery hatred of a thousand suns.

"I didn't want you to apologize. I wish you wouldn't have stopped last night. I wish you would have kissed me until I was sure I wasn't dreaming. Until I was sure you wanted me the same way I wanted you."

"That can't happen." I say so softly, I barely even hear myself.

"Because you don't want to or because of your fake fiance?" He says through gritted teeth.

I take a deep breath, because here it is, the point in the conversation where I have to be honest with Gale and explain just where things got so complicated and off track for the three of us.

"Peeta is my friend too, I'm not faking that part, and neither is he." I tell him quietly.

"Oh sure, I bet he's up late at night agonizing over how uncomfortable it is for him to kiss his good friend on a regular basis." He says as he rolls his eyes in disdain.

"Do you stay up, agonizing over the girls you kiss when I'm not around?" I ask, with a current of the icy water under the question. His dismissal of Peeta and I's friendship, which he clearly doesn't understand, has me angry.

"What?" He asks, his eyes snapping up to mine, a little too large, and startled.

"You heard me." I challenge him quietly.

He just stares, and stares. I stare back. And when I realize he is not going to say anything I shake my head at him, disappointed.

"You should really be more discreet than kissing behind the candlemaker's, if you don't want people to know about it." I tell him quietly.

He has enough shame to blush at my accusation, and I turn my eyes away from him, staring at a point on the wall, willing answers to appear that don't seem forthcoming for either of us.

"How…..Did she talk to you? Go to your house?"

"No, thank goodness. I was on my way to see you after your shift, and when I couldn't find you I doubled back through town to see if you were home sick. I took a shortcut, and I heard you, talking to her, well arguing with her more like. Which seems funny now, seeing as you went from trading insults one second to trying to rip each other's clothes off the next." I say the words like they taste ugly in my mouth, and I cross my arms over my chest, not wanting to see his expression at the moment.

"I...that was...it was a mistake." He says in a frustrated voice and I get the urge to scream at him, but then I remember that he's not the only one who has been dishonest here.

"Yeah well, now we've both proved that there's not a real sturdy foundation to build on for anything beyond friendship at the moment. Because I'm still...committed to seeing things through till the wedding, and you're...confused? Angry? I don't know what exactly. But it's not a good thing, I know that."

"I'm not confused." He tells me vehemently.

"No? Well I am. I'm still very confused, and maybe more than confused as far as Peeta is concerned."

"What do you mean?" He asks in a startled, raised voice. He tries to push up on his arms so he can sit up but winces, and gives up to lay back down. I frown, not wanting him to hurt himself. His eyes are digging into me, like if he stares long enough he'll be able to see inside my head.

I exhale slowly, not sure exactly how to broach the subject without going into Snow's ultimatum and everything else that happened. But I know even if I tell him how I arrived at this point, it won't explain what happened after. He'll ask me if it's all for show, if I did it because I was forced, I'd be lying if I told him yes now. The last few weeks with Peeta have had nothing to do with threats, and more to do with my own desires.

"I mean, sometimes things happen, like with the girl at the candle shop." I say, not meeting his eyes.

"You mean you made a mistake?" His voice is incredulous, strained, and full of fear.

"No, I mean, at least I don't think so, I...just know things aren't purely for show anymore, as far as Peeta is concerned. There's um...more to it." I reply, trying to ease into it.

"How much more-wait no, don't tell me. I don't really want to know. Did you- is this revenge? For the girl?" He says, his eyes running through a hundred emotions in half a second. Pain, anger, revulsion, horror, and denial. He presses his hands over his eyes, as if he can stop the questions, or thoughts, or maybe even images from flashing before him.

"No, Gale, no. I wouldn't hurt you like that just because my pride was a little wounded. We're not together, we never really have been, so I couldn't even fault you at first. I wouldn't have even brought it up, but-"

"I brought him up. Were you ever going to tell me, if I hadn't asked?"

"Yes, I've been trying to find time to tell you for a while now." AndI know he's thinking about how I told him I went looking for him that day after he got out of work.

He winces, I think at the admission that a certain amount of time has passed since the new development between Peeta and I. It hurts him to think of me having developed feelings for someone else. I have no idea how long he's been seeing the mystery girl, and I don't think he's going to offer any details. But eventually he nods, accepting this.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" I ask him, genuinely curious about what would have happened if I had never walked by the alley that afternoon.

I can see his eyes slant away from my question, and I feel like a stone has been dropped into the pit of my stomach.

"Katniss, there were no emotions involved, I was just...distracting myself from...from you." He says, as he turns to look into my eyes, willing me to believe him.

"Oh." I reply, not sure whether this is better or worse. If it's true, Gale hasn't betrayed me in his heart, but it also means he's capable of detaching himself from his feelings completely when he's with a woman. That thought is slightly troubling in itself, and I don't know if maybe it's just a male trait, or if maybe deep down, it's not true and he's just trying to spare my feelings.

"Is that what's going on with you and him?" He asks, his voice a tiny bit hopeful, his eyes searching mine.

"No. I- I care about..." I start to say but Gale shuts his eyes like it's painful to hear me say the words, so I don't say Peeta's name.

"So you care, ok. How much of that is because he's the only person you're allowed to care about right now?" He asks, his voice hard again, a little angry.

"I don't know. It's hard to define exactly. So I can't really put a label on it." I tell him honestly, because I've wondered that myself, when I'm alone and there's nothing to distract me from dark thoughts.

"Are you planning on figuring it out someday, or is this something you're just going to run with?" He asks, his voice trying to mask pain with anger and failing.

"We have an agreement. To stay friends, and figure the rest out after the wedding." I tell him, hoping he doesn't give into all that anger and pain. Gale isn't very open about his feelings, and when he's hurt he can curl up like a wounded animal ready to defend himself with sharp teeth and nails.

"Fine. What are the odds you'd consider someone else? After the wedding?" He asks, defeated resignation creeping into his voice.

"All I know is I want to start over Gale, no more threats, no more fear, no more pressure. I don't know what will be left if anything beyond our friendship, or Peeta and I's commitment to keep each other safe. I don't even know if I want more than friendship with anyone." I say in a quick rush, wanting to get it all out, wishing it were already done.

"Alright, I can't be angry at you for falling into the same trap I did. We just need to get clear of all this, and give things an honest shot away from this...insanity. So let's agree to figure it out afterwards, as well." He tells me, not looking at me again.

"Ok, I think that would be best…..Are you going to stay mad?" I tell him after a long second.

"I won't be, or at least I'll try not to be if you try not to be." He says, looking over at me again, a sad but pleading look on his face breaking through the confusion and discomfort of the earlier conversation.

"Ok, I think I can do that." I tell him with a small nod.

"Alright, until then can we just go back to being us? Gale and Catnip?" He asks me, his voice just a twinge desperate.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that." I say as I let the breath I've been holding in out in a relieved rush.

"That's enough for me, for right now." He takes my hand in his, holding onto me, like I'm a lifeline and I squeeze his hand, to let him know that I'm still here.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

I took care of Gale until around early afternoon. I applied the medicine twice to his back, carefully and with great determination to keep my mind in a very platonic state of mind. To his credit, Gale made every effort to keep things easy and friendly between us. We talked about Rory and his aptitude test results, he got recommended as a miner, no surprise there. And I told him about Prim and the sleepover, and he could't stop laughing at the thought of me cooped up with a bunch of high school girls talking about makeup and boys. I roll my eyes at him and conk him on the head with a couch pillow.

"Hey, you're not supposed to hit the patient!"

"Yeah well if you don't cut it out I'll ask my mother for some more sleep syrup." I tell him and he just shakes his head like he can't believe me.

"If you make it the whole night with those girls, and don't try to break out before dawn, I'll go to Peeta's bachelor party."

This was something we had discussed earlier. Since Peeta needed Gale's help with switching out the marriage license with a forged one that was almost an exact look alike, Gale had begrudgingly agreed to be his best man a week ago. It had been painfully awkward, and when Peeta first asked him one night in the basement after we took a short break from digging, I thought Gale was seriously considering punching him for a moment. But then Haymitch and I had jumped in and explained how people would be watching the three of us too closely that day and the only one stealthy enough and inconspicuous enough to make the switch would be Gale.

Gale had said he would do it. But he agreed with barely concealed anger, saying that he just wanted to make sure I wouldn't have to get a divorce later. Peeta had nodded then, and turned around to get back to work. I had felt like we had survived a near miss. But then Gale said he wouldn't go to the bachelor party or anything else, he was only going to show up on the day of the wedding and make the switch.

"I didn't expect you to do anything else." Peeta had commented over his shoulder.

Haymitch had grumbled something about how it would be good for the cameras to show some comradery between Peeta and I's families, and everyone had ignored the comment.

But now Gale was actually offering to put in an effort for the cameras. I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

"You want to go?"

"Not if it was the last cool place in hell, but I know it's a safe bet. You won't be able to take more than an hour of gabbing about hair and dresses. You'll be out the back door before they start braiding each other's hair."

"You know, just because I can hunt and don't like to gossip doesn't mean I'm not...a girl you know."

"Yeah I know. But you're just...different." He says the word like he's trying to describe some alien creature.

"Wow, thanks. That adjective doesn't make me feel like a freak at all."

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say freak…"

The pillow collides with his face and he's laughing so loudly, and deeply I can't help but join him. Gale never laughs like this unless we're in the woods, and even then it has to be something really funny or really bad to make him laugh so fully. That's when the door opens and Hazelle comes in. She looks over at us and smiles, in such a sincere and warm way that I feel all the laughter drain from my face. I quickly stand up and brush off my pants.

"I've reapplied the medicine twice, and made him some eggs. He says it doesn't hurt as much as yesterday, but he should lie as still as possible, and not try to get up until maybe tomorrow. If you're done with work I'll head home now." I tell her quickly. And walk over to the door to thrust my arms quickly through my jacket before she can do something like ask me to stay for dinner or comment on what a good daughter-in-law I'd make or something equally alarming.

"Sure dear, thank you for all you've done." She says as she hustles over to the kitchen.

I hear Gale let out a disappointed sigh. And I clear my throat.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning, with some more medicine. I'll look after you again while everyone's busy. Be careful with your back, and just try to rest." I call out, as I turn to leave.

"See you." Is his reply, and I nod to myself as I leave.

I make a quick stop at the Hob, just to check in, and then head home to apologize to my mother. I dread it the whole way home, but when I find her in the kitchen and actually get the words out she just smiles at me sadly.

"I know how hard it is to see someone you love in pain." She says with a small shrug of her shoulders before turning around and resuming her cooking. I couldn't have been more surprised if she had slapped me. I stood there for a minute, trying to work through what she said. And when I try to refute the claim I find I can't. Yes, I think there is love for Gale on some level inside of myself. The truth of just how much and in exactly what way is submerged in the deep murky waters somewhere between friends and the secret desire I felt when I brushed his skin with the tips of my fingers. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts, and ask if she's seen Peeta.

"He came by to ask if I needed help taking more medicine over, but I told him you'd probably come back and do that yourself before returning to take care of Gale." My mother says as she adds a sprinkle of salt to the stew she's stirring.

I imagine how Peeta might have felt upon hearing this, and find myself worried. I bite the corner of my lip, absentmindedly.

"If you want to check in you can give him a call," She suggests when I don't reply.

But I'm already walking over and pulling my jacket back on.

"Are you coming back for dinner or...?" She asks when before I open the door.

"Don't wait dinner on me." I tell her quickly before I leave.

(Recommended Listening track: Starving-Hailee Steinfeld, Grey, Zedd)

I find him in his kitchen in the middle of taking a tray of fresh bread out of the oven and transferring it to the counter. He looks up at me surprised and I throw off my jacket and walk over to meet him in the middle of the kitchen. He stops what he's doing and just stares at me in an inquiring way. I stare back at him, willing him to read my expression. Because I want him to know, before I say it with words, that I have done as he asked. His gentle eyes roam over my face, and I can't help but let out a small smile. His response is immediate. His hands cup my face and he drinks in my kiss like a man who's been in the desert for days without a drop of water. I kiss him back hungrily, like I'm starving for his lips. His hands are dusted in flour and he leaves fingerprints on my clothes and then my skin when the clothes come off. He smells like dill and fresh baked bread, and when I taste the sensitive spot on his neck where his pulse is pounding, he groans and pulls me down on top of him as we fall to the kitchen floor.

The way we collide together is frantic and full of frisson. It's like we're trying to reaffirm each other, or reassure each other of something, I just can't decide what. But his body feels so good against mine, and after all the confusion and danger and craziness I feel a deep urge to feel his skin pressed to me. He flips us over so that he's on top, and shucks my underwear with expert skill. I revel in the way he quickly and efficiently gets me off. With his mouth, with his his fingers, and without any shame or reservation here on floor of his kitchen. It's exactly what I need to distract myself from all the questions rattling around in my skull. And then I climb on top of him to return the favor. I don't even get his pants all the way off, but within minutes I have him coming so hard he says practically every swear word in the book. I don't remember all of it, but there was one part where his eyes almost rolled back in his head and he screamed about how he wanted to fuck me on the kitchen floor until his dying breath. His outbursts make me laugh, but he seems totally serious, and starts using his hands to drag my hips down in roughly as his orgasm dissipates. Its sweaty, and fast, and messy and glorious. And it leaves me feeling sated and comforted as I lay my head on his broad chest and listen to the sound of his heart steadily calming.

After the rush subsides, a concerned wrinkle appears between his eyebrows as he tries to wipe the flour prints off my skin and I just smile against his shoulder and suppress a laugh.

"Don't worry about it." I tell him as he keeps shifting and finding more and more traces of flour the more he searches.

"I have to get rid of the evidence before you go home. Don't want to set a bad example for Prim after all." He says with a huff as he uses his thumbnail to gently scrape some caked on flour off my hip.

"Oh Prim's in on our secret. She saw me sneaking in the morning of the update interviews." I tell him with a chuckle. He raises his eyebrows in surprise and then just smiles at me, in a slightly proud way. I roll my eyes at him.

"Who else knows, besides Prim and your mother?" He asks in a very careful way, not looking directly at me. And I know he's fishing for details of my day with Gale.

"Haymitch, with the amount of times he's barged in and seen my clothes all over your couch. Possibly Effie because of the honeymoon comments. The Capitol doctor. And...Gale, to a certain extent."

"A certain extent?" He asks in a skeptical tone.

"Well I didn't exactly give him a recap. That would be cruel Peeta. But I did tell him in pretty clear terms that there are things between us that aren't just for show anymore."

"Hmmm...that statement makes me ridiculously happy." He says as he pulls me closer and begins kissing down my cheek in the direction of my neck.

"Peeta no offence, but I'm starving. Can we take a break to eat?" I tell him, pulling away hoping to at least get a few bites of bread in before he tries to make love to me again.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely, let's eat." He says, shifting so we can stand up. I tug on my underwear and then steal his grey cotton shirt to wear in the meantime, since I'm pretty sure getting fully dressed at this juncture would be pointless. We'll probably just end up heading upstairs as soon as we finish eating since it's still early. I won't even have to sneak back out and then pretend to come back in like I've been doing on the days Gale comes over to work. I wonder if we'll fall behind schedule now that he's out sick. While I'm thinking this my stomach growls. I'm hungry because I haven't really eaten much since I didn't want to impose on Hazelle when they're already so tight with food around the house. So I tell myself to eat first, and then try to come up with a plan for the construction later. Peeta pulls his boxers back on, but forgoes the rest of his clothes. When we sit down to eat the dinner he made, baked chicken and mushrooms in a thick gravy with wild rice, I hum happily under my breath at the deliciousness of it. When I look up he's staring at me with such intense adoration it's almost frightening.

"Do I have something in my teeth?" I say, picking at my teeth in what I hope is an off putting way, trying to help diffuse the sweet intensity with some humor.

"I just love seeing you smile when we're eating dinner together. And I love seeing you wear my favorite shirt."

"This is your favorite shirt?" I ask looking down at the plain, unremarkable grey shirt.

"It's the one I was wearing the night you climbed in my window." He says quietly with a gleam in his eye, before he takes a bite of his chicken and smiles.

"Oh, well then you should probably frame it." I tell him jokingly, but he gets a strange look on his face, and I almost choke on rice as I realize he might be taking me seriously.

He sees the dismayed look on my face and just laughs. "Don't worry I won't really frame it." He says and I feel like I can breathe again. I go back to eating my delicious food, hoping to avoid any more sentimental comments, at least until after I finish.

"So," He says in a more serious voice after we've cleared away the plates, "How did he take it?" He's filling up the sink with soapy water, and if it were any other afternoon I'd almost think the question was harmless. But I know that however nonchalantly Peeta asks, this question is loaded.

I clear my throat, not knowing exactly what to say. I don't really want to talk about my private conversation with Gale. It feels like Peeta's checking up on me, and I don't know if I like it exactly. It feels more like something a boyfriend would ask his girlfriend. But we aren't dating. We said no labels, so why is he continuing with this line of questioning?

"He said he understood. And he agreed to wait until after the wedding to try and figure things out, as well." I tell him in my most objective voice.

"Katniss, that sounds like he doesn't really know the seriousness of what's happened." Peeta asks, in a strange voice. He puts down the dish with effort, as he analyzes my expression. I sigh.

"You said it was my choice Peeta, whether to tell him or not. He's not mad, he understands we're all in a tough situation, like you said. And we're making the best of our options right now." I say, as I look over at him.

"Katniss, you're standing in my kitchen wearing my t-shirt….and we just…" He trails off, almost sheepishly, but it makes me scowl.

"I'm aware Peeta, I was there." I tell him with an edge of frustration creeping into my voice. I don't get why he's pushing this.

He looks back at me with a disappointed frown of his own.

"Peeta, you said no labels." My voice is tight, my shoulders painfully tense. Sleeping sitting up has my shoulders and neck killing me. I try to roll my shoulders back, but it doesn't help.

"I know, and for me I understand, but maybe its not fair...to him Katniss." Peeta says the words slowly, like each one is difficult to get out. He stares at me. I shake my head at him. I can't believe he's saying this now. We had already agreed.

"Are you going back on what you said? Because I thought this was between me and you. Is that not enough? Do you need me to announce it in the town square?"

I growl angrily, my words clipped and short. He tenses and grips the counter, obviously upset as well.

"Its not about me! I'm trying to be....honest and fair!" He exclaims in frustration and I laugh. I don't buy his explanation.

He closes his eyes, and looks skyward. I don't know if he's praying or cursing, but he looks deeply upset.

"You will always be enough for me. That's not the issue here." He says quietly, carefully. "I understand the limits you have for me. I know I don't have a claim here, but you can't keep something like this a secret forever, especially not if you want to stay his friend..." He tells me seriously and it feels like he's slapped me across the face. I reel away from him, and his accusation.

"Fine, Peeta, I'm the bad guy here. I don't care about anyone's feelings at all. I just told my best friend since I was 12 years old that he doesn't have to just watch me pretend to be with you on tv, now he has to watch us together in real life and know that's true, and that we're...not faking everything. I did that because I just wanted to see how badly I could hurt him after he practically crippled himself trying to help me. And then I came here, came back here like you asked, and yes, ended up tangled together with you on your kitchen floor after staying up all night worried sick, practically not sleeping because I had no idea how to help one of you without hurting the other. Because I'm obviously deranged, I'm sick in the head. This is all so blatantly clear, and the answers are so easy, and everyone can see them, except me!" I end up literally screaming. And I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. But I absolutely don't want to cry right now. Saying all these terrible things has been humiliating enough. So I bolt up from the table and tug on my pants, thrust my feet into my boots without bothering to lace them, and go to put on my jacket. I just need to leave. Peeta is up now, walking toward me, hands outstretched, trying to calm me down. He's saying things in a soothing tone, apologizing maybe. But I don't care. I'm an unfeeling monster who doesn't care about anyone. So I push his arms away when he tries to hold me, and I throw open the door and retreat from the warmth of his house, the smell of his kitchen, the comfort of his presence. And I head in the direction of the meadow, to be alone with my thoughts. Because at least if I'm by myself I can't hurt anyone else right now.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

I sit on the outcropping of rocks, trying not to shiver as the temperature drops now that the sun has set and night is quickly approaching. The angry words that Peeta and I exchanged knock back and forth in my head, making the space behind my eyes hurt. I don't know why I expected to be simple. I thought once I told Gale, things would be less complicated, and that Peeta and I would be able to go back to enjoying this brief time before things would have to change.

But of course, nothing is ever as simple as I want it to be.

Gale is hurt in more ways than one. Peeta is upset with me.

And I'm furious with myself for falling into this trap.

This, right here, was why I had made up my rules so long ago. I never wanted to get confused, or be the cause for someone else's pain. I had seen the heartbroken way my mother had grieved when she lost my father. Nothing was worth that misery. Not the ecstasy I had experienced with Peeta. Not the pull I had felt for Gale in the dark.

I sit in the cold, shivering and wonder if this is the point I thought about the last time I was here, drinking the hot chocolate Peeta had made for me the morning he cooked me breakfast. I hadn't wanted it to stop then, until it absolutely had to. With how complicated things were becoming, it seems I might have reached that point even before I expected.

I wonder to myself how I get back to somewhere that feels safe. There seems to be no refuge for me, from the constant demands of the Capitol to control how I look, what I say, who I kiss, and who I sleep with. And the men in my life...they don't seem to care, or be aware of just how much it's messing with my mind to try and sort out what I have to do, what they want me to do, and what I should do.

I think back to the night with Peeta, our very first night. He had repeated over and over that he knew it wasn't completely my choice. And in my desire to convince him, I convinced myself that I could choose between impossible things. He had made me want him, made me chase him, so very masterfully. And I hadn't really stopped, not the next morning, not the week after, not the month after. I kept sneaking into his house, and into his bed like this secret thing between us was impossible to say no to. I hadn't asked myself if I was chasing him because I felt guilty for all the times he chased me and I put up a wall between us, or because I wanted to be with him down the line. I had decided that if I had to take a lover, my best option was Peeta because he had felt safe, and easier to deal with. I had wanted to know what it would feel like to allow myself to be loved by him.

It felt great at first. Bright and beautiful, like a garden in bloom, each new experience more enticing than the last. My body responded to him like he was an intoxicating substance, something it craved with each extended exposure. And Peeta had said it was ok for us to keep doing these things. He convinced me, with my own words, that it was my choice when I had felt the crisis of indecision rise up after spending that first Sunday with Gale. He had been patient, unassuming as ever, supportive even, and hadn't demanded that I tell Gale the truth. At least, not at first. But today I felt the sharp sting of the thorns hidden among the flowers. I didn't know if I could trust Peeta's words. He spoke of fairness and concern for my friendship with Gale. But what if he had a deeper motive? What if Peeta wanted me to give Gale details, to make it clear I was sleeping with him, so that Gale would have been forced to back off. Peeta, and his way with words, his way of saying things and not saying things that could turn a situation on its head. But was he really that cold and calculating? My head swam with the question even though my heart shouted a vehement NO! But it was too late. The question rattled around in my brain muddling my thoughts.

Gale was no better. He hadn't even been able to look me in the eye when I asked him about kissing someone else. He basically told me he hadn't planned on ever telling me about her. And he thought since he felt nothing for her besides base desire, that it didn't count. But when confronted with the idea of Peeta and I becoming more than friends, more than acting partners, he had looked ill. So why didn't it count when he found relief or distraction in the arms of someone else, but when it was me he couldn't even face the idea, much less accept that I felt genuine friendship and maybe more for Peeta?

My mind played these details over and over on repeat, and I couldn't figure out if all three of us were selfish, self-centered, and horrible, or if we were all just majorly screwed up by all the things that had happened to us everyday since they called Prim's name in the town square. Maybe both things could be true at the same time.

I finally resolved to make my way back, because I still need to show up for work in the basement. We may have already fallen far behind schedule, since I had failed to work last night and now Gale would be out for a while. I make myself as presentable as I can, but I'm still wearing Peeta's shirt. And in an excruciating and miserable twist, it still smells like him, and the bread he was making this afternoon. It makes my heart ache, and I know its my own stupid fault.

I chastise myself all the way back to the fence, and back to Peeta's house. And by the time I let myself into his kitchen I know that I have screamed the criticisms loudly enough in my head to provide for a decent defense against his pleading blue eyes. I'm not surprised to see his worried face when I open the door quietly, or to see Haymitch's disapproving gaze find me in the dark. I am however surprised to see Rory. I almost asked him what he was doing here, but Haymitch just shook his head and indicated for us to go down into the basement.

I follow Haymitch, Peeta follows me, and Rory follows him. When we get down there, Haymitch holds up his hands until he turns on the bug scrambler and its blue and green lights come on.

"Okay, its alright now." Haymitch says in a gruff voice.

"Rory, what are you doing here?" I ask him.

"I'm here to take my brother's place." He says with more confidence than I expected. He's got a serious look in his eye, and we all consider him carefully.

"Do they even know you're here?" Peeta asks carefully.

"My mom does, I told her I was coming over. She agreed that its best, so that everything can keep going smoothly. Besides, my brother can't keep up with working the mines during the day and working here at night. And instead of sitting at home where they don't need me, I wanted to help out. I'm strong, I can work, almost as well as my brother. I know he already showed you all how to dig, so just teach me like he taught you."

"Your brother's not going to be very happy. I doubt he'll approve."

"Yeah, well not everything's his decision. This affects all of us. And I wanna get out of here the same as everybody else. So I'm willing to do my part."

"Alright kid, we're not going to turn away the help. Pick up that pickaxe and Peeta's gonna show you what to do." Haymitch tells him. And we all get to work.

We work as quickly as we can, with Peeta teaching Rory the basics and Rory picking things up surprisingly quickly. By the time we run out of time, we've caught up with the work we missed, and are pretty much back on schedule. I offer to walk Rory back to the Seam, as an excuse to leave without having to stick around and discuss things with Peeta. But Rory in typical 16 year old fashion scoffs at the idea of a girl walking him home for his own safety. But he does remind me to drop by his house in the morning to take a shift watching Gale while everyone is gone.

"How's he doing?" I ask quietly as we stand outside Peeta's kitchen door hidden in the shadows.

"He's better than yesterday. I think that medicine that your mom sent is helping. He can almost sit up without hurting himself. And tonight before I left he was strong enough to walk to our room and sleep in his own bed."

"That's good news. I'll make sure to bring more medicine tomorrow."

"It's not just the medicine, you know. I think it's you too. He seems happier, when you take care of him."

I have no idea what to say to this. There's nothing really safe I can say. So I just nod, not looking at Rory, and he leaves quietly in the direction of the village gate. I head out quickly before Peeta can open his kitchen door that he's no doubt probably pressed against trying to eavesdrop. I head home to my own bed, and when I reach it I find myself wishing I had let him order me some of those silky sheets. Because after I peel off my clothes and shower quickly, I can't help but put his shirt back on, even though it's not really clean. It takes a while to fall asleep even though I'm exhausted. My old cotton sheets feel scratchy on my skin, and I feel cold beneath the comforter. But I tell my body that no matter what it wants, I have to sleep alone tonight. No good will come of continuing to give in, when I don't have the strength to deal with the aftermath. And I am reminded again, of what Peeta said on our first night. About how he didn't know if he'd be able to stop wanting me, once he had me. I hadn't known it then, but the statement had obviously cut both ways.

(Gale POV)

She shows up the next morning before the kids even head out. She looks tired, and a little worn out, but even then she's beautiful. Her hair is braided down in her usual style, and she has on an old grey sweater that impossibly makes her grey eyes look bluer in the soft light from the window. She examines my back, and asks me how I feel as I lay in my small narrow bed that is barely wide enough for her to perch on the side of.

"Better, much better than that first night." I tell her happily, unable to keep a smile off my face as I think about how good it feels to be here with her alone, with her small hands running over my back as I lay in my bed. Last night I had been surprised to find a faint trace of her shampoo on my pillow, and I had fallen asleep trying to follow the ghost of her scent into my dreams.

"That's good." She replies quietly, her voice belying her concentration on applying the medicine. I can't help but imagine what it would be like to have her touch me without the pretence of needing to apply medicine to my body. The thought sends a spark down my spine, and she eases off her pressure, thinking that she probably hurt me, when the opposite is true. She makes me feel so good when she touches my skin.

"Sorry," She says, and then resumes with a lighter touch.

"No, you didn't hurt me." I tell her quietly. I don't say anything more, because of our agreement. If I told her how much I like the way it feels when she puts her hands on me, she'd probably run out of here faster than if someone set the house on fire.

Still, her hands are paralyzed momentarily on my skin. And I hold in a breath, bracing for her to make a break for it. But then she just grabs a little bit more of the medicine from the tin and goes back to the slightly tortuous exercise.

"Is this a scar or a birthmark?" She asks in a quiet voice as she reaches a spot near my ribs. Her fingers are feather light, just barely brushing against me.

"Birthmark." I tell her quietly, knowing she's referring to the slightly star shaped mark my mother refers to as my guiding mark. When I was younger, my mother used to tell me that it was a sign that I would never lose my way, in the woods or in life. I found the first to be true, since from the first time in the woods with my father I could always pick my way back to the direction of the fence no matter what new path we took. But the second saying, not so much. I felt lost right now, in a sea of wanting her, and not being able to find the direction back to shore.

Her hand rests against the spot, not moving, just pressed there. And I will her to move with every fiber of my being, to touch me again. But she just sighs, and moves away. I let my face fall into the pillow and sigh too. It seems the universe as usual doesn't care about my wants or needs. Not that it ever has before.

"Are you hungry? I can cook….eggs?" She says in a slightly doubtful voice. I laugh as I turn my head to face her. Katniss is a lot of really amazing things, but she is actually a terrible cook. But I don't mind dry eggs and burnt toast if she makes it for me. It just means she cares enough to try.

"Sure," I say with a smirk. She just rolls her eyes at me, probably reading the lack of enthusiasm in my voice.

"Count yourself lucky Hawthorne that we're best friends. I don't cook for just anybody." She says as stands up.

"Do you cook for him?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. And the atmosphere in the room changes from friendly and playful to fraught with tension in the blink of an eye. She stands there, facing away from me, frozen. And before I can apologize or take it back, she looks over her shoulder at me, eyes unreadable.

"No." She answers, and then walks out into the kitchen.

I take this information and tuck it away in the corner of my mind. It might be a good sign, but I can't help but wonder for the millionth time just what they spend their time doing when they're together. Does she kiss him in his empty house? Does he touch her skin like he did the night of the celebration feast, or is it more innocent than that? Do they sit around and talk like we do, does he make her laugh? Try as I might I can't picture them making fun of the Capitol like we do in the safety of the woods. So what do they talk about? And what did he do to make her change her mind?

All these questions eat at me, until she comes back. I try to put them out of my mind and she helps me sit up so I can eat like a normal person and not some invalid.

The eggs are better today, not as over cooked. And the toast is only slightly burned on the edges. I can't help but smile at the effort she made. I look over at her and catch her eyes roaming over my bare chest. She looks away quickly but her cheeks pink in embarrassment at being caught staring. I grin in her direction. I may not have a big house or fancy clothes, but doing manual labor for six days a week has its advantages. One of them being that I stay in really good shape year round. I've gotten more than a few compliments over the years on my muscles and physique. And most girls go a little starry eyed and get real handy at the sight. It makes me feel almost supremely satisfied to see her reaction to my body. And even though she's not fawning over me like some of the other girls, I can tell I do have some sort of effect on her.

Good. I think to myself as I eat the eggs and toast without looking away from her slightly flushed cheeks and turned away eyes.

"The eggs are really good." I say, when the quietness starts to feel awkward. She looks back at my face then, and gives me a slight smile. It's almost shy, and it makes me want to pull her close and trace the outline of that smile with my fingers, and then my lips. And now it's my turn to look away and go back to eating my eggs.

"Yeah well, cooking two days in a row helps a bit." She replies and then sits back in a more relaxed fashion on Rory's bed, not as tense as before.

"I'm very obliged to you." I tell her playfully and she shrugs her shoulders as if it's nothing. But I don't feel that way. I feel like this is something that she and I have, that she doesn't have with him. The thought makes me feel a bit better. If they have something together that I don't understand, then there's nothing saying I can't have something, even if it's just her taking care of me and cooking me breakfast for lunch.

"How's the wedding planning coming?" I ask her, and I know she can read enough between the lines of my words to know I'm really talking about the construction.

"Good, we got things figured out and we're back on schedule So don't worry about rushing yourself. Just take as much time as you can to get better." She tells me. And it reminds me that I've only got one more day with her until I have to go back to work and she has to go back to her regular life. I try to think of something, anything I can do to make the most of the time we have together.

"How about we do something tomorrow? I feel almost completely better now, I can probably walk a little ways...maybe we could have lunch past the fence?" I suggest and look over at her hopefully.

"I don't know, you're supposed to be resting…"

"Why don't you ask your mother today, if it would be alright. And if she says it's fine, then we can walk over after you get here. We can take it really slow. It might even help me to stretch my legs and do some normal stuff before I have to go back to work." I tell her, hoping this isn't a lie on my part. I have no idea if I should still be on bed rest or not, but I've got to take advantage of the time we have before the demands of our regular lives get in the way again.

"Okay...I'll ask her." She says quietly, and then stands up to collect my plate and returns to the kitchen to wash up. I lay back down on my side and try to figure out what I could do to make it really special. I don't have access to the expensive food the Baker Boy does, but I know how to make do with the little I do have. And Katniss hasn't turned into a total snob since the Games, she still likes to chew on wild herbs we find in the warm months, like mint and honeysuckle. She still likes to roast hare with wild onions and chives on Sunday afternoons.

And she still enjoys fishing in the river. Fishing, we could do that easy, and it's mostly just sitting and watching the lines so it wouldn't be that physically taxing. I smile, as a plan forms in my mind.

(Peeta POV) (Recommend Listening Track: May I-Trading Yesterday)

I go through my day feeling like something someone stepped on and then tried to scrape off the bottom of their shoe in disgust. I had been such an idiot, prodding her for details the other day in the kitchen. I should have known better, in fact I did know better than to push her like that. She was still battling with the thoughts in her head, her guilt over being with me and having to tell him about us. When she started yelling I felt like I'd gone too far when I saw her eyes water momentarily.

And I knew just how much deeper the conflict ran for her than I had ever imagined. She had said the words best friend with a pained expression, a deeply pained one. And as much as I wished that the past few weeks had changed her mind completely, and had put me foremost in her thoughts and feelings, I couldn't help feeling my own twinge of pain at seeing her distress. Things were unfair, yes, I knew this. But they were unfair all around. Being thrown unintentionally together with her during our Games, and all the time after didn't change the fact that we had bonded, had grown together, and developed something deep and undeniable that we both relied on.

But it also didn't change the fact that she had a long standing relationship with him first, before I ever even officially spoke to her. Their bond ran deep, since childhood. And it was obviously important to her. So what could be done for it? How could I go back to pretending that she wasn't the very air I needed to breathe freely? How could I stop kissing her and touching her now that I knew how much we both wanted it, and enjoyed it? If pretending before for the cameras had been living a lie, then going back to only kissing her when they were around would be a bigger lie for me.

Because I had found myself in loving her. Everything that had felt broken and confusing inside me had lined up perfectly when I held her in my arms. The pain of the past three years had felt like a few bad days in the light of tasting her sweet kisses in the dark of my bedroom. And I had felt more alive in those stolen moments than I ever had before. Because it was more than the sex. It was more than laughing together when the cameras were nowhere to be found. It was just sharing my life with her. The quiet moments, the happy ones, the dark ones, the painful ones, all of them. I wanted her there. I wanted to be there for her. No matter what.

I sigh as I knead the dough on my counter unenthusiastically. It's going to be one hell of an uphill battle to apologize and get her to come around. But I hadn't given up before, and it had led to her choosing me as her lover. I couldn't give up now that we'd crossed that bridge. I could only hope that I could find my way back to her, and that she hadn't shut the gate and barred my way. And if she had, then I would have to find it in me to deal with that.

So when the sun goes down and the stars make their appearance I gather my courage and make my way to her window. We won't be meeting for hours until after 2 am to dig. And then Haymitch and Rory will be there and I won't get a chance to talk to her. So I figure its best to catch her at home, where I know she'll be. There's no tree planted outside of her window, so I just made up my mind to use the bathroom window she had mentioned Prim leaves open for her now in case she needs to make an entrance if visitors show up unannounced. I climb in a little awkwardly, my frame and shoulders a little too large for the small window, but eventually I make it in and only knock over a hand towel rack situated on the floor. I winced at the sound, but it didn't seem too obvious against the sound of the cold wind blustering against the houses in the night. Maybe if anyone heard it they would just assume the wind had knocked over something outside?

But as I make my way upstairs I accidentally step on the tail of that old tom cat of Prim's, who lets out a howl loud enough to wake the dead. And I know I was wrong. A small figure stands blocking my progress, holding something that looks like fireplace poker in the darkness.

"Peeta?" Katniss's voice whispers incredulously in the dark. She lowers the weapon and I sigh in relief. At least it's not her mother.

"Yeah," I whisper back.

"What are you doing here you idiot?" She hisses at me. As she shoos Buttercup away. The cat slinks off with impressive annoyance for an animal and I feel bad about hurting it, even though it was an accident. I don't really want to have the conversation in her hallway so I motion to her bedroom. And she crosses her arms over her chest, not moving. I made an impatient sound in the back of my throat, I wasn't going to try and seduce her with her sister and mother just a few rooms away, jeez.

"I just need to talk to you." I tell her quietly.

"So come back when it's day time." She replies, voice hard in the dark.

"You've been pretty hard to get a hold of lately."

"Yeah, well I've been busy."

I don't want this to turn into an argument about her going over everyday to nurse Gale, so I just bite my tongue and search for the right words.

"I understand. I just want the chance to apologize, same as I gave you."

This makes her frown. And I know I'm using her own principles against her, because she hates owing people. But I really need to talk to her alone before the whole house wakes up and I lose what little chance I have. After a tense moment she nods and walks back to her bedroom.

She stands in the middle of the room, not sitting on the bed and not sitting in the lounge chair in front of her window. I sigh. I can almost hear the sound of the gong in my head from the Games. And my heart starts to beat fast, not because I'm excited to be in her room in the dark, but because I'm so damn scared of saying the wrong thing, and screwing things up more than they already are. But I know I have to swallow my fears and try.

(Recommended Listening Track: Everything Has Changed-Julia Sheer & Landon Austin)

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for overstepping. I know we agreed that you would decide when and what to say about what it is we're doing here. So, from now on, I won't pry. Your friendship with Gale is your business. So, that said can we stop avoiding each other and go back to being happy and spending time together?" I tell her in the most honest voice I can muster, hoping that she'll see how sorry I truly am.

She just blinks at me in the dark, her eyes unreadable as the day we got on the train to be taken to the Capitol. Nothing had shown then, not fear, not sadness, not pain. But I've gotten to know her over these past three years, and I know that under the stoic expression she's weighing my words and deciding whether to let me back in.

"It's not just about that day Peeta. Even though we agreed to try and keep things...uncomplicated...we just can't help getting caught up by these stumbling blocks. I don't think we can avoid these things forever. Maybe it's better to face it now, that things have gone too far for too long."

My heart sinks like a stone in my chest. Tendrils of pain, like a giant hand squeezing my ribs and stopping my breath over take me.

"Don't say that. You don't mean that. It was just a mistake. It won't happen again."

"I don't know if you can help it. I don't know if it's fair of me to ask you to try. I mean, what normal guy wouldn't feel that way, after everything that's happened? And yet, I can't allow myself to be beholden to anyone in that way Peeta, to belong in that way, to anyone. I just can't. So maybe it's better if we just leave off."

"Leave off? Stop seeing each other you mean?" When I ask her to clarify, she nods. And I try to hold in a frustrated groan. "Do you really think you'll be happier if we're apart? Because I know the answer for myself. I'm a hundred, thousand times better with you. I can breathe when you're around. I can sleep. I can think about tomorrow without dreading it. I can feel hopeful about it, even." I tell her, trying to get her to see reason. We've been so good together. We're almost functioning like normal people again, eating and sleeping on a regular basis for weeks now.

Her expression twists into something conflicted, she looks away from me, towards the window. And there in the dark I see it. My painting. She's hung it next to her window, which faces my house, and my own window. And I feel a small flicker of hope. Because I know that this means she cares, and if she cares then I still have a shot. But only if I give her the freedom to choose.

"Despite how much I want to be with you for my own sake, I don't want you with me because you think you owe me anything. You've already given me so much. And even though it might nearly kill me to have to step back again, I could do it, if that's what you really wanted. If it made you feel safe again. I just want you to be ok. I know that right now you're not. And if there's anything I want more than my own happiness with you, I know that I want yours more, even if its without me, even if that means we're not together." My voice cracks a little on the last word, and I clench my fists, against the weakness I feel.

It's so hard to say these words. But I knew even before I came over here, that I might have to say them. And in the quiet of my kitchen that afternoon I had decided that if I wanted her to keep her promises, I would have to keep mine first. What she wanted more than anything was someone to protect her, to look out for her. And I knew I could do that, even if it meant forfeiting my claim over her for now, or even forever if she decided. I had made due with being friends once. It had been quiet agony. But being at odds with her was worse. She had her darkest days when we had our first year as mentors. But the darkest time in my life was after our Games, when we didn't speak for months on end, except in front of the cameras. I had felt like I was half alive then, nothing to keep me grounded except the painful loss I felt when I thought about her. Between the two choices, I would rather go back to being friends. Because at least that way I'd still be a part of her life, some sort of positive aspect in her day to day routine, instead of an unwanted and mostly ignored obligation.

Her eyes search mine in the dark, confused and questioning. But I meet her gaze steadily, wanting her to know I'm not bluffing. That I mean it.

She reaches out her hand, almost involuntarily, and I grasp it like a lifeline, taking only a small step towards her in the dark. We stand there, just observing each other, and I feel like I'm waiting for someone to deliver a life or death sentence.

"You'd really do that?' She breathes the words, with a little bit of awe.

"For you? I'd be anything you needed me to. Always." I tell her sincerely. And I see her eyes light up in the dark, drinking in my words, testing them against her own thoughts.

"What if I wanted something else, after the wedding? To not be with anyone, or even...to try to be with someone else? Would we still be able to be friends?" She asks, point blank, her eyes searching me like a jeweler searching for a flaw in every facet of a specimen they are examining with a magnifying lens. And I know this is the real test, because if I love her, really love her like I say, then I will have to prove it.

I gulp, fighting against the horrible feelings, the sadness, the anger, and pain that threaten to drown me at the thought of her with him, happier than she was with me. But, if I love her, then I should set her free right? Isn't that what all the stories say? If you love something you set it free and it will come back to you. What no one ever says, is how much it fucking hurts. Like someone ripping my heart right out of my chest, and asking me to watch as they temper it with fire and tool, shaping it into something more.

"Yes." I tell her, just one word. But it's the truth, even though it breaks me to say it. Her eyes widen, and she seems a little stunned by my admission. I admit I am too. I didn't honestly know if I would be able to say it, and mean it. But somehow I had dug beneath the darkness and confusion to find something worthwhile to offer her, more than physical satisfaction, more than just companionship. It was something she could count on, in this sea of ever shifting sands we found ourselves constantly trying to build security on.

Her eyes looked wet and shiny in the moonlight, and I saw a single tear fall down her left cheek. And then she was there, resting her head on my chest, gripping my shirt in her slim hands. And I couldn't stop from choking out a sad sound, as I put my arms around her. My cheeks are wet now too, but the best I can do is to keep from making any embarrassing sounds as the tears run down my face.

"Oh Peeta, please, don't....I... I just needed to know that no matter what we'd always be there for each other. Even if things change. I'm not saying goodbye...I...still need you. Maybe more than ever now." She whispers, as she turns her face toward me, and I take a shaky breath, trying to hear her words over the screaming pain in my chest. I close my eyes, fighting the overwhelming feelings, and just try to breathe in her clean scent.

I'm not prepared for her kiss, but when she touches her lips to mine, I latch onto her, holding on so tight like she's the only thing keeping me from blowing away. Her hands grip my shirt, and she's yanking it up, furiously, and I'm so surprised at this turn of events, I'm momentarily shocked. But she just keeps kissing me, everywhere, murmuring things against my lips and my skin. My hands are trembling, but hers are steady as she unbuttons her jeans and tugs them off. Then she unbuttons my pants as well and my body takes over where my mind can't quite complete the gap and I'm kissing her and touching her in that familiar way that makes me forget the pain of a few minutes ago.

She leads me to her bed, and eases me down before reaching behind her back and undoing her bra. I feel like someone gave me a shot of pure electricity that spreads from my eyes down to the rest of my body. I grip the sheets in my hands, to keep from grabbing her fiercely. Somehow I know she wants me to wait. She slides her plain white cotton underwear down and just stands there, letting me drink in the sight of her naked in the moonlight, poised like a diver ready to leap into the depths for me. And I know that it was worth it, saying it out loud, to see her give this much of herself to me.

She reaches her hand down to take my naked flesh that's ready and full of yearning for her, and when she strokes me I can't help the sound of pure ecstasy that escapes. I look up at her and she's confident, and beautiful, and so very hot, I worry that I'm not going to make it to the sex if she keeps touching me in this way.

I open my mouth to say something, but she just uses her other hand to stop my words as she covers my mouth with three slim fingers. Then, incredibly and unbelievably, she starts to kneel slowly against the edge of the bed that I'm laying on, and I sit up, surprised at where this is all going.

She looks up at me, sternly, as if to say I shouldn't protest. But I know if she does what I think she's planning on doing then I definitely will not make it to the sex. We've done a lot of things, but not this, though I've fantasized about it. The idea of her using her mouth on me like I do for her. But I've never asked, because just having her in my bed was enough. Everything we were already doing was enough. But this feels special, not something that happened in a heated moment of passion, but a conscious choice she's making. Something she wants to give me, even though she's already gifted me so much of herself. So I don't say anything, because I can't really get a grip on the idea that this is something she wants to do.

She looks up at me as she runs her hands up and down, over my heated skin and I can't help my heavy breathing. Just that image alone drives me almost to the brink, so I close my eyes, and try to temper my pounding heart, my raging blood and emotions.

When her lips meet my skin, it's so pleasurable, it's almost painful how sensitive my skin has become in anticipation of her. When she takes me in her mouth, I bite down on my bottom lip so hard, I taste blood. But I hardly feel the pain, instead I feel her warm breath, her nimble tongue, and yes, her wet mouth around me. It's all too much, so I try to think of other things, to try and draw my mind away from the immediate pleasure. I conjure up images of the Games, of the fighting and the blood, and even the mutts that almost killed us. And it helps, but just barely.

She's found a rhythm now, something very close to what we do normally, and I know I am close, very close. I reach down to grip her wrist thinking to warn her so I don't surprise her by finishing in her mouth. I don't know if she wants that, and if I wait any longer I won't be able to say anything at all.

"Wait..Katniss," I pant, and I sound ridiculous even to my own ears. But she looks up at me for a second, disconnected from my body but still looking beautiful kneeling there before me. When I opened my eyes to tell her, it was a mistake because I can see everything. Her rosy cheeks, her chest rising and falling in effort, and her hands still wrapped around me, still stroking. And before I can say anything I come. And I feel hot embarhassment mixed with intense all consuming pleasure, but I can't stop. It was too much.

Thankfully, she was far enough away that I mostly just made a mess of my thighs, and stomach. And I want to apologize, but I still can't breathe well enough to get a word out. She amazingly, just grabs her shirt from the floor and uses it to help me clean up.

"Wow." She says in a surprised voice, I guess at the sheer volume of everything we're trying to wipe off. And I realized she had never seen what happens between us when I finish. Since she takes the medicine her mother makes her, I've never had to pull out.

"Yeah, that happens every time...I tried to warn you but...I couldn't stop, sorry." I finally got the words out.

"I didn't realize it was so...theatrical." She says in a slightly intrigued tone, and I sigh, glad at least that she doesn't find what my body does in response to her disgusting or strange.

"It's kind of embarrassing that I finished so fast. But...God, that felt so good." I admit, undisguised satisfaction in my voice.

"Oh, well that's what I was going for." She says as she climbs up next to me and settles into my side. I tuck my arm under her head, and hold her close. She smells like lemons, and the outside air, and also a little bit like me.

"Mission accomplished. I won't be able to think straight for days." I tell her with a quiet laugh. I can feel her smile into my bicep. And then, because I can't leave things this way, especially after she just drove me so expertly to the peak of pleasure, I roll over her, and start kissing my way down her body intending to return the favor and more besides.

"Peeta, we might be late." She breathes, as I start to use my arms to prop up her legs so I can gain access to the molten heat of her core.

"I think you underestimate just how motivated I am right now." I say before lowering my mouth to her. And her breath hitches, and she doesn't protest anymore.

I warm her up with my mouth, my tongue, and drink in the strong, delicious taste of her. I use my hands and mouth on her alternatively to get her there quickly. I'm focused, and on top of my game to remember everything that she responds to, and I'm determined to combine and use every move I can to show her just how I appreciate her. And when she moves against my mouth, wildly, her back arching and her leg muscles flexing in my hands, I smile. Because the moment tastes so sweet, and I feel like I've made it out from under the shadow of the dark waters that had closed around me earlier. We've drifted into calmer waters, and we're still holding on to each other in the dark, despite the storm, and all our uncertainties and fears.

So after, I hold her for a moment before we have to get dressed and head over to my house separately. And when I whisper I love her, she doesn't tense in my arms. Instead she just lets the words wash over her, and she sighs. As if for the first time, she truly believes them.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

Just when I think Peeta and I have rotated too far outside of each other's orbit to come back together again, he surprises me by bridging the divide between us, with his gentleness and that same uncommon selflessness that I saw in the Games, and that day with the bread in the rain. And I'm pulled back to him, closer than before, and even though I'm still afraid, this time I believe him when he says he'll try harder to let me make my own choices instead of pressuring me. Something about the way he seems to know, impossibly, the things that will make me feel the safest, the most secure, inspired me to want to express just how special I think he is.

So when I felt that insatiable hunger for him in the stillness of my dark room, I knew that whatever I chose to give him, whatever part of myself I placed in his hands, would not be discarded or undervalued. And even though I've seen his face when he finds pleasure in my body, I'd never seen him quite undone as he looked last night in my room. There was something wild and beautiful about the way his whole body thrummed with energy and desire, and the way he looked when I touched him. I had felt a strange sort of empowerment, and more desirable than ever before. And then he returned my efforts, with multiplied motivation. It was so sweet, I wanted to stay in that moment forever.

And afterwards I felt light again, like my soul had become transparent in the glow of his love and devotion. And instead of feeling broken and undeserving, I felt instead full of potential for the first time ever since he told me he loved me. So when he said the words to me in the dark, this time I didn't flinch. Because instead of locking me in, it was like his love turned a key inside the cage of my heart, setting something free inside me.

We left my home separately, and I arrived after he had to work in the basement. But despite the hour, and the hard work, I felt energized and collected for the first time in days. We all got a lot done, and Haymitch even commented that if we kept it up we might finish ahead of schedule. So when everyone left, I was still there in his kitchen and he wrapped me up in his arms without saying anything. We went up to his bed and slept until dawn, just holding each other. When I got up to leave in the morning, he didn't shoot me a questioning look, or remind me of our promises. He just trailed his hand down my hair and kissed my temple before heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth. I breathed a sigh of relief, and felt that easy and steady feeling thrumming inside my chest again. I left him a note and taped it to his tea kettle, knowing he'd see it when he came into the kitchen.

Peeta,

Come over for dinner tonight.

-K

By the time I make my way to Gale's house, the winter sun has peaked a little over the grey cloudy morning and I know at least we won't be miserable in the cold beyond the fence if the sun keeps its presence steady in the sky. I had asked my mother if it was alright for Gale and I to take a walk beyond the fence, and she said it was fine as long as we stuck to mostly even ground and didn't go too far out.

She had made a comment at breakfast about Buttercup's tail being sore in the morning, but I had brushed the comment off saying I had stepped on him last night when I got up to get a glass of milk. She had shot me a disbelieving look, and Prim had blinked in the silence, a little uncomfortable. But then I had asked if Peeta could come over for dinner and my mother nodded, with a long suffering sigh. But I could tell she didn't really mind, because right away she got up to go look in the ice box to see what would be good to make.

I wondered then, what my mother actually thought about the whole Gale-Peeta thing. I wondered if she had a preference. She had said she knew I loved Gale, like it was a foregone conclusion, but she had never tried to dissuade me from being with Peeta after the first time we spoke about the medicine she made for me. If she had a preference it wasn't automatically apparent. Then I wondered if Prim had an opinion on the matter. And then I thought, maybe I don't want to know. And maybe they haven't said anything because they don't want to add any more pressure than is already heaped high on my plate. So I decided to leave off wondering about things that would only confuse me.

Gale is up and seated at the kitchen table, with a bag packed, outfitted in his hunting pants and a long sleeve cream colored shirt, that's patched but looks good on him nonetheless. I'm so surprised at how healthy and clear eyed he looks, I almost forgot to ask him if he wanted me to apply the medicine to his back before we left.

"Yeah that would be good." He says, and he smiles at me with one side of his mouth quirked up higher than the other. I pull the tin out of my bag, and situate myself in a chair behind him as he lifts up his shirt. This morning I don't let my fingers linger over his star mark, and I keep my thoughts pleasantly focused on the quiet of the woods and the ease of the morning. It will be nice to spend some time with my best friend on a day besides Sunday. So when I catch myself humming quietly, I feel a little startled.

"You seem like you're in a good mood." Gale comments, turning around to look at me.

"Haymitch says the wedding plans are coming along nicely. So, there's that." I say trying to cover quickly.

"Oh, that's good." He says, in a slightly skeptical tone. And I know he's wondering how we've stayed on schedule without him, much less exceeded expectations. And I resolve to explain things once we get far enough outside the fence.

"Okay, I think that's it. Let's head out before we lose the sun." I tell him and he tugs his shirt back on, then grabs his jack from a peg on the door and we're off.

It feels like a good day to be in the woods. The air is crisp and clean, and the only sounds are those of wild birds migrating south for the winter and my soft footfalls, and Gale's nearly silent ones. When I ask him where he wants to go, he surprises me by telling me he wants to fish at an old pond we had found a few years back. It was small, and secluded, but not too far out that he would tire easily. So I agree readily, and after picking up our fishing poles that we stashed after the summer passed, we head in that direction. I shoot a few birds and squirrels on the way, and stash them in the game bag to divide between Gale's family and mine later.

When we get there, it's peaceful and undisturbed like the last time I saw it. And I pick a spot I think will be good to set up. Gale agrees to stay at our makeshift camp making a fire and getting the lines ready while I look for firewood and forage for bait. It's almost funny having to relegate him to these tasks, but he doesn't complain, so I make sure to thank him when I return and find everything pretty much ready.

I bait the lines while he gets the fire going and we settle into the easy rhythm of dividing up the responsibilities and tasks. So when I turn back and find a thick blanket spread near the bank near the fire, and tins set out with apples, drop biscuits, goat cheese, and what looks like a thermos of hot coffee. My heart does a funny little flop inside my chest and I feel so stupid.

Gale has turned this into something of a date.

I bite my lip, unsure what to do or say.

He looks up at me, almost shyly. And somehow I know he has never made an effort like this before for anyone it's so unlike him, so strange and unprecedented, I just stand there staring at him, not moving, not saying anything. I feel caught completely unaware.

"Well, aren't you going to sit down?" He asks, slightly gruffly. And I think maybe I've offended him a little. Which if I let it, will spoil the entire afternoon.

So I take a seat opposite him, a little nervously. I accept the thermos lid of hot coffee he hands to me, and I feel its warmth seep into my cold hands. I breathe in the rich scent on the chilly morning, and even though I prefer hot chocolate to the bitter taste of the coffee I can't help but be grateful for its invigorating heat on this cold day. So I sip it quietly while I stare at the pond, and the trees and let the quiet of the place seep into my bones.

I feel Gale's gaze study me like I'm studying the serenity of the woods, and I wonder just what it is that he likes about me enough to go through all this trouble for. I know for me, it is his quietness, his stillness, the depth of him that pulls me in, as well as his loyalty and fierce devotion that are reserved for very few people in his life.

He is like me, only placing his trust and confidence in those closest to him, his family, and...me. Beyond that I don't know who Gale is close to, if he is close to anyone else or has friends that are more than people he exchanges words with at work.

"It's not much, but I figured we should make the most out of the day." He says quietly, and his voice startles me out of my thoughts. He's looking away now, almost regretfully towards the trees. And I think maybe he's embarrassed of the offering he's assembled. Like maybe it's not good enough. And my breath escapes in a rush, because I've been horrible again. I haven't said a word about all the work he put into today, so maybe he thinks I'm turning up my nose at his efforts.

"Gale, this...this is so...thoughtful and...perfect. I was just wondering why you went to all the trouble, since it's just plain old me." I tell him sincerely, but lightly at the same time, hoping to lift his spirits. I reach out and grab an apple and take a big crunching bite to show him how much I appreciate it.

He looks over at me, scrutinizing the sincerity of my statement. I let him look long into my eyes, over the edge of the thermos top as I take a slow warming drink to wash down my bite of apple. And something shifts inside of him, and he relaxes, and starts in on his own apple. I smile as I bite into the goat cheese, savoring the flavor against the bite of apple I took right before. And he smiles back at me slowly, like a green bud stretching against the frost as it strains to grow into spring.

"I don't have many opportunities to spend my time the way I'd like. So even though it's technically a sick day, I figure why waste it cooped up in the house when we'd both rather be where we feel the most free?" He comments as he passes me a biscuit. They're still slightly warm, and I wonder how he managed all this without me suspecting a thing. He must have put a lot of thought into it.

And of course he's right. If I could choose to be anywhere the woods would win out nine times out of ten. So I smile at him, and he returns the smile. And I think of all the places that don't compare with the quiet peace of the woods on a day like today.

Unless one of my options was sitting on a stool in Peeta's kitchen, or curling up on his couch, I think quickly before I catch myself. But when I analyze the thought, I know that Gale would never include those in the list of choices. Because those are places I feel free and at peace, but no doubt he would hate being anywhere within a hundred feet of Peeta's home. So I eat quietly with him by the fire and let my thoughts flow slowly by. When I finish eating I check the lines and see we haven't caught anything yet. So I decided to stretch out half on the blanket and rest my back and shoulders. They've been sore from all the digging I did last night. And when Gale clears a place across from me, I will myself not to move as he settles down beside me. We lay back and stare at the clouds and the leaves rustling in the trees and I feel so relaxed I almost don't notice his hand reach out to touch a lock of my hair that's come free of my braid and is being blown lightly in the wind.

I inhale sharply, and brace for him to do something, like touch my cheek or try to lean over and kiss me, but he never does. He just tucks the strand back into my braid and goes back to looking at the sky.

So I relax again and go back to staring too, until I hear the tell tale swish of one of our lines moving. I jump up and barely catch the rod before it's pulled into the water. But I get a hold of it, and pull it back toward the shore. But it's a big one, and I turn back to ask Gale for help, but see him already up and behind me, his hands coming around mine to help me reel it in.

And with Gale's lean muscles lending me their strength we get the big channel catfish out of the pond and onto the shore. Gale is there, quicker than a flash, with his knife, to finish it off. And I'm back in my bag pulling out my skinning and paring knife to get to work gutting it so we can start cooking it over the fire.

We smile at each other over the sight of the big seven pounder, sizzling and searing onto the cast iron pan in the middle of the flames. And I make jokes about how it almost pulled me into the pond with it at first. And Gale laughs, and agrees, saying when I looked back I looked like I was in real trouble. And then we're talking about other hunts, and other times we've saved each other, and there's so many stories. Like the time I rolled my ankle and he had to carry me all the way home. Or the time he almost fell into a gully, after he slipped on a wet patch of mud after a summer downpour, but I caught him last minute and nearly wrenched my shoulder out of its socket trying to hold onto all almost 200 pounds of him.

And it starts to feel like the air is full of those times and those memories and suddenly Gale isn't chuckling warmly under his breath. He's staring at me again, and I feel my cheeks stained with red warmth before I can look away. I know I can't look at him again, or I'll start to question things and I don't want to go back to that place where I feel lost. Especially after last night. I anticipate his questions, his complaints, I even think he may try to reach out and hold me to him. But instead he just hands me a plate of fish. And I blink down at it stupidly for a few seconds before reaching out to take it.

When I finally look back at him, he's looking at the water, his mind seemingly a million miles away. I want to say something, to explain but I don't know how. So I do the only thing I can think of, and move to sit beside him, my hip resting against his, our shoulders just brushing.

He looks over at me, slightly wary, slightly sad. And it hurts so much to see that look on his handsome face. He sighs, and starts to pick at his fish, and after watching him for a moment I start to eat too.

"Sometimes you seem so familiar, like you're the same girl I grew up with, like nothing's changed, and we fit together like two groves in the bark of a tree. Then...other times, it's like...you're a whole other person...and I don't know where things got so off track for us." He says quietly, still looking at the pond, and not at me. I set my plate down, and think over his words.

They're in the same vein as last time, when he said the Capitol had changed me into someone dishonest, and manipulative. Those words had cut me that day. These words left me feeling hollow and bereft of all the joy from before. Because I knew they were true. I wasn't the same. I didn't know how to find my way back to that wild and free girl who walked through the woods with a surety and confidence that as long as I had my bow on my back, and Gale beside me I could take on practically anything.

The past three years had been a master class in fear and constant danger. And it was only recently that I had even been able to start sleeping for more than a few hours a night again.

And even that was only because of Peeta.

Peeta who I was allowed to seek comfort in because the Capitol wanted us to give them our children to sacrifice before the entire nation. Peeta who had decided he'd rather sacrifice his happiness for my own, even if meant losing access to my bed, my feelings, which he admitted he needed almost as much as the air he breathes. How would I ever settle the conflict that existed in those statements?

And would Gale ever be able to truly understand what happened to me in the Games? And after? I had no idea, because I still didn't understand it completely myself. But I did know one thing. There was no going back. That girl who walked so easily beneath the trees with the boy from the woods was far past my reach. She existed now only in my and Gale's memories.

"If you're waiting for me to go back to how I was before, you should know that it's not possible Gale. There are some things that can't be undone. I've...taken people's lives. That's never going to go away. I'll never be able to close my eyes without the threat of seeing their faces as they die, and the things that those moments broke in me...they won't go back together like they were before. So, if it's a memory you're chasing, you should stop wasting your time. She's gone, that girl you grew up. And she's not coming back." I tell him, sadly, but firmly, because it's the truth and it would be worse, crueler for me to lie and pretend there was a chance.

I turn to look at him, and see his eyes full of something sad, and yearning. And before I can stop him, he's kissing me. And his lips press against mine in equal parts aching desire and despair. And because it's not heated, and doesn't threaten to deepen into something dangerous, I let him kiss me. Because it's like he's letting go of something, like he's saying goodbye.

His strong callused fingers brush my cheeks, and I close my eyes, letting myself feel just for a moment what he wanted to say all those years ago before they carted me off to the train. He had loved that girl with the bow on her back and the quiet tread. Maybe he hadn't realized it until they took me away, just as I hadn't realized how much he meant to me until after I left.

And when he pulls away, he rests his lips against my brow, just breathing in my skin, and my warmth. I keep my eyes closed, trying to find it in me to let go of the idea of him loving me. Because maybe now, he'll finally be free to choose someone else.

So when he leans down to kiss me again, I'm surprised. His lips caress mine carefully, tentatively, like it's the first time. He moves over my mouth slowly, like he wants to learn me, and I feel strange and slightly confused. My hands splay over his chest, unsure what to do, and I feel my breath quicken against the gentle pressure he's applying to me. He pulls me closer, and my brain short circuits, because not even our first kiss was this intense or thorough.

He had said back then, that he had to kiss me, at least once. And he had tasted warm, his lips soft and full against mine, but there had been an undercurrent of defeat beneath it all. Like he knew he lost before he even tried.

And maybe he had. Because if he had been saving that kiss for the girl I had been, then it was too little, too late. She had never returned from the Games.

This kiss was different.

It was like night and day. And he was cupping the back of my head, gently, but his lips were firm and strong over mine. And he wasn't kissing a memory, or an idea. He was kissing me, with all my baggage and jagged edges. And it was so...open and honest and deep. It moved me, deeply to feel how much he cared. So in that moment I got caught up in the feeling, and I kissed him back.

Because maybe a part of me had wanted this for a long time, for him to see me, and accept me with all the outside perfection the Capitol had painted on me, but a minefield of scars underneath. I felt...vindicated, seen, and desired despite my damaged pieces.

So when his hands tangled in my hair, and his tongue brushed against mine, I almost forgot about the boy with the bread.

Almost.

But a warning bell rang in my head. Because I now knew just what this kind of kissing led to. So I pulled away, feigning the need to catch my breath. And when he pulled back I could see his cheeks were as warm and flushed as my own.

But his grey eyes were quicksilver bright. And he stroked my cheek like he could fall for me all over again, and I realized right there and then that I was in big trouble.

He must have seen the alarm in my eyes, because he grabbed my wrists before I could bolt. And he held me in place, gently but firmly.

"Katniss, just be still for a minute." He said, frustrated and annoyed with me again.

I guess some things don't change, even if the sky turns purple and the oceans start filling up the deserts.

"Gale. I can't do this right now."

"It already happened. So there's no use running now." He said matter-of-factly.

I have nothing to say to this, so I sit down, but still put a little space between us before he gets any ideas.

He looks over at me, assessing. I stare back at him incredulously. Because I had expected a goodbye kiss, which I had gotten, but somehow he had shoehorned in a kiss that felt more like the beginning of something new. And I felt really, really confused.

"I think...I'm starting to understand." He says finally, and I hate him just a little because it's the right thing to say, and it would have been much easier if he had said something horrible, or insensitive.

I cover my face with my hands and groan. He just waits for me to peek over at him, and when I do he seems more confident, more assured than I'd seen in ages.

"I should have never-" I start to say.

"But you did." He interrupts me.

"Only because I thought you needed to say goodbye,"

"I did, actually. I just also decided to give loving the new you a shot, it's not as hard as you made it seem." He says with pointed criticism, as he shakes his head at me disapprovingly.

"It's no fun dating a troubled girl, Gale."

"That's for me to find out isn't it?"

I scoff at him, and roll my eyes, thoroughly convinced he has no idea what he's asking for. I even give Peeta a run for his money sometimes, and he has the patience of a saint.

"He isn't the only one who can be there when things get hard." Gale says quietly, as if he can read my mind. And I am so shocked I think my mouth might hang open for a second.

"I don't want to do this! It feels wrong to kiss both of you at the same time." I growl.

"What is he hiding in the trees right now?" Gale jokes, but I can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he's not completely comfortable with my statement.

"You know what I mean." I tell him pointedly and cross my arms.

"Yeah, I do. And I also know better than to try and change your mind when you feel like seeing a path through. But you said you were committed until the wedding. So for now, let's put this on pause. But I don't want you to forget what you felt. Because I know you felt it Catnip. You and me, we could be all that and more. I can afford to wait. I've waited this long. A few more weeks isn't going to kill me." He tells me seriously, and I have no idea what to say to that.

I just stare at him, and he stares back at me. Actually, he stares me down, and I know I can't deny those things that I felt. He's too perceptive, and he's unwilling to give ground on any of this. So I just sit back and think over his words.

In reality very little has changed in the actual agreement. And at the same time it feels like so much has changed since this morning. I feel years older.

"Okay." I tell him quietly, because it's the only quasi-fair thing to do. But even as I say it I shake my head, I know that when the time comes for me to make a decision, things will be infinitely more complicated.

I don't even want to think about what I'll need to say to Peeta. It makes my head hurt.

So when Gale comes to sit beside me, as I had done for him before, with his hip pressed against mine and his shoulder next to mine, I rest my head on his arm. Because I need my best friend at that moment. And it's ironic because he's the one causing me so much trouble, but he's also the only one who can make me feel better. He just sits with me, quietly, and I feel myself trying to absorb some of his quiet strength again. This time there seems to be less space between our hearts, in the quietness of these woods.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

After lingering in the woods for a short while longer, Gale and I headed back. The air turns chilly early, and we don't want to be caught far out if the weather turns bad. We nab three more big fish, and Gale actually points out a wild turkey that I shoot quickly on our way home. And I'm glad, because I need to start stocking up some extra meat for the bridal shower this weekend.

"So how have you all been keeping up with the construction? Don't tell me your mentor has started actually being useful at something other than giving orders and drinking on the job?" Gale asks and I find I resent his criticism of Haymitch. Not because it's not true, Haymitch doesn't really do much other than supervise us while we work, and drink moderately. Gale just doesn't understand Haymtich like Peeta and I do. His drinking isn't really something he has complete control over, and he's made so much progress in the past few months alone.

"Actually Rory has been coming over to help out."

"What?"

"Gale, we need his help. And you can't keep hurting yourself. We're all going to have to pitch in to meet the deadline. Besides, Rory's not a little kid anymore. He's practically as big as you now, and he can really swing an axe. Things will go much faster if he helps instead. We can't afford for you to miss any more work, or get injured again."

"And just how would you feel if it was Prim who had to help with all this?"

"Prim does help, has been helping. Maybe she doesn't help with construction but she does the things she can. She helps my mother go through the supplies, she helps hide things. They're growing up Gale and we, well we're going to have to loosen the reins to pull this thing off."

He grunts in reply, not really agreement, but since he doesn't have any words to disagree I take this as a good sign. We get to his house and I drop him off with two of the fish and a generous portion of turkey for him and the kids. Then I go back to my house and drop off my meat and supplies. My mother smiles at all the game I brought, but tells me we'll need more before the week is through. I nod, and promise to hunt more over the next few days since Gale will be going back to work.

When Prim comes home from school she brings in with her a package that she squeals in delight over as she opens it on the kitchen counter.

"What's that?" I ask as she starts lifting out small brightly colored parcels from within the larger brown one.

"Something I asked Mom to get advice from Cinna for, you know for the sleepover." She says with a girlish giggle.

"Like what?" I asked her, genuinely curious what more she could need since we had already procured decorations, and I was getting the rest of the food.

"Like this," She says and hands me what looks like a makeup palette. It's full of rich browns, shimmering greys, midnight blues, and pale gold and ivory colors. It's an interesting combination, but since I wouldn't really know a makeup brush from a paint brush, it's powers are wasted on me. But I guess the girls will at least have fun with a luxury item like this during the sleepover.

"Makeup, that's great." I say with all the enthusiasm of a woman condemned to a night in the stocks.

"Don't you recognize it? It's the line Cinna said was inspired by you. It was all over tv after your first Games." Prim says, showing me the colors again.

"Nope." I tell her, because I really don't. I hated watching anything inspired by the Star Crossed Lovers on tv after our Games. There had been so much merchandise, fashion, and accessories inspired by Peeta and I. Including a line of underwear for men, and intimate apparel for women that was designed based on our interview clothes, our costumes in the tribute parade, and even our time in the cave. For a while there, it had been like people wanted to be us. It had been really creepy and Peeta and I had done our best to ignore it. Compared to that, the eye shadow seemed tame, really.

"Well, all my friends have been dying to try it out. But since it's so expensive, no one ever really thought we'd get the chance. But last week when mom called Cinna, to ask for some ideas for the decorations, he said he had a few palettes of this special makeup leftover, and would send us one." Prim says with a glowing smile. It makes me so happy to see her beaming over this little thing. So, I resolved to grit my teeth and bear all the makeup talk.

"Was there anything else in the mail dear?" Our mother asks Prim, as she searches inside the box to see if there's any hidden supplies.

"No, not that I could see." Prim answers and she carefully wraps the makeup back in its larger protective box and tissue paper, before nestling it gently back alongside the other frilly things.

There are two small bottles of perfume, five small bottles of nail polish, a dozen lipsticks, and some face and hair creams. It seems Cinna has sent everything that will be needed to turn our home into a female wonderland for the bridal shower. Everyone will be ecstatic. The only thing he neglected to send was a tranquilizer for me, so I wouldn't be tempted to run out at the first sign of the mockingjay decorated face masks.

Gale was totally going to win the challenge to see who could last longer at the simultaneous bachelor and bridal parties.

Thinking of which, I wondered what Peeta's plan was for his own party. I'd have to ask him tonight when he came for dinner. I felt a tiny pang of guilt then, remembering what happened in the woods with Gale earlier. I still didn't know exactly how I was going to broach the subject without causing another huge fight, and so soon after we had just put everything to rights. I could only hope that he meant what he said about trying to let me figure things out in my own way. Even though it might not be able to be called figuring things out so much as stumbling around a maze blind and trying to deduce which way led back out.

It just seemed to me that I had a pretty crap system of deduction going right now. No doubt it would seem the same to him. But I had no real idea of what to do about it. I hadn't planned on kissing Gale. I had actually planned against it. And had tried to guard against it all morning and afternoon. But he had gotten under my guard, like the sneaky hunter he is. Now the confusion felt twice as thick in my head and heart.

"How many girls did you invite Prim?" I ask my sister as she carefully examines the boxes content one by one, her eyes marveling at the apparently priceless treasure inside.

"Six." Prim says superiorly.

"Six?!" I choke out. I thought she'd invite a friend, maybe two or three at the most. But six?

"They're only my very closest friends." To someone as friendly as Prim, half the country could be made up of her closest friends.

"Prim! That's a lot of meat we'll need." I exclaim in alarm.

"Sure is, so you might wanna get back out there." My mother comments with a pointed look towards my jacket and boots. I glance outside. The weather has lightened again, so I guess this is my cue to return to the words and do the only thing I'll really be able to contribute to the party preparations: hunt.

"Yeah, all right." I say grouchily, but I get moving and am out the door before Prim can start gushing over all the different lipstick colors.

I make it home before dinner with a decent amount of squirrels, wild doves, and one more nice big turkey. My mother nods approvingly, and asks me to set the dinner table. Peeta comes over just as I'm folding the last napkin. He, of course, brings a fresh loaf of bread right out of the oven, and some sugar cookies. I smile at him, as I set his napkin down beside his fork. He smiles back at me, because I've folded it into a very unconvincing swan. He tries to fluff the tail up, but the whole thing just ends up toppling over and his shoulders shake with silent laughter. I snort. My mother looks over at us curiously, but then just goes back to portioning out the baked fish we're having onto everyone's plates.

"Fish, wow. I would have thought it was too cold to go fishing this time of year." Peeta comments as he bites into his flaky baked to perfection piece.

"Oh, Katniss and Gale can find all kinds of game all year round." Prim remarks as she smiles over at me, proud of my skills.

"So, he's feeling better, up and about now?" Peeta asks and there's no hint of suspicion or hurt in his voice. Which just makes me feel worse.

"My mother said it would be alright if he tried walking a little today, you know, before he went back to work." I tell Peeta.

"That's good. I'm glad he won't be delayed any longer. I'm sure his family needs him to get back to work." Peeta says, good naturedly.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure they do." My mother comments before asking if anyone needs more water. We finish dinner with idle chit chat, and when I offer to walk Peeta home no one seems surprised.

We get to his kitchen, and I stop to look at him, just really look at him for a second.

He has a delicate curve to his cheeks, but a strong line in his jaw. His nose is not as sculpted or commanding as Gale's, but it is straight and fits his face perfectly. His eyes are such a gentle blue, sometimes they look like the watercolors that he uses to paint the sky. And his lashes are so long and light, they're almost invisible in the darkness of his kitchen. His lips are curved naturally in such a way that he almost always seems to be smiling, even when his face is just still. Even when he sleeps, sometimes if he turns in just the right way, it looks like he's grinning about something in his dreams.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks me quietly, as I study him.

"You." I say, and then look away because I should really stop thinking about his lips when I have to tell him Gale kissed mine today.

"Alright. Go ahead and tell me what you want to really say." He says with an amused lightness to his voice. I looked up at him, a little surprised, because I don't think if he knew what I was going to tell him he'd be acting so casual right now.

"Peeta-"

"He kissed you right?" He interrupts me, and I startle. He shakes his head with a smirk. My eyes widened in astonishment. How did he know? He seems to read my question and, and then actually rolls his eyes at me.

"Katniss, guys really aren't that hard to predict." Peeta tells me, in a tone that makes everything seem so obvious, but I just find it infuriating, because again I feel like the last one to figure these things out.

"Yeah, well maybe I need to read the handbook or something, because I've been getting faked out by the both of you left and right." I tell him with no small hint of irritation.

He pulls me to his chest, and laughs lightly, like I've just said something really funny instead of admitting that I'm a total idiot when it comes to men.

"It was just a stupid kiss. I really should have seen it coming." I say, against his chest. He looks down into my eyes, and there's no accusation, just a nice heavy longing there.

"Let's just forget about it and enjoy our time before it gets too late." He says softly, leaning down to speak in my ear.

And even though it feels like I've been let off the hook for something I shouldn't be, I turn to kiss him. Because kissing Peeta doesn't feel confusing or strange, like kissing Gale had felt. Gale had made my whole viewpoint shift, but kissing Peeta felt like putting things in perspective. And I really wanted that.

(Recommended Listening Track: Nothing Holding Me Back-Shawn Mendes)

We kiss as he backs me up against the counter, and I half gasp, half sigh when he turns his mouth to suck my earlobe between his lips. I run my hands up and down his strong arms, his shoulders, his chest. He grabs my waist between his hands and lifts me onto his hips, balancing my weight on himself.

"Where do you want to…?" He trails off, and I think about our options while he reaches under my shirt to palm my left breast.

"Couch." I tell him when I decide after a second, and he carries me over to the living room, kissing me and touching me every step of the way.

We collapse on the couch, him on top of me, but he braces himself with his hands so he doesn't crush me under his larger frame. He wastes no time, and starts taking off my pants. I tug off my shirt, and reach back to undo my bra. Then it's his turn and I drag his shirt up as I kiss his bare chest which is revealed inch by tantalizing inch. And I can't help but think in the back of my mind about the differences between him and Gale.

While Gale's chest was a shrine to masculinity with its deeply defined lines and the trail of dark hair that stared at his chest and trailed down in a seductive path, Peeta was just as enticing only in a different way.

His muscles weren't as deeply cut, but he was firm all over, with a thickness to his arms and chest that called to me in a deep way. The broadness of his frame made me feel femine and delicate when he held me against himself, and while his blond hair wasn't as apparent against his light skin, it felt soft and thick under my fingertips. And it did get darker, in shades, the lower down his body it grew. I thought about this as I bit down on his shoulder while he tugged his boxers off.

"Ahhhh, don't start that until I take care of you first." He tells me, in a tone that strives for strictness but belies his arousal for me.

I don't answer, making no promises not to bite him again because honestly it was one of my favorite things to do sometimes. It always startles him a little and sometimes if I timed it just right, he'd let out a breathy curse, and get really flustered.

Of course, he had his own arsenal of tricks and things he did to drive me wild. And as he lowered his mouth to start kissing up the inside of my thighs, I smiled at how well we both know what the other likes.

And for a time I forget about thinking, and I just let myself bend and sway under Peeta's tongue and his hands on my body. After he makes me call out his name twice in fits of passion, he lifts me up and moves me to the arm of the couch where he positions me leaning over so he can settle behind my body. This is one of his favorite positions, I have noticed. And the first few times we tried it, he was almost shy about it. But now, after things have gotten so comfortable between us, he's more confident about the things he wants and likes.

As far as I'm concerned, it's a really great position. He doesn most of the work and I reap the majority of the benefits. Plus he tended to really let loose and get a little primitive about the whole thing, which for Peeta is an accomplishment. He was so gentle at first, I almost had to coax him into trying new things. And after he realized he wouldn't break me, he started to be more rough. And I found I really liked that side of him. Who knew that under the gentle painter whose hands could paint birds so small you almost needed a magnifying glass to see all the details of their feathers, existed a man who could make me scream into the couch pillows when no one was around?

Not me. This part of all of it was so totally unexpected. I had imagined Peeta being a gentle and attentive lover, and he was those things, but he was also powerful and desirable, and there was unexpected heat that hid underneath his warm exterior. And this thought drove me, up over the complications of the day, and higher to a place where his body and mine found a driving, pulse pounding rhythm that made us both lose all control.

The feeling of him surging inside of me caused a chain reaction that ended with both us finding release moments after his own began. We pant after the waves of ecstasy subside, and then he very carefully moves away from me to let himself flop down on the couch. I flop down next to him on my side, like I had done so many times after we finished doing these kinds of things.

"That was really, really, good." He says, breathlessly as I mold myself against his skin, just needing to feel his slightly sweat slicked skin against my own.

"I always like it when you don't hold back." I tell him quietly, with my eyes closed as I try to calm my erratic pulse.

"Oh, if I didn't hold back you'd never leave this couch or my bed…..You know, I really like this couch. It's really, really comfortable." He says appreciatively, as he runs a hand over the soft dark blue fabric.

I roll my eyes, at his use of similar adjectives to describe both me and his couch.

"Peeta, can you massage my shoulders again like last time? I had trouble drawing my bow today." I ask him as I scoot a little away so he can have access to my back muscles.

"Yeah, of course." He replies easily. And his large hands settle into kneading my shoulders and my back like he does a ball of dough. Which is apt, because I feel boneless and formless after how hard his body drove mine to bliss. This was something I treasured. His hands caring for me so expertly, his warmth enveloping me even when our bodies were sated and we could have seperated and gone our own individual ways.

He liked it when I scratched up and down his back sometimes. So I tell myself to remember to try and offer him a backscratch after he finishes reshaping my tense muscles into softer things.

Later we get dressed and I leave so I can make a show of coming back again after everyone arrives. When I make my way back to Peeta's house at the predetermined time, I'm not surprised to find Rory there in the basement searching through the crates we've been storing in Peeta's basement with hidden supplies inside underneath all the wedding gifts and samples.

I am however surprised to find Gale with him. I almost start to argue with him, but Gale explains that he just wants to make sure Rory is using proper form and won't be hurting himself. Peeta's expression doesn't seem to buy this excuse, but I know how much Gale cares about his siblings. So I just nod, and Haymitch shrugs his shoulders and we all get busy digging and looking through the boxes to sort things out.

"Ummm, what exactly am I supposed to be looking for in this box?" Rory calls out questioningly, as he unboxes a medium sized purple glittery thing.

"Oh, anything from dry goods, to tent fabric. Just make sure to look everywhere, thoroughly." Haymitch tells him loudly as he takes another small swallow from his flask. He's not even pretending to try and dig by now, he's just resting on a crate watching Gale direct Peeta's swings at a particularly tricky juncture.

"Are you sure all of these boxes have hidden supplies in them?" Rory asks, his voice slightly high and nervous.

"If it has a crescent on it anywhere then it's from our supplier in district 4, the man in the moon." Haymitch replies gruffly, as if Rory is just being incompetent and not looking correctly.

"Ok, yeah it has a purple moon on the front, but I really don't think-" Rory says before he's interrupted by his big brother.

"Rory, just look hard ok?" Gale calls over his shoulder.

"I'd really rather not, Katniss is almost like my sister…" Rory says in a slightly terrified voice, and we all turn to stare at him. He's staring down at the box like it's full of snakes.

"Uhhh," Gale lets out an exasperated sigh, as he walks over to peer into the box that has Rory so upset.

"I know there's a lot of candles and fake flowers, but you just have to look past the girlie stuff, and dig." Gale says as he kneels beside Rory and starts picking up what seems to be lace table cloth covers in various colors.

But after the first three or so, something seems a little off. These must be the tiniest table cloth covers, in the wildest colors I've ever seen or….

"Oh god!" Gale exclaims as he holds a strip of hot pink fabric, that is equal parts sheer, and see-through lace with dozens of tiny ribbons on it. Upon closer inspection it is in fact not a tablecloth, but some kind of garment that is obviously designed for only one purpose, to incite arousal.

Gale drops the pink contraption as quickly as if it had been on fire and looks equal parts mortified and entranced. Peeta, who had walked over to come and see what all the commotion was about, leans down and picks up a slinky black night gown looking dress. It would be more convincing as an actual nightgown if it weren't short enough to leave almost nothing to the imagination, and also if the material over the breast section of the dress wasn't completely see through black lace.

I feel my face flush a million times hotter than the face of the sun. I have no words for how mortified I am. What was Cinna thinking? But when my eyes look at the return address on the outside of the box I can see that it's not Cinna's home address or office address. It's Effie's. I grit my teeth in consternation as I stalk over to the boys, who are clearly paralyzed in fear and something else, and I snatch the black silky object out of Peeta's hands and lean down to stuff it back into the stupid purple box.

"Stupid Effie sent this….stuff! I have no idea what the hell she was thinking!" I exclaim as I slam the lid closed, crushing it slightly in my anger. Gale and Peeta just stare up at me, dumbly, in twin expressions of strange amazement.

The moment stretches as awkward silence fills the room, like a balloon threatening to burst. That's when Haymitch's drunk guffaw rings though the room, cutting through the tension and turning the moment around. And Rory, whose cheeks look almost as bright as mine starts to laugh.

"The very idea that you would be caught dead-" Haymitch practically shouts as he is overcome with deep belly laughs. He's laughing so hard I think there's actual tears starting to leak out his eyes.

"I know right? This stuff is so over the top it's ridicu-" I mutter, rolling my eyes. Effie is way off base if she thinks I'd be interested in wearing this stuff for myself or anyone else.

"Making any kind of effort!" Haymitch finishes his thought, literally collapses on the floor in a fit. I suddenly find myself feeling offended by Haymitch's implication. I mean, I shave my legs, and keep the lemon shampoo Peeta likes in stock. Do I really need to do more? And why should I go through the trouble of putting on some stupid complicated looking outfit that's just going to end up coming off anyway?

I look over at Peeta and Gales' faces and see that they're both blushing furiously. But at Haymitch's comment about just how little effort I'd be willing to make on any romantic venture, Gale's shoulders start to shake with laughter, and he's having trouble keeping a straight face. And then it seems the laughter is contagious because Peeta burst out laughing, and then they're both laughing their heads off like the idea of me in sexy lingerie is the most hilarious thing in the world.

"Oh, I see, it's so very funny. Ha,ha." I tell them as I shoot them a really rude gesture as I walk up the basement stairs determined to get rid of the offending package and all it's inappropriate contents.

"As if there's anyone deserving of any of my efforts anyway!" I shout as I reach the top step and slam the door. The laughter is renewed double fold, and I feel like kicking something, or at least some people I know in certain sensitive areas.

I toss the box in Peeta's kitchen trash bin and perch on top of the counter, angrily chewing on my nails. A little while later Rory comes up the stairs sheepishly and leans against the counter not looking at me. When I can tell he wants to say something I sigh and tilt my head towards the outside. When we get a few feet from the house he turns to face me in the dark.

"Uh...they wanted me to say they're sorry for laughing. I mean, my brother and your fake fiance. Haymitch said he wouldn't apologize, but he did say that it was just a joke and we all need to get back to work." Rory says, and I feel a little bit bad for him as the messenger. I want to yell at all three of them, but they're not here. I think Rory might actually be cringing in anticipation of my anger.

"Yeah, ok, but don't expect me to talk to any of those idiots." I say after I let out a long suffering sigh.

"I just think they're hoping you didn't leave to go get your bow." Rory says with a relieved chuckle. And because I had actually thought about doing just that for a moment earlier, I laugh too.

"Oh, man Katniss, I hope you don't take this wrong but I really don't ever want to think about you that way." Rory manages to say between laughs.

I shrug my shoulders and try to laugh a little, it's better than calling the Capitol at this hour to scream at Effie until I can't speak.

"Thanks Rory, I really appreciate it." I told him as we walked back into the house. And I really did, because having someone that was more like family than a romantic interest at this moment in my life was such a relief, it wasn't even funny.

Chapter Text

(Peeta POV)

After the purple box fiasco, Katniss pointedly ignores everyone for the rest of the night and focuses on sorting through the other supply boxes herself just in case there were any more surprises. Gale directs Rory and I, and even helps out with a tricky part of the tunnel when we hit a snag. But I can't help thinking about the look on his face as he stared up at her, while she blushed and tried to hide the box of outfits from all of us. He had looked up at her like he wondered what she'd look like...

A part of me hated that he thought about her that way for even a second. But I knew it probably wasn't the first time the thought had crossed his mind, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Sometimes I still had trouble not thinking about it when other people were around. One minute we'd be eating dinner with her family, and she'd spill some gravy on her chest, right above her collar. The next minute I'd be thinking about how her skin would taste, and what sounds she'd make if I decided to clean her with my tongue. Honestly, it was a little overwhelming sometimes.

So I understood the temptation, on a purely male level. I mean even his little brother hadn't wanted to keep rifling through the box after he opened it. Which I was grateful for, since Katniss probably had enough people nearby and all across the country picturing her in their heads. Even I had been momentarily surprised and caught off guard with the idea of that tiny black see through thing, and just how much of her I'd be able to see in it if she put it on.

And it had been awkward, in the poorly lit basement as we all stared at her and the glittery box in her hands. But then Haymitch had done everyone a favor and saved the moment with his purposefully rude humor, and Katniss had taken offence to his criticisms of her personality. But, it had been just what the situation called for, her stomping out of the room after she flipped us all off. Because no one really needed those images rattling around in their heads while we were trying to focus on doing manual labor and swinging around sharp pickaxes.

I really had no idea if Effie had sent that stuff over on a whim, or what. It certainly didn't seem like any of it was Katniss's idea. And the box had my address stamped on it, not Katniss's. It had also been marked with a note on the bottom of the cardboard lid saying 'Honeymoon Essentials'. So, maybe it had been Effie's idea of what many people in the Capitol consider a thoughtful gift. Still it was strange to think of anyone picking out things that were only supposed to be viewed between a husband and wife. But then again, people in the Capitol were weird on a whole different level from the rest of the country.

After working for about an hour Haymitch called us to break early to talk about the bachelor party, which was really going to be a cover for us to get loud and do the most difficult part of the construction. So we set out to discuss who needed to be invited and for what stages of the party. Katniss listened with stoic attentiveness, and the expression was so like the one Gale was wearing as he was seated across from her that I found it was strange, not for the first time how alike they were. I had wished so many times in vain that they were related, because then their ease at being around each other, the way they could sometimes communicate with just a look or a gesture, would have been so much more acceptable. Sometimes I still saw a rare light in her eyes, when she shrugged her shoulders apathetically but he seemed to understand just what she meant, and he grinned at her like he'd been smiling at her for a million years before today. Then she would grin back, like they'd be smiling at each other for another million years in their secret forest after the rest of us were just dust and ashes.

Those were the difficult moments. Because it wasn't just that he wanted her. Plenty of guys wanted her, even before she became a super star victor, the deadly archer who could snag a man's heart with just one look. It was that she had never seemed interested in dating, or romance, or anything remotely normal for a teenager, except maybe when she looked at Gale. She didn't make eyes at him like the rest of the girls in town, no, what she did was worse. She wasn't nervous around him at all, or flirty, or anything. She was just herself, but more comfortable. Like she sometimes was when we had dinner together and she got this look on her face like she wanted to roll her eyes but in an amused, affectionate way. The way she looked the morning after I cooked her breakfast and she walked into the kitchen wearing my t-shirt. Like she belonged, like she was happy.

She said they were best friends. But when she looked up at me in my kitchen earlier in the afternoon, there was a real fear there. Like she was scared to talk about the kiss he'd no doubt coaxed or wrangled her into. Maybe it hadn't taken that much coaxing. I guess that was what was really terrifying about the whole thing. That I could pour my heart out to her, hold her through every nightmare, that I could make her scream my name in passion, that I could give her everything and she would still come back from the woods, biting her lip, in doubt. Over a kiss.

So, I had swallowed my anger, and my pride. And I had done the only thing I could think of, and brushed it off, said it was nothing. And then I'd made love to her like my life depended on it. Because I wanted her to forget him and his kiss, and I wanted her to remember me and the things we did together. But a part of me wondered how long it could last. Soon, we'd all be out of the Capitol's reach. She and I would abandon our roles as the Star-Crossed Lovers of District 12. She would finally be free to 'figure things out'. And I had the sneaking suspicion that I would be relegated back down to the friend category, while she and Gale found out if she really preferred blondes to brunettes. The thought made my gut ache like someone sucker punched me.

Everyday that the wedding dragged closer brought on a new arrival of fresh dread. And I knew on some level that it wasn't exactly fair to her, or him, or even me to wish that things could stay the same. Because even though she said she had chosen me to be her lover, could it really be called a choice when the threat of the Capitol loomed over us? I could only hope when she was free she wouldn't throw me off her in haste like an unwanted Capitol garment someone had forced her to wear.

Sometimes I couldn't sleep at night thinking about those kinds of things. And it didn't matter how many times we had sex, or in how many different ways, these days it almost felt like I was just running out the clock. So when she tried to leave after all the details had been ironed out, I told her I needed her help with my leg.

"I think something's caught in the latch, and you know my big clumsy fingers can't really fix it." I had said without a shred of dignity. Surely pretty much everyone in the basement knew this was a lie. Haymitch looked almost ashamed of me. Gale's look was so sharp he practically had knives coming out of his eyes, but I didn't care. He probably would have plenty of time to make up his own stupid excuses for needing her after we escaped. But not me, soon I would have no excuse to hold her, or kiss her, or anything else unless by some miracle she actually decided she wanted a baker instead of a big strapping hunter. And I was desperate, especially after seeing how mad she had gotten when I laughed at the stupid box of underthings.

I wanted to explain. I didn't want to waste a single second of the time I had left with her, arguing and being mad at each other over dumb stuff.

She had looked at me with barely concealed cynicism, but motioned for me to head to the living room. I rolled up my pant leg as she inspected the mechanisms, with her delicate hands. I could see Gale hovering in the kitchen by the door, but after two minutes Rory just rolled his eyes and left without him. So eventually Gale had to leave too.

And in the quiet that followed she stopped pretending to look at my prosthetic, and just sat with my leg in her lap, her hand barely touching the leftover flesh that made up the ugly stump of my thigh. She had never commented on it. But a part of me had always wondered if she didn't wonder what it would be like with a man with two good legs. I had tried to let it interfere as little as possible in the things we did. But still, the insecurity had stuck, along with so much other stuff that seemed to be floating to the surface more and more these days.

I knew though, that all that had to stay down where she couldn't see it.

"You know I wasn't laughing at you right?" I tell her, reaching for her hand. But she leans away, looking over at me but not letting me hold her hand. She just stares at me in that silent way that says she's assessing me, like a hunter deciding whether she's going to shoot or show mercy.

"It was just so surprising, so unexpected. I mean, I think it threw everybody for a loop, and people laugh when they're put in awkward situations." I tell her, hoping she can just understand how strange it was standing around staring at those outfits that Effe had sent her, with three other guys including our middle aged mentor and her 'best friend', and his little brother.

She narrows her grey eyes at me, examining my expression.

"Come on Katniss, even you thought they were a little ridiculous." I say, trying to appeal to her hatred of frilly, girly things.

"Yeah, they were, but you didn't laugh when I said that. You laughed because the idea of me making an effort was ridiculous." She challenges me.

"No, I of all people know that's not true. Sure, you're not the kind of girl who gets all dolled up or buys a new dress when she wants a guy to look at her. But I've noticed things. Little things. Like how you always shower before you visit, even if it's cold out and your hair's still wet when you walk over. Like how you stopped biting your lips after I told you they were chapped that one time. Like how you wear the dove grey shirt with the little scalloped edges more often because I told you it made your eyes look like smokey grey twilight."

She didn't say anything, just blushed furiously and looked down at her hands which were gripping my leg now.

"Well, those clothes might have been really ridiculous but they were also a little bit distracting. So, if I acted like an idiot, you can chalk it up to my brain getting a little fried. You know how I get when I think about you that way." I admit with a shrug. Because she does know, sometimes when she's just standing there in nothing but her softly tanned skin I can get lost in looking at her, and she has to call me back to reality.

She blushes again, and I love it, that even after everything we've done she can still blush when I talk about how much I want her.

"Well, you keep your fridge stocked with orange juice and bacon. You make those cheese buns I like so much every chance you get. And you wear that spicy aftershave sometimes….." She trails off, and I look at her because yeah, ok, I knew about all her favorite foods, but I had no idea she liked my aftershave. She had never even mentioned it.

"You never told me anything about the aftershave." I tell her, my eyebrows almost meeting in confusion over my eyes.

"I thought you guessed, since it was the one you wore the night of the celebration feast. The one I was so...keen on when we practiced in the closet." She says in a quiet voice.

Now it's my turn to raise my eyebrows at her incredulously.

"Keen?" I shake my head at her, partly amused and partly frustrated with her obvious lack of communication skills.

"Why else would I have practically mauled your neck between the coats?" She says under her breath.

"You mauled me? I was worried I was going to leave finger sized bruises I was holding onto you so hard while you kissed me." I tell her with a laugh. She smiles over at me crookedly, like it's a wonderful secret we're sharing. And I feel slightly better, if she's admitting she wanted me, just a little, before that Capitol doctor showed up on her doorstep.

"Actually, I think you did…" She whispers, and when she sees my horrified expression she just shrugs.

"I didn't complain while the kiss was happening. Why should I complain now? Besides, I've probably left a few bite marks of my own on those shoulders of yours." She tells me as she settles back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling.

"You looked incredible that night. Like some creature out of a fairytale. All dangerous curves and long dark hair shining in the moonlight. I almost fell over when I first saw you." I lean in to tell her, like it's a secret. Because really it is, we were still just friends then, and the whole lovers part of the equation hadn't even been brought up.

"I thought you looked handsome as ever. I liked the way the mockingjay accents on your suit make your eyes look such a deep blue." She says the words as she looks over at me, into my eyes. And I smile at her, grateful at least that my mother gave me something worthwhile.

"Are you actually admitting that you kissed me under false pretences?" I ask her, and feign indignation.

She stares at a point on the wall and scratches a spot on her jaw like she's thinking.

"I don't admit to having consciously bad intentions. I will only say that the kissing may have been influenced by other factors…" She finally says and I burst out laughing. She'll be the last to cop to anything, as usual. And she says I have a way of saying things. Well, she's got a way of not saying things that drives me nuts.

"Alright, fine, so we both make an effort, and we both like the things we consciously and unconsciously do for each other. We don't need any of that other stuff." I tell her as I pull her close to my chest. And it must be the right thing to say because she settles in against me and just lets me hold her for a moment.

"Are you sure? Because I saw the look on your face when-" She begins to say, but I just lean down and kiss her, long and deeply.

"At the end of the day, it's counterintuitive for me to want to put more clothes on you." I say and she looks up at me like she's drinking in my words.

"I know right?" She replies and tucks her head under my chin. She starts to do that thing where she traces invisible designs on my chest and I close my eyes in relaxed delight. When she stays with me, just like this, like she just wants to be close to me at the end of a long day it makes my fears and insecurities feel like tiny grains of sand. And I don't know who falls asleep first, me or her, or maybe we both fall at the same time, but she stays all night. And in the morning I get to cook her breakfast again.

(Recommended Listening Track: Please Keep Loving Me-Acoustic James TW)

(Katniss POV)

I wake up on Peeta's couch to the smell of something delicious and sweet. I stretched for a long time because last night I was a little cramped sleeping on the couch with him. I ended up half on my side, half on top of his chest, but we were both so tired we didn't want to make the trek up the stairs.

I can hear him whistling softly from the kitchen and it makes me smile. I make my way towards the alluring odors wafting from Peeta's direction and when I get there I'm almost stunned. The kitchen table is piled with all sorts of food. Scrambled eggs, eggs over easy, sliced toast, cheese buns, bacon, grits, small fried potatoes, two big glasses of orange juice, and two plates piled high with golden delicious fluffy looking waffles, topped with blueberries and dark maple syrup.

"Peeta, who did you make all this food for?" I ask him, my voice high and unbelieving.

"For us. Since it's the last week before the wedding, I figured I might as well start cleaning out my breakfast goods. Since we'll be gone for two weeks anyway. Didn't want to waste it." He explains alluding to the honeymoon that will never take place and I know what he's really saying is we will not be coming back to this house, or this kitchen.

And suddenly I'm so sad, it feels like someone just told me I'd never be able to see the lake again, or the woods, or the Hob. And then I think about it, and I realize it's true. In less than a week I might never see those places again. And the thought hits me so hard, I reach forward and grip the back of the chair in front of me for stability. Peeta sees me and he brings me into his arms, rubbing my back and asking me what's wrong.

"Nothing, just wedding jitters." I told him, because his kitchen is bugged and Haymitch took the bug scrambler with him last night. But I look into his eyes so I can try to tell him what I feel.

He looks at me headlong, and after just a second realization hits, and he's wrapping me up in a bear hug embrace and I return it as best as I can.

"It's ok Katniss. It will be alright. Look, I can cook you breakfast whenever you want, just say the word. The scenery might change, but our stuff doesn't have to. Not if you don't want it too." He whispers into my hair, and in that moment I really really want to hold onto his promise. Peeta making me breakfast has been one of the best things about becoming his lover, because it has given us something normal to do together instead. Because even after all this is over, and even if we decide not to ever touch each other that way again, we'll still have this. Breakfast is undeniably, unequivocally ours. It was not mandated by the Capitol, or written for the cameras. It happened because of Peeta's kindness, his thoughtfulness, and my willingness to spend quiet mornings watching him sipping his tea or orange juice.

So I kiss him, feather soft in gratitude and I whisper against his lips a thank you. And I feel him smile against my lips, and the feeling is so sweet I kiss his cheek as well before we sit down and dig into our feast.

"Peeta, these waffles are the best thing I've ever tasted. I think they're even better than the stuff from the Capitol." I tell him before shoving another giant piece into my mouth. I probably look a little savage, but the waffles are seriously so buttery and thick and the blueberries are the perfect topping along with the syrup. It's sinful.

"Oh, well I've had a few mornings to myself to experiment. I was playing around with a waffle recipe for you for a while now. And the other day I finally got the flour to sugar to egg ratio down exactly right, so I decided to research some fruit and syrup combinations, and found that this one, with blueberries and dark maple syrup, was the best I could come up with in the short time frame." He says in all seriousness. And I'm again completely taken back by how much thought he's put into this.

And I realize just because I haven't given him the title of being my boyfriend doesn't mean he hasn't been thinking about me as if I were his girlfriend. And the thought is a little terrifying, but also a little sweet. And I realize that Peeta would actually make a very good boyfriend to any girl lucky enough to snag him. That thought makes me feel just a tad...ungrateful, even knowing how complicated everything is between us.

I know we don't have much time to spend together. And a lot of the time we did have left, I used to care for Gale when he was injured. But this might be the last full day we have relatively free. Before we get caught up with party plans, and wedding preparations. I realize I want to spend just a little more time with Peeta.

"What are you doing today?"

"Uh, just the usual stuff I do. Take Haymitch bread, go down to the bakery, make a few rounds delivering some baked goods, see a few friends."

"Oh,"

"Why?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking we could've spent the day together, but you've got your schedul-"

"Yes! Yes, let's spend the day together. None of that other stuff is really important." He practically shouts.

"It sounds a little important." I say, unsure.

"Trust me, other than delivering some leftovers and bread, everything else is not a big deal. I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you." He says earnestly and it hits me hard, like a freight train. But then he smiles over at me and shrugs. "At least until the wedding." He adds, seemingly as an after thought.

"Okayyy." I reply a little taken back by his enthusiasm. "I'll allow it." I finally clarify and his answering grin is infectious.

"You will?" He asks with a hopeful gleam in his brilliant blue eyes. I nod.

Then he's stuffing forkfuls of waffle and bites of egg in his mouth in a mad rush and I tell him to slow down before he cokes.

"It's just that it's almost mid-morning and I don't wanna waste anymore time." He says sincerely.

I laugh, and start shoveling my food too so we can make a quick exit. We wrap up the leftovers, since Peeta says he'll take some to his family and friends in town, and then he changes quickly into a clean shirt and pants. I apparently have a small section set aside in one of his dresser drawers filled with odds and ends of clothing that has gotten lost over my frequent visits to his house.

A lot of mismatched socks, some underwear, a bra, and the shirt I left the other day when we ended up on his kitchen floor. Each one of them is washed and clean, and I am pleased to find that all that feverish tugging off of clothes in the heat of the moment has come in handy. I quickly rebraid my hair as Peeta shaves and then we're off.

We get to his parent's bakery first and he chats with his middle brother about the bachelor party while I peruse the cake displays. I can automatically tell which ones have been decorated by Peeta, they're so detailed and beautiful. I can feel his mother's cold gaze on my back as I stand there, and even though we've never exchanged more than the barest of surface pleasantries with each other, I had always thought she knew Peeta and I's secret. That we are not in love, and it was all an act. So, I had always avoided looking at her, and talking to her, whenever I could. But the cold feeling between my shoulder blades won't go away, no matter how long I stare at the beautiful cakes, so when I finally resolve to stop being such a chicken and just turn around and look at her, I'm surprised to find Peeta beside me. He's staring at me in such a loving way, and he reaches out to take my hand in his. It feels so natural, so normal today, that I let him.

"Come on, let's get going." He whispers to me with a tilt of his head towards the door. And I forget all about the witch, and her evil gaze and follow Peeta back out into town. We walk through town, and I catch reflections of us in the shop windows. Him with his blond hair and easy smile, which has been turned up to megawatt bright today. I look practically apathetic compared to him this morning, but as he leads me by the hand I glimpse a ghost of a smile on my usually frowning lips. He stops and chats happily with a few merchants, but doesn't stop too long in any one place.

When he turns towards the Seam side of town I hesitate.

(Recommended Listening Track: Say-John Mayer)

"Peeta, why are we going this way?" I ask, unsure what business Peeta, a merchant kid born and bred could have with district 12's poor underclass this morning.

"This is the only stop that really matters this morning. I promise it won't take long and you can wait outside if it makes you uncomfortable." He tells me, as we move down the poor dirt streets and come to stop in front of a familiar looking shack.

It's not mine, or Gale's home.

It's Maisy Evans home, our first female tribute when we became mentors or at least it used to be her home, when she was still alive. Now only the family that she was survived by lives here.

And seeing it, the small worn down looking shack identical to the one my family grew up in, froze me to the spot.

She had only been 12 years old when she was chosen. Just like Prim. Just like Rue. And I hadn't been able to help her. Peeta stops walking and just strokes my hand gently.

"I try to bring them something everyday, Katniss. They really need it. I'm sorry if it upsets you, to be here. I'll try and make it quick." He says to me in a sympathetic voice. He brushes his knuckle down the arm of my hunting jacket, and walks toward the house, all thick strong shoulders and gentle stride.

I can feel tears welling in the back of my eyes for the second time this morning. But I know it's not Peeta's fault for bringing me here. He was just doing his duty by people who I should have by all rights, taken care of instead of trying to forget about.

And I guess that's the real difference between Peeta and I.

He doesn't run away from the things that break his heart. But it seems to be the only thing I'm good at. And I think of all the days I've been home since our first year as mentors. And all the missed opportunities to bring them game, or goat milk, or any number of small things. And I know I haven't stayed away because I didn't want to do those things. I stayed away because somehow it wouldn't have felt like enough. No amount of food or supplies could replace a daughter, a sister. But I hadn't even tried.

The door opens and a small frail looking woman with grey hair and a slim tired looking face poked her head out. At seeing Peeta she smiled a warm, sad smile and opened the door to pull him into a hug. It seems he has been at this for a while, maybe all along since we came back without that small child.

And this is the image, this broken down woman hugging Peeta in the chilly morning like he's family, like he's a close friend, instead of part of the reason her youngest daughter never came home, that finally sets the tears free inside me.

And they slide down my face, unceasing, just welling up over and over again. So when they make their way over to me, I don't see them at first, because my vision is blurred beyond recognition. But Peeta's voice cuts through my solitude.

"Katniss, Mrs. Evans wanted to talk to you real quick, you remember her right?" He asks me as he leaves her side and comes to stand near me and support me on my quickly failing legs.

I look up into the woman's face. And she can't be more than forty, but her eyes look like they've seen a hundred lifetimes. They're full of such deep things I think I forget my own name.

"I'm glad you came by dear. Your boy here, he said you would one day, when you were able." She says and her voice is the rasping tired voice of a life weary soul. And I wonder at her words, because I don't think I'd have ever come here on my own, not even if one day I was able to think about her daughter for more than a minute without feeling that horrible soul crushing guilt that seemed to wait in the wings for me at a moment's notice.

"I-"I try to say, but my voice is cracked and raw sounding.

She just reached up and wiped away the tears making tracks down my face quickly, almost brusquely, but I can see it's because she's trying not to cry herself, not because she's upset at my tears.

"I've been wanting to tell you, for two years now, just how much we have always appreciated you and your young man trying so hard to help our girl. If she had been a little older, if we'd been able to give her more, to eat and get medicine when she needed it, maybe she could have come back like the young man you saved this year. You did the best you could, did more than anyone could have asked for. And well, if she had to go to that place, and face all that, we're glad she had you on her team." She's weeping now, and she has her arms around me, and I'm hugging her too. Because I'm so sad, and so astounded, and so undeserving of all this. And she holds onto me for a moment, before breaking away. She drags her hand down her face, hurriedly wiping away the tears and then she nods at us both.

"You're welcome at this house anytime, the both of you." She says before turning around to go back inside with her bags of breakfast foods that Peeta made this morning.

Peeta places his hand under my side, holding me up again, and I turn my face into his soft black leather jacket, letting the last of tears leave me. I've got hiccups and he just rubs my back soothingly until I regain my composure. I lift my head up to breathe in the warmth of his neck and his other hand comes around me and we just stand there for a minute, not saying anything, just remembering the little girl who once lived in that house.

She had been so skinny, and small. She looked more like a ten year old than a twelve year old. But I had taught her to climb, and how to trap rabbits and squirrels. Peeta had taught her how to hide. And she had done so well at first, lasting an entire week on her own. But the Gamemakers had grown bored, and in their cruelty they had sent a wildfire to destroy the section of the arena she was in. She had survived the fire, miraculously. But she had broken her leg, and remained trapped up on a high ledge, unable to get down or hunt. So she had starved slowly.

And Peeta and I had been made to watch. No matter what we said, no sponsors would agree to help her after that. As mentors we couldn't use any of our own money to help our tributes either. So we stood there in the mentor booth with Haymitch watching the screen as her eyes grew dark and drowsy in her hollow face. As had her mother, father, and siblings back home.

Afterwards, life had seemed almost unbearable. I had just started to disappear myself, like some part of me died with her that day. But Peeta had been there, in the dark and the pain, as had Haymitch. And seeing our old mentor's discomfort at our own fresh pain, at losing just two tributes, when he had lost so very many over the years had snapped something in me.

I had realized then just how much we all needed each other. We were a strange mismatched family of sorts, and I had come back from the brink mostly for them, because I knew that deep down we would always be connected by our pain and our loyalty. And if I had continued to let myself drown in my misery, I would have dragged them both down with me.

So when Peeta closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to overtake him in front of Maisy Evan's home, I stroked his arm as he had done for me. And I felt his long eyelashes brush against my skin, before two tears fell onto my nose, I resolved to feel the moment, but also let it pass. Because I had to be strong for him, when he needed someone to hold onto.

When his adam's apple bobbed, I leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose and we both turned in an unspoken agreement and walked onto the next house.

Leed Turner's home was a few streets over and a couple houses down. But this time I walked up the steps with Peeta, hand in hand. Leed's older sister answered the door, and stared at me in surprise for a minute before accepting the bags of food from Peeta. She was the woman of the house, as Leed's mother had died years ago, giving birth to her fifth child when Leed was just four years old. This house too, had known hardship, and hunger even before Leed had been carted off to the Capitol. When she clasped my hand and thanked me for coming, I knew my eyes were shining with unshed tears, but I clasped my other hand on top of hers, and told her that it was the least we could do. She smiled then, almost the same sad smile as Mrs. Evans had, then shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh, no, you two, are just too kind for words. I hope you both find every happiness you can, in the coming years." She says with a genuineness that makes me almost wince. How can she know that Peeta and I won't be around in the coming years for the Capitol to televise our lives, and our love story? She can't, so I just thank her and she slips back inside.

As we make our way back to town, Peeta turns to me, and gets that studious look in his eye again.

"Thank you for coming with me today. Haymitch only came with me the first time, and then he said he couldn't anymore. But you really helped a lot." He tells me as I pick a path that will take us down the backroads of the merchant shops.

We're still holding hands, and his large one covers mine easily as we walk, keeping my hand warm on the chilly day. I smile a little at his words, knowing just what he means. And I wonder at all the times Peeta had to do that by himself. How many times could I have been there for him? The number was probably countless. And it is just one more thing about Peeta that settles around me, like a warm coat on a winter day.

"I'm sorry, that I never thought about coming before." I tell him as we walk past the tanner's shop.

"I never mentioned it, so you couldn't have known." He replies easily, letting me off the hook.

"Yeah, well I should have guessed you'd do something like that. Do you ever get tired of being so good?" I ask him genuinely curious about what stuff he seems to be made of that's so different from what I have underneath my bones.

"I don't know, do you ever get tired of being so capable?" He asked me as we plodded along.

"All the time. But, it's such a habit now, I just can't seem to break it." I tell him jokingly, because I am really not all that capable. I had avoided this very situation for almost two years.

"Oh, well then we're quite a pair. Because I feel the exact same way." He says and smiles sidelong at me. I laugh and bump his hip with my own in an amused friendly way and he just beams at me.

"What now?" He asks, as we walk along. And I think for a moment.

"Lunch? Are you hungry again?" I ask because it's probably past lunch time. And even though we had a big breakfast, I swear crying and emotional breakdowns make you ravenous because I'm starving again.

"Oh, you know I think I know just the place where we can go. And I even mentioned last week I'd stop by." He says, grabbing my hands more firmly in his as he turns to his left and starts up the stairs of a back entrance to the apartment residence of the florist shop.

"Let's drop in on my friend Sorren." Peeta says enthusiastically, before I can even raise a protest.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

A young man around Peeta and I's age answers Peeta's loud knock. He's average height, slim framed and has ash colored blond hair and friendly brown eyes, and when he sees Peeta a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Heather! Set another place, Peeta's here!" He calls over his shoulder into the kitchen and he opens the door wide, to let Peeta in. When he sees me standing behind him his eyebrows perk up in surprise.

"Better make that two," Peeta tells him humorously and he enters.

"I'm sorry for dropping in, but he just took off when I suggested lunch." I tell Peeta's friend sheepishly, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, no, it's great. We haven't seen you in person since the last day of school before your Games." Sorren tells me as he holds the door open for me and I enter the small apartment.

There's a very petite snowy-haired blond girl, standing at the stove plating up two more servings of lunch. At first I think she may be Sorren's sister, but then she turns to face Peeta and I with a sweet smile as she holds out the food generously. My eyes drop to her round middle and I see she is very pregnant. The apartment is clean and quiet, no signs of other people living there such as parents or siblings. So then I know she must be Sorren's wife. And my mind turns over Sorren's words in my head about how he hadn't seen me since the last day of school years ago.

He must have gone to school with Peeta and I, and I study him and the blond girl for a sign of familiarity. They both have the kinds of merchant town faces that always seemed to blend together for me, especially back in school when I was more concerned with feeding my family than making friends. I had been 16 then, and so had Peeta. After winning the Games he and I weren't required to finish our public schooling. Neither of us was going to work in the mines or the bakery officially, so we had just moved into the victor's village and I had never thought about the other kids my age back in school for another mandatory two years. But obviously they hadn't forgotten about me. Because both of these people were my classmates, I just hadn't recognized them at first.

Since they were Peeta's friends and part of the merchant class they usually ate away from the Seam kids like me. But the tiny blond girl I remembered now. She had been sweet to pretty much everyone, almost like Prim, but I can't remember ever hearing her talk unless a teacher asked a question or someone else spoke first. The boy I remembered seeing with Peeta's group of friends always joking and horsing around. He looked different now than he had at 16 though, taller and with a pale almost imperceptible blond beard growing in. The girl looked the same as when we were 16, except now her middle was swollen to the seventh or maybe eighth month of pregnancy.

"I brought some bread and bacon," Peeta said as he slid the bag of goodies onto the table where we all started to take our seats. I sat next to Peeta, and smiled over at the girl, well I guess she was really a woman. She was 18 like me, and even more grown up because she was married and already pregnant. She just looked really young.

"Thank you for letting us have lunch with you both." I told her politely. She looks over at me and smiles a really angelic sweet smile, and up close she reminds me of my mother. Her blue eyes are so light they look like placid icy ponds and her eyelashes are even lighter than Peeta's. They look practically white when she blinks.

"Oh, it's nice to have visitors. Peeta comes by every now and then but I have to confess I miss talking with other women. I lived with three sisters before Sorren and I got married, and now everything is so quiet I can hardly stand it." She says a little exasperated.

My eyes went a little wide, because I hadn't really ever heard her speak outside of class. It seemed she wasn't as quiet as I thought.

"You won't have that problem for much longer." Peeta tells her with a pointed look to her middle and she laughs a nice big throaty laugh that almost seems too loud for her small body to produce. But then her husband joins in and then I laugh too, because I guess Peeta's right. Soon they will probably both be wishing for peace and quiet when their son or daughter arrives.

Then Peeta and Sorren are talking baby names, and Peeta's giving him advice on which names sound the manliest for boys.

Heather shakes her head at Peeta and Sorren and leans over a little to me and says more quietly so the guys don't hear, "I told him we should've tried to wait and be more careful. But as soon as we finished the toasting he couldn't keep his hands off me day and night!" She tells me with a giggle and I feel my eyes go wide at her words.

I can't believe how open she's being, as if we are old friends and have shared secrets before. But then I think about how these are probably some of Peeta's oldest friends, and they think Peeta and I will soon be married for the rest of our lives. They most likely believe that I will be coming over to have lunch at their home more often, maybe they are even wondering what took this long. It certainly seems long overdue that we are meeting each other's friends a week before our wedding. So maybe this blond good natured couple doesn't see any need for pretence or reservation.

"Oh, I know what you mean," I tell her before I catch myself. And then I'm blushing furiously. But she just chuckles and shrugs her shoulders at me as if it's not a big deal that I just implied Peeta and I have been intimate, or something close to that at least.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you have your own surprise on the way soon." She tells me and I look down at the faded blue tablecloth, in embarrassment. She can't possibly know how horrifying that idea is to me, or for what reasons. How could anyone guess that having a child with Peeta, or anyone for that matter, would be one of the worst things that could happen to me? To everyone outside of our families we seem like Capitol darlings. What they don't see are the strings that are being pulled behind the scenes. The threats and the surveillance that are employed to keep us in line. So I just make myself smile at her, and nod. She gets a funny look on her face, and I know I'm not being convincing enough.

"I just don't feel quite ready yet, but I know there's no one who'd make a better parent than Peeta." I say quietly looking at her and her eyes light up.

"Of course, you're both so popular as mentors here and in the Capitol. You'll probably be too busy running all over for the next few years, between here and the Games, to settle down and start having kids. But when the time is right, you won't be able to find anyone better." She says and looks over at Peeta warmly. I nod enthusiastically and go back to eating my plate of chicken and potatoes with asparagus greens. She eats as well, but she still looks over at the boys. And though her eyes are mostly friendly, there's something in her gaze that makes me wonder about her compliment concerning Peeta.

Just how many other girls in school before our Games and after had thought Peeta would make a really good boyfriend, and father one day?

The thought is so curious. I feel an alien sentiment unfurl in my chest for a moment.

Jealousy. Over Peeta.

I'm so surprised I stopped eating for a second. I stare at Peeta, as he makes a joke about Sorren needing to practice his diaper changing skills. Heather is smiling again, but not at Peeta. This time she's grinning at her husband's feigned trepidation. And I resolve to stop picking at the question like a nervous hand picking at a scab. If there had ever been anything between Peeta and this girl it was long over, what with her being married and Peeta about to be.

So when she asked me about the wedding preparations and details I told her everything I could remember. And she seemed genuinely interested in all the color schemes and flower options. When we started talking about my dress I told her I had asked Cinna to design something simple for the ceremony here in 12. I hadn't seen that one, but the other two for the reception and send off were already pretty much done. She fawned over my descriptions and I found myself smiling as I told her about Cinna and his talents.

"Oh, I think he's just about the best stylist 12 has ever had." She tells me and I agree with her heartily.

We finished lunch very pleasantly, and I found myself surprised to have so much in common with two of Peeta's upper class friends. Maybe the years of living in a big house with more than enough to eat has changed me a bit more than I thought. I can't figure out if it's a good thing or bad thing, so I decide to just let the thought fall wherever it may.

Peeta thanks them profusely for their hospitality and I promise to come back again after the wedding for another lunch or dinner. But the lie makes me a little sad when it leaves my lips. We will be back here again. Still I was grateful for the opportunity to meet them, and I smile as we depart contentedly from their small but pleasant home. And Peeta's hand is in mine again, and I walk a little closer to him as I lead him back towards town.

"Okay since I picked where we went the last two times, it's your turn. And you should get two choices as well." Peeta tells me, and I just look at him like I'm way ahead of him. He smiles at me as I lead him in the direction of the Hob.

When we get a street away I think he recognizes the direction I'm going and his steps start to slow.

"What's wrong? Feeling a little chicken? Come on, you let me meet your friends. Now it's my turn to introduce you to mine." I tell him looking back over my shoulder with a challenging tone and gaze.

He seems to shake off his fears and just falls back into step beside me. And I smile, because it's almost funny, bringing good little upstanding Peeta to meet all my criminal associates at the Hob.

"Alright we're almost there. If I'm gonna take you with me, then you have to remember some things. First, stick with me, and don't wander off. Second, let me do most of the talking. Third, don't try to spread your money around too much. These people are businessmen and traders. Overpaying will just be insulting. If you see something you're interested in, ask me and I'll open negotiations for you. Lastly, if someone says something insulting, about you being from the good side of town, just let it slide. It's your first time here, and they'll want to rib you a little." I tell him seriously, and he just smiles excitedly at me. He's so happy, he almost looks like a little kid sneaking off somewhere forbidden. Just what I need, a big overexcited kid to bring with me to the rough part of town.

I roll my eyes at him and let go of his hand.

"The Hob isn't really about public displays of affection," I tell him and he seems a little disappointed that we're not holding hands, so I just pull him half a step closer to me and remind him to stay by my side. This perks him right back up.

When we walk in we get a lot of curious stares. Peeta's glossy blond hair sticks out like a sore thumb among the sea of dark hair. But we keep a low profile and just peruse the stands. I introduced him to a few of my oldest customers and trading partners. He thankfully doesn't turn on the charm to unbearable levels, and instead seems to adopt a more serious calm demeanor.

We share a small bowl of Greasy Sae's soup of the day, and I'm proud of him when he correctly guesses the spices she used and compliments her on her use of seasonings. She smiles at him almost shyly and I wonder if there is any woman young or old that Peeta can't charm.

But he still makes the lemon shampoo maker smile a little too gaily when he almost completely buys out her stock even though I argue with him over what he'll do with so much shampoo. He just grins at me conspiratorially and I know my nostrils are flaring at him in aggravation as we walk away toward the next row of stalls. We make it to the stacks of crates that separate the side stalls from the open area where most of the food stalls are congregated. Here the crates are stacked high, almost like dividers sectioning off the two portions of the Hob. I'm about to make a sarcastic remark about Peeta's sentimentality when we hear them.

"I guess she finally decided to bring her little milquetoast baker down here to mingle with the riff raff." It's Darius's voice, and he's talking to a couple of peacekeepers, but also a few local traders. They all laugh and I feel my cheeks heat in anger. I look over at Peeta and see he looks a little flustered at the comment as well. But he just narrows his eyes and sets his jaw, no doubt remembering my comment about letting things slide. But I hadn't been talking about this.

Usually someone made a few idle comments about newcomers, but they were always in the open, to the person's face, and generally good natured underneath it all. What Darius was doing was not good natured in the least.

"Well, she's got to toughen him up for the honeymoon! Or else what'll they do in that big fancy Capitol hotel room? Hold hands and read poetry?" Someone offers up another derisive comment and there are more laughs.

"No, he'll paint her a picture!" A voice calls out, and I can feel my blood begin to boil at their nasty comments. Peeta might not be from the Seam but he's not a weakling or sissy either.

He fought in the Games, killed even. Saved my life, and had seen me through more dangerous situations than I cared to remember. He may not have had as poor an upbringing as some of the people here but he's not soft either.

"No, he'll frost her a cake!" Darius replies and there's uproarious laughter all around. And that's when I decided I couldn't stand by and take it anymore.

I slipped out silently from behind the crates and sidled up so smoothly to Darius he didn't even see me or hear me until my arm settled in a friendly way around his shoulder. I throw my head back and laugh big and loud along with them, and their laughter quickly dies out while mine lingers.

And when I look into Darius's eyes I can see he's startled and embarrassed to have been caught.

Good, I think. But not good enough.

"Oh, he is really talented at frosting cakes. I mean he's just an absolute artist with those hands of his. You wouldn't think a man with hands that large could be so skillful, but trust me he really knows what he's doing. And there are so many interesting uses for frosting most guys probably never think of." I tell them in a really good natured but incredibly suggestive voice, with a camera bright smile that I've practiced to perfection over the years.

Darius's eyes practically fall out of his head. But because he was so insulting, I decided to really drive the image home.

"Did you know he can knead a pound of dough in less than a minute flat? It's an incredible skill that translates really well to massages. I mean sometimes when he gets those hands on me I just about lose all sense of time and reason. So, don't worry too much about me buddy. I'm sure I'll find something entertaining to do in that big comfy Capitol hotel room." I tell Darius with a condescending pat on the cheek, and then I turn around and walk away before another word can be said.

(Recommended Listening Track: You & Me-James TW)

When I turn the corner and reach Peeta again his eyes are almost as wide as Darius's had been, but he's not looking at me in humiliated defeat. He's practically glowing with pride. And I can tell he's about to do something stupid like kiss me in the middle of the stacks. So I just grab his hand and pull him away and towards the exit before something embarrassing happens.

But we barely make it outside and around the corner before he's grabbing me and crushing me against him hard. His mouth comes over mine in a hot possessive way and I feel a little unprepared for his intense response to my defense of his manly honor.

His big hands, the ones I praised so highly, come up to touch me. Running down my back, and gripping my hip and tangling in my hair as we kiss and kiss. And I start to worry he won't be stopping anytime soon, because he seems absolutely lost in the kiss and even though I am very tempted to surrender to him completely, I am vaguely aware that we're out in the open and pretty exposed here on the side of the warehouse where almost anyone could see us if they walked by.

So I forcefully break the kiss, and lean back as I turn my face away before he can capture my mouth again.

He pants, and when I look up at him I can see his pupils are dilated and his eyes look dark with desire for me. I gulp a little and try to lean farther away. He blinks, and then laughs a little breathlessly as he rests his forehead against mine.

"Sorry, got a little carried away." He mumbles, as he sighs and then takes a calming breath before standing up straight and easing his weight off me.

"Yeah, I can see that." I murmur as I readjust my clothes that are slightly askew from his zealous kissing. He reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and I swear I can see his entire heart in his eyes at that moment. And he's so beautiful, in the slightly golden red light of the growing sunset. So grateful for my immature, almost petty response to him being teased by my so called friends that I stop to just stare at him.

The boy with the bread is shining like a transparent golden vessel that has been filled up to the brim with my praise.

And I can see the way my opinion of him is translated from me and reflected back in his eyes, and for the first time I think I can see the shape of the space my words filled inside him. As if there was something empty or waiting before, for just a hint of confirmation. I wonder at how Peeta could have felt so insecure, so doubtful of how much I liked the way he touched me and made me feel.

I mean I was over at his house practically every day, tearing off his clothes and kissing every inch of him just as fiercely as he kissed me. And if that didn't prove I wanted him, as a man, as a lover, I didn't know what would. I guess he just really didn't know how much I desired him even after all the things we'd done. I just shook my head at him in disbelief. But then I grabbed his hand and pulled him back in the other direction, back towards the victor's village and his home.

"Come on, I've decided where I want to go next." I tell him and he practically trips trying to move in the direction I'm leading him, he's going so fast. We pass the entrance of the Hob and start to laugh, under our breath when I'm caught up short by the sight of Gale's mystery girl standing there blocking our path.

She narrows her eyes when she sees me, and Peeta stops short as I do in confusion at her open hostility.

"That was quite a show you put on back there in the Hob. I'd praise your skills as an actress, but after seeing the encore against the side of the building, I'd say there's more truth than fiction hiding under this fairy tale of yours." Her words are sharp and perceptive, and she's so strangely angry at me I almost have no idea what to say to her.

Why is she so angry that I defended Peeta, or kissed him? I would've thought she'd have been happy. Since she clearly wants Gale.

"It's not nice to spy on people." Peeta tells her in a hard voice, and I glance at him. His eyes are wary, assessing her like she's an opponent and we're in an area. And that's when I realize that she shouldn't have used words like actress, or show, in reference to Peeta and I. And suddenly a bone chilling tendril of dread snakes down my back and I wonder just what secrets Gale has whispered to her between kisses or over sweat slicked pillow cases.

"It's not nice to cross boundaries between the Seam and the Merchant district, but here you are." She counters with that signature attitude I had once admired. But it had been directed at Gale then, who was more than a little deserving of her ire. She had no cause to be upset with either Peeta or I right now. So I shoved down my fear, and fixed her with a steely gaze. Because I'd faced much worse things than girls with gossiping tongues over the past three years.

"We're getting married, so where I go he goes." I tell her pointedly, and raise my chin just a fraction, in an understated gesture of superiority.

"That's so very interesting. Because usually you only come to the Hob with your cousin."

"He's busy at work, and there's no law against bringing a trusted guest to the Hob. As you said I've been coming for years, they know me here and can vouch for me. And I can vouch for Peeta. So there's really no problem."

"Oh maybe the traders will get used to seeing you two together, but I doubt everyone will be so eager to hear about your nighttime frosting exploits."

I blush, and fight the urge to bite my lip. Because in my anger I forgot to think through the consequences of my actions. My blood had gotten stirred up in indignation at Peeta's treatment, and I hadn't thought what would happen when word got back to Gale about my suggestive comments.

And when I don't answer her she smirks, thinking she has hit a nerve.

"He'll probably be even more upset about how you practically had dry sex with your fiance against the wall." She says with razor sharp malice and I swear I see red for a moment. But then I force myself to smile. Because this is a very very dangerous game, and the consequences for not thinking things through will be even worse than Gale finding out about Peeta and I, if this girl somehow confirms that Gale and I aren't related. And the only way she can confirm that is if I lose my head and tell her.

"Oh he's not the judgmental type. Especially since he likes to frequent the backs of the merchant shops. You know, the butcher's, tailors', the candle maker's too. There's always a place if you're stealthy enough, and for someone as handsome as my cousin there's always a girl who's desperate enough too." I say airily, indifferently, and I see the color drain from her face.

"I usually don't discuss my private affairs with my cousin, because, well, that's kind of uncouth. But if you feel like spreading gossip go ahead. Peeta and I will be married in less than a week, so what we do at this point isn't going to matter much to anyone. You, however, should be more careful. As a woman without the security of being engaged, what you do behind candle shops would be of far more consequence than what I do." I tell her, driving the final nail in the coffin.

Her face is red now, embarrassment apparent in her high flushed cheeks.

"He told you about that?" She asks in a shaky breath. And I shrug my shoulders noncommittal.

"Sometimes he asks for advice when doesn't know how to let a girl down easily. He's not big on emotional attachment, that one. But since he's my blood I guess it's my duty to advise him on his problems with the female sex." I say in a long, suffering voice, and turn to Peeta who nods automatically backing me up. And I think this is why he survived all these years, because there's almost nothing that throws him. He's so quick on his feet and adaptable.

She seems to deflate in the face of our united front. And for a moment I almost feel sorry for her. She's kind of pathetic in a heartbroken way, underneath all the attitude and cattiness. But she also threatened Peeta and I, and by extension Gale, and our entire escape plan. Because if people start asking questions about Peeta and I's marriage or Gale and I's relationship, we could come under scrutiny that would be disastrous.

So I grab Peeta's hand and brush past her without another word. And he slings his arm over my shoulder in a casual, protective way as we walk back through town. And only when we are past the shops and nearing the victor's village does he speak.

"What the hell do you think that was about?" He says quietly under his breath.

"Oh, just plain old jealousy I reckon." I reply in a tired voice.

Peeta gets a funny look on his face, and I peer over at him as we walk side by side.

"Does he really tell you about the girls he...does things with?" He asks me in a slightly disturbed voice.

"What? No, of course not. I happened to see them by accident once."

"Oh, well that makes more sense. I was afraid that maybe you and he had a sort of agreement."

``What are you going on about?"

"You know, I thought that maybe you both had agreed to explore other...options for the time being, but maybe you still told each other about the things you did...with other people…"

"Peeta, that's disgusting. I'm not some Capitol degenerate. And neither is Gale." I tell him, deeply unsettled by the path his thoughts took.

"Sorry, that whole conversation was just too weird for words." He says shaking his head as if to clear the insane thoughts from making a nest in his mind.

"Tell me about it." I mutter as we reach his kitchen door. I sigh as I open the door, glad for the chance to decompress after that entirely too eventful afternoon. I shrug off my jacket and kick off my boots before walking to the living room and collapsing on his beloved couch. He appears a few moments later, in his soft white long sleeve shirt and fitted pants. At the end of the day he often looked more put together than I did at the start, and I just sighed again when he helped lift my upper half so he could sit with my head resting in his lap. He stroked my hair gently and I closed my eyes, trying to relax after the trying ordeal.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

"Do you think he'll be very upset when word gets back to him?" Peeta asks as he strokes my hair while I lay on his couch with my head in his lap. Its the wrong thing to ask at the moment, because I just want to forget about Gale and the stupid girl right now.

He can feel the tension creep into my body and he stops stroking my hair. He peers down at me sympathetically but not without a touch of stern wisdom in his eyes.

"You can't keep it from him forever. I'm not saying this for my sake, or because I want to throw it in his face. You know where I stand Katniss, on letting you make up your mind. It's more for his sake, and even yours, that maybe the truth should come out."

I shut my eyes, not wanting to discuss any more complex and confusing things today. And I wonder what would have happened if I had taken him in the other direction, towards the meadow or some other place. Would we have been able to find somewhere to make love, and just enjoy ourselves before things got complicated and out of control again? Couldn't we have even one day where all these outside influences didn't press in on us?

"Peeta, I just don't want anything to jeopardize the wedding. It has to go off without a hitch. And Gale's your best man. We need him there, on our side when the time comes. I just don't want him to back out of his responsibilities because of something like this."

"Well, I guess it all depends on how you play it then."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that girl wasn't blushing about a little kissing in a back alley. Plenty of kids do that kind of stuff. My guess is, if you put it to him the right way, maybe he won't have a leg to stand on, without looking like a hypocrite, that is." Peeta tells me in a quiet voice, and I stare up at him astounded. Because as usual he is three moves ahead, and is thinking through the big questions before I even wrap my head around the day's end. But not only is he using his strategic mind to do damage control for our escape plan, he's also using his mind to help me work through this situation with Gale. And I know my eyes are wide and disbelieving, and he just leans back and sighs, seemingly tired as well.

"Why would you help me with something like this?" I ask him, dumbfounded.

"Because we're friends, despite everything. And I care about you, deeply. And maybe because I'm not the type of person who wants to get chosen by default. I'd rather it be because it's what you want rather than a last resort." he says, letting out a rush of breath and I sit up, looking at him.

He doesn't look at me, just stares at a point on the wall with thoughtful fixation.

"I...really respect that." I tell him quietly, and he blinks, seemingly brought out of his reverie by my voice. He returns to stare at me, and his smile is a little chagrined, and a little sad.

And I remember our missed opportunity earlier. We had been so ready to come back here and fall into each other's arms. But now there was this space between us, and I just wanted to cover the distance and get back to the feeling I had outside the Hob, where I was completely infatuated with the image of his improved self-confidence and love for me.

But he just leans his head back against the couch and slumps down, in an exhausted way. And I am so angry at the mystery girl, for ruining our afternoon that I wish I had gotten the opportunity to get in at least one good punch before I walked away. So I sit for a moment quietly, thinking. And when I get the idea, I almost smile at him. But I don't because I don't want to give anything away.

"I'll be right back." I tell him quietly before I get up and make my way over to the kitchen. I look under his sink cabinet and find what I'm looking for at the bottom of his rubbish bin under the breakfast scraps from this morning.

The glittery purple box is slightly crumpled, and stained with bacon grease on the outside, but the outfits on the inside are clean and untouched. I rifle through them quickly, eliminating the loudest colors and anything with too many ribbons.

I finally settled on the black silk number with the lacey top. I take it, along with the box to the bathroom and change quickly, hoping this will inject a little positivity into our sorely lackluster afternoon.

I stare at myself in the mirror, and decide to unbraid my hair. It falls in wavy sheets down my shoulders and back, and I nod to myself. Not exactly Capitol manufactured perfection, but it's an improvement. The outfit itself reveals far more than it hides, and it's nothing Peeta hasn't seen before, but maybe a different kind of wrapping might be more appealing. And I know I don't really need to wear it to get him to sleep with me. I could just crawl onto his lap and start kissing him like I usually did, and he'd probably acquiesce easily enough. But I don't want to just feel his body against mine. I want to capture his golden smile against my lips the way I did after he heard all those delicious things I said about him in front of far too many people.

I wash my hands and face quickly, and rinse out my mouth just to make sure I'm as ready as I can be and then make my way back to the living room.

(Recommended Listening Track: Let's See What the Night Can Do-Jason Mraz)

I hover in the doorway for a second, until he finally senses my presence. And when his eyes light on me I'm rewarded by the sudden flare of desire I detect even from across the room.

I make my way over to him slowly trying to draw the moment out, building up the anticipation and he shifts a little on the couch as I get closer.

"I realized something earlier, before that whole showdown outside the Hob." I tell him as I lower myself onto the couch, kneeling a few inches away from him.

He's just staring at me, not really saying anything, but at least I have his attention and he's not slumped over unenthusiastically.

"You don't know how sexy I think you are." I told him seriously. And his mouth falls open a little, at my open statement.

I inch closer to him, and stop when my hand can just brush the outline of his chest. I see his pulse quicken at his neck, and his eyes are glued to the see-through lace of the upper half of the dress where up close you can clearly see the size, shape, and color of my entire breasts through the designs.

I clear my throat and his eyes snap up to mine, he flushes a little, and just chuckles, a little embarrassed at being caught staring while I was trying to talk to him.

"So, in case you didn't know, I just want to make it very, very clear what I think of you, as my lover." I tell him and slip onto his lap to straddle him. He's already almost completely hard, and I sigh as I shift against him, tilting my hips to enjoy the friction between our bodies. He groans a little, and his hands come up, one to support my back and the other to trail down my front in a hungry exploration.

"What?" He asks the question in a deep gravelly voice as he leans in to press his mouth against my skin, my collarbone, my neck, my cleavage in a wet, sloppy perusal.

"I think you're phenomenal. And I never imagined it could be this good, or feel this right, being with you like this. So if anyone ever questions why I spend five or six days a week sneaking into your house, just tell them it's because I'm still not tired of screaming your name into the couch pillows." I tell him saucily and again he crushes me against him like he did earlier at the Hob, only now we have far less clothes between us and much more privacy.

It's a hot, wet, manic kiss that gets our blood pumping and our bodies thrumming with pent up anticipation.

"You look so damn good in that," Peeta whispers in my ear as I suck on a tender spot on the side of his neck. His hands come around my waist to press me down harder against him, and I can feel his hardness straining against the fabric of his pants. And I hope he doesn't mind having to change them when we're done, because I didn't keep my underwear on when I got into this black lace contraption. So, there might be more than a little evidence of my own arousal left on his clothes since he's basically grinding himself against my naked lower half under the dress.

I don't know if he somehow senses this, because his next move is to dip his hands down to the very short hem, and cup my bare bottom in a rough, deeply possessive gesture. It makes me start a little. But then I just relax into his hands when he starts kneading my flesh expertly in that talented way of his.

"I believe someone mentioned something about my massage skills today." He tells me in a deep chest resonating grumble. And I let out a breathy laugh.

"Really? I don't actually recall…" I start to say and trail off as the sensations of his hands on my bare skin start to make speech a little difficult.

"Oh, I do. You said I was an artist, and that I was skillful, and that I really knew what I was doing with my hands." He murmurs as he lifts my left cheek up a little with his left hand and with his other hand starts to dip his fingers into my warm and wanting body. I shudder against the intrusion of his digits, but then feel my walls clench around them as he begins to tantalize me.

"I believe that statement is accurate." I whisper in a high and strained voice as he uses his hand to excite me. When his thumb brushes against the tender nub of flesh nestled in that secret part of me, I cry out in sensation and desire.

"Hmmmm…" he murmurs, all smug satisfaction and dark confidence as he manipulates my body closer and closer to the peak of pleasure.

I'm moaning a little now, lost in the feeling of having his hands pressed against me in all the right places. And I'm grinding my hips chasing the feeling, the ecstasy I know his beautiful hands can bring me. So when I arch my back and thrust my chest forward as the rush of rapturous sensations crash over me, he leans forward to suck the tip of my breast into his mouth through the fabric of my dress and the sensation makes me come apart harder into his hands.

"Oh," I say against the fabric of his shirt in a deeply gratified voice as the pleasure begins to subside. And then he's reaching down to unbutton his pants, probably so he can join himself to me before the rush of feelings completely ebb. But I jump up, and off the couch quickly as I back away from him. His face is all sorts of incredulous as he stares at me in frustrated disbelief. Because it looks like I've left him sitting there all pent up with no relief in sight.

But I just shoot him a wicked grin and back away slowly towards the doorway.

"I believe I also bragged about your creative use of frosting...and if you don't want to make me a liar…." I tell him as I pin him with a pointed look and a suggestively arched eyebrow.

HIs breath comes out in a relieved rush. And he returns my sinful grin as he stands.

"Oh, darling I wouldn't dream of it." Is his amused answer and he's got a look in his eye that promises so much fun and mischief that I get the childish urge to have him chase me.

I turn around and tear down the hall and into the kitchen, and I'm delighted to hear his feet running behind me. I let out a very uncharacteristic squeal when he catches me around the kitchen island and lifts me so easily up and over the counter to deposit me quickly over the smooth cold marble surface. He presses me down flat against the counter, with my legs hooked over his shoulders and I can feel my already wildly beating heart kick up another few notches as his hungry gaze travels down all of me.

"Yes, there are a few ideas I have…" He says as he opens a draw to his left and pulls out a bunch of white piping bags. Then he gets that serious look in his eye again, the one he takes on when he's working or painting and I feel a strange excitement building inside of me to see what he'll do. He lowers my legs slowly, gently, and tells me to sit tight.

I prop myself up on my elbows and watch as he moves around the kitchen retrieving a large mixing bowl, and ingredients from the fridge and pantry. After a few minutes he combines the ingredients together and uses his large Capitol gifted standing mixer to whip up a batch of fresh frosting. He divides it into several sections and adds drops of food coloring to each one and transfers them to the bags one by one. And even though it takes a while, I'm almost as absorbed in the process as he is. I'm really interested to see what he'll do now.

He picks up a bag that was filled with dark blue frosting and comes over to me again. He helps me sit up and then he slowly eases the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders with precise gentleness.

"I love this dress, but it'll just get in the way of what I want to do right now, so off it comes." He instructs me and I don't hesitate to help him. When he presses the metal cross tipped end to my bare shoulder I shiver a little but his large hand is there steadying me as he begins to paint on my very skin with his sweet creation.

And he decorates my skin slowly, with a mixture of colors, in a thin layer of sugary perfection. I stare at him in quiet fixation as he works. I am pulled in by that special intense, removed look he takes on when he concentrates on blending colors and the sweep of the lines he makes. It's like getting to peek into a secret serious side of Peeta that is usually hidden beneath all the good natured, easy going boyish charm he presents to everyone.

He covers my shoulders, then eases me back against the counter to continue down my stomach, and he doesn't stop until he reaches the apex of my thighs. Then he stands back and stares at me for a moment, his eyes assessing his work quietly and I peer up at him hoping he's done. Because as much as I liked watching him work, it built a lot of slowly burning anticipation inside my entire body. My fingers are itching to touch his skin again, and pull him onto me.

"Is it ready? Can I see it?" I ask as I look up at him questioningly.

He nods, and leaves to retrieve a hand mirror. When he comes back he presents it to me, almost shyly and I think he's nervous about what I'll say. But when I look at my reflection in the mirror I am so astounded I can't speak.

I look like one of those performers we've seen at Capitol parties. The ones that dance in foggy crystal cages wearing nothing but the tiniest of underwear and the majority of their skin painted and transformed into a display of magical decoration. Some of them are painted to resemble animals, like leopards or tigers, but others are trees or frosty looking icicles.

I am a bird, flying high above the starry night sky. Soft dark blue feathers trail over my chest and down my shoulders, tipped with iridescent purple and bright blue. And instead of a dark black eye, the bird on my chest has a cool grey eye turned towards the heavens in the exact shade of my own. Everywhere silver and golden stars peek out between the bird's feathers and the clouds. Above my navel, under my ribs, on my breasts.

A single dropped feather curls and stretches down my lower stomach among the stars and ends right above the beginning of my intimate parts. It's so beautiful, so incredible I can't think for a moment. I can't believe he did all this only using a piping bag and some different colors of frosting. It's like a masterpiece. And if my naked body weren't the canvas I'd want him to take a picture of me, so I could keep it forever.

"Peeta, it's incredible." I tell him quietly. And he stares at me with a small quiet smile.

"Just something that struck me, I'm surprised it came out mostly the way I pictured it in my head." He says with a humble shrug of his shoulders.

"It's the most amazing thing I think I've ever seen. I almost regret letting you paint it on me, I wish you'd used an actual canvas so I could keep it permanently." I tell him in a slightly frustrated voice as I survey the beautiful way his hands have made even my slim curves look enhanced in almost the same way Cinna's expert designs show me off in the best light.

"I could try to replicate it, but I'm not sure it'll come out the exact same way, on a one dimensional medium." He tells me seriously as he looks over his work again in expert analysis. And I breathe out a frustrated huff because I want to touch him and kiss him but I don't want to mess up the painting. His eyes snap up to mine in a quizzical way and then he registers the look on my face and he smiles humorously at my predicament.

"Some things are best enjoyed at the moment." He tells me, and then closes the space between us to reach out a finger and scoops up a dollop of icing from between my breasts. He pops his finger into his mouth and makes a loud appreciative sound and I smile and bite my bottom lip.

"Now that arts and crafts is over...where were we?" He asks as he leans over me and he lowers his mouth to my collarbone so he can use his tongue to lap up the sugary layer of frosting as I begin to tug off his shirt.

Soon he's as naked as I am, and we're kissing and messing up all his hard work but it's impossible not to touch him and press myself to him when his mouth makes its fervish progression across my skin. And then he's covered in the frosting that's transferred from my skin to his and I'm licking up and down his chest and stomach and he's groaning and muttering things under his breath about my tiny fingers and my sharp teeth. And I get a little inspired myself and grab a random frosting bag, so I can draw an arrow down his torso pointing in a very suggestive direction.

"See? You're not the only one who likes to draw around here." I tell him, as I kick off from the counter and kiss and lick my way down his body as he grips the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles turn white. And when I reach down with my hand to direct him into my mouth, he bites down on his lip as he watches me through eyes slitted with thick wild desire. I make love to him with my mouth, and he grips the back of my head to draw himself deeper into my mouth until he can't stand it, then he's panting and pulling away from me.

"Come here," He says hastily as he pulls me out of my squat and up against him. He picks me up, and takes me over to the kitchen table and braces me against the edge as he pulls up a chair and tugs my legs over his shoulders before settling his mouth down on my center. His mouth is hot and wet and ravenous as he devours me. And it's almost embarrassing how quickly I get there. I hear my own breathless voice calling his name and begging him not to stop. He obliges and helps me ride out the waves of pleasure until I'm limp and pliable underneath his hands.

Then he stands up, grabs my hips in rough haste and turns me over on my stomach so he can take me from behind. And I feel myself clench in anticipation right before he slams into me. He doesn't start slow, or give me time to adjust, he's just laboring over my body in hard powerful strokes, and I lift my hips to meet his thrusts in wanton anticipation. He growls in that throaty, almost angry way he does when I do this and he's trying not to finish before I do. I just laugh with my face pressed into the placemats and he reflexively thrusts into me harder, maybe more than a little aggressively. But if he meant for it to be a punishment it has the opposite effect, and I feel the unexpected thrill of a really spectacular crescendo building deep in my abdomen.

"Fuck," He groans as he feels me begin to spasm around him. And I smile, because it's always an accomplishment when I drag these dirty words from Peeta's usually polite and gentlemanly lips. Then he's saying my name, in a sputtering, breathless, drawn out way and we're both riding higher and higher on the waves of simultaneous pleasure. And when his last shudder subsides, he pulls out and I think he's going to help me up, but no, he surprises me by inserting two fingers into my still shuddering body and then amazingly he's doing this thing were he rotates his fingers and thrusts alternatively and I can't help it, I come again with a breathless gasp. He works me until he's absolutely sure I'm done, and I'm a little sore and over wrought at this point.

Finally he lets me up and I turn around to stare at him, a little in awe of what just happened. He doesn't say anything, just tucks me against his chest and smiles into my hair.

"I like making an honest woman out of you." He says after what feels like forever, or maybe two minutes. I can't really tell since my sense of time seems to have evaporated along with my sense of self preservation.

Because if he knows me this well, and he has memorized my body and everything that calls to me, how in the world am I ever going to be able to let him go?

I close my eyes and just nod, not trusting myself to speak, afraid of the kinds of things I might say, the secrets I would give away in this perfect moment. I should have known that morning with the hot chocolate that I hardly stood a chance.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

Peeta and I are both a terrible sticky, sweaty mess after the frosting escapade in his kitchen. The counter and the kitchen table are almost in just as bad shape as we are, covered in smears of sugar and who knows what else. So when Peeta suggests I take a shower upstairs while he cleans up I quickly agree. Even though I know it's selfish, letting him clean up by himself. But he looks so happy, he's humming under his breath something tuneless but charming, and I smile as I head up the stairs.

The bag with the lemon shampoo sits tossed on his bed and I grab a bottle out of it and head into his bathroom. I shower quickly, because it's dark outside and in a few hours the construction team will be heading over. I towel off and braid my wet hair before I go searching in his dresser for spare clothes. I put on clean underwear and socks, and dress in the same shirt and pants I took off before I put on the silky black night dress.

My cheeks look flushed from the hot shower, but other than that, I look pretty normal. Well, maybe better than normal. My dark circles are still being kept mostly at bay, and that scared haggard look has all but disappeared from my regular expression. And when I look at myself I find I don't automatically hate the person looking back at me.

She reminds me a little bit of the girl before the Games. Young, clean faced, and slightly stern looking. But there's differences. I'm a tiny bit taller, definitely more filled out. And even though my eyes seem clear and rested, they do have a bit of a haunted look in them that I don't think will ever really go away, no matter how many nights of good sleep I get or how much Peeta distracts me with his love making. I nod to myself. This is me now. Not the same as I was, still not as steady as I once was. But it's a hell of an improvement since the last victory tour.

And I think about the reason for this marked improvement. And there's no real way to deny it. Spending time with Peeta has helped me. Becoming close to him, letting myself have something that makes me feel better, even for just a few short weeks has made a difference. And I wonder, would I have been this happy if I had chosen Gale? Was the simple act of making love, and spending time with someone, anyone maybe, the cure for what had been eating away at me? Or was there a deeper need that Peeta was feeding? Could someone else answer that call inside me just as easily?

I cocked my head at my image in the mirror. I had my suspicions...but I wasn't sure.

As I make my way downstairs I hear the hall shower running, and I wonder why Peeta didn't just join me upstairs? We'd showered together plenty of times, and while this thought snagged on my mind I found myself a little distracted as I made my way back to the kitchen. It's dark there, but before I can turn on the light I'm caught.

"Well hello to you too, sweetheart." Haymitch's gravelly drawl startles me and I snap my head in the direction of his voice only to find him sitting on a stool by the thankfully spotlessly clean counter. I can just make out his features in the dark.

"Haymitch. What are you doing here?" I ask him in an automatically annoyed tone. If he's paying a visit during the hours Peeta and I normally keep to ourselves, it must be bad news.

"Oh just thought I'd check in with you two love birds, compliment you on a job well done, down at the Hob today." He says in an amused voice and I frown at him. Word must have traveled fast if it had already reached a reclusive Haymitch.

"Is that why you're here? To check up on me? I handled it alright. Maybe I lost my temper a little, but I couldn't let-"

"Anyone call the validity of your engagement into question, I know. It's just as I instructed you both. Watch each other's backs, keep the integrity of the plan intact. Shut down any unwanted questions with those star quality performances of yours." He says, and tapps a finger on the small metal device hidden under his sleeve. The bug scrambler. I sigh in relief and pull up a stool next to him.

"The kissing outside the Hob was a stroke of genius. Made it look like you two couldn't wait to get back here and celebrate your undying love." He says with a sardonic smirk.

"You know I'm not in love, Haymitch." I say dryly. Because he does, and he's probably the only person who can maybe understand how me protecting Peeta over my reputation, and even giving him access to my bed, can fit together with who I am underneath it all.

"Of course not princess, you're too smart for that aren't ya? That's what I was trying to tell your miner here, when he came stomping past the gate, ready to break your fiance's face in." Haymitch says with a wry laugh as he motions behind him in the dark.

And for a second I can't breathe. How did I not see him there in the shadows of the pitch black corner at the far end of the kitchen table? Because he's a hunter. Because he can be so quiet, so deadly when he wants to be.

His eyes pin me with an unfeeling, cold stare. And I feel trapped, like a bug under a glass, my heart fluttering helplessly as it beats against the inside of my chest trying to escape in vain.

Gale.

His expression is set, like features cut into stone, unyielding, and giving absolutely nothing away.

"I tried to explain to him about the rumors we've been hearing. Someone's been asking questions, inconvenient ones, about how the both of you might not be related. There's also been talk about Peeta not being quite up to the task of...settling you down. Most of that's been coming out of the Hob and Seam part of town. So while I don't approve of your less than subtle methods, I will give you kudos on making a statement." Haymitch says in mild approval as he takes out his flask and takes a tiny, shaky sip.

"Would you like some water?" I ask Haymitch, mostly for something to say, because I have no idea how this is all going to play out. I can see Haymitch is trying to save my hide, maybe because he fears it will interfere with our plan to have Gale bail on us a few days before we're set to leave. But as Peeta said, maybe at this point it was better for Gale to find out.

"Never touch the stuff if I can help it." He says and then laughs at his own joke. I smile a little tightly, and try to pick up the thread of the conversation. To try to find something to give credence to Haymitch's words.

"You were right, on both accounts about people not believing our engagement was 100% solid. A bunch of the traders didn't think a Merchant kid could handle a Seam girl. They said it practically to his face. I had to think a little outside of the box." I say, and Haymitch nods in approval. But Gale's expression just hardens impossibly. And I know he's not buying it.

Just then Peeta emerges quietly from the hall, fully dressed in clean clothes and leans unconcernedly against the counter next to Haymitch.

"I guess we've been overdue for a meeting on this front." He says tiredly. And Gale's cold glare leaves my face to zero in on Peeta's.

Peeta doesn't flinch, just like he didn't when the girl accused us of faking our relationship.

"There was this girl today. Pretty, with dark brown hair and light blue eyes, waiting for us outside the Hob. She accused Katniss and I of putting on an act. She seemed to have almost inside information on us." Peeta said, eyes narrowing at Gale, and for the first time I see Gale's eyes flick away in...embarrassment? Shame? Anger? Who knew, really?

"Did she say who she was?" Haymitch asks, voice hard and suspicious.

"No, but Katniss said she recognized her," Peeta says gravely, and he looks at Gale again, "one of your girls." He says with a tilt of his head in Gale's direction and Gale's nostrils flare. His grey eyes light up like flint being struck and sparks of anger fly in the dark.

"She's not my girl!" Gale growls, speaking for the first time.

"You sure she knows that?" Haymitch asks, all cold, unpitying calculations. It's like he's doing the math inside his head, adding up figures to see if we're in trouble of being discovered.

"I never said a damn thing! She's just...perceptive, intuitive, I don't know what the hell you call it." Gale remarks in exasperation.

"Really pissed off, if I had to guess." I say, with my hands crossed protectively over my arms, as I remember the malice in her blue eyes.

"She did seem to hold a special hatred for Katniss…" Peeta comments and Gale frowns. Seeming to rethink his position.

"I stopped seeing her when she got a little...clingy. She convinced herself it was because there had to be someone else, not just because I didn't feel like...seeing her anymore." Gale says, in quiet indignation at having to explain any part of his private life.

I almost bark out a laugh in response to his sensitivity. He had a hard time talking about one girl in vague terms, while Peeta and I had to broadcast the details of our romance on a regular basis. We had people sending us sex clothes, and planning on capturing intimate moments of our honeymoon on camera. But he was embarrassed about admitting he had been sneaking around with a girl for the past month.

I roll my eyes up to the ceiling, and this makes him angrier.

"Sorry I don't want to brag to a room full of people about who I kiss." Gale flings the insult at me, and I take a deep breath, not wanting to get into an argument about kissing in front of Haymitch and Peeta of all people.

"Katniss defended me down at the Hob because someone's been stirring up trouble, and I think if we were to follow the thread back to the source we would probably find your...whatever she is at the center." Peeta tells him, defending me now. And it's probably the wrong move, because Gale stands up to his full 6'2 height and takes a step in Peeta's direction. And Peeta straightens up, in answer, as he pushes back from the counter he was leaning on. Haymitch's eyes widened in surprise.

And I feel dark terror clutch my chest in a vice-like grip. This is quickly getting out of hand.

"And I guess it's my fault as well that they say you almost tore her clothes off outside the Hob? Or that she's here taking a shower in your house, hours before we start work?" Gale asks in fierce, hot anger and hatred.

"Hey, hey now! Calm down. I told them to hide out here for a few hours until things died down. If she wanted to take a bath, who the hell cares? He wasn't in there with her." Haymitch says as he stands up to come between them. His words start as a yell that dies down to a low grumble as Gale seems to stop advancing.

Gale looks over at me, waiting for me to say something, But I'm so angry at him, so incredibly furious with him for being such a hypocrite and an idiot and neanderthal, I can barely see straight.

"Whoever the hell I take a bath with, or neck with outside the Hob, or more is my business. Just like whatever tramps you screw in the back alleys are your business. I'll be damned if I'm going to be interrogated over some inconsequential bullshit like that. You want to start a fight? Five days before we get clear of here? Go ahead, but don't expect to stay on the list of people we take with us. We have more problems than who's playing tonsil hockey with who right now. So why doesn't everybody just pull their heads out of their asses and focus on what has to be done?" I say, voice raised in anger and hands slamming against the counter in fury.

Everyone's eyes go a little round at my use of colorful language. But I don't care. Because suddenly it's very clear how stupid all of this is. Here we are, a few days away from really becoming free, and what are we doing? Fighting amongst ourselves over petty differences? What the hell did it matter who Gale or I were sleeping with against the threat of the Capitol killing us, torturing our families, manipulating us for the rest of our lives?

I made a sound of disgust in the back of my throat, and walked out of the kitchen, slamming the back door as I went.

(Peeta POV)

It's eerily quiet in the kitchen after she slams the door. And for a moment we all just stare at each other in shock. I've heard her cuss worse before, but never like that, with such vehemence and anger in her eyes. I even felt a little embarrassed when she pointed out how idiotic it all was, to be discussing things now, before we had even finished our preparations for leaving.

"I'll never understand what you two idiots see there that's worth all that trouble." Haymitch mumbles as he takes out his flask and takes a bigger sip than I'm used to seeing.

I eye him warily, not wanting him to fall off the wagon days before we have to leave.

Neither Gale or I reply. There was no point. Katniss was Katniss, and you either loved her or hated her. She had one of those personalities that left very little room for middle ground.

"She's a giant pain in the ass, but she's right." Gale says, finally speaking up. He sits back down at the table and I sigh a little. It's been a crazy, weird, eventful day. And it's not over yet. We all still have to work. Rory will be along shortly, and Katniss might even come back. But I feel drained, so I decide to put on some coffee, for myself and everyone else.

And when Hyamitch asks if there's anything to eat, I just wearily make my way to the fridge to see what I can whip up quickly. I toast some bacon sandwiches, and cut up some lettuce and tomato. When I offer Gale a plate, he hesitates for only a second before accepting it. So I guess the urge to pummel my face in has mostly subsided. Everyone drinks their coffee and eats quietly. Haymitch doesn't take anymore sips from his flask, and instead drinks his coffee straight without diluting it with liquor.

Rory knocks just as we're finishing up, and at the sight of us eating all together his eyes go a little wide. No one offers any explanation though, so I just pull out a plate I saved for him from the fridge and he wolfs it down hungrily. We all make our way down to the basement and get to work. I don't even notice when Katniss slips back in, she's so stealthy quiet. But Gale does, and I catch him looking over at her as she takes up a spot next to Rory and starts to dig. I wonder, not for the first time, if he has some kind of sixth sense when it comes to her. But before I can analyze it any further, he turns around, and goes back to work.

But after, when everyone is leaving and she heads to my couch to collapse in exhaustion, I see him staring at her already sleeping face like someone is cutting him up from the inside. And I almost feel bad. Because one some level I might be able to understand his reasoning. Going with lots of girls, trying to ease the ache of having her so close, but still feeling like he'd never have her at all.

If she hadn't come to me this year, if things hadn't changed between us, I might have even considered trying the same thing. Haymitch had certainly recommended I "get it out of my system" with someone else, anyone else, since she had been wholly and completely unavailable.

But no. I had known even then it was pointless, futile to try and get her out of my head and my heart by taking up with someone else. It would have just been painful for me, and whatever unlucky girl I picked who would have never measured up.

Seeing the regret in his grey eyes, the burning remorse as he stared at her, made me walk up the stairs and head to my own bed. Because, sure she had told him she didn't owe him any explanations, just as he hadn't given her any. That didn't mean she wasn't angry, or didn't feel betrayed. And he no doubt felt the same way. There were all these unsaid words between them, that I could almost see hanging in the air. I knew which one of them had broken the other's trust first. It had been him, and they both knew it. But he didn't act like he was outwardly sorry. And that was what made it all the worse. But there was nothing I could do about it. I had probably already done more than enough to sabotage myself. So I just crawled into bed, my shoulders aching and my head hurting from all the thinking.

I fell asleep almost instantly. I remember my head hitting the pillow, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up from a nightmare where she dissolved into mist and slipped between my fingers every time I tried to hold her. So I went down to the living room, and found her there asleep, covered with one of my living room throw blankets. I sighed, because I knew who had made sure she was wrapped up and warm. And because I loved her, I couldn't really begrudge him for doing it. He cared about her, plain and simple. Maybe not the way I did, maybe he loved her in a harder, more selfish way, or maybe he had just broken before I had. Only he knew. All I knew was I needed her tonight, needed to hold her against me while we slept. Because for at least this moment in time she had chosen me. Tomorrow would bring with it its own worries.

So I scooped her up, a little wobbly because my prosthetic leg was always a little hard to maneuver when I first woke up, but after a moment I steadied and carried her up to my bed.

At first I thought she must have been really tired not to have woken up at all, but when I laid down next to her she turned and snuggled into my side in a clearly awake movement.

"Took you long enough." She whispered against my bare chest, and I smiled. Grateful for at least one more night we could spend together.

(Katniss POV)

I woke up a little before dawn. Peeta was still wrapped around me. His arms encased me like strong towers sheltering me from a storm. I thought about last night, and all the things that had been said, and hadn't been said. There had also been plenty implied. I didn't know exactly how Gale was taking it. Maybe he was just as pissed off as I had been, having to discuss what Peeta and I were doing, and then discussing what existed between him and the girl with chestnut colored hair. I really should find out her name, she's caused enough trouble that I should stop referring to her as Gale's 'mystery girl', or even a nameless tramp. Though, when I said I didn't care about who he screwed in the back alleys, it had been more of a general insult, not a specifically targeted one towards her. But Gale's eyes had blazed a little when I said it.

In anger at being accused of sleeping around a lot? Maybe. Or maybe he didn't like me referring to her that way. I still didn't buy that whole line he tried to feed me about not letting his emotions get involved during sex. I mean, I had plenty of experience with pesky emotions surfacing during and after Peeta and I were together in that way.

Even though I neither confirmed nor denied his suspicions, I think he realized that things between Peeta and I are more serious than he thought. I was done going out of my way to hide it anymore. If Gale really wanted to know I'd tell him. But I had a feeling he was like me. And when it came down to it, he'd avoid having to find out until he absolutely had to.

The way I'd walked away that day when I'd heard him moan softly in the alley, as he kissed her against the rough bricks. Sure, I'd left because it was wrong to spy on people like that. But I'd also left because I didn't want to know just how far he'd take it. And he never said they hadn't slept together. Not once, not even when I'd come right out and accused him of having sex with her in that alley.

That was what had made me leave. I had been pissed, sure, furious that everyone seemed to be acting like imbeciles when none of this stuff mattered compared to the dangers we were up against. But I hadn't been able to take that silence from him. The same silence that he had responded with the first time I had asked, when he was injured and I took care of him. I had left to make my own words true, that none of it mattered in that moment.

But everything felt a little more...consequential in the grey light of the morning.

None of this stuff was going away. It would just get swept under the rug until we could find time to deal with it. But I wondered if Gale would be able to forgive me, when it was over and we were safe again. Would I be able to forgive him? Would he accept my right to make my own decisions, good or bad, smart or not smart, as Peeta had? Because I could tell sometimes, that Peeta had a hard time letting me work things out on my own. No doubt he knew a million ways to say things better, to cause less trouble, and keep a lower profile. But he gave me my space.

Gale...well it had taken us a while to figure out our dynamic as hunting partners. It had been a real struggle, at first with him being the older one, and having his own ideas of his grand self importance. But I had my knowledge of archery, and I'd had a bow to trade. So he'd gained a begrudging respect for me, that eventually led to our friendship. Where would that respect go when he learned what I'd done with Peeta because of a secret mandate from Snow?

Sure, he was low down, and a heel for seeing girls behind my back, even if we weren't together. But at least he could claim it was his own decision. Me and Peeta on the other hand, well when you took it at face value, it could be argued we were little more than puppets, or prostitutes in a way. But there was more to it than just the way it looked at first. I knew that and so did he. I don't think Peeta would have agreed to let me into his bed if he hadn't believed what I had told him our first night together, on some level. No matter how much he loved me, or wanted me.

That part had been true. Him being the one I trusted more in that situation, the one I wanted if I had to choose a lover.

He hadn't disappointed. In fact, it could probably be argued he exceeded every expectation I had. But that didn't change the fact that what had grown between us had been born of desperation, same as what happened in our Games.

So, I was back here again. Arguing with myself about what had been real, and what I had done because I had to. I wanted to roll my eyes at myself. Only a really really stupid girl would make the same mistake twice.

But then Peeta shifted slightly, and his fingers gently caressed my back in his sleep. And he smiled that sweet, elusive smile that always made my heart skip a beat. And I knew this time, there were a lot more things that would end up in the 'real' category when I started trying to separate it all out.

Butter cookies with secrets painted on them. Hot chocolate. The sunrise that hung next to my window. The way he looked at me when I wore his shirts. The way he kissed my hair when I helped him wash the dishes. His deep chuckle when he thought something I said or did was funny and sexy at the same time. Waffles with blueberries. Visiting our lost tributes' homes together. Taking me to meet his friends. Him making a masterpiece of my skin.

All these things and more, belonged to me, to us. These things were real. And it made my heart ache with longing for just a little more time.

But, I hadn't been home for more than 24 hours. I'd never done that before. And my family was bound to be a little worried. I'd be lucky if my mother didn't try to ground me until the wedding. So I shifted a little closer to kiss him awake. Because I had found it was the quickest way to wake him up, without startling him into pinning me with his arms. He almost always had a bad reaction if I woke him up by saying I had to go. His unconscious mind was more than a little protective in the early morning hours before his rational mind took over.

He smiled, a bigger real smile as I kissed him.

"Mmmm," He replied, blinking sleepily as he tried to pull himself from whatever dream he was having.

"Morning." I said when his eyes were finally open and focusing on me.

"Good morning dear," He said playfully, as if we were really married, or were a really old couple or something. I just rolled my eyes at him. He always made cracks like that in the morning, and it irritated me. But since I had to leave, I'd let it slide.

"I didn't go home at all yesterday." I tell him, and he thinks about it for a second before realization hits him. Then his expression turns fearful.

"Think they'll be mad?"

"More like worried. But I wouldn't count mad out of the equation." I reply, turning over to slide out from underneath the covers.

"Maybe you can blame it on Haymitch's orders? You know, say it was for appearances sake after what happened down at the Hob?"

"Maybe, but I wouldn't bet on it. Just know...if you show up with baked goods, you do it at your own risk." I tell him with a pointed look over my shoulder and he sighs. He joins me as I brush my teeth in the bathroom. He got another toothbrush a long time ago, so we brush side by side. Then I use his comb to untangle my hair, before I rebraid it.

"Well, it will be a busy day anyway. Deen's getting back today from his extended stay in the Capitol. Are you going to be able to meet him at the train station with me?" Peeta asks and I smack my hand to my forehead in aggravation.

"I completely forgot!" I shout. "This is what happens when I let myself act stupid, stupid!" I practically yell, and then I'm stomping out of the bathroom, the bedroom and hurrying down the hall.

I hear Peeta's uneven gait when he runs after me, but I just hurry faster. I'll need to get home, deal with the consequences of staying out all night, and then get ready. But we're both stopped short at the sight of a very angry Haymitch sitting in a stool at Peeta's kitchen counter.

"Oh, good, you two are finally up. I was hoping I'd catch you before another frosting episode ensued." Haymitch growls, annoyed and with no small measure of disgust apparent on his face.

I feel my cheeks heat. So I guess he had intervened before Gale had made it to Peeta's kitchen. Had probably told Peeta he'd finish cleaning up so Peeta could take a shower. God, that must have been really, really awkward. As if he sees I'm working it out in my head, he grimaces and pins the both of us with a disapproving stare. Which for someone of Haymitch's moral flexibility shouldn't be that easy.

Still, I cringe under his gaze.

"That is the absolute last time I ever cover for you. You're both supposed to be smarter than this! Yet, you never fail to amaze me with your bottomless stupidity! How could you be so reckless? SO close to the wedding? Is it really that hard to keep a low profile? Or has all the sex just addled your puny little brains?" He's yelling now, and I feel myself bristle in response. What was he complaining about? He'd practically pushed us together, and sent me off to Peeta's bed with his blessing.

"Oh, I'm sorry, how much is too much? Because when I asked for advice earlier you seemed to be of the opinion that I couldn't do enough to make up for the last three years!" I spit out the words angrily. And I feel Peeta shift behind me, he hadn't known Haymitch and I had talked about him beforehand.

"You talked about it?" Peeta asks, and Haymitch just shrugs and shakes his head like it's nothing.

"Both of you idiots came over, asking about the other one, interrupting my peace and quiet! And look what happened. Couldn't even do something so simple, oh no! Had to announce to the whole district what he can do with his hands," He says, turning his angry glare on me, and I grit my teeth against a sharp retort waiting on my tongue. But Haymitch is right,I hadn't thought it through before I said those things. Peeta makes a noise like he's about to speak, but Haymitch glares at him next. "And you. Don't you have more self control than to try and maul her in public?" At this Peeta flushes guiltily.

"I warned you not to get caught letting the little brain do all the thinking for you once, do you remember?" He tells Peeta, and I blink in confusion at their code talk. Peeta just nods, and Haymitch lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Now, for the next four days you all are going to be very discreet, very well mannered, obedient little victors. You will be engaged, and in love, but you will not flaunt it in the streets. You will get through the bachelor and bridal parties, and then the wedding without hitting a single snag. There's no room for error, or as you so elegantly put it sweetheart, any of this inconsequential bullshit. Both of you better show up at the train station with bells on, and be ready to help Deen." He says, his voice serious and his eyes conveying something deeper, some meaning I can't guess at. But Peeta just agrees, so I nod, properly chastised.

"Alright, come here." He says, and then surprises us both by leaning in and giving us a light, gruff hug and pat on the back. I'm so caught off guard, I don't even return the hug. But Peeta does, and Haymitch looks back at him with a smirking grin. But then he grows serious again, and straightens up.

"We're gonna need to stick together from here on out. All of us. I just want you both to remember who the real enemy is, and who our allies are, if we're going to stay alive." Haymitch tells us in those same tones he used before. The night before we went into the arena. And I feel a slight chill climb up my spine. But I know he's right. We have to get our heads in the game. We're too close to our goal to get caught up now. So I let my steely expression do the talking for me, and nod, just once. Haymitch nods back at me, and turns to leave.

"Oh and before we pick up Deen, just...leave your judgments at the door." He says before slipping out. I mull over his words, but can't seem to puzzle out what he meant. Peeta just stares at the kitchen door, a worried expression on his face.

I sigh, not wanting to waste anymore time on Haymitch and his vague warnings. I turn to Peeta and plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I'll be back after lunch, so we can walk with Haymitch to the station." I tell him, and then move to put on my jacket.

"Yeah, see you then." He says, as comes up behind me to plant a kiss on the top of my head when my arms come down from tugging on my jacket. I don't turn around when I leave.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

My mother's face when I enter the kitchen is a mask of barely contained panic, with a faultline of anger underneath. When she sees me, the line cracks and destruction is flowing outward from her soft, feminine features.

"Are you alright?" Her first question I can tell is just a preamble. Each word is pointed and clipped, clear and filled with emotion.

I nod, glued to the spot right inside the doorway. Not really sure if I want to come in or try to flee.

"Is everyone alright?" She asks, looking over to Peeta's house. And I think maybe she must have been watching, maybe she saw Gale come over in anger.

"Yes, we got it all under control." I tell her, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. I close the door behind me, because it will be better to just get this over with than to try and run now.

She breathes heavily, just looking at me.

"Haymitch called...last afternoon. Said to get my medicine ready just in case there was a fight. There wasn't a fight, was there?" She peers into my face, trying to find the truth.

"No, mom. No fight. It's all been taken care of." I tell her honestly.

"That's good. That makes what I'm about to say easier." She fixes me with a terribly disappointed gaze. And it's worse than Haymitch's anger. It's far worse.

"I know you're 18 now. I know that technically this is your house, your money, your choice whether to stay out all night or not. And there is practically nothing I can do to dissuade you from acting reckless if you have it in your mind to do so. Maybe, in years past you felt you had to do things all on your own. So, because of that you don't owe anyone any explanations. But there is something you are forgetting. And that is that you are still a part of this family. Despite everything, we are still a family. And maybe we haven't been as close as we should. I haven't done the things I should do, as your mother. I've let you carry more of the burden than you ever should've. But," She takes a deep breath here, and I can see her eyes are full of unshed tears, but she doesn't break down. And I am amazed. "That doesn't mean you have the right to put your sister and I through worry for no reason. And it doesn't mean you get to set a bad example for her. She's still your baby sister, and circumstances may prevent us from changing the situation we're in right now. But I know you wouldn't want her to feel singled out because of the things that are being said, in town, or in her school." She pauses to look at me, to make sure I understand. And I know my face is stricken, because Prim is the one person I never ever want to hurt with my reckless behavior. She's too good, too gentle to be dragged into all this.

I'm about to apologize, when we're both startled by Prim's voice, clear and ringing from the other entrance to the kitchen, the one from the hall.

"How is she setting a bad example? By saving us? By sacrificing herself again? I don't care about the ignorant things people say, mom. I know her. I've known for a while that she's still trying to save me, trying to save us all. Just like the first time. And nothing anyone says, or ever will say can change the truth about Katniss. She's my sister. She always puts me first when it matters. She never lets me down." Prim is crossing the kitchen, tears in her eyes, but she takes my hands in hers and looks right at me when she says the next thing.

"You don't have to say you're sorry, for trying to save us. Whatever mistakes you made, or whatever you had to do, I won't judge you because of gossip. I can't imagine what it'll cost you this time, to protect everyone. But I want to say that you're my hero. And mom, mom loves you. We both do. We just don't know how to protect you from any of this." She says, her voice breaking, and then she's crumpling into me, crying against my chest and I'm holding her tight, and safe and sheltering her from everything she can't deny but doesn't really understand. And I look over to my mother who is bent over the table, weeping as well. And I scoot closer to the table so Prim can wrap an arm around our mother, who in spite of everything is just trying to be a parent again. Maybe the effort is too little too late, but I can't ignore the sentiment behind it.

And I know she's right about not dragging Prim into this, despite whatever Prim said. So I look down at Prim, and tip her chin up.

"Just so we're clear. I am apologizing. Because all of this could have been handled better, by me, by Peeta, and everyone else involved. I don't want you to think for one second little duck that mom doesn't have the right to be mad. She's right. We're a family. And family sticks together. So, from here on out. You will both be informed of where I'm going, and how long I'll be gone. Though, this shouldn't be taken as a formula for any future...developments that would involve yourself, or boys. These are extremely extenuating circumstances. And if people's lives weren't at stake, I wouldn't even be caught holding hands with anyone outside the Hob." I tell her sternly, and my mother looks up, a grateful expression on her face at my words.

"So that part was true?" Prim asks, eyes wide in excitement. I move a step back in startled realization. I guess the rumors must be all over town then, if my little sister has heard about what happened at the Hob yesterday.

"Primrose, it's almost time for school." My mother cuts in before I have to elaborate. Prim sighs, and goes to the coat hooks by the door to pull her jacket on. "Fine, but I expect to hear all about it, sooner rather than later." She tells me with a serious look in her eye, and I know I must look absolutely terrified and ridiculous because she just giggles and leaves.

My mother just sighs, one of those long-suffering sighs. And I sat down in the chair next to her. I look over at her, and for the first time in years I think that maybe, just maybe she's becoming tough enough to be trusted with more. She certainly put up a decent fight, and fought not to break down or tune out. In fact, she's been holding up pretty well for months now, despite all the pressure we've been under.

"You've been handling this, much better than I expected." I tell her quietly, and she blinks, as she stares at the flower vase in the middle of the table for a moment, and I wonder if I've spoken too soon. But then she turns to me, her eyes tired but clear looking.

"I told you, before your Games, that I found the right medicines. Sometimes, sadness creates an imbalance in the body dear, and if there is no clear end or decrease in the amount of sadness in sight, if there's nothing that can drag a person back in the same vein as what pushed them over the edge, then they can get lost in a sea of…" She trails off, trying to find the right word to describe it. But I know what she's struggling to define.

"Darkness." I tell her, and she nods, solemnly.

"Yes, but with the right medications, and other things, a routine, staying busy, reconnecting with family and friends, finding creative outlets, and things like that, then a person can slowly make their way back. Though they will never be the same." She tells me finally, with a sad smile. And I reach out to cover her hand in mine, because I know exactly the feeling she's describing.

"I think that maybe I was too hard on you. I didn't understand before, but if the last three years has taught me anything, it's that there are an infinite number of more things that can make a person break than there are that can put them back together." I tell her quietly. And her thin, delicate hand squeezes mine in response.

"Love. Love can put you back together. In whatever shape or form it takes, dear. For me, it was remembering that I still loved both you and your sister, despite the gaping hole inside of me. And it took a long time, such a long time, to gather those pieces and try to begin putting them back together. But when I stopped fighting it, stopped denying it because I was afraid, it was then that I could finally get up and face the darkness with more than just a whimper." She tells me as she looks me in the eyes. And I know she's talking about more than just herself here.

She's trying to give me something, approval, her blessing, permission maybe. I don't know what exactly. And I don't know what to say. Because I know that someone loves me, of that I am sure. Maybe more than one person. What I still don't know is if what I've felt at times, in quiet moments when the whole world fades, is true. Can I build something real and lasting despite all the lies and manipulations woven through, tainting the good moments? How do I know? Both of my relationships are so complicated. Both are so...fragile. How can I plan for a future when even the next day seems balanced on the edge of a knife, poised to fall at any wrong move?

"Mom, the only love I've ever wanted to need was Prim, and you a little bit." I told her, in a small voice.

She smiles, and it's wistful, nostalgic.

"We don't always get to choose who we love, darling. Sometimes, love chooses us." She says, and there's a far away look in her eye and I know without a doubt she's remembering my father.

And even though I hadn't cried earlier with her and Prim, this time my eyes sting and my throat feels tight. Because I don't know if love chose me, or the Capitol did. I am terrified that I will never truly know.

But there is so much to do today, and I am going to need as much help as I can get. So I just clear my throat, and ask her if she'll help me get ready to meet Deen at the train station, along with everyone else. She nods, gets up from the table and we make our way into my room.

(Deen Sparrow POV)

(Recommended Listening Track: Malibu Nights)

I pour another shot of whiskey into the tumbler, even though Effie Trinket frowns at me. Her violet wig wobbles a little as she shakes her head. But she won't have to deal with me much longer. And I won't be her problem after I get home. So I slam the drink back without pause.

Because I just don't give a damn anymore.

We're minutes away from pulling back into the crappy little train station in District 12, but at the rate I'm going they'll probably have to carry me off the train. Cinna sits across from Effie, a disappointed frown on his handsome face. I had never noticed before, which men were really handsome. But my time in the Capitol had taught me things. Lots of things that only the whiskey helped to keep blurred and on the edges of my memory.

It seems the old goat Haymitch had been on to something, with all his drinking. Maybe when I got home me and him could form some kind of club. The gin soaked victor's circle. That would be grand. The thought of gin had me stumbling back to the bar, reaching for another crystal bottle.

"Deen, we're about to arrive in ten minutes. No one wants to see District 12's newest victor projectile vomit on national television." Effie's high voice rings out, and it's so annoying, I down my gin just to deafen the sound.

"Unbelievable!" Effie shouts, and throws up her hands before stalking away.

"You know, your teammates might not take to well to your...imparied state." Cinna says quietly, and I smile over at him.

"Oh, won't they? Why should they care? They're getting married in a few days, and off to honeymoon on some beach or mountain top. Who the hell cares what I do with my days, or my nights?" I tell him, and throw out a suggestive wink. I must be really drunk.

Cinna, however, ignores my inane attempts at flirting. And just looks back at me, with such a fatherly, sad heartbroken stare that for a moment, I almost feel sober.

"They care, Deen. We all do. Or we wouldn't have worked so hard to make sure you survived." He tells me seriously, his green and gold flecked eyes holding me in place as surely as a friend's arm would. And I feel myself flush with shame for about the hundred-thousandth time in the last week. I don't know what's wrong with me. But then I think, yes, I actually do.

"Made sure I survived, sure. But no one told me surviving the arena was the easy part. How come no one ever mentioned that what happens afterwards makes death look like a nice little picnic?" I ask, reaching for the bottle again. But Cinna is up, quick and strong, grabbing it out of my hands.

I get angry, so white hot furious in that moment that I actually take a swing at him. But I'm so damn drunk, I miss by a mile, and end up falling on my ass. He just sighs, and leans down to help me up. But I try to push his hands away.

"Ok, Deen, ok. You get up when you're ready. But just remember, whatever pain you think you're inflicting on yourself, you'll make it double fold for them. You're not the only one you know, who's had to make difficult choices." He tells me quietly, before walking away.

And that, more than anything else, gets my alcohol soaked mind trying to think.

Katniss and Peeta had been visitors for two years. Haymitch for, well for much longer. Something like 24 or 25 years. What had the Capitol made them do? What had it stolen from them? The horrible idea made my head pound, and I found myself wishing I could tell them to turn the train around. Because I didn't want to face them all. Somehow they would know without me saying a thing. And I didn't want them to know.

Haymitch had tried to warn me, before I left. But I had brushed him off, saying I didn't mind keeping a few rich Elite ladies company while I partied in the Capitol. He had tried to tell me which invitations were ok to accept, and which ones weren't. But I hadn't paid him any mind. And when I had stayed longer than the designated week, he had yelled into the receiver for me to come home immediately. I had just hung up on him. I'd never had a father, I thought at the moment, and I didn't need one after I became a self made man. A victor.

But I hadn't known just how much he had been trying to prevent. I was just supposed to stay long enough to meet some of his associates in the Capitol, receive a package, and pass on a message. But a week turned into two months. I learned how to ditch Effie and Cinna and my team, for weeks. And somewhere near the end of it, I had lost something. More than innocence. The Games had taken that. No, I had lost some essential part of myself in the drunken nights, filled with strangers with strange appetites. At first it started small and gradual. Drinking and playing risky games. Strip poker and whiskey, and stolen kisses on balconies. Beautiful women slipped me their key cards and room numbers. Then alcohol and pills that made me feel so alive and untouchable that I kept up with a parade of gorgeous women until dawn. Then it was more than one girl at a time. Then it wasn't just girls. And when I tried to put a stop to it, a note sent with a white rose, stamped with the official seal.

My life wasn't mine. My body didn't belong to me. And that last week, had been the worst week of my life. I felt dirty underneath my own skin. I felt wrong all the time. And the only thing that helped was alcohol. The only thing that made it bearable was drinking. So I never let myself stop. I couldn't remember the last time I was sober. And if I could help it, I'd never go back there. Because if I just kept running, if I just kept drinking then maybe it wouldn't be real. But then I hear the wheels slowing, and I know for the hundredth-thousandth time recently that my wishes have been ignored.

(Peeta POV)

She shows up a little past one in the afternoon. Looking sleek in a pair of fitted grey jeans and a dark navy sweater with her hair half up and brushed till it looks soft and glossy. She wears only a little bit of makeup, but her dark circles are so improved that she doesn't need all that heavy makeup they used to have to put on her. She has on those little ankle boots that made her look so dainty during our last TV appearance. And a grey scarf that makes her eyes look gorgeous and misty silver on the cold day. Over everything she has thrown her hunting jacket, and this makes me smile. Because it's her, and I love her.

We all head down to the station quietly, and I can't stop from smiling a little because we're holding hands again, and she's very relaxed I can tell. She's not biting her lip or gripping my hand painfully. When we arrive at the station Haymitch whispers to both of us to get ready. And at first I think he's talking about the cameras. But when Deen stumbles off the train, half held up by Cinna and Flavius, I realize what he really meant.

Deen smiles, waves to the cameras in a drunken stupor. And when he reaches Katniss and me he throws his arms around her and gives her a big wet kiss on the cheek. She recoils, but Haymtich is there, pushing her forward so she's forced to hug Deen back. But she's gritting her teeth in a grimace, not a smile. Because Deen smells like someone drowned him in a bucket of liquor. And when he turns to greet me, I almost feel my eyes water from the intensity of the fumes.

"Hey there, my mentor. Ready for the bachelor party? I know I am! I've got a few ideas of some really nice girls we can invite-" He starts to say, but then Haymitch is gripping his arm and leading him away. And I'm laughing, as I hug Katniss closer to me. And then she remembers to smile.

"I guess he had a little too much fun in the Capitol. Kids these days huh? But don't worry, Katniss'll have him sorted before the wedding. He's standing up as one of my groomsmen after all." I tell them with a shrug and an unconcerned grin. And Katniss just laughs and nods. And other people laugh, as we wave and make our way to follow Haymitch and Deen away from the station.

The crowd thins and parts for us, and the reporters try to ask us more questions, about the wedding, about our honeymoon plans. But I just give vague non committal answers and Katniss does that great thing where her face is just an impassive mask. Haymitch steers Deen to my house, and practically shoves him inside. Just in time too, because he barely makes it to my kitchen table before he pukes, then passes out.

"What the hell?!" Katniss yells, as she goes over to his side, picking up his head gingerly so he doesn't start to choke in his own vomit. I grab a kitchen towel to soak up the mess, and Haymitch just sits at the counter, his head hanging and his hand covering his forehead as he looks down and shakes his head.

"I warned him. I tried to tell him. Stupid kid wouldn't listen to a DAMN thing I said. Disappeared for weeks, Cinna and Portia couldn't find him anywhere." Haymitch's voice rises with every syllable.

"YOU LOST HIM? IN THE CAPITOL?" Katniss is screaming now, her face angry and red and her eyes promise violence.

"NO! I DIDN'T LOSE HIM! EFFIE AND CINNA DID!" And Haymitch is screaming back at her, and I know this is not going anywhere good.

"HOW COULD YOU LET HIM GO ALONE IF YOU KNEW HE WASN'T GOING TO BE PROTECTED?" Katniss is hollering, while trying to hold up Deen's head as I try to wipe up what looks like a gallon of bile and alcohol and not much else.

"HE WAS! IF HE WOULD HAVE FOLLOWED MY INSTRUCTIONS AND STUCK WITH THE TEAM HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE! BUT NO! HE HAD TO GO ROGUE!" Haymitch's voice is hoarse but he doesn't stop yelling.

Katninss is breathing hard, she's shaking her head at him. But I cut in before anyone can start throwing things.

"Hey, what he needs is a shower, a change, and to sleep it off. Not two maniacs yelling at the top of their lungs. So who's gonna help me get him to the bathroom?" I ask and they both stay quiet for a second.

I can see in Katniss's eyes that she thinks Haymitch should volunteer. But she hasn't considered it the more obvious reason why Haymitch didn't go with Deen to the Capitol. And that's because he had to be here with us, to keep an eye on things, to make sure things went according to plan, to keep everyone sane until the wedding. And he had had to make one of those horrible choices only mentors understood. Who to choose. And he had chosen us.

"Katniss, don't be mad at him. He had to stay here to help with the wedding." I tell her gently, and she blinks at me angrily, but after a second she realizes it too. She looks over to Haymitch, with hot angry tears in her eyes, and her hand strikes out so quickly I don't catch it.

She slaps him. Hard. And he's up and knocking over his chair, and I have to put myself between them.

"You should have protected him! Not us! We're not kids anymore! And Peeta and I have each other, Deen doesn't have someone like that!" She hisses at him, ice in her voice.

"YOU! You didn't even have Peeta until they forced your hand, you little idiot! And you were even lucky in that! How many victors do you think get to wait around for three years, and then have the luxury of choosing who they want to be their lover? How many of them do you think get to choose just one? YOU still have no idea, the sacrifices, the decisions that have to be made! Oh, Haymitch, how do I get him to sleep with me? I'm such an ungrateful black whole of selfishness I never have any idea how to relate to normal people! Well, first off you should realize that not everything is always ABOUT YOU! This is about keeping everyone safe, and I did what I had to do. I couldn't control what that fool boy did from this far away, but he's here now. And your fiance is right. He's gonna need someone with a strong stomach and a good bedside manner to help him over this. Think you can get over yourself for five minutes to help out? Because that kid don't listen to anyone, anyone but you. Heaven help him!" Haymitch's voice tires out from screaming at the end, and then just slumps into a chair, staring at Deen's unconscious face.

And he's so sad, so disappointed, and full of such obvious self hatred, that even Katniss can't keep up her tirade.

Silent tears stream down her face. But she just wipes them away gruffly, with the back of her hand and she looks over at me. In unspoken agreement we half carry, half drag Deen to the bathroom.

She helps me strip him of his dirty clothes until he's only in his underwear. And we work together to wash him and keep his head up and limp body from slumping over in the shower dangerously. He wakes up halfway through, and starts fighting. But Katniss just slaps him a little, to wake him up. And when he realizes it's her, he stops fighting, and then incredibly he starts crying, and she shushes him like a little boy. Then she just gets in the shower with him, and holds him till he stops shaking.

"Deen, it's ok. It's ok you're home now. We're here. We won't let them do anything else to you. It's ok Deen. It's ok now." She tells him over and over, and I don't feel threatened or worried at all. Because it's like that night of the celebration feast, when she said she had felt like his mother sometimes. And when he turns to look at me, I clasp his arm and he closes his eyes in sadness but also relief. We dressed him in a robe of mine and just set him down in the guest bedroom. She looks over at his sleeping face sadly, until finally his breathing evens out and I take her hand so we can leave to let him sleep in peace.

She asks to use my phone to call home, and I oblige her and point her to the study. She talks for a long time on the phone with her mother about alcohol withdrawal and what remedies should help.

By the time everything is done, it's already evening. Katniss sits at the table in numb silence while I make tea. Haymitch returns just as I'm taking the kettle off.

He sits down and takes out the bug scrambler, and turns it on before he speaks.

"I went to his new house, and poured out all the liquor. Which if you ask me was the most traumatizing of the tasks." He says scowling at Katniss. But her eyes barely flick in his direction as he speaks. She's still thinking about the things said in the shower, before Deen had realized it was us helping him.

"No! Don't touch me! Get the fuck off me! You sick monsters!" His voice had been angry, and terrified. I was shocked. And angry tears had made tracks down my face, to see this cocky young kid, who had such spirit and life in him reduced to a puddle of alcohol and sobs.

Katniss had just gritted her teeth and climbed in the shower with him, slapping him awake just hard enough, so that he was aware of his surroundings. Since that moment I had felt the edges of a shadow creeping up on us, on her heart. And I couldn't stop glancing over to make sure she wasn't slipping away again.

"Haymitch, is that really what happens to all the victors?" She asks in a quiet detached voice.

And our mentor clears his throat, pausing before he begins to speak.

"Most of the time. If a victor is considered attractive or desirable in some way, they're often forced to accept wealthy patrons, on the pain of death of someone they love. Those who refuse, start losing their family and friends until they get with the program. They used the same threat to keep you both in line, but you had to continue the romance. My guess is Snow didn't know you two weren't sleeping together until the Capitol doctor checked up on you. He probably assumed like everyone else did that the nights on the train and at the training center were what they appeared to be. You two have been incredibly, unbelievably, lucky. To have been so publicly attached to each other that he couldn't sell you separately without breaking the entire facade. I don't know what he has planned for after the wedding. But I can guess it's not pretty." He tells us, and I feel myself shudder in revulsion.

I look over at Katniss and see she is pale, ashen looking. Immediately I walk up to put an arm around her, and she grabs my hand in hers. Her hand is like ice, in mine, and I close my eyes sadly.

"I tried so many times to tell him. I even tried to get the invitation rescinded, but it came straight from the top. Snow himself insisted he stay for the week at the minister of defence's private mansion. It was impossible to cancel by then. But still, he would have been safe if he'd let Cinna and Effie handle his invitations and appearances. He thought it was all a big joke. Sleeping around with the Capitol Elite, drinking their champagne and cheating them at cards. If I had known he was going to run off, I never would have let him go." He says quietly, guiltily.

And Katniss looks up at him, and with an empty stare in her eyes.

"You can't protect anyone in an arena." She says softly, and Haymitch's intake of breath sounds startled and painful. Then they both look away in obvious sadness and regret. They are too much alike, always trying to shoulder more responsibility than is good for them. And always keeping secrets.

"Well, we're going to start doing better from here on out. Haymitch you need to stop keeping these kinds of things from us. We're his mentors too, and we have a right to know. When he wakes up, we're all going to have an intervention. No more drinking, no more pills or drugs, no more women or whatever, for him. He's got to quit cold turkey if we're gonna make it to 13 with him with us." And after a moment they both nod in agreement with my statement.

"Have you told him yet?" Katniss asks Haymitch and Haymitch shakes his head.

"Not in any certain terms. I didn't have the bug scrambler then. But he picked something up for me in the Capitol, that's essential to the mission. That's one of the reasons I had to let him go. They would have been watching the rest of us too close to get anywhere near it. But I found it in the bottom of his canteen in his travel bag. He came through. Now, all the pieces of the plan are in place. We're good, to go kids. We can get out of this hellhole, and never look back." Haymitch says with such intense hatred and longing, it sweeps through the room.

And Katniss exhales the breath she had been holding in. She stands up, and pulls my hand along behind her as she walks towards the hall. I look back at Haymitch, a little embarrassed at the obvious dismissal.

But he just waves me away, and I follow her up the stairs before I hear the kitchen door close.

(Recommended Listening Track: Afterglow-Leroy Sanchez)

She leads me into my room, and stands before the window with me in the moonlight. She looks up at me, and her eyes are so light and luminous they look like pools of liquid metal. And she is both fierce and fragile at that moment. So angry, and so terrified. I just stare back at her, as I brush my thumb across the back of her hand.

"Haymitch is right. I've been ungrateful." She starts to say, her voice bruised sounding, like the words hurt coming out. I start to shake my head, to tell her that no, there may be degrees of manipulation, of slavery that have been employed, but she has a right to resent her lot the same as Deen does. But she just stops my words with her hand pressed against my lips.

"Peeta, sometimes we don't get to choose the things that happen to us. But if there's one thing I'll remember to be grateful for, for the rest of my life, it's getting to choose you." She says looking up at me sincerely, honestly. And I feel my heart expanding, at her words. She is so close, so near the point I have longed for. She is right on the brink of loving me. I've felt it for days now. And I've been waiting, trying not to scare her away or do anything stupid to mess it up.

I smile at her, just drinking in the way she looks painted in the soft glowing light from the window. And I know my heart must be in my throat, because I can't think of a single thing to say. I want this so badly. She reaches out to cup my cheek, and I pull her closer to me. Just needing her near.

"I'll never know what I did, to make you climb into my window that night. But I'll be grateful for the rest of my life that you did." I finally say, when she presses her face against my neck, and leans into me.

"Peeta, you changed every plan I ever had. I know I can't afford the price I'm going to have to pay, for all of this. But I want you anyway." She whispers against my skin, and it's not those three words I have been waiting for, but it's so, so close. And my heart is racing, pounding in my chest not just from lust or passion. But from the possibility. The impossible chance, that maybe, just maybe she feels a little of that incredible soul inhabiting feeling I have whenever she's near.

"Are you still trying not to fall for me?" I ask her, whispering quietly. My whole life, my whole world hanging in the balance.

She looks up at me with those back lit grey eyes that have their own silver lining tonight and I can still see the war raging in her. Her fear, her confusion, and something else. Something wild and new in her gaze as she looks at me. And that one look takes my breath away.

But she stays silent, her eyes just searching my face. Then, after what seems like an eternity, she replies. "I think maybe I can stop fighting, just for tonight."

And it's all I need. It's all I've ever wanted. I scoop her up and carry her to my bed. Because if she lets me, I know I can stoke that spark of hers into a flame. I'll tend it and feed it and I'll never let it go out. And I can see us, grey and old and thinking back on this night. I can see my entire life with her at that moment. So I give her everything, all of myself, all of my love, the promise of myself forever. And she doesn't run away.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

If I thought I knew the size and shape and depth of Peeta's love for me before that moment, I am proven wrong. It's like a dam breaking inside of his heart, and he pours out his soul to me with every touch. And it's gentle but indestructible, humble but fierce, kind but so passionate. And I drown in it. I lose myself in the way he looks at me, the way he holds me.

And of all the moments in my life that define me, my father teaching me to knock an arrow, my mother teaching me a lullaby for Prim the first time they let me hold her in my arms, the day the mineshaft collapsed, the day in the rain with the bread, meeting Gale in the woods the first time, the moment they pulled Prim's name from the bowl, holding Rue while she died in my arms, and holding out the berries to Peeta...I know that this is moment defines me, just as much or maybe more than all the ones that came before.

Because Peeta has forever on his lips. I can taste it, as he kisses me while he makes love to me slowly, but so rapturously in his bed atop the grey silk sheets.

And I'm scared to death. I'm so, so very afraid. Because it's overwhelming how much he already loves me. This isn't just young love, or ordinary everyday love. This was soul-shattering, world altering love. The kind my parents had. The kind his parents would never have. The kind they wrote stories about. The kind of love people die for.

And the very thing I'd feared for so long.

I feel so small in the sea of his feelings, like a leaf pulled out further and further from shore. Until I can't remember my name or who I am as the waves crash over me, strong and sweet, and powerful. What's worse is that I don't try to fight it, I just let him crash over me, unwilling and unable to hang onto my rules or defences or anything that feels like me.

I lose myself in Peeta. And it feels wonderful and terrible and inevitable all at the same time.

But afterwards when I lay in his arms, I'm quiet as he dozes against me. And I wonder about our promises. Because I know I have been trying to keep mine. But there is a feeling I have, under my ribs that niggles at my heart. I tried, really tried to give in and love him, without fear, without reservation. Yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. And I was more terrified than ever.

I am afraid that Peeta and I will never be on the same page. That I would always be trailing after him clumsily. That he would end up giving all his love to a girl who didn't know the first thing about trust, or truth, or selflessness. That I would never love him as much as he did me. That I would just end up hurting him, the more he gave and the less I could return. Or worse, what if he gets tired of always dragging me along after him? What if he stops loving me because I'm such a terrible investment?

How are we supposed to stay friends after something like that? How can I keep doing this to him knowing that I won't be able to match his feelings?

I didn't have an answer for it. But it was almost 1 am. So I slipped out of his uncharacteristically relaxed hold and walked over the bathroom to get ready before everyone started arriving. He doesn't wake up. I walk over to nudge him, but I'm caught by the smile he's wearing in his sleep. He's so beautiful when he looks like this, peaceful and warm and so happy.

And I know I'm falling. Whether it started as a lie, or a duty, or even manipulation, It's there, alive and fighting for room inside my heart. Along with so many other things. I just don't know if it will ever be strong enough to win out against the fear. I don't know if it will survive all of the darkness and confusion that fights for control daily, inside of me. I don't know if I'm strong enough to choose it over my own desires.

Because deep down, I still want to run away. I want things to go back to being simple. And I don't want the kind of love Peeta is holding out to me. The kind that gets into your bones, and into your soul. I don't want to be my mother and my father. I want to be myself. And that is the most selfish part of me. And that's why I'll never deserve him, just as Haymitch said.

But I hear noise from downstairs inside the house, and I know Deen is stirring, so I lean in and shake Peeta awake gently.

"Peeta, it's almost time." I tell him and he sits up and stretches, before leaning down to pick up his clothes. I let my hand brush down his shoulder and arm before I leave the room. I don't want Deen to sneak out before I get the chance to talk to him.

Which is just what he's trying to do when I come downstairs. He's poised to slip out of the kitchen door.

"And just where do you think you're going?" I ask him, my voice sharp and startling him in the dark kitchen. He turns around to look at me, and there's a faint flicker of realization on his face. I don't know if it's because I didn't fix my hair correctly, or if my sweater is crooked, but I can tell he knows about me and Peeta.

"Well, I guess you all couldn't wait for the honeymoon." He tosses the comment out with a sarcastic smirk and I narrow my eyes at him as I cross the kitchen in quick threatening steps.

He does the smart thing and backs up at my approach.

"You need someone to wash the dirt out of your mouth? Or maybe you just need someone to slap some sense into you? Because I've already washed the vomit off you once today, and I slapped another victor right here in this kitchen. At this point I could do either one again easily." I tell him, with a hard serious glare and I can feel Peeta has come into the kitchen behind me and is assessing the situation.

But he doesn't intervene, because for all of Deen's strength, and innate fighting ability, he's always had nothing but bravado when it comes to me. I don't know why exactly, but Haymitch wasn't lying when he said Deen seems to listen to me more than anyone else.

But right now he's trying to escape. He knows what Peeta and I will say about his drunken behavior. He knows we will do everything in our power to fix whatever has gone wrong these past two months he's been away.

"You're not my keeper!" He shouts at me, and tries to reach for the door but I'm there blocking his way out.

"No, I'm not! I'm your mentor! And maybe, just maybe I know a thing or two about what you're running from, about the thing you're trying to erase with pills and liquor!" I yell at him, and he backs up half a step. He swings around, searching for another exit. But the only other way out is through the front door. And to get there he'll have to cross the kitchen and get past Peeta.

Peeta just crosses his arms over his chest, and plants his feet widely just in case Deen decides to try and take him on.

"I don't know what the hell I did to deserve both of you lunatics! But last time I checked you're both only 2 years older than me. You're not my guardians or my parents. And you don't get to hold me hostage against my will!" He shouts and tries to rush past Peeta. But before he can cross the distance and shoulder Peeta out of the way, I grab one of the kitchen chairs and aim it directly at the back of his calves. It rolls from my hands and makes contact before Deen does with Peeta, and then Deen is falling forward on his hands and cursing and screaming really horrible things at both of us.

"Sit on him!" I tell Peeta and he does so in a lightning fast movement, pinning Deen underneath him and holding his arms behind his back while I move over to sit on Deen's kicking legs. He fights us, for a long while, but eventually gives up. Peeta is too strong, too good at keeping a hold on someone from all those years of wrestling with two brothers. And while I don't weigh much, I pinch Deen hard and viciously everytime he tries to kick me or buck me off.

"You done?" I ask, as he pants out of breath underneath us. But before Deen can answer Haymitch walks into the kitchen and pulls up the fallen chair, sitting in front of the three of us with all the concern of a man sitting down to eat a ham sandwich.

"Well, looks like you two are good for something after all." He tells Peeta and I. I just roll my eyes at him, not bothering to dignify his insult with a response.

"Haymitch, come on man. Tell them to get the hell off. You understand me man, you know what it's like. Don't let them tell me I can't drink." He pleads with Haymitch but all his words fall on deaf ears. Because when Haymitch actually turns to look at Deen, his gaze is ten times scarier than the one I used earlier in the kitchen.

"You better get used to other people depriving you of the only things that bring you any pleasure in life, kid. Because you're on this team now, like it or not, for better or worse. And I don't care if you pitch a fit the whole way, we're dragging your sorry sober self with us when we leave in three days. I'll have her mother knock you out until we're so far in the woods you won't be able to find your own ass with two hands. And if you try to get away, I'll let her," And he points to me with menacing commitment, "shoot you in the leg." He says this all with such seriousness, such assurance that everyone is quiet for a moment.

"We're leaving?" Deen asks, the two words are breathless and fragile in his mouth, like a wish, a prayer.

"Yeah, kid. We're leaving, all of us. We're going somewhere they can't touch you, or her or him," and at this Haymitch motions to Peeta and I, "ever again. Now you can either get with the damn program or you can be an unwilling participant in your own rescue. You decide." He tells Deen, his grey Seam eyes, older than their years and full of stark honesty.

"Let me up." Deen says, and Peeta and I look over at Haymitch.

"I'm not going to fight, I promise, I swear." Deen says when Haymitch just studies him for a moment. But then Haymitch nods and Peeta and I stand up. Peeta's hand reaches down to help Deen up and Deen accepts his hand gratefully.

"How long have you all been planning this?" Deen asks incredulously. And at this we all let out a huff of unenthusiasm. No one really wants to do the explaining. But Haymitch just orders Deen to sit down, and then tells Peeta and I to make coffee and food so Deen can put something in his stomach to help him sober up.

So I help Peeta while he cooks, and Haymitch fills him in on the plan. We all sit down to eat toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches made with thick buttery bread and delicious herbs baked right in the crust. And when Haymitch and Peeta finish explaining, Deen sits quietly, absorbing the information.

"Is what you had me get in the Capitol part of the plan?" Deen asks and Haymitch nods.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Deen asks, and my heart hurts a little for him, because he reminds me of myself when I first found out.

"We couldn't discuss it openly because of the bugs. At first it was almost impossible to plan since we're all watched so closely. But then Haymitch and I were able to develop a kind of code to communicate while we were playing chess. And once we got in touch with other resistors, we were able to get the bug scrambler." Peeta tells Deen, and just to soften the blow I tell Deen I didn't find out until after his victory tour.

At this he settles back in his chair, seeming to accept things. He looks at each of us in turn.

"You know, maybe it's better that you didn't tell me at first. I don't know if I would have...wanted to leave." He admits and his cheeks go a little pink with embarrassment.

"But now that I know what it's really all about, the life of a victor, I don't think the three days can pass fast enough." He says, in a world weary voice that pinches at my heart.

"Deen, we should never have let you-" I start to say, but he swings his gaze to me, and it's full of anger and hatred, but not for me, or Haymitch or Peeta. It's for himself.

"NO. Don't start. Katniss...I chose. I wanted to have a taste of it, even though I knew it was wrong. Haymitch tried to stop me. So did Cinna and even Effie. Cinna looked for me every night. Sometimes he'd show up at the parties I was at, and I'd run out the back door. Effie called the peacekeepers on me once, tried to tell them I was underage and lost. But the people I stayed with, they had money, and influence and they made the report go away. I was a total idiot, and I got just what I deserved." He said with fierce belief and conviction, I couldn't help but choke out a sob.

Because he thought that by going to a party, and making some mistakes that entitled other people to use him, to take advantage of him. Deen, a boy from the group home. Who had no mother or father, or sister or brother to call if things got tough. Deen who had somehow survived the worst of what District 12 had to offer children, starvation, neglect, and abuse. Deen who when we first got him, couldn't look anyone in the eye for longer than a few seconds before starting a fight or a cussing match. Deen who had starved in the Games trying to keep his partner tribute alive after she got poisoned and couldn't move anymore. Deen who had just wanted to feel important for once in his life, so he went to parties with rich people and their fancy clothes and lavish lifestyles.

I was up and out of my chair before he could blink at me. And I gripped his hand hard in mine as I looked into his coal dark eyes.

"You deserved to be free. We all did, especially after what we survived. They don't have a right Deen, to our lives, our bodies, any of it. Whether you drank too much or not. It was not your fault." I tell him more fiercely, more determinedly than I thought possible. And for a moment, his eyes shine with that cracked vulnerability that he had in the shower. But he just swallows, and nods his head, blinking away the tears. And I give his hand a squeeze before I let go.

"She's right, kid. Nobody here on this team is ever gonna look at you funny for anything that happened. We've all had to make sacrifices of late. And I expect before this is all over, we might have to pay more. But that's a discussion for another day. For now, we're going to get ready since the others will be here in a minute. And you need to be on your best behavior from now on. You'll stay here, with Peeta so you can be monitored. Katniss's mother is mixing up something to help you with the withdrawals, and you need to do absolutely everything that's asked of you and more. If you don't want to be a liability out there, to your team." Haymitch tells him seriously, and Deen nods.

But his hands are already shaking, and he has such a thirsty gaze in his eyes. Still he folds his hands together in his lap and tries to sit still. Haymitch just sighs. I think it bothers him more than it does us to see Deen like this, because it reminds him of his own weakness and desires. So I volunteer to stay with Deen until the work is done. And Peeta and Haymitch agree.

Gale and Rory arrive at the predetermined time. Everyone heads down to the basement, and I decide to take Deen up to Peeta's painting room for a change of scenery. We look at Peeta's paintings quietly. Some are finished, and ready to be wrapped up for sale, but others are in progress. Those are the ones I find myself staring at the most. Because in the past month, I've learned to look past the gore and the violent images themselves, something I hadn't been able to do at first.

And I see to the thing Peeta is saying underneath it all.

The landscape by the river where I found him half dead in our Games looks cold and quiet and foreboding in a corner. But in a dense patch of trees I catch a glimpse of a bird with purple and blue-black feathers, getting ready to fly in Peeta's direction. And I know the bird is me, coming to save him.

In another one I see the campfire where he and the careers slept beside, and inside the flames is an image of their faces, tortured and hollow looking. And I know it must be from a nightmare, because it's so gruesome. But I can also see now, how he was trying to convey their fates, how they shined so brightly for their districts, blazed for the Capitol and in their zeal for violence were consumed by it.

"He's getting really good." Deen says as he stares at a new painting. This one is different from the rest. It's not from the Games I think. It's a misty morning rain, with fog rolling in from the background. And after I stare at it for a few minutes, I realize that there is a figure in the background, barely visible underneath the dark shadows drawn. It's the image of a woman, the silhouette of her body, as she walks through the mist chasing the dawn. I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment. Stupid Peeta.

I go over and throw a cover over it, not caring if it's dry or not. And Deen just smiles at me, not in a sarcastic or offensive way. Just in a friendly, almost happy way.

"I was wondering when he was gonna make his move." He says quietly. And I look away, not wanting to discuss it.

"Do you, I mean, did they make you?" He asks, and I look at him sharply. His eyes are so sad, and big as he stares at me, I don't know how to answer at first. But I remember what Haymitch said, and how Deen was going to need help getting through what had happened. So I take a deep breath, and start telling him about what happened during the party at Snow's mansion on his last victory tour.

His face grows pale and he shoves his hands in his pockets when I get to part about Snow sending the Capitol doctor. He starts to get angry, but I don't want him to say anything dangerous about the plan in this room since we don't have the bug scrambler. So I just cut off the story by saying I climbed into Peeta's window one night. Then I turn to look at Deen and punch his shoulder affectionately, and shoot him a toothy grin.

"Actually I think maybe they did us a favor, Peeta and I. I haven't slept this well since before my Games." I tell him seriously, and after a second he starts to laugh, and then he's laughing so hard he snorts. And I'm chuckling with him.

"I could tell. I mean you practically have no dark circles under your eyes. You were starting to look like a racoon towards the end of my victory tour! Now, you look human again!" He says and I punch his arm again, a little harder this time and he just laughs while he rubs the spot.

"You look happy, you know." He says seriously, and I sigh. Looking towards the window and out on the cold night.

"Yeah well, I guess we were due for some kind of break in our luck. It's just so…"I trail off, unsure how to describe the situation, because I don't know if talking about how I am not sure of how I feel about Peeta after sleeping with him for so long will be taken. I will either be heartless or naive. And I hate being seen as either of those things.

"He really loves you. If it had to happen, well you really lucked out." Deen says in a quiet sad voice. And I feel like a jerk, because here I am worrying about myself again, when there are other people with real problems in this room.

"Just forget I said anything." I say quickly, wanting to change the subject. But Deen it seems isn't put off so easily.

"I'm just sorry it had to happen for you two the way it did. I would have been so much better if they had just left you both alone. You'd have gotten there in your own time. Now, they've really fucked it up. Like always." He says, and I am taken aback by his assertion that Peeta and I would have ended up as lovers anyway.

"Deen, I wasn't planning on being with anyone, so-"

"Oh, you couldn't have held out against him. Peeta seems harmless, but when he's determined there's almost no stopping him short of cutting off a limb, oh wait, even that didn't deter him. " He says humorlessly, and I grimace, but he just continues, "He would have pulled down your ivory tower brick by brick if he had to, princess.`` He says gruffly, in an imitation of the way Haymitch called me princess in that snarky drawl of his.

"Yeah, well, I'm a hunter not a princess. And Peeta's no prince. We're just two people, trying to make the best of our options." I tell him sternly, trying to dissuade him from continuing this line of conversation.

"Sure, whatever you say, mentor of mine. But I've seen enough people in the last two months who are just sleeping together for the thrill of it, to know when something is about more than just sex." He tells me stoically, and I reach out and pinch him on the underside of his arm until he's cussing and wriggling away.

"Damn, he must have a hard time keeping up with you, you're such a firecracker!" Deen says in a mischievous mocking voice, but then flees for his life when I start to lunge towards him.

I huff angrily, at the empty room. And resolve to stop treating Deen like a wounded bird. He obviously isn't in such a bad state if he can still tease people about their sex life.

When I get back downstairs Haymitch is explaining the next phase of the plan to everyone. Deen also brought back an extra battery for the bug scrambler, so now we have twice as much time to talk. Not that we need another two hours to get everyone up to speed. But even the short conversation has people yawning sleepily. Rory and Gale file out first, followed by Haymitch. I get up to leave, and start putting on my jacket. I turn back to look at Peeta and tell him goodnight.

His brows quirk up, and there's a question in his eyes. But I'm not running, I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight and think some things through. I can't say this out loud though because people are still probably still too close to the kitchen, so I tell him I'll drop back in the morning. And he nods, a little disappointed.

As I make my way towards my own home, I can see a figure leaning against my own back door to my kitchen. And I cringe inwardly. I am tired, and fed up, and this day has been far too exhausting to have any sort of conversation right now. So when I scowl up at Gale's face, he returns my look with equal animosity.

(Recommended Track: Happier-Ed Sheeran)

"Gale it's late."

"No shit."

"Ugghhh." I groan, and then resolve to get this over with, so I can go to sleep. "Can't this wait?" I ask him, and he just narrows his eyes at me. And I know I'm being a selfish jerk but so is he.

"Are we really letting that party boy join the wedding crew? The kid was still half drunk tonight, and I'm assuming you all didn't supply him with more liquor after he came back." Gale's question is not what I expected, it's serious, and it is escape plan related. So, I let go of my scowl and turn to lean against the wall tiredly next to him.

"Gale, he went to the Capitol for Haymitch, to get things we need. He sacrificed a lot to help us. Maybe he lost his way a little, in the past two months. But we can't leave him. They'll won't just kill him, or torture him. They'll make him their private slave." I say quietly, so very quietly and aimed in the direction of Gale's ear, that hopefully nothing else picks up my voice.

Gale's eyes narrow, and I can tell he wants to ask more questions, but now isn't the time to go into what happened to Deen, or how he fits into the plan. So he just sighs, slowly, still not quite convinced.

"You think he'll sober up in time for the wedding?" He asks, and I nod.

"Between Peeta, Haymitch, and I watching him, and my mother and her remedies, I don't see how he has an option not to be." I tell him, with a promise of stern vigilance in my voice.

"You sound protective of him, almost like you do when you talk about Prim."

"He's like a sort of little brother to me. A really annoying, jerk of a little brother, but everyone from 12 who's survived the Games, well we're almost like family." I tell him as I look up at a cloud just clearing the moon.

"What about your old friends and family?" He asks, and I look over at him. His face is closed off when he asks this, but I know what he's trying to say. It's a strange replacement for an apology. I know neither of us can say we're sorry, if we won't acknowledge we betrayed the other. And to do that we have to come out and say that we both expected more than just friendship from the other, for a while, maybe all along. And Gale's never been very good at letting his guard down, especially when his pride is wounded.

If I'm honest I'm worse than him. So I just think for a beat, and try to say things without having to say things.

"I haven't forgotten. Nobody is getting left behind, or left out. Just like I was there when you needed me, I'll always take care of the people who mean the most to me. The...care for my original family doesn't diminish the more people that get added. It's like a tree growing its branches to make room for more birds to nest." I say quietly and he looks at me long and sad. And I don't know why he's sad, because I just told him I don't love him any less, and that he's never going to be replaced in my life.

"Then why does it feel just like watching your Games? Why does it feel like you're slipping away?" His question is low, quiet and full of such misery. And I don't look into his eyes for fear of what I'll find there.

"I'm right here Gale, standing right next to you." I tell him, practically, but I know he means more than just physically.

"Are you? I haven't felt you close to me in a long, long time Catnip." He says, as he looks up at the moon, and I notice for the first time the dark circles under his eyes, the haggard look on his face.

And I could kick myself. Because it's just like I said. I can't do anything without hurting one of them. And the person I'm hurting right now is Gale. And he's being honest about it, in his own way.

"Both of you need to stop expecting so much. I can't...be who you want me to be. I'm not up for it. I'm not the girlfriend type." I tell him in a frustrated burst of anger. I hate that they have somehow magically linked up at this moment to put pressure on me. Without talking to each other, or even acknowledging each other at all. They just psychically know when I'm at my most vulnerable.

"Both of us?" Gale asks in confusion. And I wince, at my own stupidity. I'm still so flustered and confused after what happened with Peeta, and the conversation with Deen, I can barely think straight.

"It's really late. I'm going to bed." I tell him and he reaches out to catch my hand before I pass him.

"You mean you're not his girlfriend?" He asks me, with that terrible piercing gaze of his searching my face. I'm about to shake off his hand when his mouth seizes mine. He kisses me, hotly, fiercely, with longing and anger and intense desire all mixed together. And I feel like I can't breathe. Gale has never kissed me like this. These are the kind of dangerous kisses I've only shared with Peeta in the heat of the moment.

I never imagined Gale could make me feel like this. He's pulling me flush against him, fitting me onto his skin, and my hands fidget wildly, unsure of whether to push him away or pull him closer.

When his tongue traces the seam of my mouth, I gasp, and it's all the invitation he needs. He certainly put all that practice behind the merchant shops and wherever else he kissed girls to use. He does incredible things to me with his lips, and his tongue, and his teeth. And he's not gentle, and he doesn't ask permission. And I grip the front of his shirt in an effort to hang onto my sanity. Suddenly I don't feel morally superior to the girl with the chestnut colored hair. I actually empathize with her, because I can imagine for just a second how getting kissed by Gale so passionately can make a woman lose her senses just a bit. Because he can be very persuasive when he wants to be. And I don't mind his take no prisoners approach.

Still, as great as the kiss is, I know that it's wrong to kiss him like this right now. We're both so screwed up. We're both still pissed off at each other, and we haven't even begun to work out what happened with him and the mystery girl, or me and Peeta. So I break the kiss, forcefully, and turn my face away from him. But instead of taking the hint, his lips just start to trail down my neck. And I'm breathing hard, and ragged when I try to speak.

"Gale, please."

"Please what Catnip? Tell me what you want and I'll give you whatever you ask for."

"Gale,"

"You said you're not his girlfriend. You told Haymitch that night in the kitchen that you're not in love. So why, why can't I kiss you?" He asks, his voice furious and frustrated as he breathes in the scent of my neck and hair.

"We agreed to wait, to start over. You promised."

"Yeah, did he make the same promise? Did he wait? Or has he been kissing you this whole time?"

"Do you really want to talk about this right now? Right here?"

"I don't want to talk about it ever. But it keeps me up at night, wondering. Maybe I've done things to keep you up too. Maybe I'm a damn fool, and I hurt you. But nobody knows you like I do. You and me, we've got years between us. We've got friendship, and partnership, and we're not too bad on the chemistry side either. So if you don't want to be someone's girlfriend, I won't ask you to be mine. And if you don't want love, I won't try and reign you in. We can just be us. You and me. We can just stick together like we always do, watch each other's backs, keep each other company. Kiss when we feel like it, hunt and fish and just be together when we don't. We've never been complicated Katniss. Not until he came along. Not until you had to pretend to be someone you're not." He tells me with his eyes closed as he leans against me.

And I breathe shakily, because everything he is saying is what I want. Simple, uncomplicated, no grand confessions, not earth-shattering realizations. Just...enough. Something I can be comfortable with. Something I don't have to run away from.

But I bite my lip, as I consider this. It sounds an awful lot like the offer Peeta made when we first started up. And things hadn't remained simple for very long, despite all the good intentions. But maybe Gale was different. Maybe he was more like me, and didn't want or need extravagant emotions to live just fine. Maybe.

"I'll keep that in mind, for when we get where we're going. But until then, let's put a pin in this." I say quietly, leaning my forehead against his chin. He sighs. And I sigh. I give his hand a squeeze and turn around to leave. He doesn't try to stop me.

I walk into my kitchen and close the door behind me. I lean against the door, listening for his soft footfalls. Finally, after a minute or two, he walks away quietly. And I'm so tired, so worn out I barely make it to bed. I don't even bother getting undressed. And I'm grateful for the hours of hard labor, because my body is too tired not to fall asleep immediately.

Chapter Text

(Deen's POV)

I'm awakened by the sound of pounding coming from the front door. I don't know if it's a very enthusiastic delivery man with more party supplies, but I just throw a shirt on and drag myself out of bed. I feel horrible, but I think Peeta feels worse. He hardly slept last night, even after all that backbreaking work. He probably couldn't after she left, and we saw that tall cousin of hers make a beeline for her house.

There was something fishy going on there. But when I'd looked at Peeta questioningly, he'd shaken his head in such a sad expression. And turned away from the window like he didn't want to see what would happen next. I followed his lead. And I knew he couldn't talk about it at that moment. So, I'd let it slide. And when I'd woken up at five am and tried to slip out of his kitchen, he'd just been standing there between the island and the stove. Like he was frozen, immobile, like someone had trapped him in those glass tubes they used on us before the Games. He looked so lost, I'd forgotten my thirst, my quest to slip out and run down to the Hob and try to trade for some alcohol. I'd reached a hand out to him, but he'd just shaken his head as if trying to clear his mind.

"Go back to bed Deen." He'd told me, and because I didn't want to make things worse for him, I did.

It was strange. It didn't make sense because they worked so well together, and she seemed so improved from the last time I saw her. Him too. When she had walked into the kitchen and caught me trying to sneak out last night, I almost hadn't recognized her.

She looked flushed and rosy, her lips swollen from kissing and her skin glowing with that recently sated look that I'd come to recognize most women wore when they'd been shown a really good time. And I had been so startled, so caught off guard that I hadn't been able to leave fast enough.

But more than the fresh sexed look, she'd had a soft glow in her eyes. Like her rough edges had been smoothed over a little, like she had discovered something more to hold onto than fear and anger.

Something good had happened to her during those two months I'd been off chasing destruction. And instead of tearing herself apart like I had, she'd been rebuilt. Carefully, with caution and precision. And I knew there was only one guy who stood a chance against her prickly nature and dismissive and often inconsistent attention.

The lucky bastard.

But now, seeing him slumped over tiredly in an armchair, so tired even the racket of the pounding on the front door was not able to wake him up, I thought maybe he wasn't so lucky after all.

Katniss was the type of person who couldn't stand to have other people force her into things. And if she felt like she didn't have a choice about something, she might reject it even if it was something she really wanted.

Snow, he was the real bastard. They hadn't invented a cuss word ugly enough to describe him accurately. He poisoned everything he touched. And he had tried to break them by forcing them together. But I was still holding out hope that Peeta wouldn't give up. If he could just hang on through all the mixed up, confusing shit then she'd realize just what they had. She'd have to. If she didn't I'd get Haymitch to sit on her like they did for me, and I'd give her big stupid speech about how they're meant for each other despite what the Capitol did, and maybe because of it too.

Because who else could find a way to stay sane, much less find happiness and contentment in a situation like this? If it wasn't true love? Nobody, that's who. And I'd tell her all that and more, once we got through all this crap and got away.

"Yeah, yeah hold your horses, I'm coming." I say as I move to open the door. And instead of a deliveryman its two peacekeepers and a thin blond woman in a white coat at the door. I try to slam the door closed, thinking that maybe they found out about the plan.

"Peeta!" I yell and I hear his chair crash as he jumps up and runs over to me. But the Peacekeeper on the right shoved his boot in the crack of the door before I could get it closed. I'm struggling to try and force the door closed, but Peeta's eyes just widen in some kind of recognition when he sees the blond lady.

"It's okay Deen, it's Katniss's doctor." Peeta says, and he moves in front of me to open the door.

"Mr. Mellark, do you always have your associates guarding your front door?" The skinny blond asks suspiciously as her and her two escorts barge in.

"No, you'll have to excuse my fellow victor. This is Deen Sparrow, and he may be a little out of sorts right now. He's staying with me until the wedding. Drying out for the ceremony." Peeta says in a tired voice.

"What can I help you with, Doctor?" Peeta asks when the door finally closes. He's all polite and playing the perfect host, despite these thugs showing up unannounced at the crack of dawn.

"My name is Dr. Narsissa Sculapus, and I'm here on orders from the President to examine you. Since all of Miss Everdeen's tests came back normal and healthy, we're going to need a sample from you, to rule out any reasons for complications when it comes to conceiving." She tells me quickly, and her eyes start roving around the living room as if she wants him to whip it out and contribute a specimen right here.

I feel sick to my stomach. Like I'm about to literally vomit. This Capitol doctor barges into my mentor's home, a little after dawn and wants to what? Strip him naked, examine him, and then get a sample of his...body fluids? What in the world?

"You people are disgusting, you know that? You're freaks, all of you!" I yell at her and one of the peacekeepers nudges me with his gun in a universal gesture for 'shut up'. But the doctor turns her inhuman cold eyes on me.

"Get this boy out of here." She orders and the peacekeeper closest to me starts to grab my arm. I break free of his grasp and get ready to throw a punch when Peeta's voice rings out, clear and firm and commanding.

"You're all guests in my home! And I do not allow violence within these walls. Lay a hand on my friend, and you'll find yourself kicked out. I don't care if you go back empty handed. They can take a sample in two days when we arrive in the Capitol for the reception. That is, unless you agree to keep your hands, and your guns to yourself. Then I will be more than willing to comply with your requests." Peeta's face is stony, his gaze hard and unyielding. And he's usually so soft spoken that I'm really surprised by his reaction.

But he's so tired, and at the end of his rope. I know it has to be bad for him to raise his voice at these Capitol thugs instead of making a joke and turning the situation into a friendly misunderstanding.

I take a step back and decide if he's going to submit to the exam then I better make myself scarce. I move towards the kitchen, and tell him I'm heading over to Haymitch's. He waves me off. But I'm not just going to get Haymitch. I'm getting Katniss too. Because she doesn't know how much he's gonna need her.

(Katniss POV)

(Love Somebody acoustic- Megan Davies & Jaclyn Davies)

Waking up in my old bed feels strange, almost alien. Waking up alone feels stranger. But as soon as I open my eyes, awareness hits me and I feel...awful and ashamed of what happened with Gale last night. I had let him kiss me while I was confused about my feelings for Peeta. I had wanted to be distracted, and he had done that, but this morning I felt like that selfish black hole Haymitch accused me of being yesterday.

His words had hit home, and they felt like they were still lodged like arrows under my ribs. It felt more and more like I wasn't able to trust myself these days. I didn't know what was wrong or right, and my mind and emotions were playing tricks on me. Last night I had seen a series of nightmares flicker across my exhausted mind, of losing Peeta, losing Gale, losing them both. The most frightening one featured paying another visit to the apartment above the florist's shop. I reached out to greet a pregnant Heather as she held a plate of food to me, but then suddenly we had switched places and I was the one holding the plate out with one hand. The other hand was over my huge stomach protectively, as I caressed my swollen belly. I had woken up screaming, and Prim had come in to check on me. But I had brushed off her concerns saying it was just a typical nightmare. Still, it had woken me up at 5am, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't go back to sleep.

So this morning I dragged my feet as I got up to shower and dress. The dark circles were making a comeback today it seemed as I scowled at myself in the mirror. Still we had a lot to do, preparations to make for the bridal shower and bachelor parties that were taking place tonight. We had opted not to celebrate the night before the ceremony, so we could all wake rested and ready for that day. Any long celebrations that were going to be had would take place tonight. So I went downstairs to help my mother and Prim with the decorating and whatnot. But I was surprised to find a frantic Deen in my foyer, panting as he tried to explain to my mother why Peeta needed help, specifically my help. I didn't even wait to hear the rest, I just grabbed my coat and rushed over to Peeta's house while Deen went to go rouse Haymitch.

I walked in the front door, to find the two familiar bulky and stern looking Peacekeepers standing in the living room. I swept past them without a glance, and one of them called out a warning to that blond doctor they usually had with them. I'd kill her, if she laid a hand on him. I'd strangle her with my own bare hands.

But she just emerged from a spare bedroom on the first floor, her bag in hand and tried to walk past me.

"What did you do to him?" I demanded, as I stepped in her way.

She blinked at me, not even afraid. Stupid woman. She had no idea how rage and fear could make a person even as small as me dangerous.

"Nothing out of the ordinary medical exam, Miss Everdeen. In fact, my business here is concluded. Unless of course you're in need of my services? Missed a period yet?" She questions me in an almost bored tone, and I see red. But before I can reach out and rake my nails over her face, Peeta is behind me, pulling me against him with strong arms, and an iron grip. I know I won't win out against his strength.

"Get the hell out!" I scream at her. And the woman actually has the nerve to look down at me in a completely dismissive gesture.

"Teenagers," She mutters before turning around and walking back to the living room where her bodyguards are waiting.

"Katniss," Peeta's voice is a hiss in my ear. His tone is full of caution and warning. But I still struggle in his arms. The urge to meet this invasion of privacy with hostility and violence is just a little too strong.

"Cut it out, we have a wedding to worry about, remember?" He tells me a little more forcefully and I let the energy drain from my body. I turn around to assess him, and find he looks twice as bad as I did this morning.

I gasp and reach out a hand to touch his cheek, but he disentangles himself from me quickly.

"I'm fine Katniss, just had a lot of nightmares." He tells me, and I feel wretched.

"Peeta-"

"I don't feel like talking about it right now. We've got a lot to do today anyway."

I don't know how to reply. There's nothing I can really say that will make up for how he is feeling. So I just nod, mutley and we head back into the living room to watch as the doctor and her two guards get ready to leave.

"You both need to make it more of a priority to conceive. I don't expect to find anything medically wrong with Mr. Mellark's sample. Both of you seem to be healthy and robust. So, you must not be applying yourselves to the task." She tells us, turning around after she puts her winter coat on.

I think my eyes almost fell out of my head. God, how could this woman be so blunt? And who the hell did she think she was to accuse Peeta and I of not sleeping together enough?

"I practically live here now." I tell her defensively. Crossing my arms over my chest uncomfortably.

"Be that as it may, you might need to pick up the frequency. If you're not with child by the end of your honeymoon the President has authorized an extended stay for the both of you in the Capitol, at my fertility clinic. So, if that doesn't appeal to you, I'd advise you to correct the situation." She says in that clinical, detached tone of hers that gets under my skin so much.

And before Peeta or I can argue, or respond, she's out the door and her goons are gone with her.

I am startled out of my wits, when a decorative urn that usually sits on Peeta's entryway table goes crashing into the back of the closed door, and shatters into a million pieces. I turn to see Peeta, red faced and angry. His body is poised as if he just threw something with all the force he had in his strong frame. And I guess he did.

I know why he's angry. And while some part of it is the Capitol doctor invading his home and violating both his privacy and his control over his own body, I know that the larger part of his anger stems from me. I stare at him, he is breathing hard, looking lost and so hurt.

And this is what I was afraid of too. Hurting him. When he turns around in the direction of the kitchen, to go and get the broom presumably, I just tell him to sit down.

"I'll get it. You look like you're ready to keel over from exhaustion." I told him seriously. And he slumps into a chair, not looking at me.

Haymitch and Deen come in then, from the back door in the kitchen. But they have missed all the fun. So Deen just volunteers to make eggs and toast for Peeta and Hyamitch, and I clean up the mess of broken shards at the front door. Haymitch shoots me a deadly look when he sees Peeta's despondent state. I try to ignore him. As if I don't feel guilty enough already.

I linger as they eat breakfast, but refuse to eat since my mother will no doubt keep something waiting of rme at home. And even though I know I should get back to help her and Prim, I can't make myself leave.

Haymitch sees me, lingering and rolls his eyes. As soon as Peeta is done eating, he turns to me.

"Girl, get him upstairs and make sure he sleeps. We've got a lot to do today, and he's not going to be of use to anyone like that." He says pointing to Peeta.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not in the room. And I don't need any help finding my own bedroom." Peeta cuts in, and I know I'm in the dog house. Haymitch just narrows his eyes at Peeta and scowls.

"Stop being a stubborn idiot, and let her apologize for whatever fool thing she's done now. You knew she was a clueless infant when you decided on her. No use crying about things you can't change in people." Haymitch says gruffly, and then tells Deen he needs help getting party supplies out of the boxes. Deen, for as much of pain as he was yesterday, seems to be determined to be as helpful as possible today, and he leaves with Haymitch unquestioningly.

Peeta, upon seeing them leave, just locks his jaw angrily and I look down at my shoes. It doesn't seem like a good time to talk, and I don't know what to say anyway. That wouldn't come out feeble and inadequate sounding. So I turn around to go back out the front door, thinking maybe he just needs more time.

"I saw you last night." He tells me. And I'm glad I'm not facing him, so he doesn't see the utter humiliation and shame on my face. I take a second to compose my features, and then turn around.

"I'm sorry." I tell him weakly, and I can see my words just hurt him and make him angrier. His hands are clenched into fists now, and he still hasn't looked at me.

"So I guess we don't even have to wait till after the wedding to find out. You don't love me. And you never will." He tells me flatly, in a dead voice.

I gape at him, because he really doesn't understand.

"On the contrary. I think...last night proved that wrong. What happened before everyone got here was one of the scariest moments of my life, despite my desperate attempts not to give into fear. Not because I don't feel anything for you. Because I do. It's clear now though, that it will never be enough compared to you Peeta." I tell him quietly, honestly, because maybe the only thing that will stop him from hating me completely is for me to be honest with him.

He stares at me long and hard, and his gaze isn't unlike Gale's, when he's trying to assess me. I exhale slowly, waiting for him to respond.

"So you kissed somebody else because you were afraid of feeling something for me?" He asks, his brows quirked up in confusion, and then he frowns as if the question itself doesn't make sense.

"I didn't kiss him. I was trying to leave. He's just...I don't know, pulling out all the stops I guess. A little desperate. He told me it felt like I was slipping away. Which was quite a coincidence because earlier I felt like I barely knew who I was after what we did. It was just too much Peeta, too intense. I didn't know what to do with all that…" I trail off, unsure what to say or how to explain adequately how I felt.

And he winces. I know he doesn't want to hear this. What person wants to be told by the one they love more than anything, that the intensity and depth of their feelings can't be returned?

"Well, I guess I jumped the gun then." He says quietly, mostly to himself. He shakes his head, and looks down at the table.

"Peeta, I don't know if I'll ever be ready for something like that big. Or if that's what I want. I know I need more than I had before. Everyone seems to agree that I'm better now, and have improved in the last few months. And I do feel better. But that doesn't mean I'm ready for forever. We're only 18, we don't know what the future holds. We need to...be more cautious with our feelings." I tell him, hoping he will understand.

"I told you once before, that I wasn't sure if I could only give you a small part of how I feel." He replies, seriously, gloomily.

"I know." I say, and I look into his eyes.

"So we're at an impasse." He answers finally, and I think over this term.

Yes, we're unable to progress, so it's an accurate description of our situation. I nod, not speaking.

"And what did Gale say? That he wouldn't ask you to return his feelings? That you didn't have to make any commitments?" Peeta's voice is hard again, and I blush. Because he said he saw us, not heard us, so how could he know?

"Like I said, some people really aren't that hard to predict. But you should know it's all bullshit. What he said. He loves you too, that much I do know. And he'll only be able to go on for so long, before he ends up like me." Peeta says aggravatedly, as he picks at a loose thread on one of his place settings.

"I had a feeling that that's what it was…" I say quietly, more to myself than him.

"So what are you going to do? Now that both your options are turning out to be more than you bargained for?" Peeta asks in a tired, almost disinterested voice.

"I'm going to take it day by day. Minute by minute if I have to. The wedding won't stop just because we're not happy with the way things have turned out for the moment." I tell him in a practical manner.

He just shrugs at me and I sigh.

"You should really go back to bed. You look terrible Peeta." I tell him seriously, before turning around and starting to leave.

"I think it's appropriate. My outside matches my inside." He says with a self deprecating laugh, but it has a bitter edge to it, and it stops me in my tracks. And I'm reminded of what Haymitch said, before any of this started.

"You just be careful with him. You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve that boy."

His words haunt me even now.

"Peeta, let's get you into bed." I turn around and walk over to him. He blinks at me and then smirks in a mirthless way.

"You can't fix everything with sex Katniss. It's not a cure all." He tells me, and I blush beet red I'm sure.

"I wasn't-I'm not, that was not a-" I start to babble, flustered, because I was really only offering to help him upstairs, and maybe stay with him till he fell asleep.

He quirks one eyebrow up at me, and I scowl.

"I wouldn't sleep with you out of guilt or pity Peeta." I tell him offhandedly.

"Oh, that's too bad." He says with a sarcastic tilt of his head and an offensive smile. And I think, this is Peeta when he's really badly hurt. This is him, defensive. This is what exists inside of his heart beneath the layer of polite avoidance he met me with after our Games, and beneath the angry frustration that seemed to have no true outlet. He wasn't such a precious little angel after all.

And it throws him off when I smirk back at him. The bluffing expression falls right off his face, when he sees I've seen through it. But instead of letting him slip back into anger, indifference, or defeat. I just reach out and grasp his hand. I can't leave him like this.

"Just because we haven't figured out how to move forward right now, doesn't mean we have to be at odds. We're friends, despite it all. A team. So let's call a truce ok? Remember your promises, Mellark. Friends no matter what. And friends can tuck each other in, after a hard night." I tell him seriously, but also challengingly.

He scoffs a little, and looks down at our connected hands. He seems to consider my offer.

"I might need a kiss too." He answers in challenge.

"I think I can work something up. Are you coming?" I tell him as I let go of his hand and head for the stairs. He sighs for a bit, and then gets up to follow me.

He flops down on his bed exhaustedly, and I lean over him to pull the covers around him. He settles down unenthusiastically. And I'm paused there above him, wondering if I should stay a minute and do something like stroke his hair.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks as he looks up at me and I know he can see the puffiness in my eyes, and the dark circles under them.

"Terribly. I had nightmares all night long." I tell him honestly as I smooth down his cowlick. He closes his eyes and just enjoys the feeling of my fingers in his hair.

"Well, feel free to climb in if you want to take a nap." He murmurs, his eyes already drooping drowsily.

"Oh, if I climb in right now you know nobody's going to get any sleep." I say with a crooked grin. And he smiles back at me dreamily.

"Can't blame me for trying. I've only got two days left. Need to make the most of every opportunity..." He says, trailing off. He's almost asleep when I reply.

"Sure do." I tell him, before leaning down to press my lips softly to his and he makes a noise in the back of his throat like I taste delicious. And his hands are reaching up and pulling me down over him. And I'm kissing him softly, and brushing my hands through his hair. I know he needs to sleep, and I need to get back. So I just resolve to kiss him like I want to, like he needs me to, gently and soothingly.

Eventually he settles back, and rests his head on his arm. But he doesn't release me, he just tucks me into himself. And I know he needs to feel me close like this, so he can fall asleep. But I underestimate my own tiredness. The next thing I know I'm being woken up by the sound of Haymitch's voice calling from downstairs.

"Wake up you lazy good for nothings! It's almost noon. And the beer pretzels aren't going to bake themselves!" His voice is loud and blaring and I jerk up right. From the look of the sunlight coming in through the window he is correct. It's probably noon now. I feel Peeta stir and I give his shoulder a light nudge.

"We slept too late." I whisper.

"Oh? That's a crying shame." He tells me with a delinquent look in his eyes, before reaching out to pull my face toward his.

The kiss is quick, but heated and I feel a little shaken by it even after he pulls away.

"Regretting your decision to nap instead of seizing the opportunity?" He asks as he stands up and stretches. I answer with a pillow thrown at the back of his head. He chuckles in that infuriatingly sexy way and I roll my eyes at him and myself for being so transparent.

"Do I need to go up there and spray you two with the hose?" Haymitch's impatient voice calls out and I stomp loudly on the floor to indicate my decreasing patience for Haymitch's inflammatory remarks.

"We'll be down in a minute. Just need to clean up the frosting!" Peeta calls down as he adjusts his shirt which had become crooked while we slept. I look over at him angry and foreboding but he just smiles at me and crosses the distance between us in a few quick uneven strides. His leg always bothers him a little when he first wakes up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing shouting that kind of stuff throughout the house?" I tell him furiously.

"I'm living on borrowed time sweetheart, and so I don't have that much to lose." He says with a laugh. And I frown. That's the second or third time he's indicated that our relationship is ending and it's starting to give me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Are you planning on breaking up with me?" I ask, startled by the words that come out of my own mouth. And we both blink in surprise at each other. I turn around hastily, and pretend to re-lace my shoes.

"I didn't know there was anything to break…" His answer sounds confused. And I flush, embarrassed. My brain is definitely not working today. I might need to get my head checked. It's been off the fritz for a while now.

"Right, yeah of course." I say quickly brushing it off. I smooth down my hair and make to leave the room when his hand reaches out to touch my arm. Not restraining me, like Gale had done, but just asking me not to leave yet.

"I thought I was the only one who would be broken if this ended. Am I wrong?" He asks and his eyes are long and searching, like they were the night before when we stood in front of his window and he asked me if I was still trying not to fall for him.

"Just because you have the most to lose, doesn't mean it won't affect me. I've already told you that I need you." I say quietly, looking at the door. The words come out stubborn and unwilling from my lips and I can tell he's staring at me again uncomprehendingly.

We're quiet for four, five heartbeats, but they seem to stretch on forever.

"Well, you're not in danger of me calling it quits. I was referring more to you being the one to give up." He says with a strength to his words I would not have expected. His eyes are clear and honest as he stares back at me.

"Giving up would mean losing you, and our friendship? Relationship? I...don't know….I just want….to find a way to...breathe. To just be, and find out the truth." I tell him and he nods after a second. His hand reaches out and brushes my cheek. I'm just about to lean into his touch when we're interrupted.

"Haymitch sent me up here….to get you all...Hey I don't see any frosting!" Deen's voice cuts in and we both jump a little when he speaks.

Peeta just laughs at Deen's surprise to find us both clothed and not the least bit indisposed.

I just feel annoyed at Peeta and Haymitch and Deen. All of them could be so crass sometimes.

"You idiots can prep your own beer pretzels. I'm out of here." I tell them before striding away. Their amused laughter rings through the house as I rush down the stairs.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

When I get back home, my mother and Prim brush off my apology, saying that it was better for me to focus on the Capitol doctor's visit and help Peeta. They apparently enlisted Hazel and the kids to come over and help with the decorations since it's a Saturday and there's no school. There's a festive atmosphere and we all work quickly. Since we have more than enough food, and we want to thank them for all their help, we make a big lunch and everyone eats appreciatively.

"What are you going to be doing for the bridal shower?" Posey asks curiously around a mouth full of duck and potatoes. Her mother just nudges her and she chews more discreetly. I smile at her affectionately.

"Actually, Prim's in charge of the activities and the schedule. I just have to make it through the whole night without leaving to win the bet with your big brother." I tell her in a secret whisper and wink at her.

Her little face lights up and she practically bounces in her chair.

"You and Gale made a bet?!"

"Yeah, we bet that the other one would try and leave the party first. So, to win I have to stay all night and let them put makeup on me and braid my hair, and all sorts of stuff like that." I tell her with a laugh, and Hazel smiles over at me.

"Oh, Gale won't be able to make it the whole night. He hates these big fancy houses, and hates Mellark's house the most." Rory comments before taking a big sip of water, and I can hear the thud of Hazel's kick under the table and Rory winces.

"Sorry," He mutters and I swallow nervously. I had no idea Gale had talked about how uncomfortable he is being in Peeta's home with his brother.

"Oh, it took us forever to get used to it, but the extra room will come in handy tonight with all our guests." Prim swoops in and steers the conversation towards a more neutral topic. And soon everyone is talking about the party foods and activities planned and Rory and Vic seem surprisingly interested in what a gathering of girls will do for fun.

They depart happily, and I promise to save my lipstick for Posey when the party's over and she literally skips home with her mom and brothers. Then it's time for Prim and I to get ready. I shower while Prim picks out clothes for us. She wears one of my old dresses from my first victory tour, a pretty pink one that suits her much better than it ever did me. I'm a bit surprised it fits her, but then she is almost the same I was when I wore it. I am wearing a new dress from Cinna, it's a simple but sophisticatedly cut off white color, with a pattern of falling black feathers printed down one side. I wear flat little ballet shoes and Prim styles my hair by brushing it out so it falls in soft waves, and then she braids my bangs back away from my face and pins them. When I look at myself in the mirror I'm surprised again by how much older I look. Most of the time I feel like I swing between feeling like a terrified child, and a person worn down by worries that have aged them far past their natural age. But tonight I look exactly like my age. 18 years old, healthy and young and maybe just a little more serious than I should be. Prim just smiles at me and hands me some tiny pearl earrings to put on. We stand back and observe ourselves in the mirror and I smile at her.

"Prim, when did you get so grown up?" I ask, noticing how she doesn't have the figure of a tiny waif anymore. She nudges my shoulder affectionately.

"I guess I started growing up while you were busy saving us all." She says and I smile at her a little sadly, because I guess I've been so busy I haven't really noticed all the ways she's not such a little girl anymore.

"Don't worry you can make up for lost time, starting with tonight. I'm still waiting to hear the story about what happened at the Hob." She tells me and I stare at her incredulously.

"Prim! I can't tell you about that stuff!"

"Why not? What are sisters for if not to share these kinds of secrets?" She says with a mischievous smile and I can't help but laugh.

"You really are growing up, little duck." I tell her as I shake my head and laugh.

"And I'm really good at keeping secrets, even from mom." She tells me with a wink and I swallow nervously. I don't know if it's such a good idea to talk about all the things Peeta and I have done. There's a difference between knowing and learning the details of something.

"Alright, I'll take it under advisement." I say, and she just shoots me a sly smile. Because we both know she's right. If I don't talk to her, who will I talk to about all this crazy stuff that's happened the last two months? Gale and Peeta? They're both incredibly biased. Mom? She'd have a breakdown if she knew how confused I still feel.

Before I can start a conversation, the doorbell rings and we head for the entryway and find Madge being let in by my mother. She looks pretty in a light purple dress that makes her tiny blond features look delicate and girly and I smile at her when she turns and sees me. We greet each other with a light but affectionate hug. I haven't been able to see her much over the past two years, what with all the touring and mentoring we had to do. But she's remained my friend. We don't speak everyday or anything, but we are the kind of friends that can pick up right where we left off. And since she's early Prim enlists her help in putting out the horderves.

We lined up little trays of different kinds of sweet breads and buttery breads from Peeta's family bakery that he dropped off earlier. We also have cheese and small bites of baked goose drizzled with a sweet herb and oil blend. There's a pitcher of sparkling lemonade and little cups. Just as we stand back to admire our work, the doorbell rings and girls start filing in. Prim introduces me to them all, but their names don't automatically stick in my head and Madge just smiles at me sympathetically. She sticks close to me to help out with names and chit chat. But after only twenty minutes I start to feel a little overwhelmed.

They're all asking me so many questions about Peeta, and the wedding, and our relationship that I feel like it's almost a Caesar Flickerman interview, except that instead of responding to one person I'm trying to answer six very enthusiastic giggling reporters.

"How did you feel when he asked you to marry him?" One girl named Verbena asks.

"My stomach was doing flip flops." True enough, I had felt like I was going to vomit right on stage that day, but not from joy or butterflies. From terror.

"What was your first kiss like?" A dark dark haired girl named Lucy asks.

"Well, he was feverish and very ill, so it was kind of stressful." I say quickly.

"What's your favorite thing about him?" A brown haired mousy girl asks and I have to think for a minute.

They way he holds me in his sleep. I think, but I can't say this out loud, without causing a riot so I cast around for something innocent and banal.

"The way he cooks."

When the girls hear that he cooks for me, it's like igniting a romance bomb and they all start gushing and fawning. And I thought this was supposed to be a celebration of one of the last nights of my single life, not a meeting of the Peeta Mellark fan club. I'm scowling by the time dinner is served, and Prim can tell I'm irritated. Madge just eats with an amused smile. But when the questions kick up again, she intervenes.

"You know, I bet the boys aren't discussing us at all. They're probably having fun playing cards, telling jokes, and such. Besides, Katniss is going to have the rest of her life to admire Peeta's cooking skills. Why don't you all think of something you've always wanted to ask Katniss about herself."

At first I'm grateful for Madge putting a stop to all the Peeta questions, but when she steers the conversation toward me I feel like I've been taken out of the fire and thrown into the frying pan.

"What did you want to be, when you were growing up? You know before you became a victor?" One girl asks suddenly, and I'm caught off guard by how insightful the question is.

"I guess I wanted to be a hunter." I tell them with a shrug.

"Always? Even when you were really young?" Another girl asks disbelievingly. And I frown, I try to think back to a time before my father died and that time is a little hazy. But there is a memory that surfaces, of a teacher asking us to draw what we saw ourselves doing in the future.

Some children drew themselves working in their family shops, or the mines, or as parents. I had drawn a picture of myself singing. I clear my throat remembering the image. My teacher had smiled when I presented the picture to her. She had patted me on the back and said if I kept up with my singing I might make it one day.

"A singer." I say, and the table grows quiet. I turn to look at their faces and see they are mostly smiling, Prim especially.

"I remember hearing you sing in the Games, it was sad but beautiful." One girl, with sandy colored hair and lots of freckles says and I smile at her wistfully.

I think back on Rue. The only person who could persuade me to sing besides Prim. She would have been 15 this year also, if the Capitol hadn't put her in an arena to die. I try to shake off the morbid thoughts, because I can't have a break down here in front of so many people. So I forcefully blink back my tears. The topic of my singing was always a touchy one. Prim was older now, and she didn't need me to sing her to sleep anymore. So I hadn't done more than hum on the rare occasion. Singing was complicated for me. It brought memories of my father, which were painful, and now Rue too. But it was also something I knew that was a part of me. Something I had let fade into disuse but could never really deny.

"You were so brave, I mean you are so brave. I wish I was more like you." The mousey girl says, and I think I remember her being introduced as Beryl, but her friends just called her Berry.

"Oh, no, don't wish for that." I say a little forcefully, and everyone stares at me. These poor girls don't understand what being a victor really means, but that's not their fault. So I amend my statement.

"I mean, I've done all I'm going to do. I'll be married soon, and probably very busy all the time. And you all are just starting your lives. You have your freedom to look forward too. You can have adventures, kiss boys and go to dances, and just be...young." I tell them with more honesty than I intended. And Madge looks over at me with a little concern.

"I never thought of it like that." Verbena says with a small smile and the other girls start to giggle and I laugh too.

"That's what tonight's about!" Prim says excitedly. "Well, except for the kissing boys part! But we don't need them to have fun! Come on everyone, let's go into the living room so we can start the activities!" At her suggestion, everyone gets up and heads excitedly into the living room. Well, almost everyone. I drag my feet. But Madge sees me and just turns around to steer my uncooperative body towards party central.

And soon we're enveloped in a cloud of powers and face paint. Some of the girls have never used makeup before, so I have to advise them to use much less than they think. Even with my cautions some girls end up looking frighteningly garish. So many of them have to wash their faces and start over.

When the mousey girl nicknamed Berry washes her face, she surreptitiously asks me to do her makeup. I hesitate. But she's so sweet and childish, even more so than the other girls. It would have hurt her feelings if I said no. So I try my best, and try to replicate the soft sweep of the brushes as my stylists have done for me throughout the years. I use only light colors, and very little at that. But when I'm done, I surprise even myself with how decent my work turns out.

"I love it." Berry says with a gap toothed smile, and I smile back at her softly. Prim beams at me. But then the other girls all want me to try and fix their makeup and I make an excuse to go to the bathroom and escape everyone for a bit. I decide to use my own bathroom upstairs, and after washing my hands four times, and just trying to stretch the time in general, I finally emerge. I'm surprised to find Madge in my room.

She's staring at the picture of the sunrise Peeta painted for me hanging next to my window.

"This painting is so realistic." She comments as she looks from the painting to the window outside. And I know she can see that it's the view of what Peeta sees when he looks out of his window.

"It's one of Peeta's." I tell her, confidentially.

"I thought he only painted the Games." She comments before turning around to look at me.

"He usually does." I say, not wanting to share the private story of why this painting is an exception. Madge is my friend but I don't know if I even want to discuss those kinds of secrets with Prim, and she's my sister and understands far more than Madge could.

"Are you nervous?" She asks me gently, and I nod. I know she means the wedding, which is definitely one of the things that has been racking my nerves lately.

"He's a good person. Maybe a little...over the top sometimes. But still, very nice." She tells me and smiles. Only someone who had been my friend for quite some time could understand me in this way. Because Peeta is over the top. He's also nice, so it's so damn hard to hold it against him, or even be annoyed by it. But I am right now, because it makes me uncomfortable to talk about how wonderful he is with all these girls who don't know the first thing about us, or him really. They see the outside, the sparkle and the gloss. The real Peeta is more complicated than they know.

He's got scars, and goes through dark patches, and he has nightmares the same as me. He gets mad. He's a real person. And so am I.

"It's not a fairytale Madge." I tell her in a low, almost muted voice. And she looks over at me, not surprised in the least.

"Love never is." She says, with a curious smile and I blow out a frustrated sigh at her words. Why does everyone keep talking about love like this?

"It would have to be love, or something very much like it to make you rant and kiss someone down at the Hob." She tells me in a knowing tone. I think my eyes are going to start going crossed from the very frequent number of times I keep getting startled.

"So, I guess everybody in the whole country's heard about that by now."

"Naw, just everyone in the district." She tells me with an amused smirk.

"I'll never live it down." I say woefully, and throw myself down on my bed. I cover my face with a pillow and growl into it in frustration.

"Oh, plenty of people think it's incredibly romantic. I myself was delighted to find out my good friend hasn't been shutting herself up because she's depressed as per usual. I'd much rather you be secluded in happiness." She tells me seriously and I remove the pillow and look up to find her sitting on the lounging chair and smiling over at me in an approving way.

"Happiness? I guess there's been a fair amount of that, recently. How do you know that what makes you happy in the moment will go on making you happy...forever?" I ask her desperately. I don't know why, because Madge is the same age as me, she's not married, or in love as far as I know. But she is a friend, and someone who knows how to keep confidence.

"I don't know if there's a sure fire way to know, like a standard test that works for everyone." She says with a laugh and I make a face. Because I know she's right and it was a stupid question.

"But I think...it's less about always feeling happy, than it is knowing that without that person you'll never be fully happy. Does that make sense?" She asks, and I think over her words.

Fully happy. Full of happiness. Needing someone to feel full. Needing someone to feel completely happy.

It made sense. But it was also so….needy and dependent. Two of my least favorite words.

"Why can't people just be happy as they are? Why do we need to...need someone else?" I ask, mostly myself.

"Because, if we were complete in ourselves, how would the next generation be made? Why would we feel the urge to go on, to keep struggling through this life if we didn't have the hope of becoming more than...the sum of all our parts?" She tells me with quiet wise words.

Madge had always been like this, wise beyond her years. But I had no idea she knew about things like these.

"You're an old soul, and a romantic." I tell her with a shake of my head.

"Yep. But so are you. Maybe not romantic like most girls. But he's obviously put effort into figuring out the things that matter to you." She tells me and I can't deny it.

Peeta and all his efforts. Cooking, and quiet time spent together. Breakfast and cold nights wrapped up with him. Lemon shampoo mixed the smell of cinnamon and dill as he cups my cheek after he runs his fingers through my hair. Efforts and patience. He learned all about me patiently over the last couple of months, and now we don't know where to go from here.

"He's great. Maybe a little too great sometimes. I almost feel like I couldn't dislike him if I tried." I tell her with a grimace. This is dangerous to say, and really uncharitable towards Peeta. But I feel like I really have to get it out there, while I can.

She laughs and bites her lip a little as she thinks it over.

"You don't necessarily have to like the person, to love them. But at this point, I'd think you'd be more certain." She tells me finally and I fidget, and pull at an old stray thread on my cotton sheets.

"There are a lot of things I'm not certain of. So many things I never had time to really figure out, between this fast paced life and all the pressure to...be who everyone wants to see on the screen."

"Ah," She says and nods, comprehendingly.

"Well, if you can't go in with love, the next best thing is loyalty and friendship. That was what my parents had, when they started out. If you can have at least that, love may come in time. It did for them, maybe it will work out for you too." She says after a minute. Her tone isn't light or pleasant. It's serious but also slightly hopeful.

She looks over me and I think that maybe, because of her father's position she knows more of what would be expected of a girl who presented herself as a star crossed lover to a nation obsessed with fiction on a screen. Because the Undersees must do their fair share of maintaining an image. Her mother is a very ill woman, and her father is a very important figure. I've been to her home when her mother is sick and she has to be secluded in a dark room for hours. I've been in her house on Reaping day, now that I'm a mentor. I've seen her father have to scramble and dash around trying to prepare his wife to go outside and sit in the hot square with thousands of people nearby.

She's such a frail woman, but when he's next to her she grips the sides of her dress and marches out with her daughter in grim determination. Because beneath the pain and the sickness and exhaustion there is something more important.

Love.

Duty, loyalty, sacrifice. All of those can be wrapped up in the fragile covering that can be called love. And I nod at Madge, because I remember and because I understand. And maybe some part of me has always understood. Maybe that's why I chose him when the time came.

I wanted to know what it would feel like to be loved by him. And it was so much more than I expected, and so different. And I still didn't know exactly what to do with all of it. But talking helped smooth out some of my anxieties. No one could really give me answers that could only come from within myself. But maybe as Madge said….maybe in time…

But Peeta and I didn't have much time left. And Gale was still waiting for an answer, waiting for a chance. After all our years together, would it be fair to deny him even that much?

"Hey what are you two doing up here so far away from the party?" Prim's inquisitive voice drifts in from the doorway to my room. I look up at her, and smile.

"Hiding out."

"Discussing love."

Madge and I both say at the same time and she laughs, while I snort. Prim smiles at us and a few of her friends file in and flop down on my bed as if they've been here a hundred times and have done such things before.

But I feel more relaxed after talking to Madge, and just resolve to let them be. They don't really bother me, underneath my own anxieties, they are harmless girls.

They spread out and examine my room a little and when they get to my closet there's squeals of delight. That summons the rest of them from downstairs and soon they are all running their fingers down the fabulous clothes Cinna has designed for me over the last few years. Most of them are still in his studio, but I have kept some with me. The ones I liked, the ones that were the most comfortable. I won't be able to take any of them with me, except the winter gear. But the girls are examining the dresses and gowns.

"Try on whatever you like," I tell them from my bed, looking up at the ceiling and wondering if I really have become a spoiled little victor. I find I am not pleased at the thought of parting with Cinna's beautiful creations. But I won't be coming back here. So maybe…

Not everything fits. But the ones that do, I tell them to keep.

Amidst the gasps and refusals, I tell them they will be doing me a favor. I won't be taking the clothes with me after I'm married.

"Are they making you a whole new wardrobe after the wedding?" Verbena asks as she holds us a cream colored skirt and matching top that I wore in district 5, two years ago.

"Something like that." I tell them. And they all resolve to pick only one thing each. Many of them end up with the dresses that fit me two years ago, the majority of them on the really skinny side as I once was.

But a few of them fit into outfits from the last two years. And all of them have smiles that light up like fireworks in the dark. There's a hushed, joyful reverence about their faces when they slip on the soft fabrics.

Lucy sighs as she stares at herself in a gown of green brocade, that makes her olive skin look warm and rich as it did mine when I wore it.

"You should take that one. It looks great with your coloring" I tell her, and she blushes. All the girls agree and I smile at them. They are all really nice to each other. They are all real friends. And I don't know why I'm surprised at this. It's not as if Prim would ever invite someone to our home who wasn't a really good and genuine friend. But it's a pleasant kind of surprise. And I find that after a few hours with these girls I haven't abandoned the house yet.

Gale is going down. I think and grin wickedly.

"What's that face for?" Prim asks and I laugh.

"Oh, just thinking about the bet I told Posey about this afternoon. Thinking about how I'm going to win." I tell her with a smirk and a self indulgent wink.

"You are my absolute favorite sister!" She tells me with a hug. She's happy things are going so well with her friends aaand that I'm planning on staying. She surveys the room, her friends spread out on the floor and window seat, and my bed. They are still most of them lounging in their gifted finery and look so happy. And I hope it's good enough for Prim, to have this night with them before we have to leave. Because I find I actually like them all, and I've only just met them. I can't imagine how she feels, having been friends with them for so long.

She doesn't look sad at this moment. She looks really happy. So I resolved to be happy too.

"Prim, I'm your only sister." I tell her and roll my eyes. She giggles and collapses beside me on the bed.

"And I'm lucky at that. Or else I'd be running around putting out twice as many fires if there was another like you!" She tells me fiercely and I sit up in indignation.

"What fires have you been putting out? I thought I was the one taking care of you!" I tell her emphatically.

"I had to defend your honor so many times last week, it became exhausting." She tells me seriously. And I cough, choking on my own spit, after swallowing my protest.

"Ohhhh! The Hob! Yes, yes, Prim has been absolutely beside herself trying to explain the whole massage comment." Verbena says with a positively indecent glint in her eye.

I blanche. Dear heaven, I will never live that down.

"I told them that Peeta is just really considerate. He massages your shoulders after you come back from hunting. Here in the living room, in plain view. You know, because your back can get tense after hunting day after day." Prim says snippily. Shooting Verbena a look. But the other girl just shrugs and grins unapologetically.

And I nod agreeing with Prim's defense, but maybe I gulp a little guilty. This does not go unnoticed by the others. And they practically huddle around me.

"What about the rest of it? You know, the kissing and...stuff they say happened?" The girl with the freckles asks. Her name is Pernia or Luperinia? I can't remember exactly, but the girls call her Perny.

"What stuff?" I ask incredulously. I am equal parts curious and terrified to find out what has been said about Peeta and I's adventure down at the Hob.

"Oh, you know, that he couldn't tear himself away from you after you bragged about him. That he got a little handsy and kissed you like he never wanted to stop." Verbena says casually, and I think she's got to be the trouble maker, or at least the fearless one of the group. She's certainly not shy.

I swallow, and look back and forth between them all. They're all waiting on bated breath to see what I'll say. Prim too. Her blue eyes are big and round. Even Madge is leaning forward in her chair.

"Well, I guess….he got a little carried away. But I recalled him to his senses." I tell them honestly. And they sigh collectively, in approval or disappointment, I have no idea which.

"I've always wondered what it feels like to have someone want you that much." The mousy girl, Berry says. I laugh softly at myself.

"It's a little terrifying sometimes." I tell them honestly, again. And they giggle.

"Why? Is he a brute?" a girl with dirty blond hair and doe-like brown eyes asks with a gasp.

"Peeta? Oh, no, he's very respectful. The day at the Hob was kind of an exception. He's almost shy at times." I say thoughtfully, and I can see some of them are surprised by this.

"It's just, it can be very intense, and overwhelming sometimes, being adored that way." I breathe out huffily as the words that I was searching for are released from my lips.

"Geez, I can't wait to fall in love." Lucy says wistfully and I frown.

"You all have plenty of years left for love. And lots to do besides wish for things you might not be ready for. It's as much a responsibility as it is a privilege. I wasn't ready to deal with it at 16. I'm still not sure what to do most of the time and I'm 18 now." I tell them as I sit on the edge of the bed and swing my legs back and forth as the words slip out. They're private words, but I can't help wanting to say these things. Because they are so young, and maybe no one has ever talked about counting the cost, of giving your heart, or receiving someone else's.

"But he's perfect for you. And you for him. Aren't you just...so happy?" Beery asks, in a confused voice.

"Real love isn't like the stories. Right Katniss?" Madge pipes up from the lounge chair and I nod. Gald for her help.

"Real people are complicated. Being together...isn't always sunshine and roses." I tell them and they frown a little, or quirk up their faces in curious scrunched expressions.

"But you both have everything you could ever want. Big houses, money, clothes, food." Verbena says, not cynically or mean spirited. Just in a skeptical tone.

And I think yes, we have all these things. But not freedom. Not the ability to choose.

"Yes, but what did it cost to get those things? They both had to survive the Hunger Games. Peeta lost a leg. Katniss, well Katniss had to do so much to keep him alive, and still she almost lost him. And now they're mentors, every year, for as long as they both live." Madge says in a wise voice as she rises from the chair by the window to come and sit next to me. I don't realize I'm wearing a horribly melancholy expression until I catch the sight of Madge throwing her arm around my shoulder in the mirror. I hug her back a little and nod.

Everyone is quiet, and it's suddenly as if they can feel the invisible strings that are attached to this big house, these fancy clothes, and this seemingly perfect life.

"Never thought about it like that." Verbena says quietly, pensively, as she looks down at her dress.

"She's the only one I know, who's brave enough to face it all, day in and day out with dignity." Prim says quietly as she gets up. No one replies, there's such a quietness full of feelings and thoughts at those words of hers. I don't know exactly what to say to them either.

"But, it's time to wash our faces and try the beauty treatments Cinna sent over. So, let's all get changed and wash up." She tells them all with a smile. And the seriousness is broken, and they are all excited 15 year olds again. And I'm grateful for Prim, and her timing.

I move to undress in the bathroom, and throw on some old pajamas. And while I do, I wonder how the boys are faring.

Chapter Text

(Peeta POV)

There's eight of us in total. Me, Deen, Haymitch, my brothers, Rye and Dill, my oldest friend Sorren, plus Gale and Rory. We certainly make for an odd bunch. At first, hardly anyone talks, and it's mostly just a bunch of guys pigging out on party food. But then Deen turns on a small music player he brought back from his trip. It's tiny and I can't even see the buttons on it, but he knows which ones to press and soon the awkwardness is drowned out by music, and everyone relaxes a bit.

Surprisingly, Deen and Rory know each other from school since they're the same age, and even have some friends in common. They chat while Haymitch sits on the couch eating the fresh baked soft pretzels I made earlier. He's had six already and is still eating them, despite there being a variety of snack foods and meat, thanks to the game Katniss caught this week. I think Haymitch is going for a record to see how many he can put away in one night.

My brothers are trying to make conversation with Gale, since Dill was in the same grade as him in school. But the one word answers he's giving them are making it difficult. I shake my head. I don't know why he bothered to show up for the party if he was just going to scowl and refuse to talk to anyone. Sorren, though, saves the day by suggesting a game of darts, and challenges Gale to see how many bullseyes he can get in a row.

Short answer, thirteen. Man, this guy hit the genetic lottery and he has good aim too. Not as good as Katniss, but almost. It's seriously annoying. Then everybody tries to beat Gale's score, and of course no one does, but they all have fun trying. I make sure we don't run out of food and try to keep Haymitch and Deen out of the beer.

My friend Sorren apparently thought I was joking when I told him I didn't want any alcohol at my bachelor party. He spent a good deal of money buying beer, and even though I offered to pay him back, he was deeply offended that I didn't want to put the beer out. Until I told him we had two recovering alcoholics with us. Then he relented and offered to help me keep watch over the booze hounds. Still, I'd already caught Deen sniffing around the kitchen three times. And Haymitch was in a foul mood as he watched my brothers drink and play this idiotic burping game they invented when Rye got married.

Gale doesn't let Rory drink, and I notice he only has one beer himself. I abstain as well, since I wouldn't be able to monitor Deen or Haymitch if I became impaired. After a makeshift dinner where everyone fixes plates at different times and nobody really sits down to eat together, Haymitch suggests a game of poker. That is when we all sit down in the dining room. At first we play a few hands for fun, but then things get competitive and the guys start playing for pocket change.

Haymitch, Deen, and I are the best players, but Gale is pretty decent at bluffing most of the time. He fleeces my brothers and they gripe loudly. Sorren loses almost every hand he plays, but he laughs and doesn't seem to mind at all. Haymitch bows out after Deen beats him three times in a row.

"At least you learned something in the last two months." Haymitch tells Deen with a sarcastic smirk. Deen smiles back at him, shark toothed and cocky.

"Any other insights you'd be willing to impart to the rest of us poor country boys?" Rory asks him as he smacks Deen on the back. Deen just throws his head back and roars with laughter.

"Rory, man, if I tried to tell you half the things those Capitol women taught me...well let's just say its not that bland stuff that Mr. Riner teaches in physical biology class!" Deen exclaims and he gets a lot of laughs and woops from the others. But Gale just eyes him sharply, and Haymtich frowns a little. I guess Deen feels like he has to put on a front, to cover up just how much he hated his time in the Capitol. After all, if people really knew the truth, they probably wouldn't be laughing.

"The one you should be advising is my little brother." Dill exclaims drunkenly. He's already red faced and slurring his words as he sways a little in his chair across from Deen. I frown at my brother. Out of the two of them, Dill has always been the talker, and the trouble maker. He used to always point out my shortcomings. And he's been resentful ever since I won the Games and came back rich. I think on some level it wounded his ego that I actually survived and became successful. He and my mother had always written me off as a waste of space.

But now that I had a big house, and was famous, he had to swallow a lot of his barbs and usual rude comments. After all, everyone loved Katniss and me. And it wouldn't do well to have one of my family members bad mouthing a victor, one of the prides of District 12.

"He's always been a little...slow when it comes to girls. Doesn't hardly know what to do with 'em!" Dill ellaborateds, and Rye, to his credit, elbows him and tells him to shut up. I roll my eyes. I've probably had more sex in the past week than he's had in the past year. He's infamous around town now as a player, and most decent girls refuse to go out with him.

"Oh, I have faith in my mentor." Deen says slyly, and shoots me a wink and a wicked grin. I can feel my face redden a bit, and Haymitch shakes his head. But Sorren just laughs and so does Rye. They're both recently married, and both of their wives have babies on the way. So I guess they feel a kinship.

"It certainly isn't all that complicated when you get down to it!" Sorren says with a roaring laugh and Rye chuckles deeply.

"I thought we were playing poker, not talking about women." I tell them, hoping to get everyone back on track. I certainly don't want to get any honeymoon advice right now, especially with Gale in the room. He's been pretty quiet, even seemed to relax and enjoy himself a bit as the night wore on but talking about me having sex with Katniss could push things over the edge.

"I told Rye, we should get him a manual. That way he can study it before the honeymoon!" Dill blurts out, and then laughs at his own joke. Rye shakes his head, but then he starts laughing a little too. I guess brothers just can't help teasing each other no matter how many years pass. I can feel myself get a little annoyed at this, but I just shrug my shoulders and try to play it off.

"If I was you, I'd save my money to buy a book on relationship advice since you can't seem to keep a girlfriend longer than a week lately." I tell Dill, knowing that the only way he'll shut up is if I confront him. His eyes go a little round, and he drunkenly lunges across the table at me, upsetting the cards and the chips. I just sidestep him easily. And he ends up crashing to the floor. I think that's the end of it, and he'll either accept he made an ass of himself or pass out. But he doesn neither. He just reaches out blindly and grabs onto the bottom of my prosthetic leg. He pulls as hard as he can, and then I'm falling on top of him, my leg nearly wrenched out of its harness in the process.

"What the fuck did you say to me, you little sissy?" Dill's voice is angry and inebriated as I vie against his strength. Now that the fight has started there'll be no stopping him or talking to him. So I know I just have to defend myself the best I can. He's always been the better wrestler, but right now he's drunk and sloppy, so I know I can hold out against him if I don't let him get under my guard.

"I said you've probably had one too many nights with just your hand to keep you company and now you're just plain jealous, you asshole!" I yell as he tries to get me in a headlock, but my elbow to his face stops him and in the momentary confusion I get the jump on him. I punch him in the jaw, and he counters by kicking out and catching me in the side of the head as he falls. He goes down hard.

My head hurts a little, but it's a glancing blow, and not even the worst I've received from him or my mother on a bad day when I was younger. So I just throw myself onto his back and get him in a full nelson. I'm a little wobbly, since my prosthetic is coming off, but I won't give him the satisfaction of winning just because I don't have two good legs.

He struggles under me for a minute, cussing and ranting a little. But I've still got two good arms, and I've grown in the past few years, gotten bigger and sturdier than the 16 year old he used to beat up on. I grip his arms tighter, knowing it's damn uncomfortable for him. Then Rye just lumbers over and stops the fight like he always used to.

"Alright, alright. That's enough, both of you. This is a party for goodness sake. Start acting decent or I'll douse you both with a bucket of the coldest water I can find." He says in that deep gravelly tone of his.

That's my oldest brother for you, slow to anger and action, but when you bother him enough he'll make sure to follow through on his threats. Dill huffs angrily, but then tells me to get off him. I shift off his back, releasing his arms, and letting him up and he gets up and he stalks off.

"Told you my mentor shouldn't be underestimated." Deen says with a quirky eyebrow and people laugh. Then Deen is there offering me a hand up, since my leg is obviously not cooperating, and he lets me sling an arm over his shoulder so I can walk with his help to the spare room and fix my prosthetic. I worry a little about Haymitch getting into the liquor while I'm trying to fix my leg, but Deen just paces around looking out the window.

"Why didn't you just tell them you and Katniss have already had sex?" Deen asks me, and I stare back at him surprised.

"Did Haymitch tell you-" I start to ask but he shakes his head. I mean, I know we've joked joked it, but I never actually came out and said Katniss and I had sex. Even earlier when he caught us, we were just sleeping like we usually do on the nights on the train. Deen had seen us back then before his Games and on his victory tour. When he'd asked why we bothered to keep separate rooms on the train and at the training center I'd told him about the nightmares, and how things weren't always as they seemed. He hadn't believed me at first, but after his Games he understood. We'd stayed up with him enough times on his victory tour, and those nights hadn't been about anything other than fear and exhaustion.

"Oh, no. Haymitch didn't say a word. I saw her come into the kitchen last night looking like the cat who got the cream. We talked about it a little while you all worked." He says, as he looks across the way at her house. What I wouldn't have given to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. But he doesn't offer any details, and I don't know if I should ask for any. He's got a closed off look that he gets when he thinks of his time in the Capitol.

He stares out the window and I guess he's wondering how she's fairing, like I am.

I just hope there's less fisticuffs at her party than there are at mine. I examine Deen's words about Katniss, and I don't know how to exactly explain the nuances of the whole complicated thing that's going on between me and her, and her and Gale. I don't even know if it's completely my story to tell.

"It's nobody's business what we do in our private lives." I say, finally settling on a track that I hope covers all the bases.

Deen laughs at this, probably thinking about all the cameras and interviews we've done over the years talking about our relationship, our love for each other, and our plans for a shared future, and children. It's all lies. And none of it has been very private. But Deen still doesn't know all that. He came into our lives when speaking the truth was still a luxury we couldn't afford. So I sigh, not knowing how much to tell him.

"This thing, between me and her. It's new. Really new, and I just don't want to…" I trail off, unable to elaborate more.

"Fuck it up?" Deen fills in the blanks and I nod. Exactly, but I just hadn't been able to put it so succinctly.

"Well, you both seem the better for it. So I hope you don't give up. She's kinda unpredictable, and hard to pin down I'm guessing. But maybe if you just keep trying she'll see reason." He tells me seriously.

I look at his sincere expression and then over to the window at her house. Wishing like hell I didn't have to have this stupid pointless party and she could just come over like usual.

"I'm doing everything I can. I just don't know if it will be enough, or if maybe it's too much." I tell him and he thinks about this for a minute.

"I don't know her as well as you. But I think I know her a little. And if I was in your position, I'd say...don't sell yourself short. She needs you just about as much as you need her. You may not be able to see it, but everyone else can. You help her hold it all together. She can't afford to lose you man. So, maybe just ease off on the chivalrous romantic crap a little bit, and let her see what an important part of her life you are." He tells me and I think about this.

She never says she loves me. But when I press her, she always says she needs me. But what did that really mean? And did I want to keep a hold of her, out of some twisted sense of dependency?

"I love her, I don't know if I want to...trap her." I tell him seriously and he smirks.

"To people like me and Katniss, love and need are basically synonymous." He says before walking out and leaving me thinking on his words. I thought about the ways he and Katniss were similar. They were both orphans of a kind. Even though Katniss's mother was still alive, she was usually in the periphery, not really involved unless the circumstances were dire. They were both survivors. They were both independent and didn't pursue romantic attachments.

Could he be right? Did she love me in some way that only made sense to her? I had no idea. I was starting to think maybe she really didn't either. That made me more nervous. Because if she really didn't know what she wanted, then was I just expending all this energy and feeling for nothing? Should I just step back and let her figure it out? It made my head hurt to think of all the potential scenarios and outcomes that could ensue. The foremost of which would be my slow burning misery. But maybe Deen was right, in at least saying that she needed me in almost the same way I needed her.

We both still bore the scars of our Games, and sometimes the only things that pushed away the grey days was spending time together, in quietness and somber vigilance. Because we had lived through the nightmares together, and we kept watch over each other in the darkness. Was that love or something else? I sighed in the empty room. Nothing was ever simple.

I was a child when I fell in love with a girl in a red dress who sang a song.

Now we were older, and neither of us was a child anymore. Hell, she didn't even sing anymore, unless someone was dying. And we were both so far removed from the people we were 14 years ago. We weren't even the same people we were 2 months ago. It was all happening so fast. And maybe she was right, that it was too much. I just...didn't know how to turn it off sometimes. Even though I knew she was different, I still felt relatively the same way about her I did back then. Entranced, sucked in, and steam rolled by her magnetism. I mean even the king of the slag heap himself, who could get pretty much any girl in 12 he wanted was hung up on her. And he hadn't even seen her naked. At least, I didn't think so. Or at least I hoped not.

God, this situation was seriously screwed up, and I needed to stop letting it mess with my head. I got up and resolved to go back out there and wrap up the party as well as I could.

(Gale POV)

The Sparrow kid came back without the Baker's Boy and I wondered where he got to for a while before he came back out and started hustling around the kitchen counting beers and refiling the snack trays. He was kind of odd sometimes, almost feminine. The way he mother-hen worried about stuff. However it had been pretty surprising to hear perfect little Peeta cuss his brother out. It was even more surprising when he beat his older brother at wrestling with only one good leg. But he was kind of scrappy, even during his Games. Not a really tall guy, or even very aggressive but he could hold his own in a one-on-one fight if he had to. I'd give him that. The more I got to know about him the more the conflicting the sides of his personality confused me.

"Can you loan me some of your winnings so I can play poker with Deen?" Rory asked out of the blue. I shake my head.

"No way I'm letting you play that card shark. He'll clean you out." I tell him with a scoff.

"Aww man, everyone else got to play. Even Deen, and he's the same age as me." He tells me and I laugh.

"He also has his own money, and didn't have to borrow it. Sorry bud, it's a hard no on this one." I tell him and he scowls. We can't afford to play around with any money we've won. Even if we only have a couple days before we leave, we could use it to buy essentials. Like more food, or socks, or even toilet paper for the journey.

"I don't know why I came to this party. You won't let me drink, or play cards, what are we doing here anyway? You don't even like him." He says grumbling under his breath and I shoot him a warning look. He knows better than to go shooting his mouth around the Baker's friends and family.

"You want something to do? Come on, I'll teach you how to play darts." I tell him, knowing he won't stop unless I distract him. He's been the same way since he was a kid. Always wanting to grow up too fast. His face lights up and I know he'll quit bugging me now. But honestly I don't even mind. He's been doing his part for the past few weeks. Working with us late into the night, and getting up early in the morning for school. And soon, he'll be leaving all this behind. I know deep down he wants to go, almost as much as me. He knows a miner's life is basically no life. And that's the only thing he'll ever be if we stay. But he will have to say goodbye to everything and almost everyone he knows, same as everyone else in our group.

"And if you beat my score, then you can have a beer." I tell him and he practically runs over to the dart board.

We play for a while, and though he doesn't beat me he does match my score after an hour. So I let him drink half a beer and I swear it's the happiest I've seen him in months. I know our mother would tan my hide, or at least try to if she knew I let him have even half a beer. But, this might be Rory's last opportunity to do something normal in a long while. Who knew what life would be like in District 13?

Everyone else is winding down. Deen pretty much cleaned everyone out who tried to play with him, except Peeta. But Peeta didn't sit down much, he kept trying to play host and watch dog all at the same time. He mostly kept an eye on his old mentor, and 12's new victor. Both of them seem to be untrustworthy around the beer.

At least until it all finished.

I watch as Peeta's oldest brother and his friend with the ash blond hair polish off the last few and then after putting together a bag of leftovers they collect Peeta's middle brother. He's sullen and still mostly drunk as they prop him up between them and help him walk out of the house. Peeta waves them off, good naturedly, seemingly well past the scuffle that happened in the kitchen earlier.

Then it's just the rest of us who know about the plan, and it's time to get down to work. So Haymitch just waves us over silently and takes out two small devices from his jacket. The first one I've seen before. They call it the bug scrambler, and it flashes green and blue and after a minute Haymitch begins to speak.

"Alright, so tonight is going to be the most difficult so far. But if we do this right, then we'll be past the most treacherous stage by morning. Now, thanks to the work Deen did for us in the Capitol while he was gone we now have another nifty little piece of techno magic at our disposal. This here, is an audio recorder and playback machine." He says as he holds up the other device and its smooth and chrome looking, with black buttons on its side. It blinks red as he holds it up for us to see.

"With this machine I was able to record the last two hours of the party. Mostly muffled conversation and loud music, but it can play different voice sounds with different background noise if I adjust the settings. Now we can play it back when we leave the house, to help with the illusion that we're all partying until dawn. Really we'll be sneaking out to the mine, where we need to break in and pick up a little surprise some of our associates left for us. Now, we don't need everyone to come. In fact it would be a good idea for someone to stay behind just in case anyone drops by. Whoever goes to the mine will be by volunteer only. If any of us get caught, it's the firing squad for sure. So think long and hard before you make up your mind." Haymitch says and everyone is quiet for a minute.

Peeta volunteers at the same time I do. I know I'm going for sure. I'm the only one with inside experience of the place, and I wouldn't let them go without me anyway. But I tell Rory to stay. He protests for a minute, but after seeing the look on my face he knows it's useless and he goes quiet.

Deen volunteers but Haymitch says he needs to stay here with Rory and help get things ready. An argument ensues, and ends with Haymitch angrily growling at him asking when he'll ever just do as he's asked.

If looks could kill, Haymitch would be dead after the look Deen gives him but then he relents, and agrees to stay behind with Rory and get stuff ready for our return. I'm a little surprised, and a little disappointed. From what I saw in his Games, the kid was tough and smart as a whip. But maybe he was still feeling the effects of alcohol withdrawal and wouldn't be much help to us.

We get ready to head out and before I leave I give Rory a quick brotherly hug. He tells me to be careful and watch my back. I nod and tell him to keep an eye on Katniss's house. If he sees her run off, then that means she forfeits the bet.

Katniss had wanted to come with us, to help, but Haymitch had talked her out of it. It had taken a while, and finally he just said she'd put everything at risk if someone noticed her missing from the sleepover. She hadn't been happy about being left behind. In fact, she had been livid about it at first. But then she'd seen reason, when Peeta had told her she needed to do her part and keep up the illusion of the bridal shower and bachelor parties running at the same time. If anyone asked where we were, she was supposed to be our alibi and tell them we went for more beer. Since Rory and Deen stayed behind, I guess we didn't need her to stay behind after all. I didn't know if I liked that she had been put off so easily. The Katniss I knew wouldn't have taken no for an answer. But she had been really worried lately about pulling off the plan. So maybe caution had won out.

We left around 1am, and I took them under the fence as we made our way to the mines the long way around. To avoid the small number of peacekeepers on night duty, and any dogs that might start barking. We stayed pretty close to the fence line, but since it was so dark Mellark stumbled around a lot. I turned in frustration to bite out a command to stay silent just as we got to the fence around the backside of the mine. But a soft voice called out a four note whistle, one I knew very well.

I turned to see her, well, her silhouette really in the dark. And she emerged from the shadows along the treeline and I grinned wide and happy.

"I guess you're not ready to hang up your bow yet partner." I told her as she drew near our group, her bow swaying lightly on her back. I could barely see the amused glint in her grey eyes in the near invisible light from the new moon.

"I'll never be ready for that." She replied and smiled back at me.

Sometimes I was reminded why I loved this girl. She was fierce, and strong, and there was something in her that kept my fire going even in the darkest of times. She matched me, and she challenged me in a way no one else ever could.

Haymitch was angry. But she quickly pointed out that she was here, and we might as well get on with it.

"It'll be good to have someone with a light step," I tell them seriously. Because Haymitch and Mellark were like bears in the woods, loud and brash when this mission would require stealth more than brute strength.

"Besides, she's smaller than us, and she can get in the windows we can't. Actually, this might make things easier. Let me think for a minute." I tell them and go over the plan in my head.

"Ok, I think we can take a short cut, and shave some time off, if Katniss can get in a window and unlock a door for us from the inside. Then we'll split up and grab the two different parts we need. One team can take the north drop location, and the other can take the east. We'll meet back under the fence, at the largest coal pile on the southside." I tell them seriously, and then we divide up the teams.

Haymitch and I are the leaders for the teams since his contact told him about the layout of the mine, and I have inside knowledge from working here. I want to be paired with her, but I know even before she says it that to stick Peeta and Haymitch together would just increase their chances of getting caught. So she ends up teaming with Haymitch and Peeta and I end up together.

"All right, that settles it then. Let's go." She says, and we head for the fence line.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

Gale and I take point. We slip under the fence on the far back side of the mine. And in between the dim lights of the lamp posts we merge with the shadows. We fit ourselves against the machinery and loading vehicles. I can hear the crunch of night guard boots on the gravelly ground the closer we get to the building.

We're about 10 yards away now, hidden behind a large coal carrier truck and there are two big looking guards on duty near the side of the building that hold the window I'm supposed to break into. They are dressed in black uniforms, wearing earpieces for radio communication, and carrying hip harnesses with handguns strapped to their sides. Peeta looks from the two guards to me, and he starts to shake his head. But I just turned away from him.

I can do it, I just need to figure out how to distract them.

I could send a rock flying with my bow, distracting them with a noise coming from the opposite direction. But who knew if that would cause them to go on alert and start searching the surrounding area. I was still working out the pros and cons of the plan when I heard two other sets of boots come crunching along heavily from the right side of the building.

The two guards closest to us move away from the area by the window to meet the other guards. They start chatting with their compatriots and I smile.

The shift change, it seems, is going to take a few minutes while they talk. Before anyone can argue I take off, my feet nearly silent even on the rocky ground. I reach the window and press myself nearly flat against the wall, while with my right hand I reach out to test if the window is locked. It's not, but it feels heavy and old when I touch the bottom. It will surely make noise when I try to open it.

I look back over to the truck where my allies crouch unseen in the shadows. And I know Gale will understand my look. I will need his help balancing out the heavy weight of the old window and his strength to keep it steady as I lift it. He darts out, faster than you would think a man of his size could safely accomplish. What would astound people even more is the way he is absolutely quiet, his feet not so much as clicking two rocks together underneath them as he practically flies over the ten yards to my side. He reaches me and we get to work lifting the window inch by precious inch. We're about halfway through when we hear the guards start to issue goodnights.

He looks at me and I know we'll just have to speed through the rest of it if I want to get in before they get back to this side. Gale cunningly throws his voice far to the left and behind us, and imitates a barn owl hooting, trying to cover the sound of the window creaking. And the guards stop their progress to search around for the bird that made the noise. I don't dare stop to check that they've been properly distracted, I just dive in through the window and stay down on the dusty coal covered floor.

I can see Gale's shadow flit away, perhaps back to the truck, or off towards the door I'm supposed to open. And once I hear the guards start speaking again I let out the breath I've been holding.

"Damn birds. Always singing during the day, and creeping up on you at night." One of the guards says. And the other laughs.

"Didn't know you were so touchy about birds, Letto." The other guard says with a laugh and then they're arguing good naturedly.

So I get up as slowly as I can and look around the room, searching for the door and the hallway Gale told me about. I find it and open the door a sliver cautiously, but there's no one in the hallway. In fact this part of the mining out-building seems nearly abandoned, with a thick layer of coal dust and grime coating the floor and walls that haven't been cleaned in some time. I count two doors, and pass them until I reach a third door and unlock it as quietly as I can. The handle turns under my touch, and Gale's tall frame slips in through the door. I clasp his hand in relief and he gives my hand a quick squeeze before moving away so that Peeta and Hyamitch can get through the door.

Once we're all inside, Gale and Haymitch get their bearings, and then we agree to split up. I can tell by the look in Peeta's eyes that he doesn't want us to be separated, and I understand his reservation. It feels like our Games, with adrenaline and fear running through our systems, and the natural instinct for me and him is to not let the other out of our sight. But we don't have time to argue, we just need to get what we came for and get out as quickly as possible.

"Meet you in 45 minutes." I tell him, and his gaze levels out. He nods at me.

I harden my emotions, and stand behind Haymitch while Gale just motions for Peeta to follow him. And after a split second Peeta does. We take a corridor that will lead us to the north drop off location. Haymitch leads, and his steps are thankfully quieter on the cement floors than on the gravel. We stay low and close to the wall and only once come across a room with an occupant. It's a guard, eating alone in a makeshift break room, but he's not watching the door. He's watching Capitol tv, and some show talking about how women in the Capitol have taken to tattooing golden crown stencils on their foreheads in admiration of Deen Sparrow, the newest victor.

I raise my eyebrows at Haymitch as we pass and he purses his lips in disgust, but just cocks his head to indicate for us to keep going.

We make it to the second floor, and have to duck into a small records room to avoid what I think at first is a guard. But upon seeing his grey uniform from a slit in the curtain covering the door's window, I realize he's a janitor. After we listen to his footsteps recede, Haymitch takes a minute to recover. He's been doing really well, but I can see a sheen of sweat on his forehead condensing into droplets. I don't think it's because of the exercise, I think it's because he thought for a moment we almost got caught.

After the last close call we make it to the end of the hall without incident, and inside an old seemingly unused garbage can in an abandoned office, that's empty of even furniture, we find a small burlap bag filled with what I think is coal dust. But when I try to open the bag to inspect it, Haymitch's hand reaches out lightning fast and clamps it closed.

He shakes his head at me. I hand him the bag, and he tucks it under his shirt and jacket. We then make our way back down to the first floor.

There's four guards patrolling the floor when we get back down. And I look up at Haymitch in panic. We move back up the stairs quietly, for a second, knowing we most likely won't be able to get out that way for the moment. I can see the wheels in Haymitch's mind turning as he thinks over the scenario.

He casts around for a minute before going back up to the more abandoned floor above. When we get there he heads for a room on the right that we had passed earlier. In it there was a large hole near a section connected to the crumbling window sill. The wood around the window had been eroded, and it hadn't been replaced. So there were lines of mouse and rat traps all over the floor to try and catch any vermin that tried to get in through the gap in the window sill.

Haymitch peers into the dim room, and when his eyes catch on a rat stuck in a glue trap he smiles.

"Time to make yourself useful girl. Go get me that rat." He tells me and I grimace. But I think I can see where he's going with this, so I gingerly avoid the traps. Taking small quick steps to get to the trap with the still struggling rat in it. I pick the creature up by the tail, not wanting to get anywhere near its teeth, and it writhes desperately. But I don't drop it, I just keep a firm grip on the filthy thing and make my way back carefully to Haymitch. When I get there, he smiles.

"Now, sweetheart, let's have a little fun with these company lackeys. Follow me." He says and I can't help but become a little intrigued by the mischievous tilt of his eyebrows. Haymitch is rarely in a good mood unless alcohol is involved, so whatever plan he has must be a really good one.

We get back to the stairs and he motions for me to take out my hunting knife from my belt. Then he holds the rat still while I work to cut its fur free from the quickly hardening glue.

The way these types of traps work is they catch the prey with a sticky adhesive, and then trap it inside the cardboard casing, holding it still until it either tears off its own fur and bleeds to death slowly, or stays stuck and dies of starvation. This rat will be doing neither since we're freeing it for our own purposes.

Haymitch keeps a good grip on its jaws and drowns out most of its squeaks of protest. When It's finally free, it's a little bloody from the close shave I gave it, but it's more or less unharmed. I think the true victims here are Haymitch and I who both got urinated on, twice by the foul creature. Finally, we're ready and we made our way down the rest of the steps.

We're hidden from view behind the stairway corner, but the guards are still relatively close. One guard, a large set man with a pot belly barely concealed by his uniform, stands almost directly in front of the door we need to take to get to the south side coal heap where we're supposed to meet our allies.

Haymitch backs up a few steps, until he's got a decent amount of height to take aim from, and then he tosses the rat right onto the guard's back. It hits the man with a tiny thud, but then incredibly, instead of falling off or jumping down, the rat just digs its claws in and tries to scurry up the man's back and neck.

The guard starts screaming, and running, clawing at his back where the rat is holding on like mad. And his fellow guards see his distress and come over to try and help.

"What the hell is that thing?" One of them asks as Haymitch and I dash across the hall and open the door we need to get though.

"It's trying to rip my throat out, get it the hell off!" The pot bellied guard's voice calls out in frantic terror, and there's a big commotion that Haymitch and I don't stick around to watch. We get out as quickly as we can, and only have to slow down when the guard who had been eating in the tv room earlier pops his head out and marches down the hall towards the commotion coming from the other guards dealing with the rat.

He doesn't notice us, tucked behind a door in a corner, and then we're pretty much scott free until we make it to the south side of the complex. We wait for a moment to make sure the coast is clear outside, and then I let Haymitch go first, to run across the yard to the coal pile.

Peeta and Gale are waiting for us anxiously. But after we reunite, everyone breathes a little easier. We take off just as soon as Haymitch catches his breath, and then we're back under the fence and moving towards the victor's village. When we're almost back, Haymitch turns to me and smiles.

"You came in real handy back there after all. Next time I need a rat caught I know who to call." He says with an evil glint in his eyes. Peeta and Gale just look on in confusion, but I glare at Haymitch.

"No way, never again. You can catch your own damn rats from now on Haymitch!" I say in pretend annoyance and we both laugh heartily.

"Okayyy then," Peeta says with a smile as he looks over at us. Gale turns away and looks towards Peeta's house. No doubt more interested in how Rory and Deen faired than trying to interpret Haymitch and I's inside jokes. I turn to my own house, where Prim and her friends and Madge sleep. I better be getting back before they notice my absence. I give them all a small wave and head back to the fence to hide my bow and quiver before I return.

When I get back Rory and Gale are heading off. It's past 3am now, and they must all be exhausted. I know I am. Rory waves at me, and Gale tips his head up in recognition. I do the same and then they're turned around and headed towards the Seam part of town.

Haymitch has long departed to return to his own rat's nest. But Peeta lingers. And I look over at him wondering why he doesn't go in and get some sleep.

"How'd the sleepover go?" He asks with a smile and I have to think about it for a minute.

"Fine, really. They're not all that bad once you get past the obsession with makeup and clothes, and you of course." I tell him, as I crinkle my brows in consternation.

"Me?" He asks, his face a caricature of surprise.

"Yes, you. They're all...starry eyed and giggling whenever one of them asks a question about the engagement or the wedding, or what you like to eat for dinner, or the flavor of toothpaste you buy." I tell him in annoyance as I kick a rock.

"Gosh that must have been really terrible for you, having to remember all those...intimate details." He says in what sounds like an innocent voice, but I just know has a wealth of sarcasm underneath it.

"I think I would have rather dodged fireballs again. It was so mind numbingly torturous." I tell him as I look back at my home.

"Well at least you didn't have to wrestle anyone to steer the conversation away from honeymoon advice." He says with a breathless chuckle.

I look over at him, worriedly. God, did he and Gale?

"My brother, Dill." He says quickly, answering my questioning gaze.

"Oh, well, isn't that what siblings are for? To make us all incredibly uncomfortable?" I ask because I don't know if it's the same for brothers, but I certainly felt uncomfortable when Prim mentioned the Hob incident during the bridal party.

"You know, I think so. That's probably their primary function." He says looking at me and I smile.

"How about us? What's our primary function dear?" He asks in that voice he reserves especially for early mornings. The one that I hate….and sometimes dream about.

"Us?" I ask in surprise and I feel like he's put me on the spot. But I have been horrible to him recently. More than horrible to him actually. I have been the kind of girl that I hate, the kind who is callous to the people she cares about, who selfishly thinks only of her own concerns.

So I know that these moments when he requires my honesty are crucial. They are part of our agreement, and he once said it makes it easier for him to cope with our difficult situation when I tell him the truth.

"We keep each other alive, just like we did tonight. And we keep each other sane if possible." I tell him finally and look over at him. He has such a complex look on his face. I couldn't guess what he was feeling if someone asked me.

"Well, like Haymitch says, at least we're good for something." He replies, partly amused, partly wistful? I can't really read him at the moment.

"Yeah," I say, wondering if something I said is bothering him or if I'm just reading too much into things because I'm really tired.

"Alright, see you in the morning then." He tells me, ending the conversation. And I don't know if I'm relieved or not, to be released this time. I feel like he left me with more questions than answers even though we only spoke briefly.

"See you," I call over my shoulder as I head in my own direction.

I slip into the house through the unlocked bathroom window, and wonder if I should shower before I go to bed. I'm sweaty and dusty from sneaking around the buildings near the mine. I decide not to sleep in my own sweat and grime, and hustle upstairs to my own room to shower quickly.

The house is quiet, and it's still dark outside when I emerge from my shower clean and refreshed. I don't bother dressing, I just fall asleep in my robe.

When I wake it's to a strange chorus of chirpy female voices.

My eyelashes flutter in response to my body trying to wake up quickly. I have a terrible feeling that there are intruders in my room, in my home, and I need to get a weapon quickly to defend Prim and my mother.

I reach out blindly, for the heavy metal pitcher I use to keep water in that usually rests on my bedside table. I grasp it before shooting up and brandishing it like a sword. There's a huge simultaneous gasp that permeates the room, and as I take in the intruders my memory snaps back into place.

"Katniss, you're home! You're here in your room. We had a sleepover, remember?" Prim's worried voice calls out to me as I stand atop the bed like a mad woman clutching an empty pitcher looking like I'm ready to chuck it at the nearest flabbergasted girl.

"I...I'm...Sorry!" I blurt out as I jump down from the bed and run out of the room. I feel my throat close up, and I barely make it to the study before I can crawl under the desk and collapse in a fit of angry tears.

I cry and cry and kick at the chair until it falls over and I bite my lip in an attempt to keep from screaming, long and hard against the disgustingly bright morning. My head feels like it's pulling in two different directions and I feel disoriented and sick.

I hate these moments. The times when my mind shifts back into that place where the Games are alive all around me and more real than the floor beneath me, or the sounds of my loved one's voices as they try to reach me. It had been a moment, just one where I was surprised, and frightened because I wasn't fully awake and I felt vulnerable.

Just one change to my routine and I reverted back to a violent, distrusting, dangerous creature. A creation of their Games. Someone willing to beat another human being's skull in with a water pitcher. Someone not quite sane, or even fully human. The thought makes me shake in my thin robe, as I hear Prim and my mother's soft footsteps as they enter the study. My mother sets right the chair I kicked over and Prim squats down observing me to see if I am only partly gone or wholly gone.

There is a difference, and it affects the way they handle me. If I am partly gone, they sit with me for a while, and ask questions to try and help me remember the time and place I am really in.

What's today's date? How old am I? Where are we? What season are we in?

Lots of boring tedious things designed to persuade me that the Games are over, that I am safe. But even though my mind can recognize if it's been more than two years, I can never feel really safe.

Because until we leave this place the Hunger Games will never be over. Not for me, and not for anyone I care about. So when they ask me the questions I don't respond. Their footsteps recede, having judged rightly that I will not be coming out of this anytime soon. I just let the tears slip down my face because even though we made it back last night, and we're set to leave in less than 48 hours, suddenly it seems so impossible. The mere idea of freedom is as far away as the stars, unobtainable and toying with my fragile state.

My mind cannot wrap itself around the idea that there is something after this. This moment feels like a cavernous mouth opening wide to swallow me whole, and I can't move, I can't speak. I can only try not to scream as it devours me.

Darkness and tears, for I don't know how long, are the only things I can feel.

But then, there are strong arms around me. Familiar arms. Solid and true. And I am in the cave again, seeking refuge from the storm that blows hard and hateful around me, and inside my mind. I clutch him, in the cave, under the desk, in both places and both times at once. Needing the gentleness that lives beneath his skin to anchor me to this reality. And he holds me together with his kind hands, until I stop shaking. Until I am placid in his arms.

I look up at him with tears in my eyes, so ashamed of myself for causing all this trouble. But he looks down at me tenderly, without any trace of resentment. It breaks me, that look. Because it makes me need him even more.

"Hey, there." He says in that forgiving and merciful tone that always seems to cut to the core of my soul.

"Hi." I tell him shakily.

"Ready to come out? Or do you need a few more minutes?" He asks, and I breathe out heavily. No sense in dragging it out anymore than I've already done.

"I'm ready." I tell him and he smiles. It takes a minute, because we're in an awkward position under the desk, and his leg doesn't make it easy for him to maneuver. But we make it to a standing position, and he wraps me in a warm hug and I hold him tight again.

"Sorry for messing up your morning." I told him as I rested my head against his heartbeat.

"Any morning I get to spend with you is a great one." He tells me kindly. And because this moment is so solemn and I know right now we are both totally bared and honest with each other in the face of our shared tragedies, I know he means it, one hundred percent.

It makes me sigh. And I close my eyes just wanting to feel it, this moment. Where the one before this one almost drove me over the edge with terror and dread, and I couldn't rack my brain hard enough to figure out how to force myself to let it pass, this moment in his arms I want the opposite.

I want to stretch it, and spin it around us like a cocoon where we can hide away from everything and everyone that waits for us when we step out of here.

When I open my eyes to look up at him I see his eyes are closed, and he's smiling that almost smile that captures me so easily.

And I think,

I want...

I want...

I want to be done running from it.

Is that the same as a fish wanting to fly? The same as a mountain wanting to blow away in the breeze?

Could I ever really do it? I had tried before and it had scared me so much I ended up running so fast and so far in the opposite direction we had both gotten lost in the chaos afterwards.

Emotions, especially when they ran high in me, led me astray…

I took a deep breath and resolved to let the feelings settle before I did anything hasty again.

But I did stretch onto my tiptoes and plant a soft, light kiss on his almost smiling lips.

"What was that for?" He asked with an amused grin. His blue eyes sparking in the light of the morning streaming in from the window.

"That was because this time, I needed a kiss, but you're just too gentlemanly to press your advantage." I tell him quietly, and match his smile.

"Oh, well in that case," He says as he wraps his arms around me and kisses me a little longer, but still gently and mostly chastely.

"See? What'd I tell you? Great morning." He says when he breaks away from me and I smile against his lips, so very lighthearted for a second. But then there is a gasp from the doorway, and about two or three girls stare at us wide eyed and completely engrossed with the image of the star crossed lovers.

Left alone and unchaperoned in a room, kissing, and one of them in a bathrobe.

And I resist the urge to stomp my feet in consternation. This is doing nothing to back up my warnings about love, and responsibility, and whatever else I tried to say last night.

"Uhhh, hi." Peeta says, as he releases me gently and takes half a step away from me.

I clutch my rob more securely closed in a nervous, and slightly annoyed way and watch as their expressions dissolve into a coagulation of awe, adoration, envy, and slightly mad looking obsession. All aimed in Peeta's direction.

"Verbena, Beryl, Lupernia, don't you know it's impolite to lurk in doorways?" I tell them with a slight edge to my voice.

Berry's brown eyes go a little wide, and Perny takes a step back, but Verbena just shoots me an innocent smile.

"Your mother sent us to ask if Peeta's staying for breakfast." She says matter of factly, without a hint of embarrassment at being accused of spying on Peeta and I. I shake my head at her, annoyed up to my ears.

So...are you?" She asks Peeta in a completely unshy manner as she turns to him.

He looks over at me, as if asking permission. I roll my eyes. What kind of monster did he think I was to kick him out of my house with no breakfast after he just saved me from a hurricane of bad memories?

"Of course he's staying." I tell them as I charge through the door, and head in the direction of my room to get dressed.

"Great!" I hear a high and plucky chorus ring out in delight and I console myself with the knowledge that they will all be going home soon.

Soon. Thank heaven.

After I dress hastily and braid my hair, I make my way to the kitchen and am not surprised to see Peeta has been placed at the head of the kitchen table and is being waited on hand and foot.

"Do you need more tea? Or a napkin?"

"Would you like more eggs?"'

"More sugar or cream?"

Peeta just looks overwhelmed and a little regretful about asking to stay for breakfast.

Serves him right, I think as I pad to the stove barefoot and hungry and pick up a plate.

I look over at Prim and my mother. They are both seated at the counter bar in stools with amused smiles on their faces. I scowl at them and Prim has to cover her mouth to keep from giggling aloud. I fill my plate with scrambled eggs, little fried pieces of potato, and a nice chunk of warm bread that my mother must have gotten from Peeta yesterday and heated up this morning over butter in a pan.

I chow down hungrily, trying to ignore the giggling and fussing coming from the other side of the room. But after a minute Peeta calls my name twice.

"Katniss."

"Katniss…"

"Katniss, um why are you eating standing up by the sink?" He asks and I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice as I answer him.

"There aren't any more chairs in the kitchen, Peeta." I say in a barely civilized tone.

"Here, take mine." He says, getting up quickly, and extending his hands to offer me his seat.

"Oh, no thanks. I'm almost done anyway." I say in a bored tone. He's not getting out of this so easily. I tried to warn him but he didn't listen. He thought I was exaggerating. Ha!

"Well, at least let me get a chair for you from the dining room so you can sit with me." He says, a desperate pleading look in his eyes. And I think he needs a human shield to protect him from the infatuated stares he's being bombarded with at the table.

I huff indignantly, for a moment but then shrug and roll my eyes. He disappears into the dining room, while I move over to set my plate down next to his. The girls lean back in their chairs until they're sitting a respectable distance away. And when Peeta returns he holds the chair out for me to sit on and then scoots it in for me after I sit.

There's a ripple of soft sighs around the table and I get the urge to grit my teeth. If he would just stop acting like such a...a...I don't know, then these girls wouldn't get the idea that relationships and marriage and love were all mythical magical things.

"Peeta, what do you hate the most about me?" I turn and ask him in a syrupy sweet tone. There's a few confused murmurs around the table, but I don't look at them. I look straight at Peeta. His blue eyes practically bobble in his head as he tries to ascertain if he's hearing things or if I actually asked him what he thinks I did.

I raise my eyebrows and shoot him a pointed look. And I can see the realization hit his eyes and he has to tramp down a smile as he thinks for a moment.

"How damn long it takes you to admit you need help with something." He says and laughs a little. The girls gasp at his curse, but he just bites his lip and smiles a bit, leaning back in his chair. And I smile too, hoping for the Peeta with a low tolerance for bullshit to make an appearance this morning.

My mother looks over at him and he blushes.

"Sorry, I meant to say, I hate how long it takes you to ask for help. And how stubborn you can be sometimes, about the smallest things. Also, how you insist on trying to play it off if you're hurt or feel sick. It really gets on my nerves." He says in a rush of breath and for a second I'm caught off guard. I wasn't expecting him to have a list at the ready, but then I think it's good. The more the better.

I nod and take a sip of my tea.

"And I hate it when you treat me like a fairy princess. Pulling out my chair and looking at me for permission for simple things. Honestly, I like it better when you call me out and when you throw vases. Because it proves you're you. And I'm me. And we get under each other's skin. And sometimes we fight and don't talk for days, or weeks. And that's pretty much normal. For people like us, who've fought the kinds of things we have. We're friends first, before anything else. And friends tell each other the truth and tell each other I told you so, and all the annoying inconvenient stuff right?" I ask him and he tilts his head and nods at me.

"Right." He says and the table is stunned into silence for a moment.

"But, wait, how can you be friends? You're...in love. Isn't that greater than friendship?" Berry asks with round wide eyes as she looks back and forth between us. Lucy seems to be considering us with her stern Seam features pulled together in concentration. Verbena seems suspicious of our words. And the other girls are equal parts shocked and disbelieving.

"Most great loves are built on friendship." Mother interjects quickly as she begins picking up plates. And thankfully a few girls offer to help wash up and do dishes. And the thread of conversation gets dropped in the commotion and bustle around the kitchen.

In the following quietness a more relaxed and but pensive atmosphere settles over everyone and Peeta smiles over at me. I glance at him and smile back quickly before I return to my plate to finish my food.

"Well, I guess I better get back and check on Deen. Hopefully he's still asleep and hasn't slipped out to buy liquor down at the Hob." Peeta says with a chuckle as he stands up to leave.

"Here, I fixed him a plate." My mother says as she holds out a covered plate to him. He thanks her and she nods.

I get up to take my plate over to the sink, and I kiss his cheek quickly in passing instead of telling him goodbye. I'm grateful for his help this morning dissuading the girls that he and I live perfect lives. He reaches out and grabs me by the waist and pulls me back to plant a big wet kiss on my cheek. I blush furiously, and he laughs. I swat at him but he just moves out of range.

"Get out of here, you trouble maker." I tell him and he winks at me.

"Whatever you say, dear," He jokes and I throw a dish towel in his direction at his overly sentimental tone. The girls laugh around us. And it's not the awestruck giggles like before. But genuine laughter and understanding. He pulls on his leather jacket and makes to leave.

"You know what I hate the most?" He asks suddenly over his shoulder as he stands in the doorway.

"My bad attitude." I say confidently as I look at him framed in the pale sunlight.

"Nope. That I really love most of the time. What I hate the most is waiting, waiting to make you mine." He says loudly, carelessly, like he's talking about something plain and obvious, not secret and complex. And then he's gone, and the door shuts after him. And I'm left feeling unbalanced and irritated and a million other things besides.

"Oh!"

"How romantic!"

"Just one more day till the wedding!"

"I can't wait!"

The voices start up again, and I want to kick him because just when they had started to see sense, he had to go and mix them up again.

And if I'm honest with myself I want to kick him twice. Because I feel more than a little mixed up and flustered after that comment. My mother takes my plate from my hands, and I realize I've been frozen for a moment too long. She peers over at me, a little sympathetically, and a little concernedly, as if she feels bad for me. And I'm glad at least someone does.

Damn him.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

After Peeta leaves everyone pitches in to make the kitchen spotless, and the girls start to pack up. Madge nudges me with her shoulder and whispers.

"They were trying to surprise you this morning, and wanted to sing the wedding song for you when you woke up." She tells me and I feel my lips twist to the side in regret. These silly, precious girls were just trying to be nice. But I had met them with violence and madness. I shook my head at myself. This is why I shouldn't be allowed around decent people. I was just a mess.

"Prim explained about your nightmares. She told them about how you and Peeta, and even Haymitch still get...lost after all these years." She tells me and I sigh, tiredly. I'd rather she hadn't mentioned Peeta or Haymitch, but I knew she had to offer some explanation for my homicidal greeting this morning.

"Poor girls, poor Prim." I tell her as I stare at my sister fliting from room to room, helping everyone pack away their gifted dresses and makeup and leftovers from dinner and breakfast.

"Sometimes, for such a smart friend, you're a little oblivious." Madge says to me, not unkindly. But I stare at her, a little offended anyway. I hadn't wanted to have a breakdown this morning afterall, and I had apologized.

"Katniss, they cried when Prim explained how you can't sleep sometimes. They felt terrible. They felt bad for you, not angry or annoyed." She tells me seriously, and I think for a minute about her words.

"Oh." Is all I can say.

"Anyway, they want to give you your bridal shower gifts before they leave. But no one wants to upset you. I'm just giving you a heads up so you don't pull down the curtain rods and chase them around the living room." Madge says with a light tone and after a second I smile at her, amused and grateful that she can joke about it.

Because when I imagine a scenario like that, it makes me want to laugh. And then the morning fiasco didn't seem so horrible. Just inconvenient and a little alarming. I laugh, and grab her arm as the giggles overtake me thinking about how I must have scared the pajamas off a lot of them.

Madge squeezes my arm and laughs quietly along with me. And suddenly I'm sorry. I'm so sad I'm leaving her behind. We don't talk much. We don't see each other much. But she gets me, and her friendship has been one of the bright untainted spots in my life since the Games.

So I throw my arms around her in an unscheduled hug, and she just pats my back softly.

"Thank you, for being a good friend." I told her. And she hugged me with one arm.

"You're welcome. Thanks for eating lunch with me for years, not making me feel bad about how sick my mom is, and for...well for coming back and still making time when you could. Thanks for inviting me to your party. I had fun." She says and we're both a little misty eyed, but neither of us is the public crying type so we just let go and sniffle a little trying to regain our composure.

When the other girls come out with their bags and things, they ask me to sit on the couch in the living room while they gather around me. I start to get a little nervous, until Prim sits next to me and holds my hand.

"Girls, I really don't need anything. Honestly, gifts would be too much. Peeta and I, we'll be just fine." I tell them, worried about the expense they went through. I know many of them are blond, and probably from the merchant class, but a few of them look Seam, and I know they can't afford to give much.

But Lucy just shoots me a dignified stare. "It's not about the cost. It's about the wish and the intent that goes with the gift. My mother always says not to turn down something that comes from a true heart."

And I feel my cheeks pink in embarrassment. Of course, Prim and I were Seam too. If we had been invited to a party, and had enjoyed food and refreshments as guests in someone's home we would have been offended to have our gifts turned down out of concern for our finances.

"You're right Lucy," I tell her and clear my throat as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a small bundle wrapped in plain white tissue paper. She hands it to me and I take it gingerly from her. But it's light, and at first I don't know what it could be. But when I unwrap it I can see that it's a perfect yellow flower, a rose actually.

I think my mouth falls open a little, because I have no idea how much it cost for a girl like Lucy, from the Seam, to buy this kind of flower, in the winter season.

"It's not much, but Prim said you liked nature and things that grow."

"Lucy! It's too much!" I start to say, but Prim cuts in.

"Lucy's dating the apprentice to the groundskeeper at the greenhouse where the florist grows his flowers. It wasn't too difficult." Prim tells me and I look over at Lucy, who blushes a little and I just swallow my arguments. I have to accept it, not to be rude.

"My turn!" Berry says in a high, excited voice as she hands over the next gift. And then it's a rush for the girls to give me their gifts and see my expression as I open them.

A set of brand new sewing needles, an apron with tiny birds stitched on the pocket, a beautiful blue silk ribbon that's almost the exact shade of Peeta's eyes, a carved wooden bird whistle for hunting, a small book with blank pages to press some flowers from my wedding bouquet into, all these things they give me.

Madge is the last, and she gives me a picture frame, one side already filled with a picture of Peeta and I holding hands high in the air at the train station more than two years ago, when we came back from our Games. The other side is blank. And I know what should go there.

A wedding photo.

I also know that it will remain empty. Even though this thought pierces my heart underneath my words of genuine gratitude, I smile. Because they have all been so thoughtful, and they deserve to be thanked sincerely.

Then they start to leave, and I give them all hugs, and they wish me happiness, and luck, and lots of beautiful things. And when they're all gone, I think I know what Heather, Peeta's friend meant that day in her kitchen when she spoke about feeling the absence of female company. Because suddenly the house seems too big, and too quiet without their laughter and joy.

Prim watches from the window, smiling wistfully as they disappear past the village gate. I walk over and place my arm around her shoulder gently.

"They're great Prim. Every single one. I...really enjoyed them all." I tell her and when she turns to look at me I can see she's crying. I hug her and she holds onto me and cries a little quietly.

"I'm sorry, Prim." I whisper in her ear, not daring to say more than this since I know our conversation could be listened to at this very moment. She nods and dries her eyes, and then she smiles up at me.

"They loved you. They all wish they had you for a sister." She tells me, and I scoff.

"No really, they really admire you. Especially how you told Peeta to stop fretting over you this morning. They think you two are amazing." She says with a sad smile.

"I guess nothing I said could dissuade them." I tell her and shake my head as I turn to walk back towards my room, hoping to take a nap before dinner.

"On the contrary, they were all discussing strategies to find real love, they decided the first step was to become friends with the boys they like." She says as she shakes her head.

"I'm the last person people should use as a role model for their romantic relationship goals. In fact, I'm probably going to hell for confusing those poor girls." I say tiredly with a yawn. Prim just chuckles.

"Could have fooled me this morning." She says before closing her door, and I blink in surprise. I was going to have to get used to her new quips and comments.

I sleep until mid-afternoon, and when I get up I feel much better rested than this morning. I know that this is the last day. Tomorrow the prep team will arrive early, and then we will probably have to keep up a frantic pace all day and night. So I resolve to do the things I want, and to visit my favorite places before I go.

I go to my closet and choose a thick, soft russet colored dress I wore to a fall festival a year back. It has long sleeves, and tiny flowers printed on it, but it hugs my waist and falls just above my knees. It was one of Cinna's transition dresses. Girly, but attractive. It had pockets and was made of thick cut comfortable cotton weave. I had kept it because I liked it so much. The color was more appropriate for autumn, but today the weather was clear and the sun was still out. So I just tugged on some soft suede boots that came up to the bottom of my knees, and wrapped my favorite white scarf around my neck before heading out.

I went down to the Hob first, and spread my money around. I told people I wanted to be generous so that I'd have luck going into my wedding tomorrow and they nodded their heads in acceptance. I filled my bag with things, and when I got hungry I stopped by Greasy Sae's stall and bought two bowls of soup. I carried one over to a quiet, and reserved Darius.

"Hungry?" I asked as I held out the bowl to him, an offering, and an apology for the last time we had spoken and I had thrown my relationship with Peeta in his face.

"I've never said no to a bowl of Sae's cooking yet." He told me with a tentative smile and I grinned back at him. We sat and ate and chatted like good old times, and when he looked up at me with an apology in his eyes I just shook my head at him.

"How bout we both agree we can be idiots sometimes, and leave it at that?" I tell him and he barks out a loud laugh that makes me relax.

"Anything you say buddy." He tells me with a smirk and I punch his arm. The moment settles, and we get past it and talk and tell jokes like usual. Then it gets late and I get up to leave.

"You be happy now, or I'll give that boy a talking to." He tells me when I give him a quick hug.

"Yeah, alright. You too Darius, don't take any stuffed squirrels for any of your kisses now." I joke as I wave him off.

"Only the best for the best." He tells me with a smirk and I roll my eyes, but I smile as I leave because it feels good to put things right between us. That at least I could do before I left.

I stop by my old tribute's homes, and divide the things I bought in half between the two families. When they protest, I tell them I'm just making up for lost time. And then I leave before I can start crying. On my way home I visit the meadow, and just sit for a while letting the sunlight warm me and the cold breeze alternatively cool me.

It's just before sunset when I get back home. But I don't automatically go into my house. I linger at the wrought iron fence that overlooks the edge of the forest. And I wonder if District 13 will have the same trees, the same animals, or the same mountains.

No, I think. 12 was unique, and it always would be foremost in my thoughts no matter how far away I went. So I watched the sun go down, and I said goodbye in my heart to all the places and the people I would never see again. When the sun had dipped just beneath the rim of the horizon, I felt eyes on me. And I thought I knew who it was.

But when I turned around and looked back at the rows of large grand houses, I saw two sets of eyes on me. One pair grey, the other blue. I stared at them and they stared at me.

And after a moment I decided that ordinary life was more like the Hunger Games than I wanted to admit. There was always something you were afraid of right behind you, and no matter how long you kept running, or tried to avoid it, eventually you just had to turn around and face it.

(Gale POV)

(Listening Track: American Beauty-Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors)

She looks different, but still familiar in the orange dress that makes her skin light up with warmth. Girly, but no makeup. Hair braided down, but a restful expression on her face. And I wish I'd had a chance to go hunting with her one more time. I wish I could have taken her to all her favorite places and watched her head tip up towards the sun, eyes closed and expression peaceful.

She looked beautiful as she walked towards us.

I had always known she was prettier in motion, her movements graceful and soft in a way her expression usually wasn't. There were girls with prettier faces, and more enticing figures, but no girl moved the way she did. Through the forest, under the trees quietly like a whisper, hauntingly like a dream. I remember wishing I'd gotten to dance with her just once that night, when she looked so heartbreakingly devastating at the celebration feast. I sighed.

No sense in wanting to change the past.

I glanced over at him and saw he was just as struck as I was. Maybe more, even. And I didn't know how this was going to play out. Usually she avoided being anywhere with just the two of us. So this was a first.

She doesn't look nervous when she comes to stand in front of me and him. She looks, resolved. And I start to get a little nervous. She nods to both of us.

"Just finished taking a walk. What are you both doing?" She asks, by way of greeting. Her grey eyes look startling and almost otherworldly against the russet color of her cheeks.

"Gale came over to go over the order of service, and so I could give him the rings for tomorrow." Peeta tells her in a removed voice. I look over at him and think maybe he's as nervous as I am right now.

"Oh, that's practical." She says flatly, and it almost makes me laugh. She has a gift for stating the obvious.

"So I see you survived the onslaught of femininity." I tell her and her eyebrows pluck up in an amused way.

"Sure did." She replies and lifts her chin a little superiorly. And I want to talk to her about our bet, and engage her in a conversation about who won but I don't want to start talking about the personal private things we joke about in front of him.

"They seemed nice." Peeta comments, and I look over at him, curious as to when he met the girls who were at her house. Knowing him he probably got up early after running around last night and served them breakfast in bed.

"They were really nice." She says quietly, and I wonder if she could actually feel bad about getting to know them since we're all leaving tomorrow. That seemed strange. She was never the friendly type before.

"Are you saying you didn't mind the makeup and the gossip and whatever other strange things they did?" I ask her a little flabbergasted that she might have enjoyed herself. The most I could say about Peeta's bachelor party was that there were moments where I didn't want to shoot myself.

"Oh, there was plenty I minded. But after they left, I don't know, things felt too quiet." She replies and I can feel my forehead crinkle in confusion. But he just looks over at her and smiles. She blinks at him and then takes a deep breath.

"But that's besides the point. I need to talk to both of you, before tomorrow. But, well, maybe it shouldn't be done in concert. So, Gale, how bout I walk you home? And Peeta, could you wait up for me?" She says, quickly but firmly and I look over at him. I can tell he had no idea she planned on doing this. His expression is just as surprised as mine is. So, since it doesn't feel like a set up or anything I nod at her.

We walk side by side, but not touching. She's quiet at first, and I wonder what she's thinking about, and what she wants to tell me. I think this is the conversation I've been wishing for and dreading for such a long time.

"I think I won the bet." She speaks first to me, as we pass the gate to the entrance of the Victor's Village.

"You left the house before dawn." I remind her and she frowns.

"Only to help out." She says and I smile at her crookedly, unconvinced.

She narrows her grey eyes at me and I love the spark there, it sets me ablaze. I sigh in mock impatience, and then shrug.

"Plenty of people still win on technicalities." I tell her and she bestows a signature scowl on me.

"Well what about you? You left too." She points out and I shrug, unconcerned.

"I said I'd stay for the bachelor party and I did, every minute of it. There was no sleep over planned like you and Prim did for your shower." I reply and she looks over at me in shocked outrage.

"Hey, you all made the plans, not me." I say defensively. She rolls her eyes at me, and chews on her bottom lip.

I want to tell her to quit it or she'll end up with chapped lips, especially in this weather, but I know that it'll probably have the opposite affect.

"Alright, nobody won then." She tells me and I laugh.

"Just because you lost doesn't mean you get to disqualify everyone." I tell her and she shrugs, in an imitation of me. It's pretty good, but she's too small to really pull it off to its best effect.

"Alright, it's a tie then." She tells me and I pretend to think about it for a minute as we walk down the poor dirt streets nearing my house.

She heads off in the direction of the meadow and I stick to her, not missing a step.

"Fine it's a tie. What do you win and what do I win?" I ask her once we're under the fence and make it to our usual spot.

She doesn't respond, she doesn't even appear to have heard me. She's just staring around at the trees, the rock we sit on, the darkening sky. And I let myself go quiet too. I had thought I wanted to bring her here and it actually happened. But I got a feeling in the pit of my stomach that it wasn't a good omen. Usually when I thought things were going my way, it was only right before something knocked me on my ass.

I looked over at her in her dress with little flowers and realized she hadn't brought a jacket with her, or a sweater even. It may have been fine during the day, but nights were really cold now. So I shrug off my jacket and hand it to her.

She stares at it uncomprehendingly. And when she looks up at me, it's like I've done something to hurt her. But she closes her small hands over the jacket anyway.

That's when I know.

I look away from her, back towards the district, back towards the road we walked down. And I suddenly find myself wishing I could go back and change the past very much. And I swallow down my anger and protests, because I can see she's decided. And I knew I never had much of a shot, but I fought like hell until the very end, because she was worth it.

"I know what I want, for winning." I tell her and she looks up at me in confusion.

"I want you to go ahead and say whatever you've got to say, and don't sugar coat it." I say gruffly. Because it will be so much worse if she breaks it to me gently. She takes a deep breath.

"I haven't been honest with you, Gale. I mean, I've been kind of implying it for a while but I never came right out and said it. And at first I thought it was ok, because you weren't being upfront with me either. But now I know it's just because I've been avoiding this." She says and I take a deep breath.

"You and him, you're more than a little bit together, you're all the way together with him." I say, so she doesn't have to spell it out in clearer terms. I don't think I'd be able to stay if I had to hear her say the words sex, or slept with.

She doesn't look at me at first, but then she turns toward me and nods, just once.

And I thought it'd be easier for me to say it first, like if I admitted I somehow knew or suspected it would feel less...painful. But with that one small gesture of hers I know it's not. It's worse, much worse to have it confirmed.

There had been a million things, little things that kept popping up like red flags, and still I'd barrelled past them like an idiot. But then again, she had ignored me and my signs too. And I had thought for a little while it would be ok, and even if it was true, we could forgive each other. I always thought that he was just a placeholder, in the same way Lily was for me.

But looking into her eyes I can see now, it wasn't like that for her. There's a storm of emotions inside me, and anger seems to be the driving one, so I know what makes me say it, but I regret it as soon as it comes out.

"This been going on the whole time? Or just because I fucked around?"

She blinks at me, a little startled, and I hate the way I sound even in my own ears. But then her gaze just hardens.

"Started a little after we got back from Deen's victory tour."

"He finally wore you down, or you just get bored waiting?"

"Neither. President Snow pulled us aside at the presidential celebration and showed us a live video of everyone we care about. You and your family were there too. Said we'd screwed up again, by training Deen so well. Messed things up by helping 12 win the Games again so soon after we did. Then he moved up the wedding and told us we needed to have children. As soon as possible." She says quietly, and I think I'm gonna be sick. I turn to the side and clutch a tree trunk for support.

"What?" I pant, as I try to get a hold of my stomach's queasiness. She doesn't reply, and I turn towards her, my eyes searching for her. I thought she'd come to tell me she'd picked him, not that she had been blackmailed into sleeping with him against her will.

"I know what you're going to say, and Gale, I'm fine. My mother, well she gives me something to take, so there are no surprises. But, look it may have started out because of this whole punishment thing they cooked up for us, but it's not anymore." She says, eyes wide and sincere.

But, screw sincere. She hadn't had a choice. What the hell was she thinking?

"How come you never-" I ask, my voice rising in anger, and she shakes her head and reaches out to put a hand on my arm to calm me but I shake her hand off. This was so much worse than her sleeping with him behind my back.

"Because Gale, it wouldn't have mattered. They sent a special doctor to check up on us both. She would have dropped in countless times if I hadn't-, and it would have put everything in danger, but that's not quite the point. Look, you said you wanted the truth right? Ok, then just listen for a minute ok?" She says in a forceful tone when she sees me furious and not really listening anymore.

"Gale?" She says as she shakes my arm. And I look down at her, small, and strong but not physically powerful. Someone had taken something from her, people had taken her choice away. And it didn't matter what she said, I knew that I'd stop at nothing to repay them for what they'd done to the only girl I'd ever wanted to wait for. The only girl I'd ever wanted that way, but had tried to keep safe and pure, even from myself.

"And I'm guessing your fiance was only too happy to get these new orders?" I say bitterly, because I didn't expect much from him. He was a town kid, and they were spoiled and pampered and used to getting their way. But I had certainly thought he'd never do something like this. Not to her.

"Peeta refused. He wouldn't even talk to me for weeks. It wasn't him who did the convincing." She says, and I stare at her dumbfounded.

"Gale, please, this is coming out all wrong. Just, stop pacing for a minute. I can't think." She says, and I look down. I hadn't realized I'd been pacing. But I don't know if I want to hear the rest. I don't know if I can stand it.

It's...evil what they've done to her. To us. It's wrong and if we weren't leaving tomorrow I'd burn down the Hall of Justice right this second. I'd go on a one man spree of destruction and break everything I could get my hands on. But looking at her, I knew I had to get her out of here.

The baker and her mentor had been right, there was no way she could keep living like this. No way any of us could.

"Gale, I decided. I chose, and after I didn't have to...stay with him but I did. And it wasn't out of obligation, or guilt, now I...want to try and see if there's something real for us underneath all this...mess." She says, but I'm only half listening. Her words slide off me leaving a sticky trail but no substance to hold onto.

"Katniss, you can stand here and try to convince me and yourself until you're blue in the face. But you'll never make me believe that you had a choice in any of this. And if you want to keep up the act, because now it feels too real to let go of, well then go ahead. Give it a few months, away from the cameras, away from the bugs, and all the people who expect you to kiss him, and marry him, and sleep in his bed. And I'd bet all the money he has in that big house of his, that it isn't what you think it is. It can't be. How can you build something real if you start with a lie?" I tell her and she looks up at me and just freezes for a moment.

"Not everything was a lie." She says quietly and I laugh, bitterly and mostly at myself. But she flinches a little and it makes me stop.

"Some lies are too big to overcome." I tell her and her expression turns fiery and angry.

"Sure. You can say Peeta and I are built on lies. But so are we Gale, so are we." She says, and I take a step back. And regret for the millionth time, what happened with Lily.

"We used to have everything ahead of us. I...waited for you for such a long time. But they broke all the good, and left behind snares and broken glass to make sure we'd never be able to get back to before, to before you left, before you met him." I tell her, with more anger, more bitterness until I'm practically choking on it.

"They did a lot. But, some things we did to ourselves." She says quietly, and I don't respond.

She breathes for a minute and then wipes her nose with her sleeve, and I wonder if she's crying. But her face is turned away from me, and I can't tell. We just stand, far apart but unable to walk away.

"Are you still coming tomorrow?" She asks after a good long while.

"What makes you think I'd want to stay in this hellhole a second longer than I have to?" I tell her numbly, with almost no anger left in my voice. It had bled off quickly, in the pained silence.

"I guess that's the best I can hope for." She says quietly, and then she holds my jacket out to me and I hesitate for a minute before I accept it. I should tell her to keep it, to wear it home. But then I think she's not going back to her home. She's going to his. And they're probably going to end up naked, and together, and I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight.

But as I stare at the jacket, I realize it's not her fault. How many girls get mixed up by the first guy they sleep with? Maybe she just needs a little time.

When I look up, I intend to tell her to take the jacket, because I don't want her to be cold all the way home. But she's gone. And I don't even get the chance to say I'm sorry.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

When I make it back to the Victor's Village I feel worn out on the inside. It's like someone took a big spoon and scooped out everything in my chest and left a big gaping space. I can't think of his words, I can't think of his face. But the feeling of losing something haunted my steps all the way. It's cold outside I know, but I hardly feel the wind on my skin, I am so numb and empty.

I almost turned towards my house, wanting to find refuge in the solitude of my room, but I remember I had asked Peeta to wait for me. So instead I make my way to his house. When I open the kitchen door I stare at Haymitch and Deen seated playing poker for a moment before I close the door and go to sit on a stool by the bar counter. Deen calls out a greeting and I wave at him unenthusiastically. Haymitch scans my face and gets a dark look in his eyes. There's food still on the stove so I get up and make myself a plate, resolved to eat while waiting for Peeta to make an appearance.

"Everything ready for the big day tomorrow? You didn't lose a shoe or an earring or something like that did you?" Haymitch asks me and I shake my head.

"Everything's ready. I'm just a little tired."

"Why don't you go home then?"

"I asked Peeta to wait for me." I tell them and they both look at each other.

"He needed to visit his parents for a bit. But he said to tell you he'll be back soon." Deen informs me and I'm grateful to know, so I nod over at him.

I listen to them talking about their cards and their combinations and I try to pay attention and distract myself with their conversation. But after a while I know that I need to be alone, and I finish my food and wash my plate and make my way quietly up the steps to Peeta's painting room.

I walk over to the painting of the woman walking through the mist and I uncover it. Luckily it isn' t smudged. I hadn't looked at it long enough to try and make out what he was saying in this one. I stare at it, and try to let my mind absorb the colors and the light and shadows in the silence.

But just when I feel like I'm finally open enough to feel something about it, Deen's quick steps sound on the stairs and I sigh.

"Hey," He says and I don't reply, I just stare at the painting hoping he'll take the hint. I don't want to talk, especially about things that are this private. Deen is like family, sure, but he doesn't know everything about Peeta and I, or our lives before he came into the picture.

He walks over to me, one hand extended palm side up to show me the bug scrambler, flickering in its alternating colors. I look up at him and see he's trying to help, but I don't know what to say or how to start. He looks at me for a moment, and rubs his index finger across his lips absentmindedly as he thinks.

"Peeta once told me that things weren't all that they seemed between you and him, back before my Games. And, recently, only the other night, he admitted you two had been together for only a brief time." He says, as an opener.

I looked up at him, wondering how many times they had talked about me, and what Peeta had said.

"Like I told you, just a little after your tour." I tell him and he considers this quietly.

"But you had someone else before?" He asks carefully, looking at me openly, with a non judgemental gaze. I look away. This is not something I can talk about right now. It's too fresh.

"Hey, look if anyone can understand about having your choices taken away, it's me." Deen says quietly. I don't want to see that haunted look in his eyes, but I can't turn away from it.

And I think, maybe besides Haymitch and my family, Deen might be the only person who can understand the complications of Peeta and I's relationship since he went through his own battle with the Capitol for control over his life, and lost.

"Not, officially, not the way Peeta and I had to be together. Back before the Reaping, before I ever spoke to Peeta, I used to hunt with someone else. We used to just be friends, good friends, for years. But, well there was an unspoken expectation that after I got back from my Games, I would take up with him. Only-"

"You came back from the Games practically engaged to Peeta." Deen says filling in the blanks. And I nod. It's not a great overview of what happened, but I find I'm too exhausted to go into more detail at the moment.

"And he found out about you and Peeta." Deen says and I shake my head.

"I told him, for certain today. I think, well, I think he knew. He just didn't want to face it."

"And he's been waiting for you, this whole time, ever since your Games?" Deen asks carefully and I frown.

"No, he...saw other girls. But even that might have been a desperate attempt to get my attention, or to get me out of his mind. I just, I don't know...it's all very strange considering what all of us have had to do to keep the people around us alive. I don't know if any of it counts, or not." I tell him and let out a frustrated breath and cover my face with my hands.

"Did you want him to wait?" Deen asks. And the question strikes me, hard and fast. And I am unprepared as to how to answer.

"No. Yeess...no. I'm not sure." I tell him and he nods.

"If it was the other way around, would you expect Peeta to wait?" Deen asks and I startle.

"What kind of question is that?" I exclaim and then shake my head to remind myself not to yell.

"A thinking question. Just think about it. Imagine their places reversed. Would you expect Peeta to wait for you?" Deen prods and I try to imagine it. But it does no good. I can't imagine ever having to have a conversation with Peeta where I'd have to spell it out for him that way.

"I wouldn't have to expect anything. Peeta, he's different. You know that. He would have waited anyway, even if I hadn't asked him." I reply angrily, but not sure as to why.

"Huh." Deen says and I look over at him in annoyance.

"You know, he had plenty of offers. All the time, in the Capitol. Women threw themselves at him, the second you were out of sight. I never saw him take one room key, or one telephone number. Maybe that was for appearances sake. But, maybe not. You said it yourself. He's different. Maybe you're so used to him you don't realize just how different." Deen tells me and I feel even angrier.

If this was supposed to be a pep talk he was really screwing it up. I could practically hear my molars grinding against each other as I tried to digest this information. So the gaggle of 15 year olds who came to my bridal party weren't that uncommon. Maybe the majority of the women in the country wanted to sleep with Peeta. What did it matter? It was such a farce, a product of the Games. We both became desirable the minute they declared us victors. Most people just knew better than to try and make a pass at me.

Or did they? There was Darius, and I can remember a few comments, a few looks from other guys. People I knew, and strangers. But no one handed me a room key. No one came right out and said it. So I guess I was the unapproachable one after all. At least my attitude was good for something. I never would have taken anyone up on their offers anyway. I'd only gotten engaged to save people's lives. And I only started sleeping with Peeta to ensure our escape plan worked.

Right? The angry statement rattled inside my brain. True and not true at the same time.

Who was I in all this? The girl who avoided and confounded both Gale and Peeta. Hurting them and indulging them alternatively. It felt tarnished, what had happened between us, and I didn't know if Gale and I's friendship would be able to survive this.

"It feels unfair, on all sides." I tell him angrily and he pinches his lips inward, and nods.

"Sure it does, but since when have things ever been fair for people like us?" He says and I know what he's talking about. Me and him, we're two of a kind. Shaped by hardship and tragedy. Surviving it because we don't know how to do any different.

"All we can hope for is for the universe to throw us a lifeline every once in a while. And all we can do is try to hang on, when things get rough." He tells me and I get it. Deen and I have always been able to speak in terms of survival and necessity.

So finally, I think he has said something I can use.

"For me, getting chosen for the Games felt like someone strapping a ticking time bomb to my chest. And I hated everything and everyone, and I tried to hate all of you at first. Do you remember?" He asks, looking at me and I smile back at him, remembering the angry hateful glint in his dark eyes when we first met him on the train.

"Of course I do. You were such a tornado of...energy and anger." I tell him and he shrugs at me. It was more than understandable. Anyone who had ever been Reaped had felt that helpless anger, but few had held onto it like Deen had. It had fueled him, and helped him survive the Games.

"Do you remember what you said to me when I cussed Peeta and Haymitch out, at dinner?" He asks and I think back for a moment trying to remember the exact words.

I can see him, a tallish gaunt boy with a feral look in his coal colored eyes. He had shouted at them for trying to coach him on how to eat. He hadn't had any table manners at first, since he grew up in the group home. And Haymitch and Peeta had just been trying to make him presentable for the sponsors and everyone else. But Deen had howled and raged against their attempts. Effie had refused to eat with him, and his fellow tribute had retreated to her room when the yelling started. And finally Haymitch had stomped off to the bar car and Peeta had sat back shaking his head in disappointment and frustration. Deen had stared at me, expecting me to join in and ridicule him as Haymitch had done in an attempt to embarrass him into compliance or chastise him as Effie and Peeta had.

But I had sat stone faced, sizing him up. And when he stared at me, I raised my eyebrows at him in an obvious challenge.

He had gripped his hands into fists and glared at me and I just laughed.

I turned to Peeta and smiled.

"This one's a victor. I can just tell. He can win." I declared, and both of their eyes had widened in shock. Deen had practically fallen back into his chair, as if someone had kicked his legs out from under him. And I had given him a hard look then.

"You've got rough potential. But it's going to take more than that. You're going to have to listen to every stupid pointless thing they tell you about etiquette, and clothes, and manners, and training. That's the only way you'll survive." I had ordered him and he hadn't yelled or cursed, just looked at me skeptically.

"Why should I listen to you?" He had asked me and I had cocked my head over at Peeta.

"See him sitting here? You see me? We're the only co-victors in the history of the Games. Both of us made it out because we worked as a team. And I'm telling you right now, you're going to need every single person you can get on your side. You can't go into the Games alone. The only way to make it out is to come up with a strategy and work together with your team." I had said in an unwavering voice, and Deen had sat back and stared at me.

Then I picked up my fork, and demonstrated how to hold it. And he had picked up his fork. And for an hour Peeta and I taught him how to use silverware. It had taken longer for him to warm up to Peeta and Haymitch than me, and he still didn't really like Effie, but eventually he had come to rely on us.

My mind came back to the present and I looked over at Deen, so changed from the boy he had been then. The Games had damaged him, as they did us, and the Capitol had done more afterwards. But I remembered what I had told him then.

"I told you to trust us, because we were your team, and I told you I believed in you." I said in answer to his question. And he nodded.

"You, Peeta, and Haymtich. You all were the lifelines the universe threw me when I got tossed into the craziness of the Games. And the only reason I'm here today is because of you all. No other reason, not even myself. I would have given up on myself so many times. Before the Games, in the arena, on the tour, and after. The only thing that kept me holding on was you guys. You all are like my family now. The only one I have. So you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little biased, but I think you're crazy Katniss, if you think there's someone out there who's going to take care of you the way Peeta does. Whatever happened, or however it happened, you're both here now. And you're the best team I've ever seen. Better than friends, better than lovers. You survived together, and more than that you found a way to live again. You can't deny it. His smile is brighter than the sun when you're around. And you, well you're almost a different girl. But in a good way." He says looking at me and I am speechless. I can't believe he's saying all this right now. Since when had Deen noticed this much about Peeta and I's relationship?

"Deen…" I say eventually, lamely, unable to respond to his viewpoint. I would wonder if he was seeing Peeta and I through the same rose-colored glasses that Prim's friends had viewed us with earlier. But Deen isn't naive, or a child anymore. And as much as I hated it, he had been through enough to understand the cheap imitations of affection that people tried to pass off as the real thing.

"It's just my opinion, and yeah, I'm not an objective observer. But I'm not just biased on Peeta's behalf, even though he's like a brother to me now. I'm on your side too. I'd never endorse anyone second rate, not for you. So maybe just consider that it might be time to let him rebuild some broken things...some things you've maybe given up on?" He says tentatively, and I cross my arms over my chest.

I don't know how I feel getting this kind of advice from Deen. He's younger than me, and I'm supposed to be his advisor. Besides, I don't even know if I'm capable of doing what he's suggesting.

"What are you? A relationship guru now that you've won the Games? That gonna be your talent? Matchmaking?" I ask him incredulously.

"No, it doesn't take any special sort of skill to see what you both have. You'd see it too if you weren't so close to the situation." He tells me and I grumble. Unsure whether to trust these statements.

He doesn't know that I've already been down this road with Peeta.

"I've tried Deen. Really, but I don't know. I don't think I'm capable of feeling like that for anyone, anymore. Not after everything that's happened." I tell him quietly, not looking up.

"Hey, they can take and take from us. They can break us down until we're nothing but rubble. But if you've got someone willing to help you put it all back together, then you have to at least keep trying. That's what I'm doing. You think I don't want to run out of this house like my skin's on fire sometimes, and head for the miner's tavern or the Hob? I want to run so bad I can hardly stand it. Haymitch is the same. We're all here fighting our demons. But we're together, and in that at least we're stronger than if we were alone." He says, and I feel his words settle over me real and heavy with the weight of truth to them.

And I look at the painting. The woman walking in the mist. And I knew before she was me, I just didn't know what the mist was or where she was going. But suddenly it made sense.

I looked over at Deen, and nodded and he smiled at me, pleased as I'd ever seen him.

"Alright then, well, I'm gonna take Haymitch back to my place to play some more poker." He says as he stands up and I shake my head. I don't trust them not to go off on a binge.

"Don't worry, Haymitch won't let anything happen. Especially since it's our last night. So, make the most of it Katniss, and if you both still can't make a go of it I'll always be here for you, princess." He says with a smirk and I throw a paint brush at him. He chuckles, and walks out.

And I'm left to think on his words, and to wonder how a boy who'd never been in love before had so many insights on the subject. Maybe he had been once, before we met him. Who could say? I shook my head at the reflection in the window. I looked kind of terrible. So I resolved to take a shower.

I made my way to Peeta's bathroom and turned on the hot water and let it run for a minute before stripping and getting in. I let the warmth seep into my bones and I mentally made myself let go of what had happened earlier in the meadow. And I thought instead of the happiness of this morning. The feeling of coming back to life in Peeta's arms as he held me. That overwhelming want to...do more than give him my body. I had wanted to let him catch me up and keep me. I had wanted to keep him. His smile against my lips had ignited something more than just a burning passion. It had filled a part of my heart that I had forgotten about.

Something that was broken and left long in disrepair. But for just a moment my heart had beat in time with his, whole and without that crippling sense of despair. And I thought of Deen's words. About allowing myself to be rebuilt. And I knew it wouldn't be easy. And it wouldn't happen all in one night. In fact it might take forever. But Deen had even thought of that question, when he asked me to imagine if Peeta would wait for me. I knew he would. He already had.

Maybe…

Just maybe…

And a memory drifted into my mind. I was fourteen and getting ready to leave the Hob after doing some trading. Gale had taken off already, but I had lingered. There was an old man, setting up a machine to demonstrate how it could play music. And the electricity was actually on that morning against all odds. He played a song. With the sound of a guitar plucking thoughtfully in the background, and a fiddle sawing in dreamy long tones. A woman's soft low voice sang in a beautiful melody. The song talked about love. I remembered wondering what it all meant. The words and the longing underneath them. It wasn't the usual flowery or boastful love songs I heard whistled around town and at school. But something about it had stuck in my head. And all the talk of rebuilding had brought it up to my memory. As I recalled it now, slowly, I realized how much the words made sense.

Somewhere between remembering the words and trying to recall the melody I started to hum. And when I had gone through the song once in a soft humming voice, I tentatively started to sing.

My voice was strange at first, a little tight. But the song was low enough that I could sing it fairly well. And by the time I got to the second verse, I was almost warmed up enough to try and play with the notes. But I heard a soft sound, like someone shifting quietly in the space between the words I sang. And I turned to look through the steamy shower glass to see Peeta's blurry silhouette perched on the counter. I stopped singing immediately.

"Please don't stop." His gentle voice asked, and I could hear the longing there, but not for my naked body in his shower. No, at this moment he only wanted my voice, my song. The thing he had said he fell in love with when we were both 5 years old.

But I felt afraid.

I hadn't sung since Rue died. Not really. Not for myself, not for anyone. Even now, it had started unconsciously at first. I didn't know if I could do it while someone was listening. I didn't know if I was ready. Maybe I never would be, really. I didn't know if that meant I shouldn't try.

I took a deep breath and told myself to stop running.

(Listening Track: Build Me Up From Bones- Sarah Jarosz)

Build me up from bones

Wrap me up in skin

Hold me close enough

To breathe me in

The moon's a fingernail

Scratching on the back

Of the night in which we lay beside

I held every inch of you

I wrote every line for you

I made time when time was all but gone

You're the love I've always known

The night's so dark and grey

But you've helped me find my way

Through the wild and wonders of this world

So take me with you now

I need to show you how

I can love you better than before

Play it sweet and low

We've got nowhere to go

I am yours and you're the love I know

I held every inch of you

I wrote every line for you

I made time when time was all but gone

You're the love I've always known

By the time I finished the song my voice was warmed up all the way and the notes were ringing off the tiles and ceiling of his bathroom. My voice sounded clear and full and I smiled a little, happy that I could still do it, still sing. The water had turned cold though, and I reached over and turned off the tap. I toweled off and grabbed a robe and wrapped it around myself before stepping out.

There he was, sitting on the counter top, taking up much more space with his large frame than I did when I perched there. But he was wearing that golden smile. The one that filled him up to overflowing and I just stared at him for a moment.

He stared back at me. And our chests just rose and fell in time with the seconds that ticked by.

"I haven't heard you sing in person since we were kids." He tells me and I nod.

"Thank you." He said with a deeply appreciative smile. I returned it tentatively.

"Did you do what you needed to do at your parent's house?" I asked him and he nodded.

"What about you? Did you...do what you needed to do?' He asks and I can tell he's nervous about asking what happened with Gale. I sighed sadly, but then cut off that painful sentiment. Deen was right. Maybe things would never be fair. But Peeta and I were here now, and there was this feeling in me that I couldn't stop from stretching out and unfurling inside my chest. Not since this morning. Not for a long time now. Maybe it had been there all along and I just hadn't believed in it enough to recognize it.

It had covered the bruised and empty places of my heart earlier, when I sang. It had soothed the ache left behind after the meadow. And now that he was here in front of me, I knew that it came from him, from being with him. Maybe it was still new, and untested, on my part. Maybe it was foolish. But I wanted to let it come alive inside of me anyway. So I made sure my next words were honest and clear.

"He knows everything. No more secrets. He's angry, but it's...done." I tell him and he looks at me incredulously.

"Are you ok?" He asks gently, and I smile at him, a little sadly I'm sure.

"I'm getting there." I say and then cross the distance to his arms. He lowers himself from the counter and pulls me against his chest. And I feel better, so much better now that he's here.

And that sentiment is scary too. So I take another deep breath and close my eyes, just trying to let the fear settle and dissipate the way I sometimes had to do with my flashbacks. But he just murmurs soft words against my hair and I let those settle over me instead and I find I like them much better than the fear.

I want to kiss him now. And I'm sure he wants to kiss me. But he's probably being too considerate of my feelings again. Afraid of pushing me after what had happened with Gale.

But this time... I knew I wanted it to be different. I wanted to find a way to let him know that I felt something more than a need for his body pressed against mine, more than an escape, or a release. What exactly it was, I couldn't put into words, I just knew it was more, more than before.

It was bright and filling, and warm like that one kiss in the cave that had awakened me. But compared to this, the cave was just a speck of light in the dark. It was like the night he had come to my room and promised to stay by my side despite everything, even if I didn't choose him. I had felt it then, but I had shoved it under a more familiar blanket of desire. And I had cheated him and myself of the full enormity of this. I had felt it this morning, as he held me and reached down to pull me from the pit of my own dark fears.

And finally, finally, I was ready.

"Peeta, " I said in a breathless voice, my forehead leaning against his lips.

"Yeah," He said, his voice with a slight tremble.

"Can we try?" I tell him and he nods, before I even finish saying it. And I feel relieved. So relieved. He moves to pick me up and I lean into him as he carries me to his bed.

He sets me down gently, and I run my hands over his shoulders. He starts to tug off his shirt so I can touch him, but I hold his hands still. Wanting to take my time, wanting to do this right.

"Let me, let me show you...what I feel right now." I tell him as I hold his large hands in mine and his eyes blaze with desire and love and anticipation and joy. It's the joy that lifts me up and helps give me guidance.

I lean towards him, not sitting in his lap but close with my skin pressed against his. I reach up and trace the lines of his face. My hands brush against corners of his eyes and I kiss each of his eyelids gently.

"Your eyes, hold me and free me at the same time." I tell him quietly and the sparks dancing over the waters of those serene blue eyes intensify.

"Your lashes, your hair, all that gold you have about you, it makes me feel like you're a bright spot in my life. Something almost too good to be true but I can't help but reach out for it anyway." I whisper as I run my finger through his hair. His eyes close in a peaceful, satisfied way as he lets me touch him. And so far it's been modest and safe but I know that desire is a part of this too. I just have to find a way to balance it better than I have before. So when I reach down to lift up his shirt, I'm careful and slow. And he tries his best to let me take my time.

When his skin is bared and my eyes light on all those freckles I sigh.

"I used to want to touch them. On the train, when you would stand in the light of the window right before you pulled your shirt on. I wanted to trace them all, and even though I didn't want to admit it, I wanted to kiss them all too." I tell him as I let my fingertips graze his skin, in a gentle exploration. He shudders under my touch, but doesn't move to touch me or pull me against him as he usually does. I sigh in relief before I lower my mouth to his skin and begin to plant soft butterfly kisses on every freckle I can find. He fidgets a bit and I think he's a little ticklish. So I just kiss him quicker, as I try not to get drawn into a ticking session. Finally when the last freckle is given its due, I lift his hands and put them on me as I had before. One on my lower stomach, the other over my heart.

"Your hands, everything I said about them is still true. But maybe I underestimated just how much I need you to keep holding me together, everyday." I tell him and he looks at me so warmly, so adoringly, I shudder.

Then he's touching me, gently and he runs his fingers over the fabric of the robe to feel the lines of my body underneath it. My waist, my ribs, my breasts, my hips. He traces me, slowly, and I close my eyes as I feel him memorize me with his hands.

I finally scoot closer to him, settling into his lap. I cup his face in my hands and whisper the last part.

"Your lips. Are what I want...and what I need, more than need...so much more... "

I trail off but his intake of breath is so quick, so rapid, I barely have time to inhale before his lips are on mine. And he's drinking deep from the well of my kisses, and I'm lighting up from the inside.

That golden feeling is everywhere. And I'm drowning in the warmth, but this time Peeta is swept away with me, into a sea of feeling and sensation, and we're both clinging to each other as the same thing that I thought couldn't have gotten any bigger, or deeper, suddenly defies all logic and stretches endlessly before us.

It's intense, and dangerous in the most beautiful of ways. He fumbles with my robe as my hands try for the second time to unbutton his pants. We have to pull away for a second to get our bearings. And when I look into his eyes I see forever in them again, and this time I don't flinch. I know I'm not there yet. I'm nowhere near there. But I'm determined to accept his feelings as large as they are, in the same way he accepts mine in their meagerness. This just intensifies his desire, I can see it in his eyes. And so the robe comes off as do the pants, and then we're together in that familiar way.

And even though it's not the first time, not by a long shot, it feels different, and somehow new.

I realize that while Peeta has been making love to me all these long weeks, I have not been making love to him. There was a difference, between sex and what we were doing now. I could feel it, and so could he. It was there in the way I moved against him, there in the way we breathed each other's names.

It made everything sharper and softer at the same time, and it made me nervous and a little anxious. But he just moved his hands down my skin, his lips over mine, soothing me. And I relaxed, and let myself dive deeper than I ever had before.

We breathed each other in and inhabited each other's skin. And I let myself walk the halls of Peeta's heart. I realized I had been here before. There were familiar places, almost like in a house. But I had never gone past a certain point, until now.

I let myself wander inside the maze of his love. So kind, so selfless, but also strong and indelible. I let him unlock the door to my heart and felt it when he stepped over the threshold. It was like...that moment in the streets of the Capitol. When I had felt the old me awaken inside and come back from almost the dead. Except this time, instead of something old and almost gone reviving, it was something new that unfurled its wings and took to the sky.

And that soaring feeling stayed, long after our bodies had come back down to earth. And he breathed against me, deep and even before he spoke.

"That was….I don't think there are words for it." He said as his hand ran down my head, smoothing down my hair.

"Pretty scary huh?"I asked looking up at him and to my surprise he actually nodded. And I felt just a little vindicated at that moment.

"But also completely worth it." He murmured as he kissed my brow.

I just kissed his shoulder and settled into his side, as I pulled the covers around us.

"Well, now we can say we made love." I tell him and he huffs out a little laugh and stretches out his arm to let me use it as a pillow.

"Yes, we definitely can." Is his reply, before turning out the light.

Chapter Text

(Peeta POV)

Finally.

It was my last thought before I drifted off to sleep with her in my arms. Instead of an absence of dreams, instead of nightmares, I heard her voice. I heard her singing a love song in my dreams. And when we woke early in the morning before the stylists arrived, I kissed her. And she smiled. It was a real smile, not small or fleeting, or guarded, it stretched across her full soft lips and reached her eyes. It was breathtaking. And I was elated.

She squeezed my hand on her way out, and as she left I felt that old familiar feeling of her taking my heart with her when she went. But this time, instead of being left with a memory of her, I felt like she had left a little bit of herself with me too. Like there was something alive and precious that belonged to her underneath my skin. I resolved myself to guard it, and nurture it, and keep it where my heart should be. That feeling filled me up.

So when I heard a knock on the door, I opened it with a cheerful smile. I expected to see Portia and my prep team on my doorstep, but instead I was greeted by a presidential guard in the signature fitted black tactical uniform. Behind him were two more guards, and behind them...stood President Snow.

The smile was wiped off my face. But I just opened my door to allow them in.

They were here in District 12, at my home. I was outnumbered and outgunned. I wore only a loose fitting t-shirt and pants. I hadn't even put on shoes yet. They filed in silently, and it was unnerving how these big imposing men could glide into my home without so much as a squeak of a shoe. But President Snow spoke almost immediately.

"Good morning dear boy, and felicitations on this most auspicious day." He said as he smiled that charming false smile of his. His deep voice rang in my foyer and I felt my heart speed up in anxiety.

He could be here for any number of reasons. He could be here to arrest us all for treason. He could be here to wish us a happy wedding day. Until I found out which one it was I had to keep my cool. We'd been very very careful. Maybe if I could play this off, we could still make it out of this.

"Good morning Sir, I wasn't expecting a personal visit from you today." I tell him in my most diplomatic tone.

"Yes, I know. But it is such an important day for two of Panem's most beloved victors. I would be remiss not to offer my best wishes in person. And besides that, I would like to discuss our plan for you and your bride's future, for the coming year." He says in a cheerful even tone. As if we were talking about the weather, not Katniss and I's forced servitude.

I stare at him for the length of one heartbeat. His flat emotionless eyes stare back at me.

"We can use the study. Would you like some tea? I already put the kettle on." I say, moving towards the kitchen.

"Yes, tea would be fine." He replies.

He sits at the large oak desk in my study. He looks very comfortable, while I almost feel like a guest in my own house. His guards wait right outside the door, and I try to remind myself that he's just a man. A very powerful man, but a man just the same. Anything that he can do to me will be because he has evidence. He can't afford to kill Katniss and I without proof. So I make sure my features are properly schooled and before I look at him directly.

"I take it you're satisfied with the progress Katniss and I have made lately?" I ask.

"It would be better if she were already with child, but you two still have a little more time before more drastic measures need to be taken. Actually, I wanted to congratulate you son, on holding her attention for so long. Women like that are fickle and easily distracted. But you've managed to pique her interest. I receive the reports daily, updating me of the progress you're making with her. Last night, for instance, was particularly promising."

"Last night?" My voice was high, nervous. The bugs, the ones all over the house. We hadn't used the bug scrambler when we'd been together last night.

"Yes, of course. The transcripts my advisors send to my desk aren't very detailed. I don't have the time to learn the ins and outs of your little affair. But I do like to stay apprised of anything that could upset the public image of District 12's Star Crossed Lovers. I don't have time to listen to the raw audio files. There are people who do that kind of thing. But I was particularly pleased to read that she promised she had finally ended her relationship with that coal miner. You must have been relieved as well. So maybe it's a blessing in disguise that she hasn't conceived yet. Wouldn't want to wake up one day and find a coal miner's cuckoo snuck into your nest while you weren't looking."

I feel stricken. As if I had been struck and paralyzed at once.

"She would never-Katniss wouldn't do tha-"

"I thought that was something you might say. So I had my people check into the matter. And really I must say I was disappointed. I thought I had made it clear to her the last time I visited that this sort of entanglement would not be tolerated. But then of course she was always the hot blooded one, so quick to act before she thinks. You really are quite enamored with her, even after all she's put you through. Well, what can you say about young love? Sometimes it can't be helped. Still, I think you should be made aware of just what you're getting in this bargain."

He pulls out a device, a little like the audio recorder Haymitch had used. This one is sleek silver, shiny like a mirror. He clicks an unseen button that must be built into the side and it starts to play.

"What about your old friends and family?" It's Gale's voice. He sounds anxious, a little flustered even. And I wonder what Snow is trying to do, but next I hear her voice, soft and low sounding like she's right beside him.

"I haven't forgotten. Nobody is getting left behind, or left out. Just like I was there when you needed me, I'll always take care of the people who mean the most to me. The...care for my original family doesn't diminish the more people that get added. It's like a tree growing its branches to make room for more birds to nest." She says and I feel confused, stange listening to this. I don't even know if it's real. I mean what if he created this in some lab?

"Then why does it feel just like watching your Games? Why does it feel like you're slipping away?" Gale's voice is pleading, and I think it has to be fake. Gale would never stoop that low. He'd never be that vulnerable. Would he?

"I'm right here Gale, standing right next to you." Katniss's voice replies, and I hear rustling, like bodies shifting, and it makes me uncomfortable.

"Are you? I haven't felt you close to me in a long, long time Catnip." His deep voice replies, and there's unmistakable desire there. And I start to wonder what he means by feeling her close. And just how long is a long time?

"Both of you need to stop expecting so much. I can't...be who you want me to be. I'm not up for it. I'm not the girlfriend type." She replies angrily, and I am momentarily confused. Both of us, why is she talking about me and her, with Gale?

"You mean you're not his girlfriend?" Gale's voice is hopeful, ecstatic.

And then I hear it. The sound of lips meeting, of frantic kissing. And it goes on, and on for a long while. And I hear her moan softly, as he kisses her and it cuts through me like a knife. If the chair weren't under me I'd just collapse right there. And after what seems like an eternity, I hear them break apart, gasping. And I close my eyes, thinking it's over.

Thank god, it's over.

But no, I'm wrong, the next thing I hear is the hungry wet sound of someone's mouth meeting skin. And I don't want to imagine who's kissing who. Or where. I just want it to stop.

"Gale, please." Her voice is breathless, aroused. She sounds like she does when I touch her, and she's begging him, pleading with him to keep going. My head starts pounding. I feel sick.

"Please what Catnip? Tell me what you want and I'll give you whatever you ask for." He tells her in an unmistakable offer.

And I think yes, I'm going to vomit. Right here, right now. I don't want to hear the sound she'll make when he gives her what she's asking for. The bile is in my throat, stinging and choking I struggle, I fight against the urge. But there's images in my mind of them, things I can't stop from racing around and around in my head.

I can't win. I barely have time to make it to the trash can in the corner. There's nothing in my system besides tea and a few butter cookies, but they come up burning and bitter and I cough and choke as I retch into the trash can.

When I stand up and turn around, I can see a conciliatory look in Snow's face. He has stopped the audio device, probably confident in the fact that he made his point. He looks as if he feels sorry for me. And I shiver, at that look. It must be a cold day in hell today.

"Son, I am sorry to do this to you on this day, and in this manner. But as you can see, that girl is just not to be trusted. I know she promised you she would stop seeing him. But, well the evidence speaks for itself. You need to be made aware so that precautions can be taken. Any children you will be allowed to have, must be the product of two victors. Anything else will not be tolerated. You'll be the head of your family from this day forward. It's time you started reigning her in." He tells me seriously, but I can't seem to formulate a response.

My tongue feels heavy and dry in my mouth. And every good thing that I had held in my hands this morning seems to have been dashed to pieces on the floor.

"This coming year, you will become parents. That will require teamwork and commitment. The teamwork I don't doubt you both have. You've certainly shown it enough times. And you've been committed to her for years now. Never so much as looked at another woman, if the reports I get are to be believed. The one to watch is her. She's devious, clever. You'll have to keep a firm grip on her. You'll have to learn to stop giving her the benefit of the doubt."

"How do I know that's even real? It could be a lie. Cooked up to make us hate each other." I tell him angrily, the words taste like ash in my mouth.

"Why don't you ask her? Look, I'll leave the recording here. You can discuss it with her at your earliest convenience. But do be prepared, because that's her voice. And his. It's time to stop fooling yourself. You know in your heart you were never her first choice. She would have let you die on that riverbank if we hadn't changed the rules. You were only ever a means to an end for her, the key to survival. And if necessity hadn't dictated that you should produce children at this time, well she most likely would have continued her strategy of using the both of you. Him for hunting, and whatever base needs he meets for her. You for comfort and solace when she was away from him. It's only because of the gift of Capitol design that you have experienced even this much of her frugal and fickle affections. But I don't mind helping you in this way. You are obviously the superior choice, and you fit the narrative we want to achieve. You civilize her, you smooth over her tempestuous nature. You bring her to her senses. Things can remain this way, if you cooperate." He says looking over at me but I stare at the floor.

"You obviously need time to collect yourself." He says in annoyance, as he stands up. I don't move from the spot I seem to be rooted in.

"I hope you can compose yourself quickly, son. There's still work to be done today, and I will not tolerate a poor performance because of personal problems. My sympathy extends only so far." He says in a warning tone and I look over at him and manage to nod my ascent. That seems to be enough, because then he's sweeping out of the room like a hurricane.

And I'm left trying to make sense of the chaos in his wake.

(Katniss POV)

Cinna is walking around me, studying me in the light as I stand before him and my stylists wearing only a thin silk robe.

"You've changed a bit." He says, as he tilts his head and observes me. I fidget a little, hoping I haven't gained too much weight or anything strange like that. I've been eating more regularly, and sleeping better as well. My usual clothes haven't been fitting me tight or anything. So, I can't automatically think what he means when he says this.

"You look healthier. Your skin is much improved. Have you been using those beauty treatments I sent to your sister for her party?" He asks, his green eyes flecked with gold inquisitive and curious as he takes me in.

I shake my head no, and he just smiles.

"Well whatever it is, keep it up. I don't think I've seen you this refreshed and strong, not even before the Games." He tells me and then starts issuing instructions to the team to start prepping my hair and nails and skin. I relax. Their hands are familiar to me as Prim, or my mother when they braid my hair. Octaiva is making a joke about how she wanted to buy me fur underwear as a wedding present when she heard where we'd be honeymooning, when Portia comes in.

She speaks to Cinna in low tones, and after a minute leaves.

"Everything ok?" I ask him and he smiles at me reassuringly.

"Just normal wedding day mixups." He tells me and I nod, and turn my face back so Flavius can finish applying moisturizer to my skin.

Effie dropped in sometime while we were prepping with an enormous checklist in her hand to make sure everything was perfect.

I just gave myself over to the prep team and Cinna. They make me over to beauty base 1 and go from there. My nails are shaped and polished in a light dusty pink color that looks almost nude, but subtly warm on my skin. My makeup is done in a natural fashion that leaves me looking recognizable but expertly enhanced. My hair is left down in glossy waves, but pinned to one side completely with a sparking hairpiece that runs down the back length of my hair in the shape of a spiraling feather. When they bring out my dress I can see it's in three pieces. The bodice, a winter jacket that goes over it for the cold weather, and the pieces of an over skirt.

The bodice is a visual masterpiece. At first glance it appears as if there's crystal and lace flowers and plants floating in the air along the torso section of the dress, but upon closer inspection I can see that there's an impossibly thin layer of see through fabric that almost like netting stretched out in between the designs. It creates the illusion that the flowers and jewels have been pressed to my skin. They are beautiful and intricate, and on closer inspection I can see the bodice is sewn in layers, one layer of flowery lace underneath the sheer jewel encrusted layer above. But the design leaves lots of negative space on my skin. Tiny patches that reveal the tan of my shoulders, stomach, and all along my arms where the fitted lace sleeves hug my defined limbs. The lace underneath is cut to cup my breasts in a heart topped shape, but the sheer laver above extends the jewels and flowers in a v-cut extending up my collarbone. I tilt my head to try and understand how the two different cuts can blend together so well. I could never have come up with something this masterful in a thousand years. Only Cinna could make something this beautiful.

The sheer layer, thankfully, ends at my waist, and the narrow hip hugging skirt extends down to a few inches above my knees. Over it Cinna drapes a gauzy train that has two or three sheer layers that turn the skirt into a floor length gown. They are cut in alternating lengths, giving the dress more volume while not taking away from the lines of the original skirt that shows off my shape. It's understated, but gorgeous. And when Cinna and the stylist pick up the train layers and pin them back so they practically disappear, I almost protest.

"It's just for a little while, Katniss. We don't want to spoil the big reveal until it's time." Cinna tells me. I understand then, that this dress is going to be like the others he has designed for the Games interview and the tribute parade, and will be revealed in stages. They slide on some white dainty looking heeled boots that come to my ankle, and I am glad that my feet won't be cold today. And that I won't have to stand in heels for hours. Then Cinna holds out the snow white fitted jacket and it looks like a proper courthouse wedding jacket. But when he lets it rest against my shoulders, it feels heavy, unnaturally so.

"What's this thing made of?" I ask him as I try to balance uncomfortably in it.

"Magic, and secrets my dear." He tells me kindly and I smile up at him. I haven't told him yet how perfect it all is.

"Cinna, I've never seen anything like it." I say as I stare at myself in the mirror. Right now I look like a traditional district 12 bride, only more like a dreamy mystical version. The only real touch of extravagance visible is the snow white fur at the wrists and collar, and of course the silky soft but warm material of the jacket and skirt. It's topped with earrings like I've never seen before. They are like cuffs that travel up my ears in feathery silver and diamond designs. But I look mostly like myself. He had honored my request and exceeded it at the same time. I looked up at him so gratefully.

And I don't need to say the words, he saw what I meant and he smiled at me. I hugged him fiercely, and he hugged me back.

"Save the twirling for right before the vows." He whispers to me and I have to fight to keep the tears out of my eyes.

When my mother and Prim come in, they are speechless. My mother's eyes go misty and she thanks Cinna and the team profusely. Pim walks around me, trying to look at the design from every angle.

No one has to say it. Their collective quietness tells me that Cinna has done it again. He has transformed me into something more than beautiful, something ethereal.

We gather our things, and I have Prim bring my bag filled with my bridal shower gifts along. I know it's not a real wedding, but I want the well wishes of those sweet girls to go with me.

Peeta and the groom's party have already left by the time we pile in the large Capitol car. It's only a short drive but I feel strangely withdrawn and disconnected as we pull up the Justice Building. I feel a little like this is all happening to someone else. And when I get out of the car there's a camera crew waiting. They film me as I emerge from the car and as I walk with my group into the building. I try to smile, and hope it comes off acceptably. Or if it doesn't, I hope people will think it's just nerves.

But honestly I can't feel anything at all. It's strange, like my brain has decided to disconnect me from all the confusing emotions that are warring inside me. Like there's ice running through my veins and my body is on autopilot. Once we're inside they make me walk in twice, to get the right angle. Then they take pictures and video of me in front of the wall where Peeta and I's names are inscribed as victors.

I try my best not to look robotic. Then it's time to walk into the ceremony room. But apparently there's some kind of problem. They delay my entrance twice, but then after what must be at least a 10 minute delay, they give us the go ahead. My mother enters first, alone. Then Prim follows her after 15 steps. Then it's my turn, and because I didn't have a father to walk me down the aisle, I had asked Cinna a few months ago if he would walk me. He had accepted, and he led me now through the heavy wooden doors into the next world.

At first all I can see are bright floor lights pointed down at me. I know this is airing live all across the country and the thought makes me shake a little. I clutch Cinna's arm a little tighter so I don't fall. I can barely see where I'm going. But then my eyes adjust and I take it all in.

It's a medium sized room, made to feel smaller with the crowd of our wedding party and the camera crew inside. And at the opposite end of the room stands a public officiant who will supervise as Peeta and I fill out the required legal forms. To his left stands Prim looking beautiful in the pale pink dress Cinna crafted for her. On the opposite side is the groom's party.

Haymitch looks on with that signature self amused smirk that he wears whenever the cameras are on him. He stands a little unbalanced in his grey suit, and I think he's trying to act inebriated. Next to him stands Deen, who looks rakishly handsome with his tie undone, and his hair mussed up in a 'I just rolled out of bed this morning', style. He smiles at me, big and bright and I return his smile, tentatively. Then it's Gale. And I've never seen him in formal attire. He looks devastatingly handsome. But my eyes take him in objectively and don't linger. Because next to him stands my co-star. My lover, my ally, my teammate, my friend. And I feel my heart skip a beat.

He looks a little startled, and a little tired, but also gorgeously handsome. He's wearing a white tux that is tailored to perfection, with matching formal white boots. I love the subtle hints of grey and silver that Portia and Cinna included along his lapels and cuffs. My eyes drink him in slowly as I make my way towards him. And I let my eyes linger on all my favorite places. His golden tones, the blue of his eyes, the broadness of his shoulders. His lips parted as I approached.

The closer I get, I can see he looks a little pale, and I wonder if he's nervous. There's an unreadable look in his eyes as I take the final step to get to him, and Cinna releases my arm to let me stand beside Peeta. Cinna moves behind me to help me unfurl the train of the dress. It's such a seamless transition it's like magic. And I hear gasps. I smile, proud of how Cinna's work is received. I know it looks just perfect.

I look over at Peeta and he's staring at me a little mesmerized. I smile at him, a little shyly, but he just gulps and blinks at me. He looks so good in that suit, I wish I could pause everything. But I stop myself from ogling him, and look at his face, right into his gentle blue eyes. And right then I can tell that there is something off. He's getting paler by the second, and his smile looks more like a grimace than a real smile. I reach out and grasp his hands in mine. He doesn't look over at me, just stares straight ahead. And I wonder if he's having a grey day.

That's Peeta's name for the days when we get lost in the flashbacks of the Games. He doesn't get them during the day as much as I do, but when he does he's almost as difficult to pull out of that terrified state as I am. I don't know what could have set him off since the morning. He had been so happy, so calm and content when I left.

It could be the stress of this day, the pressure of the cameras, it could be as simple as a change to his routine as it had been for me. Whatever it was, I resolved to help him though it. So I ran my thumb back and forth across his in a comforting gesture and made sure to knit my fingers together with his as confidently as I could.

The officiant asks a few preliminary questions, such as our names, and our age, and if we're entering into this union of our own free will. The last question gives me pause, but then I remember this is all for show. We won't really be getting married today. So I answer as expected. Peeta answers all the questions quickly, but I can hear a flat note in his voice. Almost emotionless as he speaks. And I think this is not good. I glance over at him worriedly. But he doesn't look at me. The officiant produces several forms and sets them on the small signing table in front of us.

"Do you have the tokens?" He asks, and Gale steps forward to hand over the rings. But he drops them and they go clattering to the floor, people gasp and start looking around their feet. I know though that this was all planned before. This is the distraction we needed for Gale to switch out the legal marriage license with the forged ones. I play it up by lifting my hem up a fraction of an inch and searching around frantically for the plain gold bands that have gone missing. People chatter worriedly, and there's a nervous energy in the air until Rory crouches under a chair to the right of him and lifts up both golden rings with a triumphant shout. People clap and laugh and I smile in a relieved way. Peeta tries to look amused but his cheeks are a little too tight. And I swallow a lump in my throat.

When the rings are finally given to the official, he has us sign the forged documents. Then he asks us if we have any vows we'd like to share.

We nod, but Peeta seems shaky. And I think he's not going to be able to hold it together until the end of the ceremony. So I go off script and offer to say my part first.

I turn to him, holding his hand in mine and start to say the words Haymitch and he had written for me.

"You are my guiding light. You are my other half. You complete me in every way. And I couldn't be happier to be here with you today, as our love catches fire and blazes towards a new chapter in our lives." I say, with as much feeling as I can muster, and extend my hand so he can slide the ring on my finger. And then I lift his hand up over my head so he can twirl me.

And there's more sounds of shock and awe as Cinna's jaket burns away and reveals the incredible bodice of the dress beneath. And I'm surprised to find it didn't burn away completely, but left behind the grey and iridescent feathers of a mockingjay modeled down my back and over my arms. And when I extend them, I find I have been given wings. Mockingjay wings.

Cinna. He has outdone himself. I think as a hush settles over the room. And I beam, so very happy that this is the last dress he will make for me in my role as victor. I feel both beautiful and powerful in it.

But when I look at Peeta he is not smiling. He has such a sad, heartbroken look on his face that it stops me in my tracks. And I know, I know deep down in my bones that something is incredibly wrong. But we're on live television. And I don't know how to fix it. So when he clasps my hand and stares at me, but also through me and starts delivering the lines of his speech I begin to breathe heavily. I can almost feel the clammy cold chill spreading from his palm up my skin.

And when he gets to the third line, about how our love will be eternal I can't take it anymore.

"Stop." I say, and there's the sound of a silent train wrecking somewhere in the background.

He stares at me, grey faced and incredulous. But I just shake my head at him.

"Please, wait, I...I need to say something." I say over the worried whispers. I know if I look over at Haymitch or anyone I'll lose my nerve. So I don't.

"I didn't write those words before. I'm not really good at that kind of thing. So, I asked for help. But I don't want to go through this day, with someone else's borrowed words. I just want to use my own words, even if they're not quite adequate." I tell them all, and then I turn back to Peeta. I grab both his hands in mine and face him straight on.

I can't let him fall apart. I can't let this wedding fall apart. Snow is watching right now, and if he suspects even for a moment that something is wrong, Peeta and I and everyone else we love will be dead before we know it.

But there is another force driving me, underneath the terror. It's the need to protect him, to be his lifeline like he had been for me.

"You were the first boy I ever kissed." My voice is barely audible. And the reporter signals off camera for me to speak up, but I don't care. This part isn't for the cameras. It's not for any of them. I started with the first kiss because it was the first real thing we talked about that night that seemed so long ago, but really happened only a little less than two months ago. Peeta is looking at me now, really present, and I don't want to lose him to the wave of sadness that had threatened to drown him just moments before.

"We learned to trust each other, in a place where trust is a luxury no one can afford. You fought for me, we fought for each other. Kept each other safe, won so much, and lost so much too." These words may not make sense to anyone watching, they might make a connection to Peeta losing his leg perhaps. But he knows exactly what I mean, the nightmares, the darkness, the pain that never went away.

"You were by my side through it all. You were my friend first. Patient, kind, pure-hearted." I'm gripping his hands so tightly in mine, my fingers have gone white. But it's like that first night when I kept playing Haymitch's words over in my mind.

Honesty, say what's true.

"Strong but gentle, Merciful not cowardly, generous without the thought of what you'd get in return." I feel my knees shaking, but he's there, holding me up, holding me together.

"I want to thank you for saving me. I've never deserved it, and I still don't. But that never stopped you. And without that, without you, I don't know how I would be breathing right now. I can't imagine a day, a moment when I won't need you. I'll always need you." I finish with my voice trembling, my eyes watery. And when I slip the ring on his finger, my heart expands unexplainably.

Peeta is crying, not bothering to wipe the tears from his face. So I reach up a trembling hand to wipe them away, and we laugh. Right at the same time, and it seems the grey fog has been dispelled. He smiles, bright and full at me. I close my eyes to fold away the moment in my heart. The officiant clears his throat, which had apparently become thick with tears as well. I look up and around the room and remember we are not alone.

Many eyes are shiny bright with tears, and quite a few people are dabbing their faces with handkerchiefs. My mother looks on a little wistfully, but Prim is beaming at her side. Only Gale looks on stoically. There's a twinge of guilt that pieces my chest when my eyes sweep over his grey ones. But he's not looking at me, or us, he's staring at a spot on the floor with dogged determination.

"Anything to add?" The officiant asks Peeta and he just shakes his head.

"She said it better than I ever could." He replies and people laugh.

"Well, then with that, I believe all that remains is for you to kiss the bride." The officiant manages to say after he blows his nose. Peeta doesn't hesitate. He pulls me towards him, and kisses me like the cameras aren't even there. A little cheer goes up. I feel breathless and dizzy when he finally lets go. We are swept out of the hall and the cameras get a shot of us walking down the steps of the Justice Building hand in hand and turning back to wave goodbye for now to the audience happily. The reporter promises they'll catch up with us at the reception in the Capitol later.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

I shiver in the cold outside the Justice Building as they get the last few shots of us smiling and kissing. Then they call cut, and the moment stretches thin between everyone. Peeta takes off his jacket, and slides it onto me and I shoot him a grateful smile. Now that the cameras are off, he seems a little worn out. But his eyes are clear and present in a way they hadn't been before.

"I wish you'd reconsider letting us film the toasting ritual." The director says to Peeta as the camera people put away their things.

Peeta just laughs good naturedly, and says "Some things are sacred Tyrenious." So that's the director's name, I had never bothered to learn it, but he hadn't been so bad to work with. He hadn't been overly pushy or tried to change the way Peeta and I acted around each other.

That's all over now, we'll go home and get ready for the toasting and we'll never see Tyrenious or any of his Capitol assistants again. I look back at the Justice Building one more time. I won't be seeing it again either. Suddenly it feels too big and too real, the fact that in a few hours we'll leave and won't see District 12 again, at least not unless things change. We say our goodbyes to our stylists, and their assistants. Cinna and Portia have both been invited to the toasting, but weren't sure they'd be able to get away. I don't want to let go when Cinna hugs me, but he just detaches me gently and nods to me. "I'm still betting on you girl on fire. It's time to spread your wings." He whispers against my hair before planting a quick kiss on my cheek. Then he and Portia are heading in the direction of the train station.

The rest of us pile into two cars which drive us the very short way back to the victor's village. I'm dropped off at home with my mother, Prim, and Gale. Peeta and Haymitch and Deen get out and head toward Peeta's house. We have only a few hours before the toasting, and there is still a lot to do. We've all got to change, finish packing, double check things, and try to get some rest if we can. Hazel is inside with the kids, pretending to pack my things for tonight when I'm supposed to move into Peeta's house. Really she's filling packs with supplies and hiding them in suitcases that everyone will help carry over when the toasting starts.

It's supposed to be a tradition to help the bride move into her new home. But tonight I'm not the only one moving. If everything goes to plan we'll be new residents of District 13 in a few weeks. We all head in quietly, and I can feel everyone's anxiousness under the calm exteriors that are being projected. When we get into the living room, Posey makes a big deal about my dress and my hair and tells me I look like a princess from a fairytale. I try to smile at her, but all I can think is that Gale hasn't looked at me once since the ceremony. Hazel's eyes dart back and forth between us with concern. I'm sure she saw the broadcast, it aired live. But there's nothing anyone can say right now. So I just head upstairs to get changed. Prim helps me out of my dress and I help her with hers. We both change into more casual clothes.

"You really do look beautiful." She tells me gently. I blink at her, almost not having heard her. I was a million miles away. My mind on the wilderness, the storm that's supposed to blow in sometime tomorrow. And Gale.

"Oh no little duck, I wish I looked like you." I tell her almost absentmindedly. A memory washes over me. The afternoon of the reaping. Prim so young and innocent with her shirt tail untucked. I reach out to hold her to me, and she relaxes after a moment and hugs me back.

"It's ok, you know, to be happy." She tells me and gives me a knowing look. She's talking about Peeta. She's thinking about the ceremony today and I just close my eyes against her words. Because she's my sister, and she wants my happiness more than anything. She doesn't understand how badly I am hurting the people around me. Because I have always loved her, and I have never held any part of that love back.

"I'll be happy when you're safe little duck." I tell her and then I release her.

"Let's finish up ok?" I tell her as a way to change the subject. I really don't want to get into my feelings right now. There's no time. We check our bags, our suitcases, our supplies. Everything seems ready. My mother had been hiding supplies around our home for months. But we couldn't pack until today or it would have looked suspicious.

Hazel has done a great job. There's nothing else to do but rest. The kids sprawl out in the living room on the couches and armchairs, and try to take naps. We've all told them that no one will be sleeping tonight. We'll have to travel until we can't anymore to put as much distance between us and district 12 as we can. My mother is double checking the medical supplies she's taking. Hazel is putting the finishing up on the dinner we'll be taking over to Peeta's. I don't even try to nap, I'm too nervous. It feels like the night before I went into the arena. Gale's face remains impassive and cold as he looks out a window. I shiver, feeling icy all over. I decide to retreat to the study, hoping that solitude will help calm my nerves.

I'm running my hands over the spines of my mother's apothecary books I ordered for her last yuletide, when he walks in. I turn toward him, bracing myself. But he just stares at me. I stare back at him. He's traded the Capitol finery for some of his own clothes. Sturdy pants, a clean shirt, and his hunting jacket. We both stand there for a minute before anyone speaks.

"You're still furious with me." I just come right out and say it.

"No, actually I'm mad at myself. For not noticing until it was too late. I've been so busy trying to do what needed to be done. I haven't been paying attention. I didn't protect you."

"Nothing could have changed it Gale, not you, not anyone." I told him.

He eyes me with disbelief.

"You don't have to believe me. I probably wouldn't if I was you. But it was like with the berries. Something I just instinctively knew I had to do. A risk worth taking, to save more than myself. To save everyone." I say quietly.

"It was a sacrifice I would never have asked you to make."

"Like I said, it wasn't only about you." I tell him tiredly, feeling like this track of conversation was pointless. What's done is done. I don't even regret a tenth of what I probably should.

"You love him." He says quietly.

I shrug my shoulders, shake my head still unsure of that word.

"You're falling for him then." Gale modifies the statement.

"All I know for sure is, I need him. He got me through the past two years, and we got through the past two months together. Things have been different for a while between me and him, I just didn't want to admit it. I didn't want things to change."

"Everything changes Katniss, you can't stop it."

"I know."

"Then you also have to know that neither of you understands what's real and what's not right now. You and him, both of you didn't have a choice. I thought about it, long and hard afterwards. And I realized maybe it's neither of your faults. But if that's true then, you should give yourself a chance to get some perspective. I'm not saying this for me. I'm taking myself out of the picture entirely right now. I realize that I just made things worse while all this was happening to you. I'm not going to make that mistake again. But as your oldest friend, please think about what I'm saying. You're too smart not to recognize what's going on. As much as you want it to be real, to mean more so you can own it, there will always be a shadow of doubt. I know there's a part of you that values the truth, even if it hurts sometimes." He tells me, with such sadness I think I feel my heart drop to the souls of my feet.

I hear his words, resonating throughout my entire body. I feel them breaking through my tentatively built dreams. He's right. It hurts. It hurts so very much.

"You'll figure it out." He tells me but I just stare outside the window, wishing I could leave this house, and his words, and the truth that was in them, and run to the woods and get lost for days.

When I don't say anything he just covers the distance between us in a couple of steps. I think he's going to kiss me, so I shake my head. But his lips don't sweep over mine. He just hugs me, gently, regretfully, like I'm something delicate that had gotten cracked because he hadn't been careful enough. It's the hug of a friend who's saying he's sorry. And I pat his back gently, because I'm a little sorry too. He leans down to press his forehead to me, and stands there for a minute. I just breathe him in. He smells like the woods, and the chilly air of the courtyard. Finally he straightens up and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

"It's going to be a whole new world tomorrow. But I know we can face it, if we're still on each other's side." His voice is soft, kind even. His eyes are sorrowful, but sincere. And I know he means it. He's sorry for the anger and bitterness that passed between us the night before. Because that's not who we are, Gale and me. We've never wanted to hurt each other. We always, always wanted to help each other survive. And that realization hits me like a ton of bricks dropped on my head.

I can barely breathe, much less speak, so I just nod. His lips press softly against the top of my head, and I close my eyes, not wanting the moment to end. But then he's gone. And I'm left alone in the study.

At sundown we all gather in the kitchen so Hazel and my mother can direct us about what to start taking. When I reach out for a pot of roasted potatoes with butter and rosemary sauce, Hazel stops me.

"Oh, not you dear. You only walk over after everything is finished." She takes the pot from me and I stare at her back quizzically as she bustles away. I can help as well as anyone else, and I prefer to do my share when there's work to be done. But my mother's voice just pipes up from over by the stove. She's sprinkling the last touch of chopped herbs onto a plate of sauteed mushrooms.

"It's tradition for the bride to walk over only once. It's considered bad luck to go back and forth between your old home and new home on your wedding night." Her words throw me off, and I have to remind myself that she's saying these things because the house is bugged, and others might be listening in. There will surely be eyes on us today as well. So I just gulp down my reservations and go to work covering dishes and helping in the kitchen while everyone else ferries the food over to Peeta's.

When it's all done, everyone puts their coats on and grabs bags and suitcases that have been lined up by the door. Gale carries four large ones easily, two in each hand. Rory carries three. So, because everyone has beaten me to the larger bags, I am left with only a small knapsack to sling over my shoulder.

"Alright," Hazel says with a nod looking over at me. "I think that's everything."

I nod at her and motion for Gale to open the door. We make our way slowly across the walkway to Peeta's home. It's dark already, the sun having gone down and the light vanished while the food was being carried over earlier. When Gale reaches the door he lowers two suitcases from his right hand to knock. Haymitch answers and he ushers us in.

"Special delivery for you!" Haymitch yells in the direction of the kitchen. Peeta's father chuckles from the living room. And his oldest brother Rye smiles at us as we file in. His wife is sitting next to him on the couch and she offers us a wave. Haymitch directs everyone to leave the suitcases under the stairs.

People spread out in the living room and kitchen. I look around counting. 14 in all. Peeta and I, Haymitch and Deen, my family, Peeta's father, oldest brother and wife, Gale and his family. Cinna and Portia are not not here either, nor Peeta's mother, or his middle brother, Dill. They had not wanted to leave 12, and no amount of convincing had worked on them. My guess is Peeta went over yesterday as a last ditch attempt to get them to leave, but it had failed. Peeta's mother had asked to keep the bakery, and Dill had asked for a gift of money so he could enlarge the business. Peeta had agreed. It might have been a way to buy their silence. But I knew that Peeta, and his father, and Haymitch had worked out some system in which they would only get the money and the deed to the bakery after we had been gone a few weeks. I don't know if they came over earlier to say goodbye.

I don't envy Peeta today, I don't know what I would do if half of my family had decided to stay behind. But I had always known Peeta's family was different from mine. There was little holding them together besides obligation and blood ties. I had often wondered how a boy who grew up in such a cold home had turned out so warm and loving.

I decided to pop into the kitchen to check on him. I found him putting the finishing touches on a beautiful two tiered white cake. It looked deceptively simple, with a border of silver ribbon that was so shiny and silk-like I didn't realize it was frosting until I got closer. The cake itself was decorated with hundreds of candy pearls and silver and gold flowers. Then I noticed other things. A grey feather made of icing that matched the back of my wedding outfit. A half moon, a yellow lemon, and a row of buttons danced along the back left corner. The way the icing ribbon ends fell over the end of the cake edge reminded me of a certain pair of grey sheets I knew well. And at the top, a gold crown that was separated into two pieces. It was a fondant copy of our victors' crown, the one we had shared after the Games. My breath caught in my throat as I took it all in.

"You don't like it." Peeta's voice is flat and full of disappointment.

"I do." I say in a hushed voice. I reach out my fingers and almost touch a silver flower that looks so fresh and real I would swear he had picked it this morning.

"Oh, well that's a relief." He says and wipes the back of his hand across the bridge of his nose.

A streak of white frosting is rubbed off on part of his nose and cheek.

I shake my head at him.

"You always manage to do the right thing." I say, part in wonder, part consternation.

He laughs, and takes off his apron, hanging it on a hook on the wall.

"Well I had just enough time to finish it. No time for second guessing now." He said as he smoothed down his clothes.

"It's perfect." I tell him as I walk up and straighten his collar. I want to ask him about earlier, during the wedding and why he was so nervous and distant. I just need to work up the courage a little.

Then I use my thumb to wipe off the smear of frosting across his nose and cheek. He cocks his head to the side with a smile. I show him the frosting on my thumb and his brows pluck up in understanding.

"Thanks," he says, still standing close to me.

"Welcome." I reply looking into his blue eyes, which are definitely drinking me in right now. So maybe my impromptu speech during the wedding had helped some. He was at least looking me in the eye now. And I found myself a little mesmerized by his blue ones. Maybe we had time for a quick kiss before we got down to the serious questions?

A throat clears from the doorway and we both turn to see Rye standing there, a small smile on his lips.

"They sent me to let you know everyone's waiting." He says simply and I take a step back from Peeta, reflexively.

"I just finished the cake." Peeta says and his brother nods, making his way across the kitchen toward the cake. I slip out so I'm not in the way. Peeta is closer with Rye than his other brother, largely due in part to their interest in baking. I think Rye is also quieter and more reserved than the rest of the family, a little like their father.

Everyone is in the dining room. Peeta's dining room seats 12, so a few kitchen chairs have been squeezed in to accommodate everyone. But they're all smiling and laughing, waiting for us eagerly so the dinner can begin. When they see me enter alone questions spring up. But I just wave them off saying the boys are talking cake.

Everyone's already piled their plates high with every side and entre available. Even Peeta and I have been served. I sit down at the head of the table where two cushioned dining chairs have been squeezed together. After an extended period Peeta and Rye join us. Mine and Peeta's chairs are so close our knees will be touching all through dinner.

Peeta does a great job of thanking everyone for coming. He makes a short speech about how important it is to have our family and friends with us tonight, and how we're honored at their show of support and love. It's more for the spyware that's sure to be hidden in his floorboards and light fixtures than it is a real thank you speech.

Everyone here knows that this dinner is just for show. I will not be moving in with Peeta, we aren't even really married. But we will need the extra calories from the feast, and it will be our last chance to enjoy a meal in relative comfort for a while. So when he finishes everyone claps and then we dig in. Compliments are given to my mother and Hazel between bites.

After a few moments of awkward silence, people look around at each other, everyone trying to think of something to say. It's supposed to be a celebration after all. So, Peeta's father begins telling a story about the first time they let Peeta frost a cake at the bakery when he was 12. We laugh at the funny parts, and gasp appropriately when we hear that Peeta and Rye got into an argument about his buttercream technique that resulted in half the cake getting smashed when the brothers ended up wrestling in the kitchen.

Some of the anxious tension burns off. Haymitch then proceeds to tell them about how one time during a trip to the Capitol, Peeta and I snuck down to the train's kitchen to make Effie a surprise birthday cupcake, and I ended up starting a small kitchen fire when Peeta tried to let me bake it. There's lots more laughter and playful shaking of heads in my direction. I just shrug my shoulders and admit I'm terrible in the kitchen.

Prim rises to my defence and says I make decent soup. This has the opposite intended effect, and people start laughing again. It goes around like this while we eat. People tell funny stories involving us, or even things they found funny while watching us on tv at home. I always forget that almost every significant moment of my life since the Reaping has been broadcast for the country to consume and dissect. It's unnerving.

Deen chimes in and recounts the time Peeta and I sent him a fork along with a meal we delivered to him in the arena, with a message that said Effie would be grading his table manners. Everyone laughs and says they remember that one too.

Rye's wife recounts watching us on the first victory tour, the time Peeta stepped on my foot with his prosthetic after the people of district 6 insisted we dance a complicated jig with them for the cameras. She laughs sweetly when she tells us she remembered him bringing me ice for my foot all night while I just sat in a chair and scowled at everything.

"I hadn't quite gotten used to my new leg." Peeta says sheepishly and there's more laughing. After an appropriate amount of time and enough stories we all head to the living room for the toasting.

It's a simple affair. Peeta slices a loaf of fresh bread and he and I take small squared off ends to skewer on some metal brochettes. We hold them in the fireplace until they toast just slightly, and then we feed them to each other. There's more clapping, and then my mother suggests we all head into the kitchen for cake and coffee. I'm watching everyone filing out slowly when I feel Peeta's thumb brush against the corner of my mouth.

"Crumbs." He explains, and it's a mirror of what happened in the kitchen earlier, except this time I'm drinking in the sight of him. The precise line of his jaw, the way his skin looks flushed this close to the fireplace. And the way the flames spark in his eyes, like fire on water. I stare at him, just a beat too long, and then look down quickly. My eye catches on the corner of his couch, but I force myself to look away from that too. I can't get distracted right now. Not when we're so close to pulling everything off. He just takes my hand and gives it a small squeeze.

"Almost there." He whispers, and then he gives me a warm smile and tugs me in the direction of the kitchen. When we get into the hall I see the back of Gale's cotton shirt turning the corner into the kitchen. And I know he was the last out of the room. I wonder how much he saw. Then I remind myself he's seen Peeta and me do more than stare into each other's eyes over the last three years.

Everyone is gathered around the cake. Peeta receives a lot of praise, and a few pats on the back. Then they ask us to cut it and we oblige.

"I'm putting on the coffee just now." Hazel says from over by the stove.

We're all probably stuffed, yet no one refuses a slice. Though Gale takes his cake plate along with everyone else, he doesn't even taste it. He just stares down at the silver feather sculpted in frosting, like it's made of poison.

No one makes chit chat this time, everyone is eerily quiet as they eat. And I feel it. The moment shifting and sliding around us. Peeta moves away from me, and reaches into his pants pocket to retrieve a small metal device. He places it on the kitchen counter. I can feel everyone's eyes lock on us. His hand presses down on a button. Then I hear Hazel's voice.

"The coffee pot isn't heating. Peeta, I don't think the stove is working." Hazel's tone is even, unconcerned.

"That's not possible. It's brand new. I just had it installed a few days ago." Is Peeta's measured reply. Everyone puts down their plates and forks noiselessly.

"Do you smell that?" My mother's voice asks, her tone curious.

Their voices coming from a prerecorded tape, continue a conversation while we sneak as quietly out of the room as we can.

14 pairs of feet move as soundlessly as possible, down the hall and under the stairs and down into the basement. Rye and Peeta had moved all the bags while we waited on them in the dining room. Suitcases are opened on bated breath, packs are handed out. We put on thick winter coats, boots, and gloves.

Cinna had sent over dozens of different kinds for us to pick from. They were supposed to be for our honeymoon in the winter lodge in District 7. They are made up of super light, but incredibly warm and insulated material, and the patterns on them are sleek camouflage that's meant to blend in with the woods and snow. Even though we were only supposed to keep a few, we had kept them all. Now they would outfit as many of our group as possible for the journey.

Haymitch moves aside Peeta's old stove to reveal a hole big enough for a person to fit through, carved out of the basement left side wall. He motions without speaking for everyone to start filing into the opening. The smallest kids go first, followed by the adults. When almost everyone is through, Peeta takes a sledgehammer and drives it into a metal pipe running along the side of the basement wall so hard, I can feel the ring of the impact in my teeth.

Then Haymitch is pulling me up, pushing me forward. But I resist, turning around to watch as Peeta and Gale remove a wrapped up bundle from inside a pile of boxes.

The materials we retrieved from the mine on the night of our parties. I know what they are now. Blasting powder and igniting string.

I only have time to see Gale twist a mechanism on the strange rectangular looking device before Haymitch shoves me roughly through the entrance to the tunnel. I pitch forward, then right myself and make my feet march on. After only a few feet I find myself having to crouch as the tunnel gets narrower and the ceiling gets lower. But after a few minutes of half crouching, half crawling I make it to the other side.

We are on the other side of Peeta's backyard fence. I don't stand up though, but continue bear crawling until I make it to a copse of trees where the rest of our party is crouched waiting in the darkness. Prim pulls me towards her and we huddle down together watching in the direction of the tunnel exit. Haymitch comes through not long after me, but there's a gap of time where no one else follows. He makes it all the way over to us, and turns around to stare at the spot where he emerged. Minutes pass, or maybe it's seconds, I'm not sure except that it feels like such a long time.

I'm just about to crawl back in the direction of the exit, sure that something has gone terribly wrong when I see the pale golden halo of Peeta's hair poke out of the ground. He crawls out, and turns back to reach a hand down to help Gale whose shoulders are struggling to clear the narrow hole. I exhale shakily as I watch them slink towards us. Everyone turns in the direction of the fence even before they get to us, and we inch forward on our hands and knees.

"Go, go, go," Gale's commanding whisper reaches my back and I speed up, as does everyone else. At the fence we stop for a split second to listen for electricity. This is the part where our plan can become derailed in an instant. If the fence is turned on in this section we'll have to go around to a different part of the fence, and we'll lose precious minutes in the process.

But the odds are in our favor tonight, and the fence is dead silent. We begin to slip under, one after another as quickly as we can, and the last of us has just made it to the other side when we hear it. A giant thundering boom breaks through the still night. I lose my balance, and stumble to the ground from my crouched position. I look back over my shoulder and see Peeta's house has exploded into a pillar of fire.

The flames are lighting up the night, and after only a second a chorus of voices start ringing out from the town. Here is where we must fly with all speed. In the confusion, we have to disappear unnoticed into the treeline. Our party's feet are scurrying now, faster and faster as they make their escape. But my eyes are fixed on the flames, on the image of Peeta's home a burning ruin, destroyed beyond repair. I knew there would be an explosion. I just hadn't known it would be so devastating.

Gale's arm is on my elbow, tugging me forward. His voice in my ear is a dissonant hard note.

"Go, Katniss! Don't look back! Just go!" I throw myself forward, finally breaking from my bewilderment, and run. We all run, into the night into the dark of the treeline. Gale pauses only to snatch up our bag of hunting weapons and trapping supplies that we had moved the day before into a hollowed out log. And then we're running, and we don't stop when our sides ache with pain. We don't stop when we lose our breath. We just keep going.

There's a sliver of moonlight that trickles down through the forest leaves in some places where the tree coverage is patchy. It helps guide our feet in the darkness, but in the places where the trees grow close together we have to join hands, and tug each other along in the darkness so no one falls down or injures themselves. Peeta has an especially hard time, with only one leg able to fully sense the rising and falling pattern of the forest floor. I lock onto his hand and pull him after me as carefully, but as quickly as I can when I notice him falling behind.

Gale and Haymitch take the lead, having memorized the first portion of the map by heart. They lead us on for hours. We only take a short break once, to drink water, and read the lay of the land to make sure we're headed in exactly the right direction. Also to pull out weapons. Now that we're so far away from the fence there will be predators nearby.

Gale and I adjust our bows to the ready. Peeta brandishes a black handled hatchet, its blade made of sharp glinting steel. Deen has two long serrated knives clutched in each hand, and a shovel strapped across his back. Additional weapons are handed out to those capable of using them. Rory is given a pickaxe, and Rye is handed one of my hunting knives. Hazel wields a cleaver. Haymitch clutches one of Gale's long hunting knives in his only slightly trembling hand. After five minutes we're moving again, but no one complains, not even the kids.

I know it must be hard on others, harder than it is for Gale and I at least. We are used to moving through the woods, reading the terrain, and adjusting to the sounds of the forest and the animals that live there. But there's no room for reservation or even fear at this point. We all just have to keep moving.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

We head northwest and keep a strict pace. An hour before dawn we reach our first stop. It's a very nondescript part of the forest, but there's a stream nearby and enough tree coverage to hide our tents from hovercraft above if we place overhanging greenery on their roofs. Everyone is so tired at first no one even attempts to take the tents out of the packs. But after fifteen minutes I turn to Gale and shoot him a look. He sighs reluctantly, but stands when I extend my hand down to him.

We both know that we need to get started making camp before people start falling asleep from exhaustion. We get to work opening packs and pull out the tents and sleeping bags one by one. There are three large ones, for each of the families, mine, Peeta's, and Gale's, and one small one for Haymitch and Deen. Seeing us getting started Rory stumbles forward, eyes bleary to help us. Rye and Peeta also get started on their tent. Hazel and my mother set the rest of the kids to collect branches to camouflage the tops of our tents with. Peeta's father, surprisingly, knows how to make a campfire, and offers to get started on one.

"Not yet," Gale says, "We're still too close to district 12 and they might see the smoke." So it's agreed we'll eat some of the rations we brought with us today. Once all the tents are erected, and the food is passed out, everyone wolfs it down hungrily. Then it's a race to see who can pass out first. Rory beats Haymitch by about 3 seconds, but others aren't far off. Many are sitting with their backs against trees and snoring before I can take the last bite of my deer jerky.

I feel my eyelids drooping heavily as well, but I know we have to set up a watch. I look over at Gale, but his eyes are almost closed. He and Haymitch had worked double hard, mentally keeping track of where we were and what direction we needed to head in, as well as setting the pace for us physically. I turn away, thinking to let him rest, and scan the rest of my compatriots to see if I can find an unlucky willing victim.

The only one who isn't already asleep or nodding off is Rye, Peeta's older brother who I used to find so intimidating. I waddle over to him, my legs cramping painfully at their continued use.

"Do you think you could take the first watch with me?" I ask him quietly and he looks up from wrapping his coat across his sleeping wife's shoulders. He nods and we sit opposite each other against a small birchwood looking out into the trees.

"How is she doing?" I ask him softly, not wanting to wake the others but needing to do something to keep my mind occupied. Small talk with Peeta's brother, who I haven't ever really had a conversation with seems to be the only option.

"Tired like the rest of us, but she's strong and only around 2 and a half months along at present. She'll be alright." He said in that deep gravelly voice of his, barely audible above the sounds of the others sleeping.

I can't imagine being Laurel right now. Pregnant and on the run at the onset of winter. I realize for the first time how brave she actually is. She's so quiet like her husband, sometimes I almost forget she's with us. But she is here, in the wilderness running from District 12 toward a better life like the rest of us.

"He must be glad you both decided to come." I tell Rye, talking about Peeta.

"Oh, I think he is. But I know he would have gone with or without us. Even if our father stayed behind too." He says quietly, as the wind whistles sharply through the trees. We hadn't felt the cold as much last night because of the heat from our exercise and the insulation of our winter coats. But I think Gale is right and sometime today, or tonight the first real snowstorm will be coming down.

"He hasn't needed us since the Games, not that he needed us much before them. You're his real family now, you and Haymitch and the new kid, we're just holdovers." He says without a trace of anger or disappointment. Like he's just stating a fact.

"He's my family too." I reply quietly, because it's true, and it's safe to say that word. Besides I want Rye to know his brother means more to me than some stranger I was relegated to play a role with.

"He still needs you all. You're his blood. You might not see it, but there's a part of him that wants to make sure you're all taken care of." I add because I also want him to know what coming with us all means to Peeta.

"And he's supposed to be the baby of the family." He chuckles softly, his voice sounding a little like Peeta's when he laughs. "He's been doing that since he was a kid." Rye says with a ring of amusement in his gentle voice.

"Doing what?" I ask, curious to hear more about Peeta as a boy.

"Trying to take care of everybody else first, thinking of himself last." He breathes out, a hint of annoyance in his voice. The annoyance I can definitely identify with. It's one of the things that aggravates me most about Peeta, his ability to be selfless to the point of self destruction.

"I used to think it was all an act, before we won the Games. I thought he was just a really convincing liar." I whisper so softly I don't think Rye heard me at first.

"Oh he can be, if he needs to. He always used to say the perfect thing to cover for us when we'd get in trouble at home for not meeting our quotas or when we'd undersell to girls we had crushes on. But he doesn't lie for the fun of it. And as far as I can tell, he's never lied to you."

Rye's words take me by surprise, and I go silent.

I try to imagine a younger Peeta, talking his way out of punishment. Then I remember the bread, and the rain. He hadn't been able to talk his way out of anything that day. He'd worn the welt on his cheek for almost a week. And Prim and my mother and I had lived because of that bread.

"I can't say the same thing." I admit, my voice is small with shame. I realize then that Rye is a lot like Peeta, easy to talk to. In one conversation I'm saying more than I ever intended to at the outset. Maybe it's the other way around since Rye is older and Peeta actually takes after this big brother more than I ever realized.

"Well, sometimes it's not always how you start out." He answers, "but how you eventually end up that counts." It's an old saying, but it's got wisdom woven in the words.

"Yeah," Is all I say, because I am not sure what kind of end he's talking about or what kind I'm thinking of. The conversation with Gale yesterday rings in my mind, like the tolling of a bell. Reminding me that beginning with lies is a sure fire way to disqualify yourself before you even start.

But I meant what I said in the justice building. I can't see myself ever not needing Peeta's easy companionship, his steady strength. The need is there, undeniable and unavoidable since that night before our fake wedding. I don't know what exactly the future holds for him and I. I don't know if the small beautiful thing that came alive between us will be strong enough to survive the real world, without the pressure of the cameras, or the Capitol, to keep it going.

Pretending for the cameras is definitely over though. No more star crossed lover, finance, or blushing bride roles for me. I won't kiss Peeta or anyone else for a camera unless it's a life threatening situation. Maybe not even then, depending on who's life is at stake. Not that I can say I don't ever want to kiss him again at all. Because underneath the desperate need to be free from all the strings that have been pulling me this way and that for so long, there is the memory of that last night, and the weeks that preceded it.

It sits quietly buried underneath the necessity of the moment, running, surviving, and reaching safety. But it's still there.

These thoughts spin around in my head until about 10am. We've given the others four hours of sleep, and both Rye and I are happy to wake them up so we can trade off. He wakes his father, and I wake Gale. They both settle down to take our places at the birch tree. I strip off my coat and crawl into my tent as I bunch it up under my head for a pillow. I am out before my mother can finish tugging off my boots. When Prim wakes me it's 3 in the afternoon. More people are awake now, and working around camp. They're organizing supplies, and weapons. Gale has gone off to set traps. I strap on my bow after swishing some water mixed with mint around in my mouth to get the stale taste of sleep out.

Then I head off in the direction Hazel said he left in. If we're lucky maybe we can catch some wild game before the storm sets in. Peeta's eyes follow me as I leave camp but I don't stop to talk. People need to eat, and our supplies won't last all the way to District 13, no matter how carefully we ration them. If we had loaded ourselves down with lots of food we never would have been able to bring our tents or our weapons. We knew going into this that we'd need to hunt to be able to feed everyone.

So I just slip quietly into the trees and pick out Gale's trail. His step is so light, despite his size, I doubt anyone other than me could have found it. But we've been hunting together for so long I can see a phantom image in my mind of his boots treading quietly and carefully over the forest floor. I shoot two squirrels on my way. Finally I catch up to him a quarter of a mile east of camp, he doesn't even turn around to look, he knows it's me.

"'Bout time you woke up from your cat nap." He says quietly as we stalk along a ravine.

"I was only that tired because you had to have your beauty rest first." I mutter as we come up to a thicket.

Gale launches a rock from his bow string, sending up a cloud of wild quail. I shoot one, and after he quickly knocks an arrow he manages to clip one too. We grin at each other and jog forward to retrieve our kills. His bird is still flopping around desperately trying to fly with an arrow through its wing, but mine lays dead a few feet from it. I take aim and quickly shoot through the living bird's brain. We set to work retrieving our arrows, carefully removing them so we can bag the birds and take them back to camp.

"It's a good haul. Should fill everyone's stomach for tonight." He tells me nonchalantly and I nod. I'm grateful that we've been able to put aside our differences at least for the moment and hunt like old times.

"I'd like to see someone else do better." I tell him and he smiles a bit.

"How are the kids doing with all this?" I ask him, knowing that this hard travelling is probably the most difficult for his younger siblings.

"Oh, you know Posey. You'd think she had been born in the Presidential mansion and not a coal miner's shack in the Seam from the way she reacted when I told her how to go to the bathroom in the woods earlier." He says and lets out a low chuckle. I let out a huff of air, amused at the scenario he describes.

"You should have heard Prim before I left camp. She was already worried about Buttercup and Lady all the way back in 12. It hasn't even been 24 hours since we left." I tell him and he nods.

"She's always loved critters of all kinds. When you left for the Games, I tried to teach her to hunt a couple times. It was a disaster." He tells me and I sit back on my heels and try to imagine my sister, knocking an arrow back, or skinning a carcass. The image just won't materialize. Prim's too gentle to take another living thing's life.

"She was always better at fixing wounds than causing them. I guess that was always my area of expertise." I say, and then wish I could take the words back immediately. I had been talking about hunting. But that statement could be taken differently, especially by Gale.

I keep my head down, not wanting to look over at him.

He didn't say anything, just finished packing up his game. And just when I think the moment has passed, I see his hand reach down to offer me assistance in getting up. And I take it, because I'm trying my hardest to keep things balanced between us. We'd both hurt each other, we'd both done things wrong. But he was my oldest and best friend. And I didn't want to lose that if I could help it.

He pulls me up and turns away to head back in the direction of camp. I follow alongside him silently.

We walk back in that comfortable quiet that is easy for us to slip into. And I almost relax when he startles me by asking a question.

"Did you ever wonder how I was doing, after they took you away?" His deep voice asks quietly, and I don't know what to say at first. It's not an off-limits question. But we've never talked about this time in our lives before. We've never spoken about what happened when we were separated.

"Of course you did. I thought about you and Prim, and mom all the time. I just wanted to come home."

He smiles a little sadly, as if he's imagining 16 year old me homesick and afraid in the strange and far off Capitol.

"Was there anything you thought about saying before you left? Or after?" He asks and I stop walking. He turns around and looks at me, his face an open question. I don't know what this is all about. These memories are from a long time ago, when we were still children. We hadn't even begun to imagine there were worse things than dying in the Hunger Games. But I had never given him answers after the Games. I'd always avoided talking about those painful memories. Maybe he had too.

"Right after the Gamemakers rated us, the night before our interviews." I tell him quietly. "I felt so alone, so terrified by everything that was happening so fast, I wished I could just see you or talk to you. I missed you terribly that night after I went back to my room alone. It hit me like a punch to my chest, how much I missed you. You were the only person I wanted to talk to, the only one I thought would make me feel better. Instead I felt awful, because I thought I'd never see you again." I whisper the last words. Recalling that memory, that night, makes this moment feel so real, so poignant.

He seems to think this over, quietly.

"I remember that night. I was proud of you. You scored so high. I was also terrified out of my mind for you." He says softly and I feel a twinge of pain in my heart for 17 year old Gale. It must have been as terrible for him as it had been for my mother and sister.

The quiet runs on, long and deep between us. So many things we never knew, so many things we couldn't change.

"I guess it's all water under the bridge now. Here we are, running off like we talked about that day of the Reaping. Only with a much bigger party than we ever expected." He says, changing the subject and cutting through the tension that had started to build up.

I let out a relieved breath and started walking again. So did he.

"Gale, how are we going to feed all these people? And keep them safe?" I ask him, real worry creeping into my voice as we draw closer to camp.

"The same way we always have. We'll just make do. And if that doesn't work, we can take votes on who could stand to cut back on a few meals. That mentor of your has got a nice gut going for him there." He jokes and I roll my eyes at him.

"Sure, but I'll let you bring up the idea." I tell him and he laughs quietly. It's sundown when we get back. He walks a little ahead of me, and I just take my time.

"There you are!" Peeta's voice calls out as I reach the edge of our camp. Gale's stride is fast and before I know it he's already laying out his kills by the stream, so he can skin and clean them. Hazel walks over to join him.

"We were starting to get worried." Peeta admonishes me quietly before walking up touching my arm lightly, as if to reassure himself I'm back and uninjured.

"We had to walk a ways to find any game, I think our large party is scaring off all the animals. They're not used to seeing humans at all." I reply, as I remove my bow and quiver. Peeta's father comes over and offers to skin the carcasses and I accept.

"At first I thought maybe you had gotten caught up," Peeta says softly as he hands me a fresh canteen filled with clean stream water. The comment annoys me. I don't like the emphasis he puts on the words 'caught up', but I drink my fill before I look at him.

"Hunting to feed 14 people doesn't leave any room to get distracted." I tell him snarkily, because I don't know where his insinuation came from, especially after everything that had happened these past 48 hours.

He looks a little anxious, and I don't know why. But I don't have time to entertain these kinds of frivolous concerns over how much time I spend hunting in the woods and with who. We've got so much bigger things to worry about. So I turn away and head over to help my mother chop up the meat for the stew she's making.

The meat is cleaned and cooked over low burning coals in a cook pot. Everyone eats quickly, as the sunsets and then we rinse our hands, and everything we used to cook or eat with in the river even though it's icy cold. But better to have cold hands for a few minutes than to lure animals to our camp with the smell of meat and food.

Official shifts are set up, and I draw the midnight slot. I'm so tired I'm grateful to be able to sleep even for a few hours. So I crawl into our tent and settle down with Prim. I brush her light blond hair behind her ears, like I used to do when she was little. And even though she doesn't need her big sister to brush her hair for her to fall asleep, she lets me. I think she knows it calms me more than her.

Her eyes are closing and I'm thinking about today, about how Peeta has seemed a little strange since the wedding ceremony. We can't afford to have any tension in our group right now. In the wild, we either work together and trust each other or people get hurt. I know I pretty much gave him the brush off for the rest of the evening.

It had been me who was mostly responsible for the quiet tension throughout dinner. Haymitch had even shot me a look. I know what he's thinking, I was thinking the same thing too.

Focus on the bigger picture. So before I drift off, I resolve to stop being an idiot. No more distractions or confusing feelings. Just focus. We have miles to go before I can afford to try and make sense of this mess. Until then things will have to just keep.

When Rory wakes me up for my shift at midnight, I think at first we've been paired up. But then he heads into his family's tent and I see Haymitch sitting on a log overlooking the camp. I feel myself tense up anticipating the lecture.

"I thought you took your shift at sundown." I tell him quietly.

"I traded with the little brother," Haymitch said with a grumble. I guess he means Rory.

"Any particular reason?" I say sardonically.

"I can think of a few. Not the least being your god-given talent to throw a monkey wrench into any functioning operation." He fixes me with a pointed glare.

"I can't control other people's anxieties, Haymitch. And there are things that need to get done. Like hunting." I say quietly but forcefully.

"I'm not saying you should put him on a leash and drag him along everywhere you go. But you could try to experiment with a little sensitivity and consideration, you know, for a change." He tells me pointedly and I grumble.

"Yeah, yeah I'm the worst. No need to explore the numerous reasons." I tell him sarcastically because I'm getting tired of playing the blame game and always losing.

"Oh really? Because see if you're aware of just how much of a pain in the ass you're being then common sense dictates you would make an effort to correct the situation." He growls practically each word.

"I am." I say through gritted teeth. I'm not really in the mood for his disapproval right now.

"Oh, and you decided what? You'd fix things by practically declaring your undying love for one on public television, and then skipping off into the woods alone with the other the next day?" He says this very quietly, but the disdain and distaste is clear.

"Haymitch," I say slowly, trying to reign in my anger, "I am focused on keeping everyone alive and fed right now. You can take my word for it or not. But at this point I'm not sure it matters." I say patiently, making sure to enunciate each word.

"Something rattled him the other day. Something bad. It's not something we need to get into here in the middle of nowhere, but let's just say his anxieties aren't entirely baseless." Is his cryptic reply.

I don't know what to make of what he's saying at first. I can't imagine what could be so horrible that Peeta of all people could be unnerved this way.

"Look, I'll make more of an effort ok? But right now priorities have to be put in order. I can't afford to get distracted. None of us can." I told him.

"Oh, I don't doubt you'll stay on task. You know how to double down when the pressure's on. But the other two, they're both just a few scowls and sharp words away from losing focus." He says seriously.

"And it's my problem to fix this?" I ask exhaustedly.

"It's your job not to make things worse." Haymitch practically snarls the words at me and I lean back. It must have been bad, whatever upset Peeta. Haymitch doesn't go all grizzly bear growly unless something's threatening his booze or his victors.

But whatever happened, I know it's not my fault. I had given Peeta everything I possibly could, the night before last. It had taken all of my will power and self control not to give up or run away. And Gale, well that situation couldn't be laid solely on my shoulders either. I wondered if Haymtich had sat them down and given them a talk like he was given me?

Of course not. Because to Haymitch I was the bad apple that spoils the bunch. Well he was wrong this time.

"I'll do my best to keep this team running. But you know as well as I do that if this is going to work we'll all have to pull together, in spite of whatever differences we have." I say, not caring if it sounds callus. Because I shouldn't be the only one focused on survival right now. We all should be. Haymitch smirks at me, not exactly approvingly. It's more like that I have done something he already expected of me.

"It's only a temporary solution. You'll have to work it out for real, eventually. And by eventually, I mean probably sooner than you expect. This is a 7 day trip sweetheart, if everything goes to plan. That's only a short reprieve." I know he's talking again about the strange dynamic between Peeta, Gale and I.

"I already made my sentiments clear, the night before the wedding. But, well I guess I wasn't quite as convincing, when the whole issue of Snow's new mandate for Peeta and I came up." I tell Haymitch quietly. And he thinks on this for a spell.

"That isn't something that you will ever be able to explain away. So, I wouldn't even try. Just-remember who it is you need the most, and who needs you." He tells me and I nod. This conversation feels like it's dragged on for years instead of minutes. And I'm so tired. So tired of all these annoying and embarrassing questions and answers.

"Haymitch I just want to make it to District 13, then I'll be able to sort through all this. I haven't promised anyone anything other than to try. I won't make decisions out of guilt, or fear anymore. If I find out there's nothing underneath those two emotions, then...well I'll just be me, not owing anyone anything more than friendship." I say with conviction.

Haymitch laughs, and it's dark and disbelieving.

"Girl, you should know yourself better by now. Running is always the first answer for you isn't it? God forbid you have to make an actual decision and live with the consequences." He says this like it's some big joke, and I am so predictable.

"If I can get my sister somewhere she won't starve, or be reaped for the Games, and my mother can go to sleep at night not worrying whether one wrong word will get her remaining family murdered, then I'll have done my job. Anything more than that is just superfluous. I don't need happy ever after, Haymitch. I'll be content with the people I care about surviving, and having normal lives. The most I want out of the future is just to be left in peace."

"Let me get this straight, your idea of the rest of your life includes being left alone, and absolving yourself of any ties or obligations to the people around you. That's a real pretty picture you've painted there. How about we imagine you in about 20 years? You'd be what? A self sufficient hermit at best? An aging loner with no friends at worst? Darling, take it from someone who's been down that road. You don't want to wake up at 55 and find the only real friends you've got are a bottle and a trio of ungrateful, pain in the ass kids who can't seem to stay out of trouble even when their lives depend on it." He shoots me a pointed look.

I cringe. Okay maybe now that I've said it out loud it does sound dangerously close to what Haymitch did with his life.

"Just because you can survive without people doesn't mean you should do it. The ones who are the best at shutting everyone out are usually the ones who need connection the most, to stay anchored to their own humanity." He says in a grumpy annoyed way.

"Sobriety has made you oddly contemplative hasn't it?" I ask him, a little baffled by the depth of the conversation.

"Yeah, and I hate it." Haymitch says, pulling his coat closer around him. The temperature had dropped significantly since the sun had gone down. There was a biting iciness on the wind that promised snow. It was both a blessing and a curse. The snow would obscure any trail we left behind, and make it extremely difficult to find us. But it also meant we would face considerably more dangerous conditions as our journey progressed. Traveling in the wilderness was treacherous in good weather, but with snow and ice to battle on our journey we would have to be very careful, very vigilant if we wanted to make it all the way to district 13.

"Storm's coming." I say, changing the subject.

"Yeah." Haymitch replies. "We'll be alright. Cinna snuck the fabric for those tents from the Capitol himself. It's supposed to be good in practically every season, and it'll take anything short of a blizzard."

Cinna. And Portia.

I was worried about them. I had my reservations about inviting two stylists from the Capitol on a trek through the wild at first. But when they hadn't shown up to the toasting yesterday, a pit had formed in my stomach.

"Why didn't he come?" I asked Haymitch, my voice barely audible over the whistling wind that had picked up.

"Oh, he's got other obligations. Not everyone was in the position to cut and run like us. You two are lucky that you're more valuable to 13 as tv personalities. Cinna, and a lot of other people in the Capitol and throughout the districts needed to stay to keep the resistance network up and running."

"Won't it be dangerous for him, after they find out we escaped?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. We all worked it out who could go and who had to stay based on what was needed. The decision was not made lightly."

"They'll kill him if they find out he helped us." I murmur quietly. It's not a question.

"It won't come to that. Cinna plans ahead for these kinds of things." Haymitch said in a tone that chills me more than any icy wind could.

"Let's not worry about stuff that hasn't happened yet. Plenty of room for that if the time comes." Haymitch says, effectively ending the conversation. So we sit and huddle in our coats and stare out into the darkness, not thinking about all the ways this could all go terribly wrong.

At around 3 am I hear them. Long piercing howls that break through the night. Wolves, a pack of them, maybe 10 or 12 altogether. They're about 1 mile away from our camp. I sit up and reach for my bow which I had laid across my lap.

"Haymitch!" I hiss in his direction insistently. No answer. He's nodded off sometime in the last 20 minutes, and amazingly hasn't started snoring yet.

"Wake up, damn it!" I whisper as I toss a small clod of dirt at his head.

He mumbles incoherently, but starts to stir.

"What's the emergency?" He asks.

"Wolves." I say and stand up. I walk a few paces toward the ridge line, trying to get a better look. If they're only a mile away or less, chances are they'll pick up our scent.

Haymitch looks around in the darkness unconvinced. He's about to ask a question when he hears it, a chorus of howls rises up in the night. They're much closer this time.

"Aw hell," Haymitch mutters underneath his breath.

"Any chances they'll steer clear of us?" He asks hopefully.

"Not when they're this close, not unless we could light a fire. But we can't. And maybe not even then." I say absentmindedly as I survey the lay of the land in the darkness, trying to figure out what spot would be best to meet them from.

"Go wake the others, and tell them to light torches" I tell him. But before he can unzip Gale's tent, it opens. Gale and Rory slip out, coats on, weapons in hand. Haymitch just directs them to join me, and moves on to Peeta's tent.

"How many?" Gale asks, deadly serious.

"10 at least. 12 more likely than not." I answer. Gale takes up a defensive position on the other side of me. Since we're the only ones with long range weapons we need to be able to cover whatever direction they decide to attack in. And with the advantage of the ridge, we'll have the high ground. The rest of our fighters file in, knives and pickaxes in one hand, lit torches in the other. The torches may not cast enough light to alert hovercraft scanning above the forest, but it's not impossible. Still, we need the light to be able to fight, there's almost no moon tonight. We spread out in a makeshift ring, as evenly spaced as we can around the tents. The mothers, and Prim and the other kids too small to fight move to one central tent. Hazel stands guard outside with her cleaver.

Peeta is on my left, the hatchet and torch steady in his large hands. He looks at me with a nod, indicating he's ready for whatever comes. I nod back at him. We've been here before, fighting together in the dark.

I feel them before I see them. They stalk up almost soundlessly, and I twist to my left, training my arrow on a spot in the darkness before I see the gleam of golden night sensitive eyes in the between the trees. Almost immediately I know something is off. My arrow is pointed at the space right between both eyes, but at this height that would mean the wolf's head would come to my chest, much too big for any ordinary wild creature.

"Mutts!" I call out, my voice high and shrill sounding to my ears. At this I feel our group shift nervously. Almost simultaneously, the predators surrounding us take up a chorus of deep throated growls and snarls. Giant luminous golden tinted eyes advance toward us in the dark.

"Gale," I say softly, but loud enough for him to hear.

"Yeah," He answers.

"On my mark." I tell him, knowing he already has an arrow trained on the animal opposite him.

"Alright," is his answer.

The beast that's headed for me steps out from the shadows and I can see it now. It's a lab created monster, with a black matted coat, razor pointed teeth, foaming jaws and a mad intelligent gleam in its eyes. Snow must have chosen them specifically for Peeta and I. They are unnervingly similar to the mutts we fought in our games, only they look more deadly.

It takes a careful step forward, watching every twitch of my muscles. I know we'll never catch it off guard if I count to three. I know Gale has also probably figured this out as well. The giant creature seems to sense the shift in our aspect, and I can see its powerful hind legs gathering power to spring.

"Mark!" I scream and let my arrow fly straight into its throat just as it I hear a dog-like yelp of pain from the other side of the circle. Gale must have hit his mark as well. Then the chaos of battle erupts and they're upon us in the next instant.

Peeta's hatchet cleaves the face of a snarling black and white wolf that had jumped up aiming for his throat, in two. Rory plunges his knife up and under the ribs of a dark brown wolf, that's almost as tall as him, but the animal doesn't go down right away. So I shoot an arrow into the side of its neck for good measure. Deen is like a furious whirlwind, cutting and slashing at any animal that draws too close. We hold them off with our steel and our arrows and our torches. But the creatures are cunning and don't draw close to enough to be burned and often avoid our blades entirely.

The only thing they don't seem to be faster than are Gale's and I's arrows. I go to that special place where the only things I'm aware of are my bow, my arrows, and my enemy. I shoot an icy white wolf that tries to flank Haymitch while he's battling a pale golden wolf that's gotten its teeth into the excess fabric of his coat sleeves. Then before I can fully turn back to my position, a stone grey wolf is rushing me, and I barely have enough time to knock my arrow and launch it into its rage and hate filled left eye. The sound of human battle cries, and the snapping of canine teeth fill the night. The creatures are cunning but four of us have fought mutts before. Peeta, Deen, Haymitch and I are the quickest, and the most merciless when it comes to killing the creatures. The rest of the group takes its cues from those of us who have the most fighting experience.

The remaining wolves don't attack full out until they see an opening. But they keep us moving, and keep circling, trying to find a weak point in our defence. Likewise Gale and I tried to shoot them at first when they retreated, but they seemed to have worked out what our range is, and how fast we can launch our arrows. After I lose two arrows to the dark without hitting the wolves I hold them back. I only have 10 left. I wince when I hear the sound of one of Gale's arrows hitting dirt.

"Gale," I say panting, "Hold your fire. They've figured out our range."

"How? How is that even possible?" His reply is incredulous, furious.

"They're not normal wolves," Peeta explains. "The Capitol created them in a lab, and released them to hunt us down and kill us." Peeta's words ring true and terrifying in the dark.

"Well, I guess we better make our shots count then." Gale says, and I can tell from the sound that his teeth are gritted in exasperation and anger.

"We've got to change our strategy before they figure out how to break through our defence." I tell them.

"I'm open to any bright ideas." Haymitch's voice rings out somewhere on my right.

I look around, thinking of the wolves strategy and how it shifted to compensate for ours. They were capable of learning, and cooperating. They had worked together to try and lower our guard and get past our defences, like when the white wolf tried to flank Haymitch while it's packmate provided a diversion. The biggest threat to them right now would have to be Gale and I. Our weapons were forcing a temporary stalemate, but soon they would find a way to eliminate the advantage, I was just sure of it. So, instead we needed to capitalize on it.

"Gale," I say evenly, hoping that the animals aren't actually capable of understanding human speech, but are just extremely intuitive instead.

"We need to extend our range by about 20 or so feet. If we can do that, and hold them off at the same time, we can reduce their numbers enough to force them to retreat."

"I'm guessing you already have an idea for how to do it, or you wouldn't have said anything."

"Yeah, I do, but it's risky." I tell him as I bite my lip.

"So's waiting for them to come up with something. Just spit it out Katniss." Gale replies.

"I'm going to need some cover fire, for about a minute and a half, maybe two. And we need to shift our position, about 10 degrees to the left." I can imagine Gale's eyes following my directions, and can almost hear his thoughts turning over the idea in his head.

"Alright let's do it." He says quietly. Everyone takes their cues from Gale and I. I slip between Peeta and Deen to move backwards towards the large fir tree behind us. The wolves start snarling again, sensing something's afoot. But Peeta and Deen close the gap left by my absence quickly, and the circle tightens. I swing my bow across my chest, and start shimming up the tree's branches as fast as possible.

The sound of fighting resumes, the wolves pressing in against the ring, and I hear a cry of pain ring out. Rye's voice, but I don't stop, I just keep going until I'm high enough. Then, even though I don't have any rope to secure myself, and at this height any kind of fall will surely kill or cripple me, I swing around to straddle the branch facing out over the battle, and start knocking arrows. They fly at a quick pace into the animals that have abandoned all caution in favor of doing the most damage possible. I take down or wound seven before I see it. Gale and Haymitch have been forced back, and a sandy colored wolf has seen the opening, and is heading straight for the back of the tents.

"The tents! The kids!" I scream at the top of my lungs, at the same time I'm firing arrow after arrow trying to bring the creature down before it can barrel into the tent of women and children. But the creature is too fast, too wily. It knocks Hazel aside as if she's nothing more than a rag doll, and she goes down hard. The beast dodges my arrows like it has a sixth sense and I can't get a lock on it. A quick glance around the battle confirms that every fighter is occupied. And I'm out of arrows. I sling my bow over my shoulder and unsheath my hunting knife and begin a mad scramble down the tree, hoping to be able to drop down a foot above the wolf and drive my knife into it's back.

But Peeta beats me to it. One minute the wolf's teeth are tearing at the tent's back, and the people inside are screaming, the next the animal goes flying on its side. Peeta tackled it, and he's got the animal under him, as he tries to hold on long enough to stab the beast somewhere fatal.

"PEETA!" I scream, dropping down the last ten feet from the ground, and rolling forward on my shoulder to distribute the impact. Then I see the animal's teeth ripping through Peeta's thick thermal coat, and flinging him off its back like he's nothing more than a flea. Peeta hits a tree, head first, hard. The image sent a tidal wave of agony and terror through my entire body.

But I know the real meaning of fear in the second after, when it turns it's inhuman predatory gaze on me. The hunting knife feels small and flimsy in my hand, but I have nothing else. The others are pinned down, I can see Rye, unconscious on the floor, blood welling from his shoulder. Rory and Peeta's father guarding him, trying to fend off a russet colored wolf with its razor teeth bared in seething hatred. Deen is fending off a patchy discolored chocolate brown wolf all by himself with his shovel, trying to keep it out of range from biting him. Gale and Hyamitch are fighting back to back, as two wounded, but still very dangerous silver wolves circle them in tandem, herding them away from the tents on purpose.

"KATNISS?" Gale's voice calls my name in fearful query. But I don't answer him, because the sand colored wolf has launched itself at me and I'm trying to run, trying to get away. If Peeta's strength was no match for this creature, then I will be dead before anyone can realize I'm in trouble.

I feel the hot, piercing pain of teeth digging into the flesh at the back of my left calf, and I'm dragged down the tree I was trying to scramble up.

"Ahhh!" I scream, unable to help myself. It feels like my calf is being shredded. I kick out and manage to find enough purchase to turn on my back to face my death. Gale is screaming my name somewhere, but I know he'll never make it in time.

The creature's mouth is as big as my head and as it opens its jaws to maul me, I smell the unmistakable scent of roses. Deep seated dread clutches my heart in a vice, but my hands move of their own accord. I bring my knife up, and shove it through the bottom of it's filthy slimy jaw that's covered in rabid flowery smelling foam. The creature shrieks in an almost human-sounding howl of pain, but it's nowhere near enough to stop the beast. It just raises a giant claw to rake down my body, to shred me to ribbons, and I close my eyes not wanting to see this horrific end.

But then I hear the deep resounding thunk, and I open my eyes to see Peeta's hatchet has been flung into it's right eye. Blood pours, hot and coppery over my hands, and mixes with the foul smelling foam coming from the creature's mouth. And even though the knife is slippery, I don't let go. Its jaws are still seeking to rip my flesh even in its death throes, and the only thing keeping those jaws shut is my knife. Finally after what seems like eternity, the beast stills. A second later Peeta is there, pushing its crushing weight off me and pulling me up.

We don't stop to embrace, or even catch our breath. Peeta just retrieves his hatchet from the monster's lifeless eye, and pulls me forward so we can help the others.

We reach Gale and Haymitch first, and Peeta swings his hatchet down in a powerful arc to catch one of the silver wolves in it's hind leg. I search for a weapon, and seeing the dead body of the white wolf near me with my arrow still stuck in its side, I yank it out and knock it in my bow and send it flying across the camp into the flank of the russet wolf. This gives Rory and Peeta's father the advantage they need, and they bring the creature down in a few swift strokes. They in turn rush to Deen's aid as soon as their beast dies.

Now that the silver wolves are outnumbered, Peeta, Gale and Haymitch are forcing their retreat. But I don't trust the intelligence in their insane eyes, and so I scavenge more arrows from dead wolves and cry out not to let them get away.

As the bigger of the grey wolves makes a suicidal lunge for Peeta's abdomen, I shoot my arrow straight down its open throat, and it collapses on the floor in a furry heap. Haymitch stab's its brother in the side, and Gale uses the string of his bow to control it's mouth while Peeta hacks away at its neck. And after a bloody, gruesome moment, the last of the wolves is dead. We all slip to the ground, exhausted, some of us wounded.

I hear Rory's voice calling for a healer, and hear the tent open and my mother comes tumbling out, her medical bag in hand. Prim is right behind her. She flits over to my side but I wave her away, and point in Rye's direction. Time passes slowly. Hazel makes her way around, checking who's injured and how severe their injuries are. The kids help people sit up, bring water to drink and start rinsing cuts and scrapes. When my mother stops Rye's bleeding I call out for her to check Peeta, telling her he hit his head very hard. It started snowing sometime during the fight, but I had hardly noticed it.

Presently it was coming down in thick flakes, and now that the adrenaline had worn off I had started to shiver in my thick coat. Prim comes up to my side to help me stand, and leads me into the tent.

When she notices I'm having trouble putting weight on my left leg she orders me to sit down.

She takes off my boot gingerly and I am surprised to see the wolf's teeth made it through my thick leather boot, my winter pants, and two layers of thermal socks as if they were nothing more than the thinnest silk.

"Hummm." Prim says, examining the bite. I wince as she touches the tender flesh with light fingers. "It's not too deep, and doesn't need stitches. But you should keep it clean and put some snow on it to help with swelling." She leaves to fetch some snow from outside, and returns with some herbs and water to bathe the wound in. After she wraps my wound up she tucks the covers around me and rushes out to continue helping with the wounded. I fall into a bone-weary sleep almost immediately.

When I wake up it's late morning. There's a wonderful smell coming from outside the tent. Some kind of stew I think. I worry about the smoke from the fire until I drag myself out to see that the weather rose up this morning foggy and thick. Only a light dusting of snow still covers the ground from last night.

"I was just about to wake you." My mother says, from over by the campfire.

"Whatever you're cooking woke me. I feel like I'm starving." I say as I sit down as gingerly as I can. Everyone is already awake and either eating or waiting for bowls of stew to be distributed to them. I take a look around. Everyone is still more of less intact. Rye is the only one visibly wounded, but he only wears a sling over his shoulder, and he's balancing the bowl of food on his knee and eating with his left hand as deftly as can be. My mother hands me a bowl, but before I take a bite I ask her, "What is it?" worried that they might have used meat from the wolves to cook with.

"Calf moose." Gale answers. "I tracked one this morning. Rory helped me get it back to camp." I have no idea how he found the energy after last night's battle, but I'm thankful for the meat. I eat heartily, glad that we're all still alive. When everyone is just about done Haymitch pipes up.

"All right, last night was a doozy, and we came out right side up, but fighting mutts means Snow knows we escaped. They'll be scouring the forest in no time when they realize the mutts didn't kill us. So that means we have to move today, and make it to a defensible hidden position before the next storm. The good news is since it's winter that means limited maneuverability for hovercraft. But it doesn't rule out teams of Peacekeepers, with tracking equipment. Most likely they will be trying to pick up our trail. It also means we probably haven't seen the last of the mutts. There's a nice little cave about 19 miles from where we are now, and if we get a move on we can make it there before nightfall. So everyone finish your grub and pack up." He stands to walk down to the river and rinse out his bowl, and everyone starts moving.

When I see Peeta I stop only for a moment to ask about his head. He just smiles at me reassuringly and says he's fine, just has a lump. I don't entirely believe him, but I can't make a fuss without wasting precious time. So we all pack up hastily, and head out in the direction Haymitch and Gale lead us in. Again Peeta and I bring up the rear. Someone, probably one of the kids, collected all of my arrows and washed them in the river for me. I feel better with my bow in my hand, a full quiver at my back. Haymitch is probably right. It took Snow less than 24 hours to figure out we had escaped. And he won't stop until he captures us or kills us. And I know I'll die first before I let them drag me back to be tortured and executed in the cruelest way imaginable.

"How's your leg?" Peeta asks me, startling me out of my dark thoughts.

"It's alright, a little sore, but I didn't need stitches." I tell him, putting most of my weight on my right leg as I walk.

"That was a pretty close call last night." He says, looking at me with clear concern.

"It was pretty close for all of us." I tell him with a shrug. But I know what he means. That mutt had almost used my face as a chew toy. It had been horrifying, but we had made it through.

"Thanks, for throwing that hatchet." I tell him in a low and quiet voice.

"Of course. Thank you for trying to take on a 200 pound mutt with nothing but a paring knife to save me." He says sharply, with a disapproving twist to his lips.

"Was I supposed to just sit in the tree and watch it disembowel you?" I ask him defensively.

"You're supposed to stay safe. These people need you Katniss, a lot more than they need me. You're a hunter, a warrior. If the group loses you, the chances of getting to 13 are going to be significantly cut." He tells me sternly.

"Oh and you're not a fighter? You tackled a 200 pound mutt, and survived a blow to head that probably would've cracked my skull. Stop selling yourself short Peeta. I didn't carry you on my back through the Games, you fought and survived just about as well as me, until your leg got cut." I tell him, irritation starting to creep into my voice. He just shakes his head at me.

"You have people who actually need you, your mother and Prim for instance. And if something happens to you or Gale, how will the rest of them eat?" He continues, intent on convincing me that I was somehow wrong to put myself at risk to save him.

"And if you had died what do you think would have happened to me? Do you think everything would just be fine? You think I'd just keep shooting squirrels and snaring rabbits without a second thought?" I mutter at him, so very angry at the direction this conversation has taken.

He looks over at me, a little surprised. And I realize that yes, he thinks I'd just grin and bear it. He thinks it'd be nothing for me to continue on and get everyone to 13 without him.

"Well, you'd have to. You wouldn't be able to let them down." He says quietly.

"You have no idea what I'd be able to do, or what you're talking about, so how about you just drop it?" I tell him loudly, and I know people are turning around to look at us, but I don't care. I turn away from him, determined to watch the forest and ignore him. He turns away as well and we continue in silence.

By midafternoon I feel my left calf hot and itchy inside my boot, but I grit my teeth and keep walking because this kind of physical pain is something I can bear. But the pain gets worse as we trek on, but I know we can't stop or slow down. We have to get to the cave by tonight or we'll be left to camp in the open again, easy targets for Peacekeeper search parties or mutts.

By early evening I can't help it any more, I'm limping. But I just slip behind Peeta, letting him walk ahead so he doesn't notice. He probably thinks I'm still upset, which I am but I also don't need him making a fuss and slowing everybody down for a simple injury like mine. Most likely the wound is just a little inflamed, and chaffed from me walking on it so long in my hunting boots.

We don't quite make it before the snow starts, but soon after Haymitch announced the cave is only about a quarter mile away. Everyone puts on their snowshoes. I just managed to get mine on, but when I stood up a monumental wave of dizziness washed over me.

I'm sweating in my coat, and I can hardly put any weight on my left leg at all. But I try to hobble on as best I can. Soon though, Peeta notices I'm not following even remotely closely behind him. And when he turns around and sees me tottering after the group in shaky legs he calls out to me in alarm.

"KATNISS!" He yells over the sound of the rushing wind, and catches me just before I lose my balance.

"What's wrong with your leg?" He asks, breathing hard as he examines my face. I just nod at him. His eyes register something wrong with my appearance, maybe I'm really pale I don't know. But the next thing out of his mouth is a string of pretty impressive curse words, and before I can object he's hoisting me up like a sack of flour over his shoulder.

We catch up to the group and there's questions, but all Peeta says is we need to hurry because I'm injured. Everyone picks up the pace a little. But now that I'm not walking I start to feel more dizzy and the snowflakes are swimming dangerously before my eyes. We make it to the cave and Peeta calls out for my mother. Gale hears the urgency in his voice and rushes over to my side as Peeta lays me on the cave floor.

"What's wrong with her?" Gale asks Peeta.

"I think it's her leg. She got bit last night by one of the mutts. I asked her about it this morning and she said she felt fine, but I think she's got a fever." He tells Gale quickly. Now it's Gale's turn to curse. My mother is by my side then, with her bag of supplies, and she tells them to help her get my boots off.

She's questioning Prim about how she treated my wound last night, and Prim is recounting the procedure. I start to shake, because now I feel ice cold. They manage to get my right boot off without any problems, but my left boot won't budge. And every attempt to remove it sends shooting pain up my leg.

"It's stuck because of the swelling." My mother says, and then tells them they'll have to hold me down and pull it off as quickly as possible. I start shaking my head, because I know they won't be able to get it off. But my mother is not to be contradicted when she enters this strange commanding state. So she just instructs Gale to hold my arms, and Peeta to get the boot off with Prim's help.

Gale's eyes are sorry as he pins my arms with his, and I'm pleading with him to cut my boot off, but he just says that no one brought any extras and we can't afford to destroy my boots.

I'm trying to say the word please, when they pull. It comes out sounding like "Plee-AHHHH!" and I swear it feels like they took off a layer of skin then they removed the leather. And then I'm panting, trying to stop myself from vomiting, the pain is so intense.

"Prim, go get the cooking pot in case she throws up." My mother says absentmindedly. She's lifting my left leg and sees what I already know is lurking under the darn boot. The back of my left pant leg is soaked with sweat, blood, and probably pus.

"Help me get her pants off." He tells her assistants quickly. I don't think it's possible to be this mortified when I'm in this much pain, but apparently that's not true. Gale's eyes are just as wide as mine, and he turns to my mother.

"Maybe we should get my mother, or Laurel." He suggests.

"No, she's hurt but she's still strong. She'll fight when I have to drain the wound. I'll need you both to keep her still." My mother tells him. And he just nods. I assume somewhere near my feet Peeta does too. Prim comes back and my mother instructs her to help them with the removal of my clothes.

I just shut my eyes against the indignity of it all, wishing I could just pass out and not have to be conscious for this part. But escape eludes me, the pain just sharp enough to keep me conscious, but not overwhelming enough to knock me out. I am all too aware of the hands that work to undress me. It is beyond bizarre, and surprisingly painful. Especially when my pants reach my calves, and there's a wet sticky layer of fabric stuck to my flesh that needs to be extricated. But they work together despite my moans of pain and thrashing. When the pants are off, I feel another wave of dizziness come over me, and I start shivering uncontrollably. Prim asks about fever pills, but my mother tells her to wait. She's worried I'll vomit when they have to drain the wound and she doesn't want to waste medicine until we're past that part. I smell the sharp green smell of a special concoction my mother mixes to treat infections and I know she's working on a salve for me.

"We'll need to turn her over, and put a sleeping bag under her." My mother continues issuing instructions and I feel like screaming at her, but my teeth are chattering so hard I can't get out a single word. They pick me up, slide a sleeping bag under me, and flip me over, so the back of my legs, namely my injured calf is exposed. I hear Prim suck in a horrified breath.

"It didn't look anything like that last night! I swear!" She exclaims, her voice breaking. Whatever it looks like it must be bad to bring my little sister to tears.

"I believe you. It's most likely a slow acting agent caused by the particles deposited in the bite. You couldn't have known it would happen." My mother says this coolly. I remember the foamy rose scented substance dripping from the wolf's mouth.

"And walking all day without cleaning the wound, or stopping to rest didn't help." She mutters the next part in annoyance.

"I should have noticed." Peeta's voice is small, and guilty sounding.

"Oh I'm sure she didn't say a word." Gale's voice is angry, and I know that anger is directed wholly at me.

"Well, now comes the hard part. You'll both have to help hold her down while I drain it." My mother says as she stirs the pot of ointment.

"Gale, you've got her arms, Peeta you hold her legs. Prim you'll help me apply the medicine as I drain it." Her voice is steel, and I know from watching her work on hundreds of patients that she will not waver no matter how much I scream or cry. And suddenly I don't want to scream or cry like a little girl while my loved ones watch on. So I manage to calm my chattering teeth long enough to ask for something to bite on. Gale offers me the leather sheath of his hunting knife, and I grit it between my teeth. His face is pale as he looks at me, his eyes worried. I just lay my head to the side and stare at his adam's apple bobbing up and down while he tries to swallow his worries and he leans over me, securing my arms.

"Don't let go, no matter what." My mother tells them, and even though I'm not looking at any of them, I can practically feel them all grimace at once.

Then my mother's hands are prodding my feverish, infected flesh and a white burning pain shoots from my calf all the way up my spine and ends up rattling around in my teeth. I groan, and bite down reflexively on the leather sheath. Gale's arms flex over me, and Peeta's hands hold my legs as still as possible while my mother alternatively presses and pulls my flesh to coax the infection out. Prim spoons the herb concoction over my wound in the wake of my mother's hands, and it offers little relief to my abused flesh. It's all excruciating, and reminds me of when my leg got burned in the Games.

The same kind of fiery knife like pain slicing through me, but this time it wasn't just the top 3 layers of my skin that felt like they were on fire. The infection is trying to work it's way into my muscles already. And I feel the deep tendrils of dark pain hook into my skin as my mother tries to purge them. After she gets about halfway through I can't take it, and I begin to choke on my vomit. Gale alerts Prim and she helps him slide the cook pot under my head. I vomit until there's nothing left in my stomach, but as soon as I'm empty my mother goes straight back to work. By the time they finish I really am ready to pass out. Gale is more holding me up than holding me down now, and he's trying to pat my back soothingly but I just want their hands to go away and let me sleep.

"We'll have to get the fever pills into her stomach now." My mother's tired voice is heard above my shallow moans. They gently turn me on my back, and prop me up. I try to push their hands away, but I am no match for them. So I let them put the medicine in my mouth, and then they help me drink water until I can swallow the pills. Then finally they let me lay down.

My mother says something about going to check on Rye's shoulder and Prim pauses to squeeze my hand gently before following my mother. Gale, leans down to kiss my hair, and then he too is gone. I think I've missed Peeta leaving when I feel a something damp press against my forehead. I reach up and realize it's a wet washcloth. I see blue eyes above me and I know he's still here.

"Peeta." I breathe his name as a rush of air escapes my chest.

He soothes my hair down away from my face, and adjusts the light blanket they covered me with. I want to ask him to stay with me, but I am too tired to form the words. So I just stare up at him, wanting the last thing I see before I drift off to be the blue of his eyes, the curve of his cheeks. He stares at me right back. And in his eyes I can see all the things that swirl around us, floating up into the air before our mouths can catch them and give them shape and substance. Then I feel sleep pulling me under and he closes his eyes, tiredly, before kissing my forehead and getting up to leave. I fight to reach out for him. My mind cannot recall why exactly I am not fast enough to catch him, but I don't have much time to puzzle over it before a deep and oblivious sleep pulls me under.

Chapter Text

(Peeta POV)

"Gale, please."

"Please what Catnip? Tell me what you want and I'll give you whatever you ask for."

I hear their voices in my sleep, and I'm paralyzed. I can't move. I can't scream. I can barely breathe. I want to cover my ears to block them out, but their words aren't coming from the outside. They're inside my head, taunting me, tormenting me. They play on a loop along with the breathless sound she makes when they kiss, along with her soft moan. And it's agony. There are no words for how much it hurts. Worse than losing my leg. Worse than when she told me the way she acted in our Games was all pretend. Worse. Just Worse.

But then something drags me out of the terrible nightmare. A shrill scream, and then a strong arm shaking me awake.

"Peeta, wake up. She needs you." Haymitch's voice is in my ear as he roughly pulls me up to standing.

"Wha?" I look around and blink in confusion. It felt like I had only fallen asleep minutes ago, after we had all finished helping Mrs. Everdeen drained my brother's wound and applied medicine. That had been exhausting. I thought I knew how strong my brother was, but I realized I had sorely underestimated his true strength until he almost threw me off of him as easily as the sandy haired muttation a night ago. I wonder why Haymitch is waking me up right now, since I haven't been able to get any rest at all.

But then I hear it. Katniss. She's screaming bloody murder, and my feet, the real one and the fake one, are running as fast as they can carry me towards her voice.

Prim is there, and so is Gale and her mother at the back of the cave. They're trying to quiet her, to calm her, but she's thrashing and kicking. I look at her face and I can tell she's not awake, not really. She must be having some kind of hallucination brought on by the fever.

"The roses! The white ones! They have teeth! You have to destroy them! Burn them! Burn them all!" She's screaming at the top of her lungs and she's red faced and manic looking.

"Katniss, there are no roses Katniss, you have a fever. You need to lay back down dear." Her mother is telling her in a soft but firm tone, she tries to take Katniss's arm but Katniss just wrenches out of her grasp with surprising strength and ferocity.

"Don't touch me! You don't know! You can't see them for what they are!" She screams again, and more people are getting up now, distrubed by the commotion. Prim's soft voice is explaining that her sister is sick with fever and is having a bad reaction to the wounds she received fighting the mutts last night. Gale looks on, worried but lost as to what to do or say. And Katniss won't stop screaming about mutts, and roses with teeth, and fire.

I go to crouch beside her, forgetting about everyone else. She can't help what's happening to her right now. She just needs someone to be there with her, like she does when she gets her nightmares on the train.

"Hey, there." I tell her in my most gentle and soothing voice. The one I try to save for when she's having flashbacks, or nightmares." She turns toward the sound of my voice, the ranting dying out on her lips.

"Is it really you?" She asks incredulously, and reaches out a hand blindly towards me.

"It's me, Katniss. I'm here." I tell her softly and reach out to take her hand.

"Peeta! You have to tell them! You have to make them understand! They can't trust the roses! They're not gifts! They'll kill everyone in their sleep!" She says in a high and terrified voice, but she's gripping my hand, and then my arms, painfully hard and she turns towards me fully.

I wince in pain, but keep still.

"I'll tell them Katniss. Haymitch and Deen, and Gale and Rory will burn them, and then everyone will be safe." I tell her and at this, she finally seems to relax. Her hold on me slackens, and she deflates, her energy drained. She buries her face against my chest, and I wrap my now free arms around her.

I cradle her gently, and move her back to her sleeping bag, and set her down. I don't know if I should cover her since she has a fever, but her mother just nods at me gratefully and motions that I can go. I turn to leave, but a small hand reaches out and grabs onto the back of my shirt, pulling me back.

"Don't leave me alone!" Katniss's frantic terrified voice calls out before I can turn around.

Her mother frowns, but only in a worried way, and I look down at the small girl sitting on the sleeping bag, clutching my shirt like she needs me more than life itself. She looks terrible, ashen faced and sweaty, trembling and dazed. My heart aches for her. I want to hold her to me and keep the nightmares away until dawn as I used to do.

But we're not on the train. And her family and lots of other people are here in the cave with us. And Katniss is a very private person. I don't know if she'll thank me for sleeping beside her when she wakes up, even if it's only to keep the bad dreams away.

I clasp her hand gently, so that she'll let go of my shirt.

"You're not alone, your mother and sister are here with you. You'll be just fine, Katniss." I tell her gently, and she shakes her head over and over. And I think she's gonna start up again, screaming or something.

"I need you." She says in a trembling voice and it gives me pause.

There they were. Those words again. The words that used to give me hope, that used to make me feel so special. Now, they made me question everything. And along with those words I can hear Snow's condescending voice.

"You were only ever a means to an end for her, the key to survival. And if necessity hadn't dictated that you should produce children at this time, well she most likely would have continued her strategy of using the both of you."

His words played over in my head too, ever since he said them. A means to an end. The key to survival. A necessity, yes, but one that had been forced on her. One she didn't want.

"You were never her first choice." Those words gripped my heart and my mind as well. Like a bell, that once it had been rung, couldn't be unheard.

I looked over at Gale, and he was pale too, conflict written across his rugged features clear as day. He wanted her to get better, he just didn't know if he wanted her better that badly. Badly enough to let me hold through the night. Badly enough to have to see it with his own eyes.

I knew how he felt. I had heard things, private things between the two of them that I would have traded anything to remain oblivious too. Haymitch had said it was all lies, something the Capitol created to drive me nuts. But there had been a look on his face, something in his eyes that spoke of doubt.

Now I had nothing but doubt. Doubt and nightmares, and memories that haunted me.

She deserved more than necessity. She deserved more than obligation and pity and fear. I just didn't know if I was strong enough to say the words. Strong enough to do it.

Then, I heard my brother's voice cry out, in fear and terror. Not as loud as Katniss, but I knew he was probably going to need help too. That meant me, and Mrs. Everdeen, and Prim probably, would need to go and check him, help him calm down. His wife was pregnant, and even though I knew my brother would never hurt her or anyone else on purpose, he might do something by accident if he was having the same kind of fever dreams Katniss was.

And I felt relieved. I turned to Gale, and said words I'd never in a million years thought would ever come out of my mouth.

"Can you stay with her? She just needs someone close, for the nightmares. If you just hold her for a bit, she'll settle down and go back to sleep." I tell him and I can tell he's shocked. He just stands there, staring at me in an uncomprehending manner.

My brother's voice cries out again, and then I hear my sister in law calling for help. Mrs. Everdeen packs up her bag and Prim looks between the three of us worriedly. Katniss is still trying to hold onto me, but I'm looking at Gale, asking for his help.

He nods, slowly, and comes around to the side I'm on. Prim leaves, following in her mother's fast wake.

"Katniss, hey, I've got to go check on my brother ok? But look, Gale's here and he'll stay this time ok? And when I'm done, I'll come back and check on you alright?" I tell her gently, as I remove her hands. She seems confused, and she looks between the two of us in a dreamy, half lucid state.

"But Gale's mad at me." She says weakly, shaking her head. Gale sighs, and takes her hands in his.

"No, I'm not mad. Not at all. I'll be right here with you." He says quietly and she seems to think about this, while she does she sways a little unsteadily, and he reaches out an arm to steady her. She relaxes into him, and she lets him set her back down. He sits by her side, holding her hand. And I turn away from them.

Then I get up and head in the direction of my brother's terrified moans.

(Gale POV)

Hours pass before they come back. I hold her small hand in mine, and watch her sleep. I nod off a few times, but she doesn't do much other than mutter about mutts, and roses, and strange things. Sometimes she clutches my hand really hard, but most of the time she's just out. She moves closer to me in her sleep though, and by the time they come back I wake up from a light sleep to find her head practically in my lap, her hand holding onto my knee. I start to move away from her, but she just scoots closer towards me.

Peeta, and all of them stare at us, and I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment. I look over at Peeta, ready to tell him to switch places. It's obvious she thinks I'm him, since she would never be this handsy with someone she hadn't already been with. But he looks exhausted. Not just physically. There's been this strange weary look in his eyes and in the way he walks for days now. And I wonder if it has anything to do with them, if they fought or something happened between them.

Prim saves the day though, and offers to take my place. I gratefully accept. And though it's a bit of a struggle to make the switch, eventually Katniss is left to curl up with her sister, safely.

I return to my spot to bed down next to my brother, and I see Peeta crossing back to the other side of the cave to go and sleep by Haymitch and the Sparrow kid. I close my eyes and fall asleep right away.

The next day passes slowly, and everyone is nervous and hungry. But a blizzard blew in last night, and there's only left over meat from my kill yesterday and rations to go around. Then we all have to set up shifts to begin shoveling snow in intervals. We have to keep the entrance clear so we don't get trapped inside the cave. I take my shift with Rory, and when I finish I see Katniss's mother and Prim rushing over to assist Peeta's brother, who has begun flailing and rolling back and forth in his sleep. I think to go over to help, but when I get close Mrs. Everdeen tells me to go trade off with Peeta, because it'll be better for Rye to have his brother and father hold him while she has to change the bandage on his shoulder.

I found them at the back of the cave. They're laying on the floor, curled up together like some romantic picture out of a story book. She has her head tucked against his chest, her arm wrapped around his side. He looks the most peaceful and rested I've seen him in days, sleeping there next to her. And some of that old bitterness, and jealousy creeps up my spine. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I don't want to wake him, I don't want to do anything but turn away and pretend like this never happened. It's like watching them on the screen, when they would kiss and dance and laugh together like they were in love. Except there are no cameras here.

And even though I know she's sick, and they've got all their clothes on, I can almost imagine it. Her and him. Them, happy together. The thought makes me feel empty inside.

"What's taking so long?" A voice next to me asks, and I turn around to find my little brother, Rory, beside me. But then his gaze takes in the scene before us, and he stops talking. I don't know how much he knows, certainly not everything, but I think he's seen enough over the years to understand why this image disturbs me.

Still, Mrs. Everdeen must have sent him to hurry me along. And there are other people who need our help right now. So, when I wake him, it's not out of anger or malice, those emotions are buried under a thick covering of responsibility and obligation. I don't want to have to acknowledge I've seen them together like this, probably as much as he doesn't want to be woken up right now. Some things just have to be done.

He blinks up at me tiredly, and I feel bad for him. I guess that was the best rest he had gotten in days. But when I tell him that his brother needs him, he stands up without protest. Her hands reach out for him, and I take them on my own. Fully aware of how uncomfortable this situation is for us all.

I didn't lay down with her though. I just sat next to her like before, and after a minute she settled back into a quiet sleep. Peeta and Rory trudged off in the direction of the fussing and I try to not think about what a strange turn things had taken.

And the strangeness goes on.

We set up a shift, between the four of us. That way everyone can work and eat and get things done. It's easy when I walk to the back of the cave and take over for Prim or Katniss's mother. It's harder, infinitely harder for me, and Peeta too I guess, when we have to trade off with each other. But she doesn't seem to trust anyone else's voice, and doesn't want to hold anyone else's hand when the fever dreams take hold. And she has a lot of them. Sometimes they're terrifying. Sometimes they are just bizarre.

She makes strange comments, when she's half awake, that I think at first are barbs, meant to hurt me. Talking about the calluses on my hands, and the way I smell like the woods. And I don't know if she's comparing me and him. I can't tell really if she's saying she likes some things better than others, or if she's simply stating facts. But then she starts talking about purple lipstick and getting her eyebrows bleached and a million other crazy things and I realize she's just really off her rocker.

I try to grit my teeth and bear it, as I'm sure everyone else does. But that night she gets the chills really bad, and so does Rye. So after they get some medicine into her, and wrap her up in the sleeping bag they tell me to monitor her, and make sure she doesn't get too cold. Everyone is wearing their coats, since the blizzard is still raging. But she looks almost blue as an icicle, even wrapped up in her sleeping bag and extra blankets. I ask them if I should put her coat on, and Mrs. Everdeen shakes her head.

"She might switch back and forth between fever and chills tonight. Just monitor her as closely as you can. Keep her covered if she's clammy, or remove some of the blankets if she gets too hot. I don't know if I'll be back. Rye's wounds were deeper than hers. His infection isn't clearing up as fast either. Just, use your best judgement." She tells me wearily and walks off. Peeta's on watch duty at the mouth of the cave, and Prim is helping her mother, and Haymitch and everyone else is busy trying to either shovel out the snow or keep everyone from going nuts in this storm.

So when I settle down to sit beside her, I feel a little unprepared for the responsibility of watching over her. I'm not a healer, I don't know what to do if something goes wrong. And I certainly don't want to make a mistake with the life of the girl I care about most. But I just grit my teeth and bear it. Because I have to. Because someone has to.

And I guess I'm more tired than I realized because I fell asleep. And the next thing I know I'm lying next to her, having slid down to the floor sometime in my sleep in an effort to get comfortable. And she's tucked into my side, but she's not happy and calm like she was with him. Her teeth are chattering and her body is shivering something awful. And I take off my coat, to wrap around her, but when I do that, she pulls me close.

"Gale?" She asks, her eyes unfocused but roaming over my face.

"Yeah Catnip, it's me. I'm here. Don't worry."

"Gale, I'm cold. So cold." She tells me, and I can barely make it out, her teeth are chattering so hard.

"I know, here put this on, you'll be warmer." I tell her and she lets me wrap the coat around her. She settles back down, still shivering, but not as badly. And I relax back, trying to get as comfortable as I can, even though she's so close to me right now I can see the individual eyelashes on her eyelids as she molds herself to my side.

I breathe out a heavy sigh. Wondering if the universe sits around cooking up specially made tortures for people, like this moment for me.

She fidgets a little, as she tries to get closer, and get comfortable, and I hesitate but then I lower my arm so she can rest her head on it. She looks up at me gratefully, before she lays her head against my arm. She's still cold, and I can see a sheen of clammy sweat spread over her skin, everywhere I look. But her lower half is wrapped up in the sleeping bag, and she has my jacket on, and blankets besides that. So, it's not with underhanded or bad intentions that I let her get close. I'm a heat source that she needs right now, albeit maybe an unconventional one.

I stay awake like that for a long while, just warming her, and watching over her. Eventually she stops shivering, and falls into a restful sleep. Eventually I do too.

I dreamed about her. I dreamed about walking through the woods with her. I dreamed about kissing her down by the pond. That second kiss had felt so good, so right. I knew it had felt good for her too. I knew, then and there I could make her happy, if she just gave me a shot.

She had tasted like mint and clear stream water. And she felt alive and warm in my hands. And her small curves that I'd always wanted to feel pressed against me, somehow did so in my dream. And then I was awake, and a little startled, because it wasn't just a dream. She was there, our limbs tangled up together and our bodies pressed close. And I could see that she had kicked off the sleeping bag while she slept, the blankets still covered us, but we were far too close.

We were so close, my body had reacted to her. And I was more than embarrassed. I was more than ashamed. I felt like an idiot. Cuddling up with a feverish girl and sharing covers. She probably had no idea it was me. She probably thought she was sleeping next to him. And here I was in his spot, touching things and feeling things that didn't belong to me. It didn't matter if I had been asleep. She hadn't picked me. She hadn't asked me to stay with her like she had him. I was the placeholder. I was the substitute. And I had no right, no right to take advantage. She'd been taken advantage of enough.

So I calmed down. I forced myself to come back to reality. Then I sat up, and when she protested and tried to pull me back to her side I stopped her hands.

"No. Katiss, I can't. I need to sit up." I tell her and she looks up at me in confusion. And I think she realizes then, that I'm not him. And I wince, against her no doubt well deserved oncoming indignation. But she just sighs. And reaches out to take my hand.

"Ok Gale, just don't leave me." She says quietly, as she pulls the covers around her more securely. I blink down at her in surprise. Not sure...if she wasn't mad or if maybe she knew it was me all along.

But then I thought, no. She couldn't have known. Maybe she was just so sick and tired she really didn't have the energy to get mad over it. So I just hold her hand, and try to stay awake, until someone can come and relieve me.

(Peeta POV)

The night dragged on, with my brother shaking uncontrollably and his wife trying her best to keep him warm. I had gone over to help as soon as my watch ended. Mrs. Everdeen and Prim had left, exhausted and almost as tired looking as the other guys who'd had to hold my brother down while they changed his bandages. But, as she passed, Katniss's mother said that the wound was looking better. And if his fever and chills broke by morning, he'd be on the mend. So I had taken it to heart, and done what I could to help Laurel and my father. When my brother finally went back to sleep, I was more than glad to go and take my shift with Katniss.

I found him sitting up, barely conscious, holding her hand. And she was asleep, but looked flushed and sweaty. Like she had a fever again. I bent down to put my hand on her forehead and felt her burning up.

"She's got another fever. Help me get these blankets off." I tell Gale as he stirs and he snaps awake quickly.

"She was cold and clammy all night. That's why I gave her my jacket…" He trails off worriedly, guiltily. I know it's not his fault. Everyone's exhausted. He probably thought he was helping her when did it. I probably would have done the same thing.

"My brother was the same way, it's alright, just help me get the jacket off." I tell him in a tired voice and he does. He helped me get her untangled from the blankets, and laid down comfortably on top of the sleeping bag, covered in only the clothes she was wearing. And then mercifully he leaves without me having to dismiss him. I settle down beside her, not knowing if I'll be able to stay awake long enough to make sure she's alright. I'm so tired.

But then I hear footsteps, and I think I'll find her mother or Prim come to check on her, but no it's Haymitch. He's been popping in on her periodically. And for once I'm grateful for the intrusion.

"She has another fever. But I'm tired. Could you wake me if it doesn't pass within an hour?" I ask him, and he nods.

"Get some rest kid. You look terrible." He tells me in that rude way of his that I've come to understand just hides how much he cares.

"Thanks." I say, before drifting off.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

I wake up with starts and jerky movements and only for short periods of time. I have nightmares of thorn filled white roses rising up with sharp teeth to eat my flesh inch by inch. I am vaguely aware of hands changing the washcloth on my forehead.

Once I feel my mothers long and nimble fingers changing the bandage on my leg, but it is not as painful as before, so I don't scream, I just groan semiconscious, as strong arms cradle me. Another time Prim coaxes some broth into me, but I'm so tired I only sit up for a short time before I have to lay back down.

They don't make me sit back up. I am made to take medicine regularly though. After what seems like an undefinable amount of time I wake, with my stomach protesting hungrily, and my mind more conscious than any previous time since before they drained my leg. I feel that I am fully clothed, and the pain in my leg has subsided greatly.

But I'm startled to find myself tucked against the side of someone's long sturdy legs. I look up and see Gale's sleeping form leaning against the wall of the cave. I have no idea what he's doing here. It's so strange. Gale and I have never been this close while we sleep. If someone had asked me to bet I would have put money on Peeta watching over me while I slept. But I guess I would have lost that bet. I don't know what to make of this situation, so I decide to get up and go looking for answers, and food too. Luckily Gale is a heavy sleeper, he doesn't so much as stir when I pull away from him. So I guess I lucked out that it was him and not Peeta who watched over me after all. I never would have been able to get out of Peeta's arms without waking him up.

I pick my way through the dark, letting my eyes adjust as I lean against the wall of the cave for support. My leg feels much better and I can actually put weight on it. I guess I was at the back of the cave, because as I move forward I pass groups of sleeping people. The closer I get to the mouth of the cave, the more light filters in through the darkness. Coats are piled on top of packs on the floor and I tug on a random one. I find the entrance opening secured by two tent covers, stretched to form a sort of hanging door with an opening down the middle. When I pass it, I find Rory, and a barely conscious Haymitch on the other side sitting against the wall. Rory looks up in surprise at me, but Haymitch just opens one bleary eye to stare at me.

"So, sleeping beauty has finally awoken." He draws in that mocking tone I hate so much, but also find so familiar it's almost comforting after all these years.

"I don't know about the beauty part but I sure feel well rested. Rory, why don't you go get some sleep?" I told him. He eyes me doubtfully, but Hyamotch just nods at him and he retreats back into the cave.

I sit down across from Haymitch, hoping he can answer some of my questions.

"How long was I out?" I ask first.

"A little under two days." He answers and I can feel the shock register on my face.

"Oh don't worry, we couldn't have moved even if we wanted to. Blizzard blew in the morning after you passed out. It just let up a couple of hours ago. The guys have been taking turns digging out the entrance so we wouldn't get snowed in. Besides, after you passed out, Peeta's brother's fever started up. Took five of us to hold him down, while your mother worked on him. But he's better too. Should be waking up by tomorrow at the latest." Haymitch says all this in a bored tone. But I can tell from the dark shadows under his eyes that he's been worried.

"Anybody else?" I ask, hoping me and Rye got the worst of it.

Haymitch shakes his head, "No one else was scratched or bitten. Your mother says it must have been something in their teeth and claws that caused the infection."

"Well that's good at least." I let out a shaky exhale and tuck my hands into the sleeves of the borrowed coat. It's cold out here, but at least we're all alive.

"Sure if you call being woken up every few hours by your fever dream hollering. Rye at least just thrashed around in his sleep and moaned pitifully every now and then. But not you sweetheart, oh no. You had to let out blood curdling screams every hour, on the hour like clockwork. Screaming about flowers with teeth, foamy roses, and fireballs shaped like wolves." Haymitch mutters the last bit into the collar of his coat, but I still hear him. I cringe, sheepishly.

"Did I keep everyone up the last two days?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"Oh no, once Peeta told them about how to handle your nightmares they set up a nice little shift in order to guard your delicate sensibilities." He tells me.

"A shift?"

"Yeah, they took turns looking after you. Peeta, Prim, Gale, and your mother when she could spare the time. It was the only way to keep you quiet." He says with no small helping of scorn. Well that explained why I hadn't been left alone, but not why I had awoken practically tangled up with Gale.

"But why-" I start to ask and he just shakes his head at me.

"You wouldn't shut up unless someone cradled you like an infant half the time. Really girl, you can kill half a pack of deranged mutts without so much as a 'by your leave', but you can't forgo your nightly snuggles? I'm almost ashamed to name you among 12's victors." He says with heavily dripping sarcasm, and I think I'm a little ashamed of myself as well. I must have acted like a huge baby for them all to have to watch me round the clock.

"It would have been endearing if it wasn't so damn disturbing." Haymitch says quietly. And I imagine what it must have been like for them, Peeta and Gale, to have to trade off watching me sleep, soothing my fever induced hallucinations, wrapping me up when I refused to wake or stop screaming. I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment.

Haymitch just shakes his head at me.

"Don't I even get credit for being sick and unconscious?" I ask.

"No, because if you had just said something earlier this might have been avoided."

"Haymitch, I didn't feel that bad when we set out. And besides we needed to get to the cave. We couldn't have done that if I had needed my mother to perform surgery on my leg." I tell him conversely.

"Maybe. Who knows? All I know is things got really strange for a while there when you woke up and asked Gale why his eyes aren't blue anymore. And again when Peeta came over to try and feed you some soup, you grabbed his face and suggested he grow out the stuble he's got going right now because you prefer the texteture. It was so goddamn awkward I almost wanted to put those poor souls out of their misery as an act of mercy." Haymitch says, seriously.

I cover my face with my hands. Oh God, no, I didn't say those things!

"You know I'm starting to think that whole, hermit plan you had going might be the way to. You're not suitable for decent society girl." He tells me with a scowl.

I nod, not looking at him, my hands still over my face because it's just so awful.

"I wish you'd have put me out of my misery before I said those stupid things." I mutter, so angry and ashamed of myself. I feel something land in my lap. It's a rations packet. I stare at it forlornly.

"Oh, you're not getting off that easy." He says, a judicial and frightening look in his eye.

"Haymitch," I say, the hunger drained out of me and replaced by a gut twisting sense of humiliation.

"Eat up, you'll need it for all the atoning you'll no doubt have to do tomorrow." Then he turns away to watch the forest tree line.

I stay with him for the whole shift, and eat three packets of rations, slowly, and reluctantly. Finally around 4am we both head back in to be relieved by Peeta's father and Rye, who apparently woke up sometime during our shift. Rye smiles at me as we pass each other, but I can't meet his eyes. I can't look at anyone. I have no idea how many people heard my inane fever ramblings, but since it's a pretty enclosed space I'd say everyone probably had. I suddenly wished the wolf mutt had chewed my face right there and then, before I had caused any more pain or turmoil.

Gale isn't where I left him when I return and I am beyond relieved. I find Prim's sleeping form next to my mothers, and bury my face against her back. I dread the daylight but can't seem to sleep. Yet I know the morning will bring more work and traveling. We've already delayed too long. So I forced my body to lay still, so at least my limbs will be rested, even if my mind isn't.

At six everyone wakes, and begins preparing breakfast and packing things away. My mother examines my leg and pronounces that I can walk on it as long as I'm careful and tell them the moment I need a break or begin to feel strange. When she walks off to go check on Rye I whisper to Prim.

"Are they both furious with me?"

Her brow crinkles in confusion. "Who?"

"You know, Peeta and Gale?" I say under my breath.

"Oh, no they've been really worried about you. We all have."

"Hyamitch said last night that I was really...rude to them, these past two days." I say, willing her to understand what I'm talking about.

"Oh...that...well I mean they both know you were sick. You said a lot of strange things. You asked mom why she didn't let you eat all the butter cookies, and one time you asked me why I didn't use my wings to fly away. You even called Haymitch dad one time. I think everyone realized at that point that you were really delusional." She tells me in a kind voice.

Is it true? Did I really sound just mad enough to cover for the other slip ups? If only that were true.

"Prim, tell me honestly, does everyone know? Did they all hear the things I said?" I ask her, my eyes boring into hers.

"They heard you screaming, about strange creatures and monsters you saw in your dreams, but we moved you to the back of the cave on the first night because of the screaming. You weren't shouting when you said anything about Gale or Peeta. You were kind of whispering." She tells me, her blue eyes wide and honest.

"So how did Haymitch find out?" I ask, confused.

"Oh, he was by your side practically every moment he could spare. I think you and Peeta are actually really important to him." She tells me this and I feel a strange combination of surprise and comfort, knowing Haymitch cared enough to stay and check on me.

"Well, then I guess there's a chance it's not all that bad." I say, wondering if I should thank them for looking after me, but certain I should not fall straight to my knees begging for forgiveness. Not that I'd do that anyway even if it was deserved.

"I'm sure it will all be fine. Everyone's just glad you and Rye will be ok." She says before she moves away to finish packing. Once everyone's ready we head out.

The air is much colder than a few days ago. And I know winter has set in for sure and is here to stay. I take up a spot next to Prim, grateful that because of my injury I'm not expected to guard the rear with Peeta today. Deen has taken my place and the two of them seem comfortable and alert together.

We spend the day carefully trekking through the snow, and it's slow going. Our snowshoes help but the terrain is rough and more than one person almost pitches into the snow on occasion. When we break for lunch Haymitch grumbles that we've only covered 8 miles since the morning. I wince. That's pretty bad. We don't have a lot of daylight left, and even at that, it will get dark sooner now and probably start snowing again at nightfall.

I walk over to where Haymitch and Gale have a map spread before them and I squat down to examine it and try to get a rough direction of where we are. I spot a circled point that's the first on the map, and then my eyes move on north to trace the path we took to get to the cave. I try to estimate how far we've travelled and the remaining distance to the next point.

But even if my calculations are off, I can see that we haven't made nearly enough progress. It's another 9 or 10 miles at least. And I doubt we'll reach it before nightfall. I bite my lip as Haymitch and Gale argue over whether we have enough time to make it.

"We don't." I cut in and Haymitch's mouth twists to the side in annoyance at my interjection.

"She's right." Gale announces looking at him and Haymitch just sighs.

"Fine, then let's start thinking of alternatives." He says sourly, and we continue to look over the map.

My eyes look towards the northeast direction, closer to the mountains. If I had to choose between trying to speed through another 10 miles before sundown and getting caught unprotected in a storm or by another pack of mutts, or going off course for a bit and trying to find a cave to hole up in, I'd pick the cave.

"How about these mountains, just 4 miles to the northeast? We could make it to them before sunset easily. And I'm betting Gale and I can find a cave." I tell him and Haymitch and Haymitch squints at the map. Gale looks up at me approvingly.

"I guess it's the best of some really bad options." Haymitch eventually says and I shrug. He's right, it would be better if we had been able to stay on course. But this detour won't take us too far out of the way, four miles really, and at least we had a good chance of finding a defensible position.

"Well, we'd better get going then." Gale says standing up and I nod. We need as much time as possible to make the journey and find a cave or even rock overhang to camp against. When people hear we only need to travel 4 miles, people perk up. I take point with Gale and we head out quickly.

"How's your leg?" He asks me after we clear the first mile.

"Much better." I tell him cautiously. I don't want to talk about the fever dreams and the sleeping arrangements.

"That's good. For a while there you had everyone really worried. I hope you've learned your lesson. Because if you get injured and don't say anything about it again, next time I won't hold your hair back while you puke your guts out." He tells me in a joking tone, but there's an edge to it underneath the humor. I gulp, a little embarrassed. I hadn't even remembered him holding my hair back while I puked. But I didn't doubt he had done it for a second.

"I have. Next time I get so much as a hangnail I'll make a formal announcement." I tell him sarcastically and he just rolls his eyes at me. But I smirk at his annoyance.

"I am sorry though. For any worry I put you all through." I say quietly after a moment. And just then we clear a hill and catch sight of the mountain range we're heading for. It looks beautiful and I think both Gale and I sigh in relief.

"Yeah, alright Catnip. Just don't do it again." He tells me, his voice lighter and his steps quicker. And I just appreciate the way his whole self seems to light up and ease at this beautiful sight. Gale is only really alive in the woods, when he's pushing himself up over the next hill, or tracking the next animal. He's so completely at home in nature. I think he would have made a great explorer back before the dark times. Maybe he would have even become a sailor and traveled too far off lands no one had ever heard of. I could see him like that, sailing off into the unknown and not looking back, with just a bow on his back and a compass as a guide.

"I promise." I tell him quietly and he looks over at me with a half smile. But it quickly is replaced by a questioning gaze and I look away.

We reach the foot of the mountains well before sundown and Gale and I start to break off from the group to search for a place to take shelter for the night. But I catch a glimpse of something strange on Peeta's face as I set down my heavy traveling pack and strap on my bow.

"Deen, Rory, we could use two other pairs of eyes if you're up for it." I toss out the invitation and they quickly agree. Gale doesn't say anything. I don't look over at Peeta to see if his expression is relieved. I just take off toward a cluster of rocky formations that look promising. Deen catches up with me, and he and I take point while Gale and Rory bring up the rear. Deen asks me to explain how to spot caves, but I don't know how to explain it exactly, so I kind of stumble through a rambling explanation before we come upon a brushy dense section of brambles that cover the left section of the rock formation I saw. And at first I'm about to turn away, and try in another direction, but then I stop.

I peer into the space between the dense foliage and see a section of telltale blackness that indicates the mouth of a cave.

"Someone go and get Peeta and the hatchet, I think we've found something." I say and as Gale comes to stand beside me and peer at the same spot I'm looking at.

He looks down at me with a grin and I grin back at him. We'll be safe for tonight at least.

Deen comes back after ten minutes with Peeta in tow, and we all get to work clearing the brush and brambles. But we don't clear everything away, just enough to allow for a narrow opening to allow one person through at a time. If we were attacked, the thorns of the plants might help provide some defense for us against intruders. They also helped to naturally camouflage the entrance.

Then our group walks over. Gale, and I go in first with bows drawn and Deen stands between us carrying a lit torch. A few bats are distrubed overhead and fly out, but the farther we make our way into the cave the more we see that it's pretty abandoned. Another piece of luck.

We head back out after we check all the way to the back. We give the all clear to everyone to head in and then it's a happy rushing experience for everyone to clamber in and pick out where they want to sleep and so on. People get busy making dinner, and I settle down by the entrance of the cave to look out on the scenery. I stay that way for a while, just watching the sun go down.

I'm just about to get up and walk over to grab a bowl of whatever smells so good when Peeta's hand stretches out in front of me holding a still steaming bowl of stew and some kind of grain.

"Thank you," I tell him and take the bowl gingerly from his large hand. He sits next to me, close but not touching.

"You're welcome." He tells me quietly and passes me a spoon so we can start eating. I go back to watching the quickly darkening sky and I sigh as the stars start to make their appearances.

"I can see why you like it out here. It's tough, but it's beautiful in a harsh and isolated way." He tells me and I glance over at him. He's staring out at the trees and the growing night.

"Yeah, I'd rather someone toss me into the forest with a bow and a knife than stick me in a fancy dress and make me answer questions about wedding decorations or how many famous and rich people will be coming to my reception." I tell him in a low voice and he smiles indulgently over at me.

"What do you think they all did at first, when they heard we'd been blown to smithereens? Tried to get their deposit back on the reception hall?" He asks with a positively evil smirk.

"Oh, no. They all vowed to party till dawn in our honor. It's what we would have really wanted after all." I tell him in a mocking tone and he laughs. I smile, trying to imagine it.

"The only one I feel bad for is maybe...Effie." I say after our chuckles subside. And he grows serious.

"Me too." He tells me in a sincerely sad voice and I get the overwhelming urge to hold his hand. My fingers even reach out reflexively and he catches the movement. He looks at me for a moment before he reaches over and gives my hand a quick squeeze before letting go.

I nod, and look away, trying to put out all the people we left behind out of my thoughts. It would do no good to get sentimental now.

"It's going to be ok." He tells me quietly, and I wonder how he knew I needed him to say that.

"Yeah, we've made it this far." I tell him quickly and lean back and place my weight on the palms of my hand as I return to star gazing.

'I'm glad you're feeling better." He says and I smile softly as I look up.

"Me too, I would have hated it if we had been delayed because of me." I tell him and he gets a strange look on his face.

"Katniss, no one was worried about losing time. Well, except maybe Haymitch, but even he was more worried about you than the stupid schedule. The only reason we survived the mutt attack with no casualties was because of you. You came up with the strategy to pick them off from a vantage point. You injured or killed almost all of the remaining wolves. We never could have gotten this far without you." He tells me and I look over at him in disbelief.

"That's kind of an exaggeration Peeta. Everyone did their part. I had one good idea and it worked, that's all." I tell him in an unconvinced voice. Peeta just shakes his head.

"Katniss, they were huge mad eyed monsters with five inch claws and a near human level intelligence. And we survived 12 of them, fighting them off with pickaxes and shovels. By all rights many of us wouldn't be alive right now if it weren't for your arrows and your aim. It's been years since I've seen you in action like that. I didn't think it was possible for you to get better but you did. You were so fast up in that tree. Those mutts never knew what hit them." He tells me seriously and I blink over at him, trying to absorb his words.

Was he right? Had my bow made the difference in the wolf-mutt battle?

I turned away and looked back at the now totally black night sky and sighed.

"It still almost wasn't enough, Peeta. I almost lost you. That mutt almost got into the tent with the kids." I tell him in a shaky whisper. Because even if he was 100% not exaggerating about my skills, it didn't change the fact that it had been a really close call. For more people than I wanted to admit.

"Well, it didn't. We killed it. And we'll tackle whatever else they throw at us." He says quietly, and I think that strange look he had been carrying since the day of the wedding had completely disappeared at that moment. I relaxed against the cave entrance behind me, feeling strangely at ease for the first time in days.

He looked over at me and there were a million things in that look, not the least of them being yearning. And I had to admit I felt it too. I had been stuffing it down ever since that morning I left his bed and walked the 25 feet back to my house. So remembering what Haymitch said about sensitivity and compassion, I reached out and clasped his hand in mine. At first he seemed a little surprised, but then he just cupped my hand more firmly in his and relaxed as well. We stayed like that until the first shift started.

Then I went back to my tent and settled down beside Prim. This time I didn't have trouble drifting off to sleep.

I wake up to someone shaking my shoulder gently. It's Rory again, and he's telling me it's my shift. I leave the tent and watch as he and Gale head into their family tent before going to sit down near the entrance. Soon I'm joined by Deen. I smile up at him, glad it's not Haymitch again.

"Hey mentor," He greets me warmly as he settles down against the opposite end of the cave wall.

"Sparrow, how'd I get the luck to draw a shift with you?" I joke and he shrugs.

"The odds were in your favor today I guess." He says and I toss a pebble over at him.

"I'm glad, actually. I've been meaning to ask you about a few things." I tell him in a soft low tone.

"Oh, I figured. Ask away Mockingjay." He tells me and I stare at him in confusion.

"You know, from your wedding dress? And your token in the arena. I figured if I'm going to be Sparrow then you should have a bird name too. So, you can be Mockingjay. That way when they tell stories about our epic adventures, they'll remember us easier." He tells me and I laugh.

It's a nice idea actually. But I'm pretty sure no one's going to be telling tales about us back in Panem. Not unless they are partial to prison or torture. The thought darkens my mood for a second. But then Deen starts speaking again.

"That was a really great dress, you know. Better than the one at my celebration feast. I think you just about gave everyone a heart attack when that jacket burned away." He tells me and I shake my head.

"That dress was all Cinna. He's so talented, I mean he even managed to make you look sophisticated in that gold and black tuxedo at the celebration feast." I tell him and he raises his eyebrows in mock offendedness.

"Managed? I see you're in particularly rare form tonight," He says, shaking his head at me and I shoot him a toothy grin.

"Alright, alright. I want to know what happened on the day of the wedding. Why was Peeta so...off?" I ask him in a whisper.

"Oh. That. I'm not sure I know all the details, but the stylists came and got Haymitch and I in the morning saying they found Peeta zoned out and unresponsive in his study. We went over to help and Haymtich went in to talk to him alone. I thought he was just having a flashback or something. But Haymitch talked to Peeta for over two hours, before they got him to come out of the study. When I asked him what was wrong, he said the Capitol had sent Peeta something, something bad to try and force him into line. But Haymitch said it was just lab created computer crap, made to scare him. I don't know what it was, if it was something from your Games, or what but he was really quiet and withdrawn all day. It wasn't till you pulled him out of it at the wedding that he started being able to string more than two words together at a time without looking like someone was twisting his arm."

I thought about his words for a long while, wondering what horrors the Capitol had cooked up for Peeta. Hatred, fierce and hot coiled in my chest and made it hard to breathe for a while. So I just closed my eyes to try and calm myself.

We had done it, we had gotten away. If we kept it up and made it to 13, then they would never be able to hurt Peeta again. This was my only solace. The only thing that kept me sane instead of flying into an angry violent tirade against the people who tried to break us at every turn.

"What other questions did you have?" Deen asked me lightly, and I knew he was trying to help me come back out of the angry place I had gone to. But it took several minutes for me to calm down enough before I could answer him.

"What happened during the two days I was sick? I've gotten some conflicting accounts, and I want to know what really happened." I told him. Because the two people I had talked to were on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to their opinions of me. Prim thought I could do no wrong most of the time, and Haymitch thought I couldn't do anything right. The truth, whatever it was, had to lie somewhere between their two accounts.

"Oh, that was wild. You and Peeta's giant brother were like addicts on a bad trip. You both talked and screamed about the strangest things. Sometimes it was ok, like when you told me that if you ever had a son you wanted him to be strong like me. Sometimes it was terrifying, like when Rye said that the poison from the mutt's teeth and claws was eating away at him from the inside out." He tells me and I'm flabbergasted.

"What? I did not say that. I would never say that!" I whisper at him ferociously.

"Swear it's the truth. Your mother and Peeta were there when you said it. Of course after you said it you also asked to be given away in marriage to the goat man, back in 12. So, I took the comment with a grain of salt. Unless there's something you've been keeping from us? A secret forbidden love perhaps?" Deen eyes me with an evil amused grin and I shake my head at all the nonsense that everyone must have heard over the last two days.

"Whatever they put in those animals' teeth and claws must have been potent for me to consider having children of any kind." I breathe out with a sigh.

"Why? Don't you wanna settle down one day and produce a nice little family of bakers, or hunters?" He asks me in a conspiratorial whisper and I blush furiously and scowl at him.

"I think I'd rather turn myself over to Snow tomorrow. I'm never having kids." I tell him vehemently and he cocks his head to the side, studying me.

"How can you even consider it, after all we've been through Deen? Didn't the reaping and the Games and everything else teach you enough?" I tell him angrily.

And he gets a hard look on his face. One I'm not used to seeing anymore. It's the fighter's gaze as he turns away to stare out at the black night.

"All I've ever wanted is a family. And if I'm lucky enough to find a really good girl one day, who could put up with my nightmares and my moods, I'd settle down in a heartbeat. I've seen what this world has to offer. And the only thing worthwhile, is creating something you can hold onto, with your own two hands. For me that's family." He says quietly and again, I'm struck by the deep reflection of his words. He's so young, and he already knows what he wants out of life. I envy him a little at that moment.

"I admire your certainty. And if you ever do find someone and settle down, I'll be there to watch your toasting with bells on. But it's different for everyone I guess, what the Games bring out in us. Some fears run too deep to ever really be free of." I say quietly and Deen looks over at me a little sadly.

"Fear is the hardest hurdle to clear. But once you do, well, that's the only time you feel like you can really breathe. That's what we're all doing here right? Trekking into the wilderness, middle of winter, chased by monsters and mercenaries at every turn. Why? Not for the thrill of it. But because we're tired of living in fear." He says quietly and I look over at him. Finding something quite pleasant about the way his words settled over the night. Like in saying it, it had dispelled some of the fear already.

"Deen, when did you have time to figure out all this stuff?" I question him seriously.

"Oh, I think I've been thinking about this kind of stuff for a while. Even before the victory tour. There was a time, in between the Games and the tour, when I couldn't sleep for days on end. I hadn't learned I could drink myself to sleep yet. And I couldn't bake or hunt like you or Peeta to keep busy. So in between the times you all would come to check on me, I'd just stay up and think. About everything. My life, what happened to me, what happened to all of us. By the time the tour rolled around, I guess I had exhausted myself with thinking, and I just wanted to turn my brain off anyway I could. I guess I just buried all my thoughts under my anger and self importance during the victory tour and after." He replies, in a weary voice and I feel sad again.

We had told him if he had trouble sleeping to call us, or come over. And sometimes he had. But it seems now that he was worse off than we ever thought. I thought of him all alone in his big house, wandering the halls at night, thinking himself to death. And I found then that I didn't envy him as much as I thought. The Hunger Games, and everything that came after for him seemed like a terrible price to pay for wisdom.

"Deen, you don't have to carry it all. You should tell us, Peeta, and I, and Haymitch when you feel that way."

"Oh, I haven't felt that bad since I got back and you told me we were leaving. It's like after that moment, something inside me changed. I felt like I could have a shot again, at a real life." He says with a happy smile. And after a moment I make myself smile back at him, because his optimism is better than despair.

"That's good, Sparrow, that you feel that way now. But let's do something so that if you ever feel that way again, you'll have more options. Tomorrow, if the weather's good, I'll take you hunting with me, and teach you how to shoot." I tell him, remembering my mother's words about how to battle the darkness. Keeping busy, finding outlets. Maybe hunting could be something productive for Deen, as it was for me.

"Are you serious?" Deen's voice is loud and incredulous and startling in the quiet dark.

I look over at him and see his eyes are round as saucers, a big goofy grin spread across his face. He's so excited it's ridiculous.

"Yes! But keep your voice down. People are trying to sleep." I whisper at him harshly.

"Sorry." He says, looking properly admonished. I just nod at him. But then he surprises me by speaking again, but this time in a much quieter tone.

"You know you're my favorite mentor right?" He tells me, voice conspiratorial and mischievous. And it makes me pause, because his expression makes him seem younger, more happy, and carefree. So instead of my natural response, which would be to ignore him or brush the comment off, I smile back.

"Of course I know. There's really no contest when you think about it." I say smugly and he laughs under his breath.

"None at all." He agrees and then we're both looking out towards the wilderness and the stars, a little bit happier, a little bit less afraid than before.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

The early morning brings a little fog with it, but no snow. Haymitch says we don't have to leave until after lunch, since it didn't snow and walking will be easier today. So after breakfast I suggest to Gale we take Rory and Deen with us on our daily hunting excursion.

"I don't know. They might scare off the animals if they're not quiet enough." He says as he mulls it over thoughtfully.

But then I remind him that we're a big party, and if we can teach the others to hunt, even a little bit, it will help. It would also be prudent to have extra hunters if one of us gets injured and bed ridden for days, like I was. After hearing this he agrees, and we set out, the four of us in the direction of a thick patch of forest.

Deen walks beside me, fairly quiet. But every now and then I have to remind him how to step so he doesn't snap a branch or scatter loose debris when he walks. And he pays attention. Just like on the train when I taught him to use a fork and a knife. He works hard. And after only an hour he can string my bow back fairly well, and even manages to shoot a wren that wanders into our path. I clap him on the back, and Gale teaches Rory one of the more complicated snares he's invented, and Rory squints at the delicate knots Gale is trying to show him.

But then we hear a strange sound. I think it's mockingjays that haven't yet migrated south for the winter. They're a quarter of a mile or so off, and trilling in a strangely familiar melody. But I can't quite place the tune. We decide to venture closer so the boys can try to shoot a few, since they cook up as well as any other birds. But just when we're about to come into a clearing where I heard them whistling, I know there's something very wrong.

I gasp, as I recognize the melody. But the boys are walking ahead of me, unconcernedly. But I can hear their singing voices now. It's the love song, the one I sang in the shower the night before the wedding. They're whistling it high in the trees. I hadn't recognized it at first because of the overlapping notes of the many birds' voices, but now I was sure. These were not ordinary birds. They were mutts.

"Gale, we have to leave!" I tell him and he looks over at me in confusion. But before I can grab his arm, the bird on a branch nearest me cocks its head and looks over at me with interest.

"Gale we have to leave!" It mimics my voice in perfect imitation. And then we're all looking around, at the birds that have us in their sights, and I get a very bad feeling. Gale starts to back away slowly, but they flutter around us, switching to the branches behind us blocking our exit.

"Jabberjays," Deen says on exhale, under his breath and the birds cock their heads at him.

"What do we do here Katniss?" Gale asks me in a low, calm tone, but his eyes are wide as he searches for another exit.

"I'm not sure. They might be spies, they might be...more. Let's just take it slow." I tell him quietly, but the bird to the left, the ones that I'm trying to get past so I can find a way out of the clearing, starts to speak. In my voice.

"He knows everything. No more secrets. He's angry, but it's...done." I hear myself say in a sad resigned tone. It stops me in my tracks, and I feel my heart start to beat practically out of my chest.

"Let's just get the hell out of here!" Deen exclaims seeing the horror on my face. He turns around, back the way we came and sees that more birds have roosted in the trees there now. Gale looks over at me, a stricken expression on his face. He looks so hurt, it's like someone stabbed him, and he just stands there, seemingly abandoning the getaway strategy. He's paralyzed by their words. Rory is at his side, trying to pull him along, but after Deen spoke the birds seemed to come alive and they all started to sound off. A bird who speaks in Deen's voice, calls out next, brash and unconcerned.

"Why didn't you just tell them you and Katniss have already had sex?" And my head whips back to Deen, and he looks horrified, so very sorry, as he shakes his head at me. I'm breathing hard, feeling like things are spinning, spinning so fast around me. I aim at the bird nearest to me, but I don't shoot. I'm terrified that if I start shooting they'll swarm us and start tearing us to pieces.

"It's nobody's business what we do in our private lives." Peeta's voice answers from somewhere close. It makes me flinch, the perfect quality of his gentle tone replicated so masterfully by these mutts, and I feel my hands start to shake. I look around wildly, searching for an exit, but they are everywhere, everywhere and their voices are overlapping now.

"Actually I think maybe they did us a favor, Peeta and I. I haven't slept this well since before my Games." I say with an unconcerned joking air, like it was all so easy for me to admit I was sleeping in Peeta's bed to Deen that night in the painting room.

The word NO, repeats in my head, over and over. But the birds don't stop talking. They go on.

"Gale, please." It's my voice again, coming from a branch right above my head and I sound wild, full of longing. I can't stop a humiliated gasp from escaping my mouth.

"Please what Catnip? Tell me what you want and I'll give you whatever you ask for." Gale's voice answers from high up in the trees, and I want to scream. I drop my bow, unable to hold onto it any longer. I'm shaking all over.

Rory is shouting questions, but Gale is full of fury, trying to shoot the bird that is speaking in his voice. But they haven't attacked, they are just trying to fly away from his arrows. I realize they're not dangerous, not in the way I feared at first. They don't have sharp claws or beaks, they're something else. They're designed to attack our minds.

And I put my hands over my ears as I tried to block out the sound of my own voice singing a love song that was supposed to be private. And I think, I have to run, I have to get away from here. I can't listen to this. I'll go mad if I stay for one more second. So I crawl, on my hands and knees until I reach a tree trunk and can pull myself up. With tears streaming down my face I take off blindly, running in the first direction I can.

But the birds follow the sound of my cries, they're chasing me.

"He's great. Maybe a little too great sometimes. I almost feel like I couldn't dislike him if I tried." My voice again, with an edge of resentment this time speaking to Madge the night of my bridal shower about my relationship with Peeta.

"I know how hard it is to see someone you love in pain." My mother's voice in the kitchen, speaking about how I reacted when Gale was injured.

What I hate the most is waiting, waiting to make you mine." Peeta's voice, carefree and hopeful as he left my house after breakfast.

"Both of you need to stop expecting so much. I can't...be who you want me to be. I'm not up for it. I'm not the girlfriend type." My voice tells Gale, angry and selfish outside my kitchen.

"Peeta, you changed every plan I ever had. I know I can't afford the price I'm going to have to pay, for all of this. But I want you anyway." My voice whispers longingly into the foggy morning air behind me.

"You said you're not his girlfriend. You told Haymitch that night in the kitchen that you're not in love. So why, why can't I kiss you?" Gale's frustrated, confused voice demands an answer from me as I run screaming through the woods, my feet stumbling on the tree roots and my clothes catching on the branches.

"Your lips. Are what I want...and what I need, more than need...so much more... "

I fall, hard, down a steep embankment and try to remember to roll and avoid the sharp rocks. But I'm not quick enough, and when I almost reach the bottom, I take a hard blow to my left temple, and then I don't hear or see anything anymore. The world thankfully goes black.

(Deen POV)

She takes off running. And I reach down to pick up her bow and arrows. She dropped them earlier when the horrible mutts started to spill all sorts of secrets and private conversations. I looked over at Gale and he was like a one man army, shooting faster and faster, trying to bring down as many birds as he could. Their voices were loud and raucous now, it was hard to hear what they were saying clearly, but the little I could make out sounded incredibly personal.

I pick up the bow and shoot a bird that's singing in her voice, almost sad to kill it. It was the only good one, the only thing I'd heard that couldn't be twisted into anything ugly or hateful. I never knew she could sing like that. But still, there were about four more birds in the clearing, and I wanted to kill them almost as much as Gale did, if only to spare Katniss and Peeta any embarrassment when the rest of the group had to travel through the woods.

We kill the remaining birds and take off in the direction she left, shooting as many birds as we can as we go. Gale tracks her quickly, and it's clear she's not in full control of herself. Her steps are so frantic and wild, I can see them easily and I'm no tracker. When we reach a steep embankment, Gale leans over and lets out a cry of concern when he sees her unconscious and bleeding at the bottom. He starts to rush down, but Rory calls out for him to be careful. I hurry to make my way down too, hoping to heaven she didn't hurt herself badly in an attempt to escape those monsters.

"Katniss? Katniss, wake up!" Gale says fearfully as he tries to examine her head wound.

I start to get nervous when she doesn't so much as stir.

"Rory, Deen you need to go get her mother! Bring her here as fast as you can!" Gale says when he sees the blood flowing seemingly unstoppingly from a deep gash on the left side of her head.

I look over at Rory and just he turns around as quick as he can and starts to climb back up the embankment. I take off my quiver and leave Gale the remaining arrows, since he exhausted his supply earlier.

We run as fast as we can back to the cave, and call for Mrs. Everdeen to come quickly. Of course when people hear Katniss is injured, more insist to come with us. Peeta and Prim, join us. Haymitch wants to as well, but then stays behind when he sees so many going. On the way there they ask what happened and I tell them we had encountered mutts in the forest, and Katniss's mother asks what kind of injuries we have.

When we tell her the rest of us are fine, and Katniss only got hurt trying to run away, she frowns in a confused way. But she just picks up the pace. Peeta looks over at me, his face white and bloodless, with a look of terror that makes me feel almost sick. When we reach them, thankfully Katniss is stirring a little. Gale is rubbing her arm and asking her simple questions, to try and keep her awake. He lets out a relieved rush of breath when he sees her mother and moves out of the way so the small commanding blond woman can work. She examines Katniss's head and after a few minutes rummages through her bag to pull out medical supplies. Prim helps her clean the wound, and bandage it up. Katniss lulls back into unconsciousness, but they tell us it's alright, her concussion isn't that bad and it's ok if she sleeps a Mrs. Everdeen says someone will need to carry her. Gale and Peeta volunteer at the same time and Rory scowls like someone kicked his puppy.

"Let her boyfriend carry her, stop wasting your time!" He says to his brother after Peeta and Gale just stared at each other in indecision for a moment too long.

I grit my teeth in anger. He was just a kid, he didn't understand how complicated things were. Sure he was probably angry on his brother's behalf, but that didn't give him the right to be a dick about it.

Gale looked over at his little brother at first, angry and maybe a little betrayed, but then he just turned around and walked away. Peeta looked around in confusion. Mrs. Everdeen sighed, and turned to me.

"Could you carry her, Deen? She's pretty light." She asks me in a gentle voice and I nod. I go over and scoop her up as carefully as I can and then we start heading back. Mrs. Everdeen and Katniss's little sister lead the way back. While Peeta walks beside me, silently. Gale and Rory follow a ways behind us, but even at that distance I can still hear them arguing. Rory is angry and indignant, Gale is trying to tell him to be quiet and stay out of it, but by the time we reach the cave they're in a full blown argument.

"I know what I heard! You may be too blind to see it, but she's not who you think she is! She doesn't care about you that way! She's just using you!" Rory finally shouts, loud and angry and people are looking over in confusion and concern. Gale is red faced, furious and humiliated. He's barely keeping his temper in check and I take a deep breath and motion for Peeta to take Katniss from me, because the last thing we need is for two brothers to get into a fight.

Peeta looks a little angry at Rory's words, but he takes her from me and I turn around to face Rory and Gale.

"You're wrong, about a lot of things. Those birds, they were weapons sent to divide us. Snow wants all of us fighting and distrusting each other. Because then we'll be easier to pick off. So just cool it okay, and don't go shouting about things you don't understand."

"Oh, and I suppose she's got you wrapped around her finger too?" He challenges me in a suggestive voice that makes me want to slap the sarcastic sneer right off his face.

"Katniss is my mentor, one of my closest friends. Nothing more. But I can tell you that you're not being fair right now to her, or to your brother. The things that we heard were taken out of context, recorded without permission, they were specifically chosen to sow doubt. If you stopped for a minute to think about it you'd realize it too." I try to tell him patiently, but I can feel the tightness in my cheeks as I try to get the words out without yelling.

"What I realized is that the girl who my brother's in love with doesn't give a damn about him, or anyone else for that matter. She's just using us all to get what she wants." He spits the words out angrily, and people are talking now, whispering around us, asking questions. And I think this is exactly what Snow wants. Gale is grabbing Rory by the shoulder, whispering angrily and threateningly in his ear, but Rory is ignoring him. He whispers back to his brother and I think I catch the word slut. Gale's eyes blaze in a dark and violent way, and I think in a second or two they'll be fighting. So I figure if anybody's gonna fight, it should be me.

"Stop being a shortsighted dick! You have no idea, no idea at all what she's sacrificed, to get you all here, to come this far! You don't know the price! She took it upon herself to keep everyone safe while we planned this escape! She bought your chance for freedom at great cost!" I end up screaming at Rory, because it's all too much. He doesn't understand, none of them do. How can they? They've known oppression, but not the kind the rest of us victors have. They have no idea what we've had to do, how we've had to live.

'What the hell are you talking about?" He yells back at me, angry and uncomprehending. And I know I can't tell Katniss and Peeta's story, it's not mine. But I have my own, and I don't care at that moment who hears it. Because he's accusing my family, the only one I have of being selfish and callus. When I know they're the opposite.

"Do you know what it means to be a victor? Do you want to know what happens after you win the Hunger Games?" I say as I take a step towards him, looking him right in the eyes, and he doesn't back away. He squares up to me, even though Gale's hand is on his shoulder pulling him back. Haymitch's hand is on my shoulder too, trying to pull me back, he's trying to speak to me in low tones, but I shrug his hand off. I don't even need to start a fight. I'm going to put an end to this argument. Here and now.

"It means the Capitol owns you, for the rest of your life. Body, Mind and Soul. It means they can kill anyone important to you, your family, your friends, people you love. Girlfriends, boyfriends, whoever, if you don't do what they want. There are lots of different things they want. But all of them are bad. For me it meant they could sell me. They gave me to people, rich people, important people, like I was some kind of toy. It meant I had to sleep with whoever they told me to. That's why I started drinking. That's why I was ready to give up on everything. I was powerless, worse than a slave. But you know who never gave up? You know who never got drunk or turned to pills or gambling or anything else? Katniss. And Peeta. Your brother too. They all worked together, despite what the Capitol forced them to do. They worked together with Haymitch and the rest of us to get everybody out of there!" I yell at him and he takes a step back, his eyes wide and beginning to comprehend. But I don't stop there because I want everyone here, who has even a shadow of a doubt left about her reputation, about all their reputations, about their honor, to know the truth.

"She saved your life the other night with the mutts. She probably saved all of our lives, a dozen times over since she became a victor. They've all been working for a long time now, to get us this shot. And I won't stand for you, or anyone else for that matter questioning their loyalty. You have no idea, no clue about what had to be done. So until you've paid, like we've paid, until you've given up the things we had to, keep your ignorant mouth shut!" I tell him threatenly, and then I leave them all there and head for the woods, back to the clearing to clear my head, and retrieve as many arrows as I can.

(Peeta POV)

I watch as Deen's angry tense silhouette leaves the cave in irate fury. I sigh as I look over at everyone while I hold the small, helpless girl in my arms.

Rory is standing in the middle of the cave in confusion and dissipating anger. Gale is sitting down like he just ran a marathon, he looks exhausted and completely drained. Haymitch takes off in the direction of the woods with a curse as he tries to catch Deen, and Katniss's mother touches my shoulder and motions for me to lay her daughter down on a small rock shelf that juts out of one side of the cave. They've put the sleeping bag there, and I set her down as gently as I can. I hold her hand as her mother starts speaking to Prim quietly about what to do for a concussion and head wound like hers.

I don't think I have to ask what they encountered in the woods. Gale is wearing a sick, agonized expression I had seen when I looked in the mirror the day of the marriage ceremony. Deen had mentioned mutts, birds. Rory had come back accusing Katniss of two-timing his brother with me. And if Katniss had gotten injured in trying to escape, well, then it was pretty clear. They had been exposed to something similar as to what I had heard in the recording Snow played for me. It made me feel so sad. To know that the same evil methods had been employed on her, on them all.

It made me angry, because now I could see it for what it was. A tactic. A strategy as Deen had explained, to divide us. I just felt ashamed I hadn't seen it earlier. I reached out a hand to stroke her cheek, and she turned toward me, eyes closed but still responding weakly.

"I'm so sorry." I tell her unconscious form quietly. And I hear Prim's quiet sob as tears take over her. I look over at the blond girl, who has had to gor up much too fast since they called her name in the Reaping. Maybe she didn't have to fight in the Hunger Games like her sister and I did, but that didn't mean she didn't have her own battles. That didn't mean that everything that Katniss went through, didn't affect her too in some way. Prim looks at me and her sister with such pity, such sadness. It's heartbreakingly intense. And I close my eyes against the feeling.

But Mrs. Everdeen just clears her throat, and shoots Prim a look. Prim swallows, and wipes her eyes, and goes back to cutting bandage cloth into strips for her sister. And I look at both of these women. They are so strong. Maybe not in the same way Katniss is strong, but then, no one's strong like her. But they are still very admirable. These past few years must have been almost as hard on them as they were on the us. It makes me sadder to know that her loved ones had suffered so much. So I held her hand in mine, and stayed by her side, by their side, as they closed ranks and protected the person who was usually protecting them.

Deen and Haymitch come back with arrows, and lots of bird carcasses. They're Jabberjays. They're brilliant blue feathers are clearly unnatural and too bright to occur in nature, but after a minute of careful examination by Mrs. Everdeen, she pronounces the birds to be ordinary on the inside as any other birds, and their meat safe to eat. I tend to agree with her assessment. The birds were psychological weapons, meant to unnerve us. And since they had already done that, well it would be a shame to waste their meat. So people got to work plucking feathers and I took a turn myself.

I could feel them sneaking glances at me every now and then, but I tried my best to ignore them all. No doubt they were wondering just what Katniss and I had been forced to do as victors. And the thought made me angry, and a little annoyed. And as I pulled the feathers out, I started yanking them, because if I hated being looked at like this by even the people I was closest to, my family and friends, then how was she going to feel when she woke up? I couldn't let her go through that, not after what she had already been through this morning.

I sighed. I decided I needed to make a speech of my own. But when I looked up I saw a lot of watery eyes, and forlorn faces. Laurel was crying openly as she cut through the bird meat. Hazel was sniffling as she stirred the pot, trying to hide her sadness. She knew no doubt that her son was in pain, and the fault lay with a powerful man far away, not the small injured girl sleeping in the cave. My father and brother both looked down in sad long faces.

Well, if they already felt bad, I thought, then it might just be easier.

"Look, everybody needs to get it together before she wakes up." I begin quietly, and they all turn towards my voice, fully attentive.

"Whatever happened in the past, is over. That's one of the reasons we left. We're going to put it all behind us. But if we're going to do that successfully, then that means everyone here has to agree to forget about what they heard today. We don't need pity, or sympathy. We just need a fresh start. So, just put it out of your mind. Let it go, so we can too." I tell them in a weary, but firm voice. I know I'm not offering details or any explanation, but Katniss and I don't owe anyone any more details of our lives. We've broadcast enough of our private affairs, our pain, and our struggles enough for a lifetime. So when I look around at every face, I make sure they see my determination, my unwavering resolve to have this be over with. And so many eyes stare back at me in silent agreement that I let out a huff of relief.

Hopefully, it will be alright. And I go back to plucking feathers, a little less agitated this time.

She wakes up a little before dinner ends and I go to take her a bowl of food as her mother examines her and asks her how she feels.

"A little sore." She says in an uncharacteristically small voice. Her mother gently prods the bump on her head and lets out a low whistle.

"You'll have a goose egg for a day or two, but you'll live. Just watch where you're going next time." She tells her daughter and then gets up to move away.

Katniss reaches out to accept the food from me.

"Did they tell you? About the birds?" She asks, and I look over at her.

"Not in so many words, no. They mentioned mutts, and that you got injured trying to run away. But no one's really explained what happened. But I think I can make an educated guess, after the color of the birds that Deen and Hamitch went to gather for dinner." I tell her gently.

She nods, quietly as she eats.

"Peeta, what happened on the day of the wedding?" She asks after a moment. And I look up at her sharply. But then I relaxed a little. I guess it had to all come out sometime.

So I tell her about Snow's visit. When I get to the part about the recording she stops eating and looks away from me with a completely closed off expression on her face. I don't recount everything, just tell her that it was designed to make me believe that she had lied to me the night before the wedding, and hadn't ended things with Gale as she claimed. She swallows a big gulping breath of air and when she turns to me her eyes are serious and stern.

"That was a lie, at least the part about me not ending things. That recording was made before that day, before I...well just before. But I think maybe I heard part of what you heard today, when the birds started talking. And you should know, I should tell you that it wasn't a complete fabrication." She says quietly and then it's my turn to gulp. I knew this was the case most likely. And now that I had gotten some perspective, it hurt less than it did at first.

But that wasn't to say it was painless. It hurt, still, in a deep and personal way. And I still wasn't over it. But I did recognize that it was being used against us, against all of us to try and whittle away at our morale. And more than my own personal feelings mattered, the survival of everyone around us was more important.

"Katniss, it's just more dirty tricks. But we can't lose focus. Not now. They couldn't beat us with the wolf mutts, we were too strong as a team. So now they want to break everyone apart, get us angry and distracted so that when they come at us next we won't be prepared. But we've got to get past it. We have to stick together, as teammates. As allies. Everything else is secondary." I tell her in a quiet voice and when she looks at me again, there is such respect, such open admiration in her gaze I feel warmth surge up inside me. And when she reaches out and wraps her arms around me and hugs me close to her, I relax, and hug her back gently.

Because I mean it, every word. About being her ally, about her being able to count on me to stick it out. But I also miss her terribly. And those two feelings whirl around inside me, inseparable from each other. But still, I try to let the less selfish one win out.

"Thank you." She says quietly, before pulling away. And I feel a little bereft, as I usually do when I have to let her go. But then I just tell myself to be grateful that we still have our teamwork, we can still work together for the greater good. And that's nothing to laugh at. When she asks about how the others are taking it, I'm honest with her and tell her Gale has been too quiet. She grimaces, but then gets a determined look in her eye. And I know her next move will be to try and sort things out with him. I know she has to. If Snow is laying this many traps for us then the odds of us making it to 13 without encountering more trouble are slim to none. We will all need to be on the same side. She picks up her bowl and finishes her food unhurriedly though. And I try to just sit and enjoy the comfort of her presence. Then she gets up to talk to Haymitch, no doubt to request to take a shift with Gale tonight.

I turned away, resolved to let things be. Because I didn't want to go back to that place where I watched her out of the corner of my eyes. I didn't want to be that guy. I wouldn't, not if I could help it. And I was determined to try.

(Katniss POV)

A little drizzle starts up an hour before my watch. It peeters on and off, and I feel like it has some kind of kinship with my still teetering thoughts. Back and forth, back and forth I feel them sway inside me. All those words, all those horrible hurtful words. And I finally know that it was not Gale or Peeta who were the aggressors. I realized it, when Peeta in his infinite goodness sat next to me and told me the survival of the group was more important than the turmoil I'd caused.

Haymitch had been right after all, about how I always screw things up. And that thought sits in the middle of my chest. Like an anchor, tethering me to the very real situation I find myself in.

It roots me, in reality, and I know I must take responsibility for those words, for the pain they inflicted. Peeta had been the first target. Snow had started on him even before we escaped. No doubt to exercise an overwhelming measure of control over him, over us, when he believed we were still playing his game. The old snake must be furious with me, with all of us for having escaped his clutches. But he wasn't to blame for everything.

Like I told Gale that night in the meadow, somethings we had done to ourselves, without any help from Snow.

So even though I felt like someone had flayed me, and left me bare, the most painful and humiliating parts of my personal life on display for everyone to see, I made myself go and help clean up after dinner. I made myself go and ask Haymitch to put me on watch with Gale.

Gale who ate by himself at the mouth of the came, so far from everyone he was practically sitting in the frigid rain. Gale, who had looked like a freight train had struck him when he heard the things those birds said about Peeta and I.

Gale, the one I had never wanted to hurt this way. But here we were. Middle of nowhere, three days off schedule, mutts on our tail and who knows what else. And I had to find a way to help him, even if I felt like I couldn't help myself.

So when I sat down beside him after everyone crawled into their tents, he just stared straight ahead in that same expression of dogged determination he wore on the day of my fake wedding. I don't know where exactly to begin, but I have to say something or we'll just sit here ignoring each other for hours.

"You thinking about taking off on your own?" I ask him, and he looks over at me in complete surprise. But I know him, and he knows that. We've been hunting together for years.

"What makes you think that?" He says in a very unconvincing manner, not meeting my gaze.

"Gale, we've known each other for years. I know when you're thinking about going rogue." I tell him and he sighs, letting the pretense fall away.

"Maybe it would be easier for everyone, if I left." He says quietly. But there's anger in the quietness, and resentment. And it chills me more than the wet, cold weather.

"Not for your family. Not for the group that needs your hunting and tracking and pathfinding skills." I tell him, and with a sigh I add, "And not for me Gale." And I know the statement hurts, I know he'll feel it's unfair of me to say it now. And indeed he looks over at me with such, well it's something akin to hatred, that it takes my breath away for a second.

"All of this is too much. Too much for any of us to handle, especially on our own. The only way we'll survive it now, is by facing it and getting past it. So, tell me how I can say it, how I can show you just how sorry I am that you had to hear those things?" I started off speaking in a strong, low voice, but by the end it was shaky and little more than a whisper.

"There's nothing to say. You told me the night before we left. I knew, but well I guess there's a difference between knowing and knowing." He says as he looks away from me, trying to hide a painful expression.

"Gale, I know how you feel right now but-"

He laughs at his, and it's quiet but bitter sounding and the edges around it cut me to my core.

"Katniss, you don't know how it feels to wish you were in someone else's shoes, wishing you could take their place. So don't try that line-"

"I do actually, know what jealousy is Gale. I felt it, really felt it the night of the celebration feast when I saw you dancing with that beautiful girl. I felt it again when I saw you kissing her, and touching her behind the shop. It took me a while to really understand it, took me a long time to even acknowledge it." I tell him quietly and he looks over at me in surprise. His eyes are silver grey in the moonlight, and the rain has plastered his dark hair down across his forehead. And I remember how that day in the alley, the girl had reached up and brushed back his hair like it was the simplest thing in the world.

I had envied her freedom. I had envied her access to Gale. Because no one she loved would die if she brushed back his hair. No one she cared about would pay the price for her kissing him or doing more than kissing him. She had been so free. And I had been anything but at that moment.

At that moment I felt jealous. If I was being honest, I probably still did a little. She had gotten what Gale had offered me outside my kitchen. She had known his passion and his fire, and maybe she had gotten her heart broken a little, but she would go on. She would live a normal life, as a normal girl who was allowed to make mistakes and make her own choices good or bad.

And Gale and I would always have what if hanging between us. So many questions, never enough answers for either of us. But we were here, whether we chose it or not, as Deen had told me the night in the painting room when I realized what the painting was about, what I was trying to find.

"You were right, you know, about nobody having choices. I think it's painfully clear now, how right you were Gale. I don't know if I can ever make up for the harm, for all the destruction, but just know it broke me too every time. And I know, especially right now there's no way to figure out what all happened, or how, or why, but I'm here. I'm right here, and I'll help you pick up whatever pieces I can. I'll do as much as I possibly can." I tell him, looking into his eyes as his breath curls warm and steamy in the cold as he looks at me.

For a second his eyes are watery bright, and I don't ever think I've seen tears in Gale's eyes. Not when I came back engaged, not any of the times I pushed him away, not even when I told him about Peeta and I. He blinks and they are gone, but mine aren't.

They slip down my cheeks, starting out hot and cooling as they roll down in the frigid air. And he sighs. I know he wants to wipe the tears away, but he can't, and I can't let him. We have to be more than creatures of comfort for each other right now. We have to find a way to be selfless, for each other, and for everyone else.

"It's kinda like asking the demolition crew to switch over to construction right after they tear a place down." He says tiredly as he looks back out into the night.

"Yeah," I agree, understanding his reluctance to accept my help right now, "but who knows better how to fix something like that?" I reply and he tilts his head back and forth as if considering it.

"Alright Catnip, maybe, just maybe I won't leave you here with all these useless mouthbreathers, who walk louder than a herd of elephants." He says in a rough voice, trying to shake out the last dregs of uncomfortable emotion. I snort, thinking it's actually a very apt description of our group if I'm feeling uncharitable.

"But I'm gonna want some answers. There's a lot of stuff I think that you haven't told me, that maybe you don't tell anyone. And I'm tired of trying to go sleep with these idiotic things buzzing around in my brain." He says quietly in an irritated grumble.

And I'm surprised. I thought he'd had more information than he could handle. But I gulp down my reservations. I had promised to help, and I don't know if this would really help or not, but it was worth a try at least. Since he really seemed to want to know.

"Fine, but, I get to abstain from any...really uncomfortable ones."

"You get veto power over two, maybe, a session."

"Two? And we're talking about sessions now?" I ask incredulously. I'm not sure I want to commit to anything so personal and invasive.

"You've had a lot of time, you know, over these last few years to squirrel away secrets. I'm not going to ask anything weird. That would probably be as painful for me as it would be for you. I just want to know what's going on in your head sometimes. Like, for instance, I never would have guessed in a million years you were jealous of Lily." He says with a lighter tone.

"Is that her name? Lily?" I ask in surprise. I had imagined her name lots of times, but had never once thought of that particular one.

"Yeah." He replies in a slightly embarrassed way.

"Huh." I say as I roll the name over silently in my head, holding it up against the image of her I have in my mind, standing against the light of the sunset.

"What? Not a good enough name or something?" He asks gruffly, and I think I hit a nerve.

"No, no. It's good. It kind of fits her. Except, I think someone should've added the prefix Tiger to it. She's got too much personality to be just plain Lily." I tell him and he rolls his eyes, but then he smiles a little. It makes me want to wrinkle my nose.

"Too much personality all around." He says and I think that for Gale, maybe that's not completely true.

"Oh, I think I understand the appeal." I tell him honestly and he looks over at me like I'm crazy, but then I go on, "I'd admire her guts, the way she took you on outside the candle shop, if I hadn't secretly wanted to throttle her."

"You wanted to throttle her?" He asks in bewilderment.

"Maybe, just a little." I tell him quietly, with a shrug.

Gale whistles, soft and low.

"See, that right there. That soothes my wounded ego just a bit." He says and leans back in a more relaxed way and I roll my eyes. He was such a caveman sometimes.

"I'm sure it does. Did she soothe anything I should know about?" I ask him with pointed disdain and he stops smiling and looks embarrassed again.

"I thought I was supposed to be asking the questions here." He says, and I sigh. He still won't cop to it. The jerk.

"Oh, is that what we agreed on? See because we're partners, and always have been, I think we should split the questions 50/50." I tell him because this can't be a one-way street. If he wants answers about these kinds of personal questions then I do too. I deserve them almost as much as he does.

"70/30." He counters and I glared at him.

"50/50." I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.

"60/40." He offers, but I shake my head.

"50/50 Hawthorne, take it or leave it." I tell him stonily and he just smirks at me.

"Alright sheesh. You'd think I was the one trying to make up for something here." He says as he looks back out toward the trees,

"Oh, there are still plenty of things you could make up for. But since we've got so much going on right now I'm willing to let sleeping dogs lie." I say, my voice a promise to circle back to the Lily question. He has the decency to look nervous.

"Hurray for me I guess." He says after a minute and blows out a puff of steamy air, and pushes back his dark bangs away from his forehead. I sigh.

"Shifts almost over. You get two more questions. Go on." I told him.

"Alright give me a minute." His voice is annoyed, but his eyes look over at me curiously as he tries to decide.

"Tick tock." I tell him sternly.

"Cut it out." He huffs, but then his face brightens in the dark as he settles on what he wants to ask.

"Ok, ok, here's one. Do you really get nightmares every night unless someone's next to you?" His voice whispers quietly, and I think I forget to breathe for a second. But he just waits for me.

"Veto." I say, because I don't know how to answer this without opening up a can of worms. About how Peeta knows this, and how long he's known this. And about nights on the train, and well, just too many things.

"Come on, that's not fair." He says as he scowls at me.

"Sorry, nope." I tell him without remorse. This is not something we can discuss tonight, maybe not ever.

"Fine, chicken." He mutters under his breath and I just look over at the forest, doing a quick sweep with my eyes.

"Alright then you have to answer this one." He tells me after a moment.

"I'll do my best." I say, not bothering with guarantees. He rolls his eyes at me again and it almost makes me laugh.

"The night of the celebration feast. Was that for show, or was I right? Had things changed by then?" He asks carefully, in an even tone. And I want to say veto. I really really do. Because so much happened that night that is painful for us both to discuss. But, at that point things were still relatively normal. And not as complicated or messy as they are now. So I decided to try.

"That is actually a tricky one. I mean, we had gotten the orders from Snow. But the doctor hadn't shown up yet to make sure they were being enforced. I was more focused on the escape plan than anything else really. But...well so many things happened that night. I thought you had finally decided to move on, to try to be happy with someone else when I saw you dancing. It was kind of, well bittersweet. More bitter than sweet, but still it felt like a key turning, like things were set in motion you know?"

"I regret that night. All the time." He tells me quietly. And I can see it in his eyes, the real remorse over his choices.

"Gale, I don't regret any happiness you found, however small, however temporary. As much as it bothered or confused me, I was glad on some level that someone could be there for you in the way you needed." I say, with sincerity. And he looks over at me with that bewildered expression again.

"That right there, I don't really get that." He says and I scratch the corner of my jaw trying to find how to put it into words.

"It's hard to explain, I guess. It's like I said, I know I'm not the...most accessible person. So, I wanted you to be happy even if it meant it wasn't going to be with me." I finally say, and it takes a lot, a great deal of effort to get the words out. But once I do, I feel better, lighter.

"After all these years all that noble self sacrificing crap has really rubbed off on you huh?" He is chagrined, and annoyed. But I just shrug, unsure.

"Maybe, I don't know. I'd like to think I'm not selfish enough to completely deny my best friend joy and contentment when I see it with my own eyes." I tell him, and I really hope it's true.

"Hmmm." He responds. And I think I know now where I got it from, the non answer thing Peeta says I do that drives him nuts. I learned it from Gale.

"Okay, that's three." I tell him and shift to start standing up. It's wet and cold and I'm tired and need to sleep.

"Yeah." He answers, and moves to get up too. But his shoulders don't seem as heavy, and his expression is more even and his eyes are brighter than before. So hope, at least for now, that I am doing as Haymitch asks. I hope that I am not making things worse.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

A freeze creeps in sometime during the night. We wake to a world covered in glinting frost. We head out, before the sun even has time to warm up in the morning. We need to make up for lost time since my injury caused further delays. It was another thing I felt terrible about. This time there wasn't anyone else to share the burden with like when Rye and I both had fevers. This time the blame rested solely on my shoulders. But everyone was being surprisingly decent about it.

Still I tried to keep to myself mostly, and avoided looking in Deen or Rory's directions. It was enough that Gale had to hear those things. But having my protege, and Gale's little brother hear intimate moments of time spent with both Gale and Peeta, well, there was no recovering from that.

I walked between Prim and Rye's wife Laurel. They made quiet chit chat as we picked our way carefully, but hurriedly through the forest. Thankfully, the cold weather seemed to have chased off the remaining birds. Although by the sheer number of feathers I'd seen last night, I thought Gale had probably killed every last one.

Gale.

That was another sore spot. More painful than the good sized lump I got on my head from crashing down the ravine yesterday like an idiot.

Stop being an idiot. I told myself sternly, and not for the first time since starting on this journey. This time though, I resolved to mean it.

Haymitch had said there was a short cut we could take, that would shave off a few miles. But we had to cross a narrow section of river. But since the freeze had rolled in last night, it seemed the perfect opportunity to get going before the sun came out in full force and began to heat the day.

When we came to the river, after three hours of walking, it looked perfect and beautiful. Like a place frozen in time. There was frost everywhere, on the leaves of the trees, on the ground, I could still taste it in the air. That clean crisp taste, like someone had taken all the scents of the forest and filtered them down until only a few remained. Ice, water, and wind.

But all too soon we had to stop admiring the picturesque scene, and start getting to work finding the thickest plate of ice that would hold when 14 pairs of feet had to cross over it. Gale and Haymitch looked over the river, and I consulted a few times when asked for my opinion, but in the end, we decided to cross at a small bend that had a good sheet of ice, almost a foot and a half thick over it.

Gale crossed first, being the most sure footed, and having the lightest tread despite his size. Then he came back, and started helping more people cross. Some had to put down their packs, like Rye and Hyamitch, since they were heavier than others, and the ice might crack under too much weight in one spot. But we distributed it as much as we could, and I crossed twice to help carry the packs and then made my way back to help Peeta. He was more nervous about crossing, than some of the others. His prosthetic leg made it difficult to find purchase on the slippery surface of the ice, and even though he wasn't as tall as Gale, he was stocky and well muscled, and probably weighted somewhat close to what Gale did. So I offered to carry his pack, and I extended my hand to him as a guide, and he gratefully accepted. We were the last two left who needed to cross, with Deen and Prim being ahead of us.

"Thanks, I didn't want to fall on my face out here." Peeta tells me with a sheepish grin. And I shrug, as I hold onto his hand tightly, and lead him in a very precise line back to the other side of the river.

"I'd never leave you if you needed my help Peeta." I tell him quietly and he just smiles at me, in a friendly way I haven't really seen in a while. And it's so familiar and kind, I smile back.

We're more than halfway to the other side when it happened.

I hear it before I feel it. The breaking sound that reverberates through my body like thunder, like the peal of a bell. The ice is cracking. I turn back to look at Peeta, and see he has gone slightly off course. I don't know if it's the slippery ice, or his prosthetic leg, or a combination of the two, but he has stepped on a thin patch and it's breaking up underneath him. I know just by looking at the cracks that it's going to break, and that he'll fall through.

I try to pull him towards me, out of the range of the cracks that are forming. I managed to grasp his left hand just before the ice beneath him collapsed completely. He's pulled into the icy waters, I'm pulled down on the remaining frozen sheet by the gravity of his fall. I can hear commotion behind us, people yell. But I concentrate on getting a good grip on his gloved hand. He's looking at me, eyes wide with fear. But I just grit my teeth and pull.

"Peeta, try to kick your legs, come on!" I yell at him. He's too heavy for me to lift by myself.

"I'm t-t-trying!" He gasps, his teeth already chattering uncontrollably. His other hand comes over both of mine. Then I feel hands grasping my ankles. I look back and see Haymitch, trying to haul us both away from the still crumbling ice. I am a lot lighter than Peeta, but now that the ice has cracked, there's spider web-like veins spreading out from the hole in front of me. In fact the ice beneath my elbows is already crumbling away.

But I don't feel the cold of the water on my forearms. I don't have time. I have to get him out. Haymitch pulls, and Peeta and I shift forward an inch. I try to grasp more of his jacket with my other arm, but my hand slips off the water resistant fabric. More hands are there at my feet now, and I can feel them trying to pull us. Peeta must see them because His eyes move to a spot over my right shoulder. With another heave we're lifted some more three inches. But this progress is quickly lost when the ice crumbles beneath our combined weight. The water is up to my shoulders now, and I'm trying to figure out how to do this. I'm racking my brain so hard I don't see it at first.

One minute Peeta's looking down at the ice, the next he's looking at my face. My eyes are caught by his gaze and I snap out of my strategizing.

That look. I know that look.

It's the same look he had when he untied my arrow from his tourniquet during the Games. It's the same look he had when he asked me to shoot him.

NO!

"NO!" The scream in my head becomes physical, tearing itself from my throat as I claw at his jacket, trying to find purchase, trying to keep a hold of him.

His eyes roam over my face, quickly, adoringly. And I want to snarl at him, I want to slap him! There are shouts coming from behind us now. Words that I don't hear, or understand. Because all I can think of is Peeta and that look he has in his eyes.

"Peeta! Don't you-"

"I love you." He says simply, and he reaches up with his other hand so fast I barely have time to register it, and he unstrapes the velcro strip holding his glove tightly secure to his hand. And then he's gone. He slips from my hands like a stone sinking beneath dark waters. All I'm holding is one brown leather glove.

Someone screams. Hands pull me back seconds ahead of the ice collapsing into a larger hole. One that surely would have swallowed both of us. But I don't care. I push myself up, ready to launch into the frozen river and dive for him. But I'm caged by Haymitch's strong arms. He's yelling, right into my ear. But I don't hear him. I don't hear anything except my pounding heart booming in my ears. I fight and kick and claw to get free, but Haymitch is so much stronger than me, even now in his old age. When I bite him, he cuffs me on my ear, but I only feel the pain distantly. There's too much adrenaline in my system. Then Rye is there, helping him. And I can't fight both of them. They're too strong. I look up at Rye with a glare so hateful he flinches.

What is he doing? He shouldn't be holding me down! He should be helping me save his brother!

That's when I hear it. The splash and my head snaps back to the hole in the ice that has grown almost all the way to the riverbank.

I search for some sign of what's happening. And that's when my eyes catch on Gale's jacket, his boots, his clothes lying on the ground in a heap.

The sound that rips itself from my body is inhuman. And Haymitch is right to cover my mouth to muffle me. Even my own ears hurt from hearing it.

It feels like my heart stops. My legs give out, and even though I go down, the arms that hold me don't let up. All I can do is watch. I can't take my eyes off the water. I feel like it's slowly swallowing me up too. My chest feels like someone has packed it with snow. I feel so cold, when only a moment ago it felt like there was liquid fire rushing through my veins.

Peeta

Gale

Both of them under the ice.

Both of them are not here. There are no words to describe the feeling that possessed me then. It was less of a feeling and more of an emptying of anything other than those two words. Their names run through not just my head but every part of me.

Later, I learned I had bitten down so hard I chipped a molar. But in that moment I ceased to contain awareness of anything beyond my ability to watch the river.

Time stretches, and I, and everyone else watch the water for a sign, any sign. Everything is still, so deathly still. And then after what I am everyone else has been a second too long, Gale's black hair breaks through the water. He's gasping, and immediately after he sucks in a lungful of air his arms are pulling up Peeta's blond head in front of him. I suck in a lungful of air and come back to myself.

People shout, someone throws a rope. Gale gets it secured around Peeta and everyone is dragging them to shore. I watch as this happens in slow motion. My eyes take in every second of this incredible feat. Finally my legs find their strength and I haul myself up to join them, ready to help once more. But when I reached the group there was something wrong. Peeta's skin does not look right. He looks like one of those people from the capitol that dye their skin inhuman colors.

"Get his clothes off! Get the thermal blanket!" My mother is yelling over Peeta, people are rushing around us. My eyes flit to Gale. His mother is wrapping him in a shiny thin blanket that is strangely similar to tin foil. It is the same kind that they are unfolding for Peeta now. Even though Gale's teeth are chattering and he looks ghostly pale, his skin does not hold the same hue as Peeta's.

Peeta is blue all over. The more of his clothes people remove, the more it is apparent. I look at Gale, my mind stuck on something, uncomprehending. His eyes are large, overly sad. They seem to say, 'I tried my best.'

NO! No! The scream does not escape me this time. It stays lodged in my chest, in my throat, choking me. I hear my mother start counting. Her slim hands are on Peeta's bare chest as pushes down hard, in a rhythmic motion above his heart. I have seen her do this before, with people's hearts that have stopped, with people who are not breathing.

No.

No.

The word flits around my head like a bird in a cage desperately trying to break free. I look at him, his blond hair. His large hands. His shoulders, his eyelashes. This is not happening.

This cannot happen. This is...not…..How can this?

I watch as my mother tries to breathe air into Peeta's lungs.

"Come on Peeta," She says as she pumps her hands over his chest in that precise motion.

And just like with the river, the seconds stretch and stretch on into infinity. And all I can hear is my mother saying his name, trying to call him back from someplace that's too far out of reach.

He is so still, so very still. And when I think of him never moving, never smiling, never touching me again I can't help but double over. Hot sour tasting bile leaves my stomach and throat in a rush. I start to shake.

My mother glances over at me for only a split second, then continues her labor.

"Come on Peeta. You have so much to live for. Come on. Come back." She says, as she pumps his heart manually. But anyone can see he is gone.

Gone.

That one word, thought in connection with Peeta is like someone pulling the ground from beneath my feet.

No, he can't be.

But he is, and my mother is the only one who hasn't accepted it yet. I can see it in everyone's faces. They know.

But she doesn't give up. She blows into his mouth for what must be the hundredth time. And there's a small sound. Only rustling really. Like wind blowing through a dry branch filled with dead leaves. But then Peeta's dead body gasps, a wet choking sound rattles in his chest and my mother is turning him on his side. He's coughing up water. He's shaking.

My eyes take him in, my mind cannot comprehend the sight of him moving again. The sight of him. The sheer image of him, like something I wished into life. Like something I prayed into being.

He's alive.

Alive!

My head feels dizzy, and the world which seemed to have titled on its axis moments before, right itself suddenly. Too suddenly, and I'm left trying to adjust. I'm breathing hard, a raspy, wheezy noise coming from my chest. As my heart beats too hard, when a moment before it had almost stopped as still as his when they pulled him out of the frozen waters.

People are laughing now, hugging each other. They're piling on more blankets on top of his tin foil one. I am trying to recover from the feeling of being spun around until I can't see straight anymore.

I look up to find him staring at me, in wonder, in surprise, in love. It's that last word that drains away the relief I felt just a second ago.

Love.

Peeta and his love.

His love for me.

Love had made him untie the tourniquet, love had made him take off the glove. Love is not part of our deal. Peeta and I have the berries. We have the promise of being friends no matter what. No matter what. We have the promise of going together, or not at all.

Loyalty and friendship. His promise to stay with me, always. He has broken it. And it doesn't matter that my mother saved him. It's the fact that he decided to leave me alone.

Love is something that comes at too high a price.

I had almost lost him. And when he stares into my eyes, I know he doesn't see a shining reflection of his love. He sees anger. He sees the betrayal I feel. And then it's as if I've stolen his relief too, his joy. And I can't stand to look at him, at any of them. So I get up and walk away.

Furious isn't a big enough word. Someone needs to invent something that can encompass the fire of a million blazing stars, and then maybe it will accurately begin to describe the feeling I have. Towards both of them, because Gale did it too. But Gale and I don't have the same promise Peeta and I have, at least not out loud.

I walk until I can't hear them anymore. Then I walk for another ten minutes, for good measure. I collapse against a tree trunk. I feel like I've just run ten miles. The energy drains out of me, and when that goes, the sobs come. I cry, as great bone-rattling tremors seize control of my shoulders and my chest. The tears won't stop coming, even when I start to really fight them. They just pour out of me like someone wringing me out without my permission. More saltwater than I thought existed in the human body comes out of my eyes. And even after, when I'm too exhausted to sob any more, I get uncontrollable hiccups and the tears still stream down my face. That's when I hear footsteps. The light crunch of snow.

My thoughts immediately go to Peacekeepers searching for us, or wild animals, or worse mutts. So I grab my bow from the ground beside me and have an arrow nocked and ready by the time I turn to face my opponent.

But it's not a Peacekeeper, or a mutt. It's Peeta's sister-in-law, Laurel. She looks startled, and I guess I would be too if someone pointed a bow at me. I immediately lower my weapon.

"Sorry, thought you were a Peacekeeper." I mutter, looking away from her, back to the ground.

"Oh, yes, I understand." She answers, in that small quiet voice of hers.

"Are we leaving?" I ask, trying to figure out what she's doing here.

"No," she says hesitantly. Then, in a stronger voice, "I came to bring you some food. We have to take a quick break, so everyone can dry off before we leave. So now's as good a time as any to have lunch." She lifts up a small bag she had clasped in her hands behind her back. I don't know what to think, so I just walk over slowly, and accept the food. I thank her, and return to sit against my tree. I wait for her to leave, but instead she walks over, and sits down at the tree across from me. She doesn't say anything at first, and I don't do anything. I'm so tired, and I don't know what she wants. Maybe to scold me for leaving the way I did, for being rude to Peeta, for not thanking my mother. The list is too long, and I am beyond caring about how many infractions I've racked up today.

"Aren't you going to eat?" She asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"I'm not really hungry right now." I tell her, slightly annoyed that they've sent her to babysit me apparently. I'm about to tell her that I can find my own way back to camp, and she really doesn't need to stay when she speaks.

"I lost a brother, you know. He was little, only a toddler really. But he liked to climb trees. One day when my mother was busy and the rest of us were at school or work, he climbed too high. He fell, and...there was nothing we could do. Maybe if we had gotten him to a hospital, if they could have done surgery on him, he might have lived. But in 12, no one cared enough about a coal miner's son to try. That's why, when Peeta asked us to come with him, I said yes in a heartbeat." She finishes quietly.

I find myself staring at her. Really looking at her for the first time. We've met on several occasions, I was even there for her toasting, to keep up appearances. But I can't say she ever left a lasting impression on me, as anything other than a quiet, kind girl.

But her words, her story, they have reached across to me, like a bridge. I stare at her, this quiet kind girl who is only a few years older than I am. She's a wife, soon to be a mother, and she's so brave. Rye had said they both wanted freedom for their child, for their future children. At that moment I had believed him, admired them both.

But after today, after seeing both Peeta and Gale disappear beneath the icy dark waters, it had seemed like too much of a gamble. I had cried against the tree earlier and asked myself was freedom really worth the lives of the people I loved? If I had stayed in 12 and had done everything Snow asked, neither of them would have gone into the river today. I wouldn't have been confronted with the possibility of life without one of them, without both of them.

"After today," I tell her quietly, "I'm not sure it was the right decision, to bring everyone out here. Four of us have almost died, including your husband. I didn't think it would be like this, I don't know if it's worth people's lives." My voice sounds hollow, defeated even to my own ears.

"Of course it is!" Laurel's strong retort surprises me, and I look over to see her face almost angry at my words.

"Living freely is worth giving your life for. My husband knows that, so do I. So does everyone who agreed to come. We knew our chances, and we took them anyway. Living in district 12 while under the control of the Capitol is not really living at all, not for you, not for any of us. What is life really worth if it doesn't really belong to you? After everything Peeta told us you two had been through Katniss, I thought you already knew that." She's looking at me now, an angry disbelieving look written on her features.

And I feel blindsided. Who is this fierce woman, and where did the soft spoken mousey girl go? And what does she mean Peeta told her about things we've been through?

"What? What did Peeta tell you?" I ask, incredulous now myself.

She looks away for a second, almost embarrassed, but then the strength returns to her eyes and she meets my gaze with a firm but gentle confidence.

"When he asked us to escape, he had to explain why you all wanted to leave. That meant explaining about the Games, the acting you all had to do, the fake engagement, everything that happened after. The more he explained, the more horror I felt. All those times I watched you both on the screen and you seemed so happy, so well fed, so well dressed. I had envied the life you had as a victor. I used to think it was the only hope people from our district had, the only way someone could ever be free. But then Peeta told us the truth, and I realized you were even less free than the rest of us. It was the last straw. I knew that I would leave, if there was even the slimmest chance my child wouldn't have to grow up like that." She tells me all this in a steady voice, but her eyes are watery.

So they know.

Good, at least they have a little more insight as to what goes on between Peeta, Gale and I. It's not an excuse, or at least not a good one, but it does make me feel better that at least someone understands in part why everything is so complicated, so messy. I sigh. What a day this has been, and it's barely noon.

"You should try to eat, we'll be leaving soon. And you won't have any energy if you don't put something in your stomach." She tells me gently. Oh that's right I threw up at the sight of Peeta's lifeless body. What a fierce brave warrior I am. Surely it was the better decision for Peeta to try to sacrifice his life for mine, since I am so level headed and can handle a crisis with perfect ease. I want to kick something, but instead force myself to open the bag and start eating. I offer some to Laurel but she says she already ate at camp.

The food has no taste, but I eat it anyway. It's been so long since we spoke that I conclude that I'll be able to finish my meal in silence. But then she asks another question.

"Why did you get angry with him?" The question is so abrupt, and her eyes are so keen and perceptive I don't want to answer. But Laurel has surprised me today, with her strength and her gentleness. And while I am still not wholly convinced this is a mad and ill conceived plan won't get everyone killed, I am convinced she is as desperate for a change, for something more, as any of us. I can understand that, because that desire sits in the foundation of my being. So I decide she already knows the major stuff, courtesy of Peeta the oversharer. There's no real sense in lying, and she doesn't strike me as a gossip anyway.

"Because, he let go on purpose, in the river. He took his glove off when I was trying to pull him back." I tell her, anger seeping back into my voice.

"Oh," a shock registers in her voice. "Oh." Then a note of vicarious anger. "Well, then…" She says and I don't have to look up to know she had nodded at me, I can hear it in her tone.

I lean my head back against the trunk of the tree.

"They both love you very much." She says, in a cautious way.

"They're both idiots." I reply, grimacing.

She chuckles. "Men usually are."

I shoot a glance at her, and she has a bemused smile on her face, her eyes are contemplative.

"If I was in your shoes, I might feel confused too." She says softly, looking back at me with a strange kind of acceptance. It makes my bones feel a little lighter.

"Then again, when I met Rye, there was just something undeniable about him. It would have been like trying to stop the sun from setting, or the moon from rising." She breathes out in a dreamy huff. I cringe at the sweetness.

"Not to say we don't have our moments. After he got scratched in the fight with the mutts for instance, if he hadn't gotten so sick I probably would have been mad at him for days for not telling us he didn't feel well. I hate it when he takes chances, even if they're necessary." She confesses, a look of past anger kindled in her eyes. So I guess i wasn' the only one who tried to tough out the pain after the wold-mutt attack. Peeta's quiet brother had done the same thing, and it had probably gotten him in the dog house.

I laugh. I don't believe she would've stayed mad at him for a second. Anyone with eyes can see how much she loves him. How much he loves her.

"You haven't seen me when I'm mad." She tells me seriously, shaking her head. This just makes me laugh harder. I wonder now, why I haven't made the effort to get to know her. Probably because of all the secrets I was trying to keep. But now that I know she knows most of mine, I find I'm enjoying her company. It's easier to talk about some of these things with someone who doesn't really have a stake in the outcome.

"I don't think I can face them without screaming, or throwing something. I can't even look at them right now." I say after the laughter dies down and the conversation grows quiet again.

"So don't." She says and pushes herself up to stand. "Let someone else guard the rear for a bit. Walk with me, or your mother or sister. Let them stew." She tells me with a wink.

Yes, I think, I really do like Laurel. She's so much feistier than I ever imagined, and she's willing to help me avoid my problems for a bit. I wish I had known her back when I was in school. She would have been a few grades ahead of me, but I think we would have gotten along almost as well as I got along with Madge.

When we reach camp, I keep my eyes trained on the snow covered ground. But everyone is already swinging packs onto their shoulders and tying straps. I grab my pack and fall in line beside Laurel.

She, in stunning motherly, or maybe big sister fashion, angles herself in front of me and blocks me from questions and looks alike. Instead of feeling inadequate, I am grateful for her intervention. I just need some time to collect myself before I can start trying to deal with all that has happened. Someone else is assigned to guard the rear without comment.

We start walking. Even though there's an undercurrent of awkwardness, I ignore it and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Laurel makes absent minded conversation, asking me about the trees, and the animals that are in the forest. I busy myself with the quiet chatter and point out animal tracks, nests, dens, anything of note. When I take out my bow to shoot a squirrel about ten feet away from us that scampered up a tree, she gasps in surprise. When I jog back to the group after retrieving it she smiles at me.

"You know, I saw you shoot in the games, but seeing it in person is different. No wonder..." She trails off and her eyes get that contemplative look again.

"What?" I ask her quietly, confused.

"Oh, the morning after the mutts attacked. Rye was explaining about the fight. He said you were like lightning, that after you climbed the tree, none of your arrows missed their mark. I wouldn't have really believed him if it hadn't happened just now. A second ago you were walking, your eye caught on something in the trees. I didn't even hear you draw the bow, didn't even see the arrow. I just heard the animal fall from the tree." She murmurs quietly.

"Well squirrels are easy. And after I got to a vantage point, the mutts were easy too. Until I ran out of arrows." I tell her, swallowing past a little lump in my throat.

She laughs, and shakes her head at me. "It might seem easy to you, but for the rest of us, it's like having a...forest guardian watching over us. One who brings in fresh meat too." She adds the joke at the end, to temper the serious comment with a little humor, but I still feel her words pressing on me.

Could Peeta have been right? Do they all feel like they need me? I don't want to contemplate it, so I push the thought out of my mind.

"What about you, what do you like to do?" I ask her. And she tells me about her sewing and knitting. She says her mother and grandmother taught her how to make sweaters when she was just 5 years old. Now she can make anything, if she has the yarn or the material. People buy her sweaters and hats and mittens all year round. It's her business. And since handmade clothes are less expensive than factory made ones, she had a lot of customers.

So that's how a girl from the Seam ended up being able to marry a boy from town, I think to myself. It was a love match as well as a good business decision. It had to have been advantageous or Peeta's mother would never have agreed. This knowledge fills in some gaps. And then I remember the scarf she made me as a present for yuletide. It had been white as snow, and soft as down. The stitches were so small, I was sure they were machine crafted. I had worn the scarf for the rest of the cold season. And I had worn it on my last day in District 12 before the wedding. But since my jacket had a hood and high collar I hadn't brought it with me. Trying to not overpack.

"Oh, the scarf, I left it back home." I say in disappointment.

"The white one?" She asks, she knows which one I mean.

"Yes, I really liked it. But, I…." I trail off, not sure what to say. I don't want to offend her by admitting I didn't bring it because I thought it was store bought, and replaceable. If I had known, or really, if I had been paying attention, I would have guessed that it was something handmade. A gift between one sister-in-law to another. Because back then, Laurel had thought we would be family someday. I don't know why, but the lump in my throat returns.

Laurel just pats my shoulder good naturedly. "Don't worry, I can make you a new one when we get to 13." She says, brushing it all off like a scattering of fallen snow.

"I've been a little preoccupied this past year, well years actually." I say my voice low so only she can hear me, still wanting to explain somehow. She nods, in sincere understanding.

"Haymitch told me after we finished the victory tour that I've had my head up my own...well...someplace other than my shoulders." I say, and she snorts. I laugh a little too, really glad for her company.

"He's an odd duck, your mentor." She tells me with a grin.

"Odd doesn't even begin to cover it." I mutter and she laughs again. But I guess Haymitch was right all along. Because I must have been blind to not notice how much of a good person Laurel is. How much we actually have in common. We've never had a real conversation before today. And that's probably not because she hasn't tried. I sigh. I hate it when Hyamitch is right.

Even though we had a long delay, we made it to the next camping spot before sundown. It's not a cave persay, but it is an outcropping of rocks and small cliffs that we hike up to that will provide cover from the wind and snow at night. We set up camp, start cooking dinner. I hand over my game bag, having shot quite a few things on the hike.

And with what Gale caught scouting ahead of the group, we have more than enough to meet for everyone tonight. I feel Peeta's gaze on me, but I am not ready to talk to him. So I sit with Laurel and Prim who apparently are already fast friends. They talk about what it's like being in the woods, camping and hiking and how it's so different from living in a house with running water and an occasional electricity. I listen. I enjoy their easy conversation, and make sure to studiously ignore both pairs of eyes that fall on me every few minutes. One pair grey, the other blue.

When we finish we all climb into the tent with my mother in tow. Gale even tries to catch me before I zip up the tent flap, he walks towards me with a stern determined set of his jaw. But I'm too quick, and the tent is closed to him before he can reach me. I breathe a sigh of relief. I look around at my tent mates.

No one here wants to scold or alternatively kiss me. It feels like a safe haven from all the confusing problems the masculine components bring to my life. If only things could stay this way. But just as I'm thinking about it, I feel Prim and Laurel look at me. They know.

"You won't be able to avoid them forever." Prim says quietly. And I wonder where this insight has come from, or was it always there but now that she has an ally she is more prone to speak up. Laurel looks sympathetically at me, but she nods her head.

"Especially with that one. He doesn't have Peeta's patience." She says with a tilt of her head. As if to add, you know it's true. I scowl, because I do know it's true. But this was supposed to be a break from all the madness. And my sister, and my sort-of new friend aren't supposed to be this gut wrenchingly honest with me. Or maybe they are. I don't know. I just don't want to think about it.

"You'll have to have it out eventually. We've got days to go before we finish the trip." My mother of all people pipes in from her side of the tent, already in her sleeping bag, with her eyes closed. I grit my teeth in frustration to keep from saying a few choice words about how I'm starting to wish for the mother who used to ignore me when I was in crisis.

Instead I say, "It'll keep." And turn the lantern out. Everyone lays down in their sleeping bags. I pull my bag up over my eyes so I don't have to look at the traitors I share a tent with.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

I'm woken up at midnight by a soft shake of my shoulder. It's Deen, he tells me it's my shift. I rouse myself and put on my shoes and coat. I walk over to the ring of the put out campfire and expect to find Haymitch. But no, of course not. It's Gale.

"Your shift doesn't start until 4." I say sourly.

"I traded with Haymitch." He replies, his tone short as mine.

"Well, trade back."

"No, sit down."

A short humorless laugh escapes me. "I don't know if that tone works on the school girls but it certainly won't work on me." I spit the words and turn around to go find someone to trade shifts with.

"I did it for you." Is his quiet reply. This stops me in my tracks. He's not talking about trading shifts.

Well, I guess we're having this conversation after all.

I turn around, arms crossed over my chest and walk back to stand a few feet in front of him.

"You didn't ask me, you didn't even look at me. Don't say you did it for me, because I never asked you to." There, I said it. The angry burning words that had been stuck like jagged stones in the pit of my stomach are finally released.

"You weren't present enough to ask. It was like you lost your mind for a minute. I couldn't stand seeing you like that." Quiet, angry words that must have been eating at him too, spill from his lips.

I think about what he said. Had I lost my mind? I had certainly felt reality slip away from me in certain moments, like when they both were under the ice. And that hollow empty feeling had certainly lasted more than a minute. I sit down, facing him.

"Maybe I did, for a minute. But I lost it for a lot longer after you went in after him." I whisper, my voice not strong enough to say the words any louder.

He sighs. "He's alive. We're both fine. It worked out didn't it? So why are you still so mad?" He asks, frustration in his voice again.

"Because I can't handle being surrounded by such noble idiots." I tell him, aggravation seeping into my words as well. "He pulled his glove off on purpose, you know. Then you jumped into that icy death trap right after him. It's like you're both deliberately trying to drive me to an early grave. It was like...watching my life get unraveled. The possibility...It was too much." I tell him and he studies me quietly.

"I did see him take off the glove." He says in a contemplative tone. "At first I didn't understand. Then the ice shattered the moment they pulled you back. And I got it. He was trying to save you." There's a begrudging note of respect in his voice that I don't think he likes. I am unsure what to make of it as well.

"Noble idiots, like I said." I say with a sigh.

"Nothing really reaches you the way I ever expect, you know that? I honestly thought you'd cry and hug us both. But no, you always have to surprise me." He says with his brows pulled together in confused consternation.

"I live to entertain." Is my dry and humorless reply.

"I didn't think it was possible to care that much about two people." He says, and I feel the conversation take a serious and deeper turn. "But Rory said you screamed like someone was ripping your heart out when I went under."

I don't say anything. I just fight with every fiber not to start crying. He's awful for bringing this up. And I'm awful for being so angry about it. But the anger, the feeling of betrayal, is still there.

"Whenever you used to tell me it was complicated, before the last victory tour, before Snow ordered you, I always thought you were being a little selfish, or cowardly. Now, I don't know what to think. At least you hate us equally, I guess." He says, trying to lighten the mood. But I don't feel relieved, and I know deep down it's not hate that made me cry my eyes out in the woods after.

"Oh, I'm selfish, and cowardly, and weak and a hundred other things. And both of you would be better off if you just stopped trying to save me." I tell him this before standing up.

I walk straight to Haymitch's tent, yank the zipper open, pull Haymitch up with a strength that must have been fueled by anger and shame, and grief. He sputters sleepily when he focuses on my face.

"Since you like trading shifts so much you can trade with me, right now!" I say as I push him out of the tent. He starts cursing at me and I cover my ears as I walk back to my tent. I settle down, and even though I know everyone is probably awake after all that yelling. I just pull my sleeping bag up over my face again.

(Gale POV)

She slinks away like a wild cat that's got its hackles up. I hear her shouting something at Haymitch, and then there's a lot of cussing, mostly directed at her. Then Haymitch comes over to sit with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, shivering from being pulled out of his warm tent and thrust into the cold.

"Sorry," I mumble, because it was me who asked him to trade shifts.

"Oh, no, I should have known. No good deed goes unpunished." He says, hunching his shoulders and trying to burrow into his coat.

"Tell me about it." I mutter. Sometimes I wish I could just shake some sense into her. You'd think after I saved Peeta from that freezing river that would at least earn me a little gratitude.

Haymitch eyes me, over his coat collar. "Has anyone ever told either of you there are other girls? Nicer ones?" He says part humorous, part serious.

I know what he's talking about, probably better than he can guess. I've had girls say they want me. Nice one, shy ones, enthusiastic ones, beautiful ones, all kinds. How can I explain that none of them ever meant more than a moment's distraction? That none of them measured up to her quiet strength. After all the kissing and touching and more with other girls, I didn't feel one tenth of the things I felt when I was hunting with her on a Sunday. No Katniss isn't nice, she's more than that, but in what way I can't really put into words. And even if I could I wouldn't tell her mentor.

"I've never had much use for nice." Is all I say. Haymitch sighs tiredly.

"But he seems like he'd be okay with nice." I offer, wondering if Haymitch has tried this tack with Peeta.

"There's no helping that one. He won't give up until she drives him away with a stick." He mutters in annoyance. I nod, expecting as much.

"There's nothing else for it then." I reply, turning to keep my eyes on the tree line.

"Nope." Haymitch agrees and burrows back down into his coat.

(Katniss POV)

I take my shift at 4am, with Rye and thankfully he doesn't ask me any questions or try to start a conversation. When everyone starts waking up after 6, I grab my bow and head into the woods to hunt some before we have to move. I get about a mile away from camp, because I am really just looking for some solitude. Gale could probably track me down, but after last night I don't think he's eager to be in my company again. I find a little bit of peace in the quiet crunch of the snow, the crisp taste of it mingled with the woodsy fragrance of everything around me. I shoot a wild turkey, a nice fat one and smile to myself. Even when everything seems upside down, at least I'll always have this, my bow and my hunting.

I'm headed back when I hear it. The loud crashing footsteps that seem to echo through the whole forest. More than one pair. My bow is out and strung before whoever it is takes another step. I crouch down, trying to hide myself in the brush. Voices drift out from over my left.

"Are you sure you heard something? Remember what happened last time you called in a 'possible sighting'. Voices, a female speaking to a partner.

"I'm telling you I heard something. Right over here." The other one is male, their white boots come into view. Peacekeepers. I pull myself down as low as I can, while still keeping my bow trained on them.

"You saw what was left of the ice on the river yesterday. They probably drowned." The woman says, a hopeful note in her voice. I guess even Peacekeepers don't enjoy tracking down criminals in the woods in the middle of winter.

"That's what everyone thought after they sent in the mutts." The man says skeptically.

I take a quiet breath, trying to steady my hand. I should shoot them. Before they get any closer to our camp. Before anyone comes this way to look for me. They're Capitol lackeys. They're trying to capture me, and all my friends and family. They'll torture us if they find us. They'll kill us too, after they've had their fun. My hands shift to take aim. They're standing so close together, I can kill one and wound the other with one arrow. But I can't fire. The moment lengthens, but I don't release my bow string. They're people, despicable yes, but if I kill them in cold blood what does that make me?

I lower my bow, and pick up a rock instead of an arrow.

I shot it into the branches where I noticed an snowy owl perched earlier sleeping. I'm rewarded by the flapping of wings, the rustling of leaves. The male peacekeeper shoots at the owl, nearly hitting it.

"It's just a bird." The female tells him.

"Damn woods give me the creeps."

"Come on, there's nothing out here. We've gone well beyond our search area. Let's head back."

"Yeah alright." He says reluctantly.

I don't think about breathing until they are far enough away that I can't hear their voices. Then, I gather my bow over my shoulder, and high tail it back to camp. I stay as low and steady as quiet as I can, but when I hear something behind me I can't help whipping my body around to take aim at a defenceless tree branch swinging in the wind. When I turn back around I crash into something warm and solid.

"Hey, what's the rush?" It's Peeta's voice, and he pulls back from me to look at my expression. I'm panting, but I manage to tell him.

"Peacekeepers, about a mile from camp. I just barely drew them away. Come one, we have to tell everyone!" I exclaim, grabbing his hand and pulling him after me. Then we're running together. Everyone is just about ready to head out when we crash into camp. I relay what I saw. A grim reality settles back over everyone. Gale starts shouting instructions to help disguise our presence.

"No time for that!" Haymitch says curtly. "Our best chance is to get as far away from her as possible, as fast as possible."

He asks what direction they came from and which direction they returned to, and when I tell them Haymitch swears. He pulls out the map, just to double check. Unfortunately, it looks like if we follow our map's instructions we'll risk running right into them.

"We could go in the opposite direction." Peeta says. But Gale shakes his head.

"There's a mountain range in the opposite direction, if we stray too far we'll throw ourselves off course and get caught between them and the mountains." He explains.

"Let's just take a line down the middle." I suggest. "Stay between the search parties and the mountains for a while, until we can figure out something better, or get ahead of them. We can't afford to lose any more time. We need to move now." I urge them. Haymitch nods. We head out, trying to travel as quickly and as quietly as possible. As we go, I show people how to step so they don't make such deep imprints in the earth and snow. But it's almost a pointless effort. We're still leaving tracks no matter how careful we are. If anyone comes across them before it snows again, we're done for.

I feel the net of the arena closing in. I can't stop my heart from pounding, and the thought of Peacekeepers in their heavy boots gunning people down, or mutts ripping out their throats, are pressing forward from behind my eyes, giving me a spectacular headache. At around noon, Gale and Haymtich pull out the map again, and decide to take a chance on a small out of the way cave network on this side of the mountains. Haymitch's reasoning is that if the Capitol is this close, then their muttations won't be far behind. And they'll be able to track us by smell alone. So rather than fight them in the open like we did last time with the wolves, we needed to find a defensive position. So we trek in the direction of the caves, and by the time we get there, we can barely see a foot in front of our faces.

A bluster of a storm had blown down from the mountains, and even though it made the last leg of our journey almost impossible, Gale had managed to keep us on track. We make it into the cave, and are greeted by the warm fetid smell of a bear den. Gale and I eye each other. The bear must be hibernating. We tell the others to stay behind, because Gale and I are the quietest. If we can kill the creature before it wakes up, we'll save a lot of trouble. But just in case, we instructed everyone to stay back from the entrance. Before I went in, Peeta shot me a worried glance, but I just shrugged it off.

There are piles of fish bones, and other debris scattered everywhere, so Gale and I have to be quiet, and very careful not to step on anything that could make noise. But when we get midway into the cave, I hear a strange snuffling, sniffing sound of an animal smaller than a bear. The sound of paws scratching the earth of the cave, and a mewling noise.

Cubs. Bear cubs. It's a family den. I close my eyes against the realization. We'll have to kill them. There's no way we'll make it in this storm, it's shaping up to last all night. The cubs must not be very old, or experienced, because they haven't raised the alarm yet. Our biggest threat will be the mother. I can faintly make out her outline in the dark of the cave. She's sleeping, but is becoming increasingly agitated by the movement and noise the cubs are making due to our presence. I don't have time to think about it.

I raise my bow and loose the arrow into her throat before she can stir. It's followed immediately by Gale's arrow. She tries to roar, tries to get up, but she can't do it fast enough. She's losing too much blood. I knock another arrow and aim for her eye, hoping to drive it into her brain and end her suffering. When my arrow finds its mark, she slumps down, like someone cut her strings. And she's dead. The cubs are making little confused noises now, and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. It feels wrong somehow to have done this to them, all for the sake of using their home as shelter.

"I can…" Gale's voice trails off in the darkness. He's right beside me, and I know he knows why I haven't finished off the cubs yet.

"Please." I get out, my voice cracking, before I turn around and head for the mouth of the cave. Once I'm out everyone's heads snap in my direction.

"It's fine, we took care of the bear." I tell them before squatting on my haunches, against the cave entrance.

"Where's Gale?" Hazel asks, worried.

"Finishing off the cubs." I tell her in a tired voice. She nods, and turns away. We're all tired, I can feel it, and see it in everyone's faces. But it will be a while yet before we're able to sleep or rest. Gale emerges a little while later, and people start filing in. Lanterns are lit, and we start clearing out the refuse and mess of the den.

"You ok?" His voice startles me. His blue eyes are right beside me as I lean down to pick up a bundle of moss the bear family was using for bedding.

"I'll be fine." I tell him in a world weary voice.

"You sure?" Peeta asks, looking at me again. "Because it's ok, not to be ok with doing some of these things." I know he must have noticed my strained features, and the fact that I hadn't stayed to help Gale finish off the rest of the animals.

"It doesn't change the fact they need to be done." I reply flatly.

"No, but it does help to acknowledge that it's a matter of circumstance, and not by design that you have to kill things." He says in a low voice. I look up at him.

Is that what happened this morning? Is that the thing I was trying to avoid? Peeta and the way he uses words to get to the heart of things. I look back at him, and for a moment I wish he would wrap me up and just hold me like before. He seems to catch the look, takes a hesitant step forward. But before either of us can do anything stupid I reach down and gather up the last of the moss.

"Thanks," I tell him off-handedly, as I side step him. He doesn't say anything right away, I think he's trying to figure out if I'm still mad at him for what happened by the river. Which I am, but it's not why I'm trying to keep my distance right now. I know he wants me to look at him, to say something. But I can't.

"Alright Katniss," He says with a sigh and shuffles off to go dispose of his moss. My headache is not going anywhere so after I dump the bedding outside the cave I look for my mother. When she hears my request she eyes me with slight disapproval. I know her stance on medicine, it's only to be dispensed when absolutely necessary. And a headache doesn't count.

But my head feels like it's splitting open right now, and I break down and plead with her. She examines my eyes, says something about residual side effects from the wolf mutt poisoning. I don't know if she's right or if I've just had a rough couple of days. She gives me some painkillers before instructing me to lay down in the back of the cave out of everyone's way. The painkillers are strong, especially for me since I rarely ever take any real medicine. So I find myself asleep even before dinner gets started.

I sleep through dinner, but get woken up at midnight for my shift. My head feels significantly better. It's only slightly sore. So I grab a bowl of food that's been left out for me by the campfire by the entrance. It's cold, but I'm hungry. I settle down with my back against the cave entrance's left wall, facing the forest. There's a slight overhang blocking the worst of the snow and wind, so I figure I'll be fine. When I hear the uneven gait and I know who it is before I even turn around.

"Hey," Peeta says in the best peaceful tone he can manage. No doubt he fears a confrontation like the one Gale and I had the other night. I can't tell if it's because it's been a long day or because I've had enough time to miss him along with being angry at him. But I don't automatically get up to leave. I just continue eating my stew, which tastes particularly gamey today. Or maybe it's because it's cold?

"Hey." I reply as he takes a seat opposite me on the right wall. He's quiet for a while, trying to decide how to phrase his questions I guess. So I just eat and wait for him to make up his mind.

"I know you've been upset with me, ever since the river." Hey says by way of opening.

"Yes." I confirm.

"For the same reason I was upset with you when you took on the wolf mutt single-handedly." He says, and I grit my teeth because I forget that Peeta is very good at this. But when I want to, I can dish it out with the best of them.

"Actually, my plan was to fight. Yours was to give up." I tell him in an angry hiss.

"My plan was to save you." He says quietly. My teeth are aching from gritting them so many times over the past few days, and the cold isn't helping. I mentally remind myself to stop clamping down on them.

"Mission accomplished then." I reply in a sarcastic tone.

"But you're still mad." He says, and it's like the conversation with Gale all over again, except it's worse because Gale and I weren't in the arena, and we didn't have to mentor four tributes together and watch three of them die, and we didn't...do a lot of other things.

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek.

"It's not supposed to be me instead of you. We're supposed to fight together Peeta. We're supposed to protect each other. How can you keep doing that if you decide to throw yourself under the bus at the first sign of trouble?" I ask him, and the question leaves my chest feeling hollowed out and raw.

"How can I protect you if I'm dragging you down with me?"

"We figure it out, that's how. Like when your leg got hurt in our Games. I didn't drop you because you were dead weight. Or like our first year as mentors, you didn't give up on me when I went to the dark place inside my mind. We fought through it. We made it out because we stuck together. Like the berries. Like we promised to always stay friends. Always means always, not at the first bump in the road." I tell him earnestly.

"It was a pretty big bump." He says light-heartedly.

"We've been through worse. And we'll probably go through more before all this is over." I told him seriously. He considers this for a moment, as he reaches up to tuck his hands behind his head. This is his relaxed thinking pose. One of my favorites.

"Oookaaaay." He says as he exhales. "No more attempts at altruism unless an insurmountable need arises." He agrees.

"No altruism at all please." I say with steely conviction.

"I can't really promise that." He says with a grin. I roll my eyes because it's probably true. Peeta's probably the only person I know who'd die with a smile on his face if it meant he got to do something nice and noble for someone.

"Fine, just stop trying to shave 10 years off my life every other day from worry." I say, hoping to be done with this part of the conversation.

"That is probably much more feasible." He replies. I go back to my stew, which has congealed in the cold air.

"What is this?" I ask, trying to break through the thick concoction with my spoon.

"Bear." Peeta replies sadly. I stop trying to scoop up spoonfuls. I carefully set the bowl down and look back over to the tree line.

"Hazelle said it'd be a waste of meat." Peeta says by way of explanation. She's right of course, but it still doesn't mean I want to eat anymore of the stew. I'm grateful I was almost done by the time I found out. I really should have put two and two together, but maybe my headache is still making it difficult to concentrate.

"Is everything ok now?" Peeta asks as he looks over at me. I glance at him. I think I know what he's really asking me about. The avoiding I've been doing.

"Peeta, we're fine, but right now we need to focus on surviving this trip. If the last few days have proved anything it's that this is not going to be a walk in the park. I can't afford to upset the balance of our teamwork."

"I'm not asking you to kiss me against the back wall of the cave. I just don't want to fight anymore." He says with a very uncharacteristic scowl.

"No, we're not fighting anymore." I tell him quietly, but it still has a frustrated edge to it that he catches. He makes a small impatient sound in his throat, one that's very familiar to me. It runs through my skin like a memory and suddenly I find it hard to look at him. Because he used to do the same thing when I used to check his house to make sure all the doors were locked and the curtains were closed. I swallow around the dryness in my throat. And hope he doesn't notice any change in my demeanor.

"It's going to be a long trip, if we all have to act like strangers." He says. And I know he's noticed me trying to switch things off.

"Not strangers Peeta. Like you said after the bird mutt encounter, allies for right now. Friends. We all have to be able to trust each other, rely on each other. There's no other way to make it through this." I say with all the objectivity I can muster.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Friends huh? Well I've had a lot of practice over the years, so it shouldn't be too difficult." He says with such easy confidence that I look over and smile at him.

That's one of my favorite things about him, how at ease he puts people, especially me.

"Not just me, you know." I remind him of the other component in this equation.

"Oh me and Gale are good at staying out of each other's hair. And before you cut in, let me also say we work together just fine when it comes to keeping everybody alive, especially you." He tells me in a matter-of-fact tone. I scoff at this.

"Oh I'm serious. There's no one better to team up with when it comes to you, it's actually a relief, having someone else to share the load with." He says sincerely.

"Are you talking about when I got sick from the wolf mutt bite?" I ask, wondering if that's the circumstance that helped them form this strange bond.

"Yeah, he was pretty clutch when I had to divide my time between you and Rye." Peeta says quietly. That's right, both me and his brother had been sick at the same time. It must have been especially hard for him.

"And Haymitch let me believe I was inciting a war between the two of you with my insane fever ramblings." I tell him with a slightly scornful laugh.

"Well, the first day or so was rough. You said some weird things. But then the fever broke and you were able to tell the difference between us more often than not." He tells me seriously.

I feel my face redden in embarrassment. How sick was I that I got two completely different people confused?

"You also confused Haymitch with your dad, and when that happened it kind of put to rest any lingering hard feelings." He tells me graciously.

"I would hope so." I say with a small laugh. He looks over at me, his eyes bright and full despite the weak moonlight.

"I've missed that." He whispers. My shoulders stiffen. Not because he's said anything untowards, but because even something this benign feels fraught with romantic undertones. But when I meet his gaze again, his eyes are clear and friendly. He is good at this.

And I am faltering. Because there is a small traitorous part of me that is disappointed by this harmless look. There's a part of me that wants to see fire dancing across the blue waters in his eyes. Because if I'm being really honest with myself, I miss some things too. I let out a little huff, and tried to cover it by clearing my throat.

"Thirsty? Want me to grab you some water?" He asks, all innocence and politeness. But I have a sneaking suspicion he's picked up on something.

"That would be great, thanks." I tell him, just wanting to put some distance between myself and those all too perceptive baby blues. He retreats into the cave, and I breathe deeply, and shake my head trying to get a hold of my thoughts. He comes back and leans down to hand me the canteen, his face inches from mine.

"Here you are, pal." He says with a grin and a wink and I push him away. He wobbles a little because of his leg, but then he rights himself and he just chuckles. He settles back down on his side and we're quiet for a while.

"How are you doing, with not having your mother and other brother here?" I ask him after an extended period of silence. He jumps a little at my voice. I must have startled him out of his thoughts. He looks up at the sky, thinking for a moment.

"I'm alright. I actually think it's better they stayed behind. Mom wouldn't have made it, it's too rough out here. And Dill never would have been happy starting his whole life over. They'll both have the bakery, and enough money to do whatever they want. So, really it all worked out." I know he doesn't mean this through and through. But I also know he probably doesn't feel like talking about the deeper issues if he's glossing over it with his charismatic touch. I've learned when to give the boy with the bread his space.

"I'm worried about Cinna, and Portia." I confess.

"They can both take care of themselves pretty well, Katniss. The Capitol doesn't have it out for them like they did for you and me." He says, trying to reassure me.

"Well we are rather gifted at inciting rebellion and discontent." I say with a mercenary laugh.

"We'll have to be, if we're going to help 13 with their propo agenda." He replies, and I'm reminded of the deal he made to get us out.

"I don't mind saying a few slogans on camera, or even firing a few arrows at Peacekeeper dummies. But please, don't get offended when I say I never want to have to kiss you on camera ever again." I tell him with a small groan.

He nods, his brows crinkling in concentration. "I made sure to tell them The Star Crossed Lovers personas weren't part of the deal." He says reassuringly.

"Good."

"But hypothetically speaking, if we make to 13 alive and well, and when the cameras aren't around-"

A pebble smacks his temple.

"Hey, I said hypothetically." He mutters.

"And I said focus on surviving, and teamwork."

"You are a cruel task-master."

"I have to be with you winking and making hypothetical propositions."

"Oh, that wasn't a proposition. It was an exercise in theoretical scenarios. When I proposition you, you'll know it."

Another, larger rock smacks him in the chest.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to use your words?" He says in mock irritation.

"I'm from the Seam, Peeta. We solve our problems much quicker than that."

"Well those of us on the merchant side prefer to exercise patience." He says pointedly.

"That's good you're going to need it." I tell him with a superior little smile. He laughs, and I realize I have missed his laugh. It feels good to talk like this with him.

After everything that's happened lately I've almost forgotten how great Peeta really is at being friends. The wind kicks up, and I shiver in my coat. The snow is hitting the cave wall at a new angle, and it's cutting right across the left side where I'm sitting. He looks over at me shivering.

"Katniss-"

"I'm fine."

"Your teeth are chattering."

"They like the exercise."

"Stop being so stubborn."

"I really don't think-"

He reaches out to show me his hands, and then tucks them into his pockets.

"See? And that's where they'll stay." He vows courageously.

"Alright." I reply and scurry over to his side, sliding down a few inches away from him. The wind isn't really hitting here, and what little there is, is absorbed by Peeta's large frame.

"There, you see you didn't upset the balance of the universe." He tells me quietly.

"Sometimes it has a delayed effect." I tell him, hiding my grin.

He looks over at me, eyes serious.

"I'd like to take a small brief time out to tell you how very proud I am of the way you've handled this entire thing, this trip. You're really keeping everyone together, fed, safe. It's been inspiring. It's like watching you in the Games, only this time my leg didn't get injured, and I didn't get a fever."

"I know, I guess it was my turn this time around. And it was your turn to nurse me back to health."

"It was a lot easier with your mother along, and her medicines."

"Still, thanks."

"Thanks for forgiving me."

"Yeah well, it was more for myself than you really, sometimes I get tired of being mad at all the stupid things you manage to do in 24 hours."

"Dito." He says and I punch him lightly on the arm.

"No fair, I'm defenseless here." He says, waving his hands around in his coat pockets.

"Oh, I don't buy that for a minute." I tell him, and then I lean my head against his shoulder.

He doesn't say anything more. He just goes quiet.

"Friends lean on each other." I tell him quietly.

He looks down at me, a deep yet gentle expression on his face. "Oh, that's lucky then." He says.

"Mhhmm." I reply noncommittally. We don't talk after that. We just watch the trees and the snow, and try to stay warm. It's not hard, with Peeta by my side.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

It's Rory who discovers it. A passage, at the back of the cave, that's narrow and cramped, but if you can squeeze through, it leads to another cavern. This one is larger than the initial cave, and it branches off into sections, with large protrusions of rocks jutting up from the floor and hanging down from the ceiling.

Stalactites and stalagmites, Peeta tells us. We explore the large cavern, in awestruck wonder and aside from the occasional strange bug, or lizard, it's uninhabited. And in one of the offshoots of little corridors, Prim discovers something even more incredible.

"Come look!" Her high girlish voice cries out in surprise and delight. I head in her direction along with everyone else, and when we see it there's a collective murmur of surprise and joy that rings out in the echoing space of the cavern.

It's a pool, clear and perfectly clean. A moderate stream of clear water drips down from a piece of rock suspended above us, and the water drains off, into a series of smaller pools and tributaries until it disappears in a crack in the floor against the left side of the closest cave wall.

"Oh! What I wouldn't give for a bath!" Laurel's excited voice exclaims in longing. I looked over at her in surprise, because I was just happy we wouldn't have to boil snow to drink anymore. But then I think over the possibility. I look around at our grimy, dirty, and moderately stale smelling group, and I think yes, we could all do with a bath. A week in the woods would leave anyone more than a little grubby, but we've fought battles, and had fevers, and walked everyday for hours on end. So when everyone agrees that bathing would be a good thing, then we have to decide who gets to bathe first. There are 14 of us, and everyone just looks around at each other not wanting to speak up first.

"It's a large pool, why don't we just divide into two groups, men and women, and take turns?" Laurel suggests, the eagerness to wash the grime and dirt off her body apparent in her eyes, in her hasty answer. This seems feasible, and of course the men agree to let the women bathe first. There are squeals of female delight that go up around me, but I just hustle back to the first cave, and my knapsack to try and find some clean clothes I can wear when I finish bathing.

So I'm caught completely by surprise as I rummage through my bag, when a hand comes into view with a small bottle in its palm held out towards me. I recognize the bottle almost immediately, and the person the hand belongs to.

"Here. I brought some with me." Peeta tells me quickly and slips the bottle of lemon shampoo into my hand before taking a step back.

And just like with the hot chocolate, it's too much. I look up at him, wanting to go back to the kitchen, to that moment, and catch him up in an unexpected kiss. The urge is so strong, I am barely able to keep myself still. His eyes take me in. And he breathes a little quickly.

I blush and look down. I tuck the bottle into the bundle of clothes I have, and tell myself to focus, focus.

"Thank you." I tell him quietly, clutching the bundle close to me. And he nods, turning away, with effort. Almost the same as he did when he released me in the kitchen that morning. And I wish as I walk away that I could shut out the world. I want to go back to his house, his kitchen, his bed. But I remind myself that we are in a cave with a dozen other people. And his house is a pile of burned rubble now. There is no going back there.

When I get back to the pool, some of the women are already getting into the water. The men had already all cleared out, and gone back to the first section of the cave to give us privacy. Torches lay on the floor around the pool, providing light for us. Laurel was probably the first one in, and she's relaxing into the waters with a sigh. And I wonder how she can be so relaxed, until I tip a toe in and find the water is slightly warm. Not as warm as the lake in summertime, but certainly not as freezing as I thought it would be.

"It must be fed by a warm spring." My mother says as she lowers herself into the water next to me.

"This is great! I was starting to stink as bad as a boy!" Gale's little sister Posey exclaims as she scrubs her hair under the stream of water and we all laugh.

"I'll certainly be glad to have Rye take a bath!" Laurel mutters and Hazellel chuckles in an amused tone. My mother blinks over at Laurel, and I laugh. It must be hard to kiss someone who sweated through two days of fever and fought a bloody battle with a bunch of mutts.

"We all probably stink. I only wish I'd brought something more than the two bars of hand soap with me." Prim says in a forlorn voice.

"Well, actually," I say and then reach over to my pile of clothes and pull out the bottle of shampoo and Prim's eyes light up in delight.

"I guess there's still hope for small miracles." My mother jokes as I hold out the bottle to Prim.

"It's just shampoo." I tell my mother, matter of factly.

"Katniss, it's just what we need! You're the best!" Prim exclaims. "I never would have expected it of you. You're always so practical. Even this seems extravagant for you to waste precious space in your travel bag." Prim mutters as she unscrews the top and inhales the clean citrus scent.

"Actually, I didn't bring it." I say, and then I feel everyone turn towards me in curiosity.

"But then who-?" Prim starts to ask, but Laurel just shoots her a look. And a look of recognition registers on Prim's face.

I feel myself blush, so I just turn away, not wanting to explain it was a gift, or who it was from.

"It's nice, wherever it came from." Laurel says quietly, and asks Prim if she can smell the bottle of shampoo. And I think even though it was meant as a gift for me, I want to share it. So that all of us can feel a little more human and like our old selves.

I clear my throat loudly, and then turn around to tell everyone we can share the shampoo, if we ration it correctly. My mother smiles at me, and then we take turns rationing out the shampoo into small dime sized dollops and wash our hair. I still have half a bottle left after, and it makes me smile. I take my turn under the stream and rinse my hair thoroughly before washing it. The familiar fragrance lifts my spirits, and I feel better, so much better.

I hadn't realized how much the last few days had been weighing on me. The words of the Jabberjays, and then the near tragedy at the river, had set me back considerably. But I felt moderately decent after I cleansed myself under the lukewarm water.

"Katniss, what happened to your shoulder?" Prim asks, close to me when I pop back up from under the water.

"What do you mean?" I ask, looking around at both my shoulders, expecting to find a cut or scrape I hadn't noticed, but they were both clear and smooth.

"What happened to the funny scar you had, from when you got caught on that old nail in school and you slipped and fell?" Prim asks in a concerned voice as she examines my shoulder.

"Oh, that. Well they took away all my old scars after I won the Games." I tell her quietly. But I can tell everyone heard me and my mother is looking over at me in a strange way.

I sigh. "It's a procedure they do, when they put the victor back together, after starving and getting injured in the arena. It's called a full body polish. They take away all the calluses too. And any unwanted birthmarks or moles or that sort of thing." I tell them in a resigned tone.

"Why?" Posey asks, and her mother tries to quiet her but I shake my head to let Hazelle know it's ok.

"Because they don't want to be reminded of ugly things, like what they did. The scars bother them, as much as the other little imperfections. Like when they gave Peeta his new leg, and didn't tell me at first. It's supposed to be a big secret, what the Games cost. But you can't hide or erase everything. It comes out one way or another." I tell them with a little current of anger under my words. And I didn't mean for it to get so personal, but I guess I'll never be able to speak about the Capitol without getting angry, even now that we're so far away.

"I hate them." Prim's voice echoes in the cave, and I hear Posey gasp.

"It's ok, Posey." I tell her as I smile at my sister.

"They can't hear us here." I say, and then I take a deep breath and laugh. Then the other women are laughing, and it's a free, wild sound. And soon more comments are thrown out. About things people always hated about the Capitol, or thought were stupid, or frivolous, or cruel. And it's like purging a wound. I sit back and listen to their complaints, their rants, their anger and it cleanses my soul.

When finally, the last person is done, we clap and laugh. And then we get out, because we've probably stayed far too long and the men are probably a little annoyed at us for hogging the pool.

I smile over at Laurel as she hands me a length of thick cloth that I use to towel off.

"They didn't take everything." Laurel says as she hands me the small bottle of shampoo. And I cradle it in my hands gently, as I consider her words. When I look up at her she smiles, and walks off.

When we walk back into the first cave, Rye catches his wife up and buries his face in her neck. She protests, and tries to beat him off halfheartedly.

"Cut it out! I just got clean, you! Get out of here, and don't come back until you smell better than a moose!" She tells him with a laugh and he chuckles in a clearly pleased and suggestive way as he sets her down and leaves. I look away in embarrassment. I have to remind myself they're newlyweds. Their sweetness is a little overwhelming at times.

The men file over to the cavern in groups. Hyamitch, Deen, Peeta, Rye and his father. Then Gale and the Hawthone boys will have a turn after. And I can understand the necessity to break up into smaller parts. The pool was alright for the six of us girls, but we were smaller in size and number. There were eight men or boys in total, and they wouldn't all be able to fit in the pool at the same time.

My mother and Hazelle set about cooking dinner, and I take turns stirring the pot. Gale wanders over and looks into the pot.

"You sure you're doing that right?" He asks in a doubtful tone.

"I'm just stirring it." I tell him defensively. I know we haven't really spoken since I stalked off angrily the other night, and I don't want to keep arguing, but my lack of cooking skill is one thing I get sore over. Especially when Gale points it out.

"Alright, alright. Just checking." He tells me with a smirk. I smack at him with the ladle and he dodges my attack.

"Still got lots of hostility I see. And here I thought maybe you had vented it all out during bathtime." He tells me quietly, and I look over at him curiously.

"What made you think that?"

"Oh we heard a lot of laughing and angry ranting. We figured you all were complaining about us men."

I snort.

"Shows what you know. Self centered creatures, the whole bunch of you." I tell him and this time catch him with the end of the ladle on his bicep.

"Oww, hey! So then what were you talking about and clapping for?"

"We talked about all the things we hated about the Capitol." I tell him smugly, and his eyes light up shiny bright. Ranting about the Capitol is one of Gale's favorite pastimes.

"Now that's a sentiment I can get behind." He says with a laugh and I smile at him.

"That smells really good by the way." He says, as he leans in across me and dips a cracker ration into the pot and stuffs it into his mouth.

"Hey, hands off, it's not done. And its two day old bear meat, it's horrendous." I tell him peevishly.

He smiles at me, in a strange way. And says quietly in a deep secretive tone:

"I wasn't talking about the food." And then before I can react, he's walking away, a big stupid smirk on his face. I feel myself blush a million shades of red. And Laurel looks over at me from where she's chopping up packets of dried seasonings.

"Oh, wow." She says in a bemused voice and I wish someone would just shoot me, right then and there.

(Peeta POV)

"I wonder what they were all clapping and fussing about." Deen says as he sits relaxed in the water against the edge of the pool.

I stand waist deep in the shallower end. My prosthetic is waterproof, and I can even shower with it. Back home, the Capitol had outfitted my shower back in the Victor's Village with safety measures, and a special seat for the times when I needed to bathe with it off and give my skin a break. I still try to be even more careful now. It's the only prosthetic I have, and there will be no going back to the Capitol for another one now.

"Who the hell knows?" Haymitch says in a weary grumble, but he relaxes too. The water must be good for his aches and pains. He never says anything, but I've noticed over the years that he has injuries that bother him in cold weather. It's in the way he walks, and sits. Not that he'd ever go see a doctor or anything that practical. I sigh. Most of the people around me were too stubborn for their own good. I look away from Haymitch and survey our group.

We have all spread out, trying to give each other room enough to wash up and relax without having to get too close. Deen has thrown caution to the wind though and has dived into the middle, to see how deep the pool goes.

"It's about 6 feet down there." He says when he comes back up. He's a rarity in district 12, because he knows how to swim. He learned during his Games out of necessity. The territory of his arena had been covered almost half in water. He taught himself to swim in only two days, after watching a bunch of otters.

"Good to know." My father says in his quiet deep voice. I look over at him, and see he's staring at the middle of the pool nervously. I can't blame him. I don't know how to swim either. No one in our family does. All we learned growing up was how to make bread, fast enough not to draw our mother's ire. Some part of me still resented that. And how he always seemed to turn a blind eye to all but the most egregious marks she left on us. He had always been the voice of reason, but he was a weak one, and he seldom spoke up.

Now we were here in the a cave in the middle of winter and as I looked at my companions, I felt I knew my surly mentor who I had met a little over two and a half years ago, and my fellow victor who I had known less than a year, better than the father and even brother I had known my whole life. Spending time with my family, aside from the shallowest of interactions, like baking and pretending for the cameras was hard. It was like trying to relearn a skill that you had almost forgotten completely.

The Games had changed me, they had indebted me to Haymitch, and he to me in the same way Deen was now connected to Katniss and I. We four were different people than before we stepped into the arena. We carried a burden only others like us could understand. Deen had been truthful in that when he had defended Katniss against Gale's little brother's accusations. Most people just couldn't understand. So maybe, the distance between my family and I and the unfamiliarity wasn't all their fault. Life created circumstances that were difficult to overcome. But that didn't mean I shouldn't try.

I recognized my father was trying. He had left his home, his work, the only things he counted on in life to bring him stability. Sure, there was no love lost between him and my mother at their parting, but it still must have been hard. It must have been scary, making that leap of faith to decide to do something as crazy and wild as braving the woods in the middle of winter with meager supplies and only a few circles on a map as the guide.

I think I knew why he was trying.

When I had told him, and Rye and Laurel the truth about Katniss and I, well he had looked so devastated. I think that me coming back from the Games had been like a small point of pride for him. I came back a victor, and with the daughter of the woman he had loved unrequitedly for most of his life on my arm. He must have felt he finally did something right. But that night, when I told them, he realized it had all been a lie. And he looked at me, like I was a little boy again, even though I had grown up a long time ago.

I think in seeing history repeat itself, in hearing me say that Katniss didn't love me that way, something finally broke down a wall inside of him. And he had been more present since that moment. He had promised to come with us, even if he couldn't convince my mother to come.

He had wanted, I think, to protect me.

I didn't know how much good it would do at this point.

There are some things you can't guard against, some things that there is no real defence for.

Katniss is one of those things. She opens me up, without meaning to. She leaves me bare and wanting, just by being herself. Nobody can change that, and I don't think I'd want them to change it even if they could.

These last two months were the closest I'd ever come to true happiness. There had been moments, long wonderful moments, where I'd known joy. To me, it was worth the heartache. To have known her, held her, loved her, even if it was only for a short time. It was oddly like coming back from the arena after our Games, except this time I knew what to expect. This time I went in with my eyes open, knowing that her letting me in was not something she wanted to do at all, maybe with anybody. But she had, and I could see how she had chosen me in a way, at least for a short time.

I could see it now when they were around each other. I had never had the chance to see them up close, and in person together. I had always imagined something very different going on in the woods on Sundays. I imagined more tragic romance, more lingering looks and yearning sighs. I thought she behaved with him in a way she didn't with me. But I could tell by the snippets of conversation I caught sometimes without meaning to, and the way he looked at her, and the way she shrugged off his looks, that it wasn't what I imagined.

He looked as weary and worn down as I did sometimes. Only, he hid it better. Must be all that stubble I guess.

Or maybe he hid it better because he had more practice. They had been friends for years after all. And I saw in the way she moved around him that she had a line that she didn't like for him or anyone for that matter to cross. She kept it with him almost as well as she did with me. It irritated him as much as it did me. And when I thought back over the past two months I realized that so much of what she did was reactionary.

One of us got too close and so she'd pull away and retreat to the other. She had just about spelled it out for me that morning in my kitchen when I threw the vase. Closeness scared her, and not just the physical kind.

No, I think when she didn't have another option, she used that to cover up how she really felt. It was a way of giving something in place of what both of us were really asking for. Her heart, her commitment. I had no idea just how close she had let Gale get to her. But something about the way he held off when she had a fever, made me think that maybe it wasn't as close as I had once feared.

But even if I was wrong, there were so many things I couldn't blame her for completely. The other night when I heard her quiet voice apologizing to him about the things the mutt birds said in the forest, she had told him he was right, and that none of us had any choices, and everyone just had to pick up the pieces however they knew how. I had made myself go to sleep then, as I tugged my coat around my ears to drown out their conversation. I could see she was trying to get back to neutral again, for this trip, because we all needed to get through it. She was trying really hard, and I think me and him were giving it our best shot too most of the time.

I saw the necessity of it. Just as he did. And yet I still had these feelings, underneath it all. They crept up on me sometimes, when it came to the smallest things. Like her wanting to squeeze my hand, or hug me in a purely platonic way. My brain and my body couldn't completely erase the knowledge of her, as more than my ally, more than my friend, no matter how hard I tried.

It gave me nightmares. I dreamed about knowing her, and then finding out from Snow it was all a lie. While I was awake I could combat the thoughts, the self pity and ugly emotions. I could keep them at bay. But when I was asleep my unconscious mind returned to that dark place in the study. Because even if Snow's words had been designed to break all the happiness I had, they had just enough truth to them that I couldn't deny them completely. But there was truth in the time she and I had spent together too. I just didn't know if it would ever be enough.

I didn't know what would happen when we got to District 13. If we could even get there. But I knew that life was too short not to have taken the chance of loving her. She knew now, just how much I loved her. And when she finally decided whether she wanted what I had to offer, well at least she could make an informed decision.

(Katniss POV)

Everyone eats a little happier, and there's a fresh look to people's faces that's more than just the result of taking a bath. And as Deen works on whittling some sticks to try and make his own arrows, I relax against the cave wall as I listen to the sound of people eating.

The food's not great, but at least we're not going hungry yet. We're a few days behind schedule, but not too off track. We've made decent progress, even if we've had setbacks. Looking at where we are on the map I can see we covered more miles than I initially thought. I'm heartened by this news, and when Deen starts humming an old mountain song absentmindedly as he works I find myself tapping my finger against my bowl in time to the beat.

He can keep a tune surprisingly well, and I wait to see if he'll start singing the words but he just hums them. And when I look over at him he smiles at me.

"How do you know that song Deen?" I ask him curiously.

"Oh, just something the den mother used to hum to the infants at the home. Never really knew the words. I don't know if she knew them either. But I heard the melody enough times to memorize the tune. Why? Do you know it?" He asks me and I look away.

I do know it. My father taught it to me when I was very small. Three I think. It's all about our district, and the mountains and the life that exists there. It's a song I still think about in my mind sometimes when I catch a particularly nice patch of sunlight on a silent day in the woods. It's a song I can still hear sung perfectly, every clear note, in his rich voice.

"I've always wanted to learn the words." He says looking at me even though I'm not looking at him anymore. People are chatting quietly, and no one has noticed our conversation yet. But I feel strange. Like I want to run, or cry, or both. But when I look back at Deen, I know none of those feelings are his fault. He doesn't know about my singing, or my father's death and how they are connected. He never even had a father or mother to teach him the words to this very popular district song.

And I can see it in his eyes, the request. It's like with Prim. When she asks me for these sorts of things. He really has become too much like a little brother to me, I realize, because for the life of me I can't find it in me to say no to this boy who was used and broken even before the Capitol got a hold of him. So I just sigh, and close my eyes to shut out everything but the memory of my father's voice. And when I think I've got it, I start to sing.

(Listening Track: Take Me Home Country Roads- Mountain Man)

Almost heaven, West Virginia

Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River

Life is old there, older than the trees

Younger than the mountains, growin' like a breeze

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads

All my memories gather 'round her

Miner's lady, stranger to blue water

Dark and dusty, painted on the sky

Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads

Take me home, (down) country roads

Take me home, (down) country roads

Somewhere in between the first and second line the cave goes quiet. Conversations drop to hear my voice softly singing the song. I start out low, almost like talking, but the song has an incredible range to it, and by the chorus my voice is louder by necessity since the notes fly up and up in a spectacular way.

But the words feel like home. And the melody is so sweet and balmy on this cold night, I sing almost the whole song, instead of just one verse and chorus like I intended. And it's like after that night in the shower, my voice has been waiting, eagerly to fly again as it once used to. And when I end the song, there's such a bittersweet feeling in my soul. It hurts, but in a familiar way, in an almost soothing way because it's so familiar to miss both my father and my district, my woods.

For me the woods will always keep his memory. They will carry his strength and steadiness underneath their branches like a guarded secret. His song though I have brought with me, and now I will carry it again, even if it's just for tonight.

I open my eyes and look over at Deen and he sucks in a deep breath.

"You know, when I said you should be the Mockingjay, I didn't know you'd fit the description so well." He tells me with a slightly awestruck smile. And I hear other murmurs of agreement coming from around us.

I look around at everyone, and am surprised to find looks of delight, awe, admiration, and surprise on all their faces. Prim is smiling at me so warmly, I blink at her uncomprehendingly. Peeta's brother and sister in law are sitting close together, holding hands, their eyes closed and faces smiling in quiet pleasure. Gale, Rory, and his siblings look on at me so surprised you'd have thought I'd grown a second head. But Hazelle just smiles wistfully. I don't know if she remembers my father's singing, since her husband worked on the same mining crew as my dad and they might have been friends. Maybe she did remember. My eyes seek out my mother then, and I can see she has tears in her blue ones, but not in an overly painful way as I feared.

She looks like I felt a minute ago, bittersweet and achy, but still present. Haymitch surprisingly looks slightly pleased, proud even, or at least I think he does. I can't really tell, I don't know if I've ever seen him proud of me before. It's strange.

And Peeta. Peeta looks so happy, I have to turn away before I get caught up in too many memories. I turn back to Deen and exhale shakily.

"Well now you know the words." I tell him quietly, firmly. Because I'm not going to sing the song again. And I get up to go wash my bowl out, and people go back to chatting and whittling and whatever they had been doing before.

(Gale POV)

When my brother draws a shift with Katniss he offers to trade with me. I know he's still embarrassed of the things he said. I think maybe he's afraid of facing her, after the way he acted. But she didn't hear him when he was acting like an idiot, she passed out thankfully. Our mother had sat him down in the woods and given him such a good long talking to, he had come back to the group pretty much contrite and quiet that day and after.

But I could tell he still didn't feel comfortable with how the situation affected me. And that was fine. I hadn't felt anything close to comfortable in a long time. Except maybe when she sang tonight. The words to that song, they had made me feel quiet inside like when I was close to her. I had only heard her sing twice before, and never in person. The first time was in the Games, when the little girl she chose as her ally died. But her voice was so choked up with tears, I hadn't really gotten a fair picture of how good she was.

The second time was in the clearing, with the Jabberjays. I had heard what I was sure was her voice, singing something sweet and low in an echoey room, but I had been so preoccupied, so driven with the need to end those horrible mutts that it got lost in all the noise.

Tonight though, I had really heard her sing. It was much different in person. She was different when she sang. Her whole face opened up, and it was like every cell in her body was thrumming in tune to the song, and she couldn't help but let it pour out of her. Her eyes were closed, and she turned her face up towards the ceiling as she sang.

Like when she basked in the sunlight under the trees. The words of the song fit the expression on her face, and her voice topped them both. I had seen her in a lot of ways, on so many different occasions.

Young and scrawny, adolescent and gangly, blooming and new, quiet and lovely. Then, I saw her painted and sculpted to perfection as a tribute. But I had never really liked that version, I didn't trust it, it had always felt false. Afterwards, after the Games she alternated between a beauty product commercial look when the cameras were around, and a haggard worried shell of herself when they weren't.

But tonight, she was something different. Something new. I thought after all these years, and everything that we'd been through that I knew the limits of her attractiveness. But no. She was just full of surprises.

So I tried to keep my head on straight as I went to sit beside her for our watch.

"It's quiet tonight." She says after a moment. And I blink. She's looking out over the night, at the storm that settled down a while ago, and I'm looking at her.

"Yeah," I agree and she glances over. I look away.

I try to think of something to say, so that I stop making things awkward.

"Alright," I tell her after a minute, "I know what my next question is." I say to the cold night air, not looking at her.

"Ok, shoot." She says in a very unenthusiastic manner. I know she hates this. Answering my questions. And even though, after all this time I feel like I know her almost as well as myself and most of these questions are just for posterity's sake, I ask them anyway. Because maybe we don't discuss things as much as we should. There's a difference between knowing and saying it out loud. There's a difference in putting it out there. Because just like her voice, and the song, once it's out there, there's no taking it back.

"How come you never sang like that before?" I ask her carefully.

"I don't know. I guess I didn't want to scare the game away in the woods." She says back in a light almost joking tone, but I know better than to ignore the tightness around her eyes as she says this.

I shoot her a look, a plain disbelieving one. She grimaces.

" I guess it was too painful. My father was the one who taught me." She says after a second, looking down and away. I tucked this knowledge away, remembering that yes, I think I heard my father mention his crew mate sang better than the canary they took down into the mine with them everyday.

"He taught you to hunt too, and you still kept up with that." I tell her in challenge, wanting to dig a little deeper.

"That's different." She says defensively. And since she's on the defensive, I know I'm getting close to the truth.

"How?" I prod.

"Hunting was a necessity. I had to do it to survive. Singing, well it's not essential." She says slowly, as she tries to work through the words herself.

"Why'd you do it tonight then?" I ask and she frowns.

"Is that your second or third question?"

"No, just a clarification on the first one, since you're being so tight lipped about it."

She huffed in indignation but I just raised an eyebrow at her. We still haven't really answered the question and she knows it.

"Because Deen asked me, because I didn't feel like I could say no." She admits, and I think this over. I knew she didn't have a thing for the Sparrow kid. She really did treat him like a little brother, and he seemed happy to play the part. Although I think if he thought he had a chance he'd drop the brotherly crap in an instant.

"You've got saying 'no' down to an art. Come on." I tell her, knowing she's still holding back.

"Really, Gale, it's that simple. It's like when Prim was little, and she used to ask me to sing her back to sleep. I couldn't say no."

"Last time I checked Prim's grown practically, and the Sparrow kid is even older than your sister."

"I don't know what you want me to say. I just felt like I had to. I'm not planning on making it a habit."

"I'm not complaining. Not at all. I just want to know."

"Well, it's just what I said."

"Alright." I say in exasperation, because I know I've exhausted this line of questioning. If she doesn't want to give her full reason, well then, I guess I'd just have to add it to the pile of things that she refused to share.

"Okay. Second question. Did all that stuff really happen to him in the Capitol?" I ask and her eyebrows shoot up.

"How do you know about that?" She whispers in a shocked voice.

"After the birds. He told Rory and me. He said it wasn't the same as what happened to you and Peeta, but he said some pretty...terrifying things." I give her an edited version of what happened after she fell down and injured her head. It was kind of an unspoken thing between everyone in the group that we had agreed to not bring up things that would just embarrass her. Besides, the Deen kid had pretty much jumped on the grenade for Katniss and Baker boy to spare them, and I guess by extension me, any embarrassing questions.

"I don't know all that happened. And I wouldn't tell you if I did. All I know is, if it almost destroyed Deen, who survived the group home, and the Hunger Games, it must have been...well worse than those two things. The day he came back, it was like he had fallen apart. He was so drunk Peeta and I had to hose him off in the shower. He tried to fight us until he realized who it was, and that we were just trying to help him. He cried Gale, and it broke our hearts." She recounts with such emotion in her voice as she looks out into the dark that I feel a lump swell in my own throat.

Poor kid I guess. The confirmation that it was true, and that someone else from my district had been used like a disposable plaything made me angry.

"I don't think we can get far enough away from that place. Even if we could go halfway around the world, it would still be too close." I mutter as I hike up my collar against the chill of the night. She nods, quietly, her thoughts far away. And I think I know now what she was trying to say that night outside her kitchen, about her being a tree that grew its branches so birds could live in. That Sparrow kid was like her family in the same strange way Haymtich, and even Peeta was. Only she felt more responsible for him, more like his mother than his pretend lover, or protege.

So that was why she sang the song. I nodded to myself. Took two questions to get one proper answer, but that was Katniss for you.

"Alright, last question. What was that song I heard the birds singing that day in the clearing about?"

And I know just by the look on her face when I ask her that she's going to veto this one. And she's about to open her mouth to say the words, when her eyes catch on something behind me, and then she's squinting hard, trying to see something in the dark.

I whip around, grabbing my bow that's laying on the ground next to me. I scan in the direction she's looking, and I see it. About 100 or so feet away, in the sky, barely visible in the dark, is a black swarming, writhing cloud of something making its way toward us. And we both stand up a second later, and start sounding the alarm when we hear the noise it's making. Because whatever it is, has wings, lots of them.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

(Recommend Listening Track: Natural-Imagine Dragons)

The shout goes up inside the cave, picking up speed and urgency from Gale and I's initial call. Thankfully, not many people are deeply asleep. The fighters rush forward to grab their weapons, while Gale and I, who already have our bows and arrows at the ready since we were on watch, start lighting torches. Our eyes are tracking the distance the black cloud is traveling and the speed at which it flies.

Haymitch and Peeta are directing the remaining women and children to take as many supplies as they can and squeeze in through the narrow passage to the other cavern to put more distance between them and the battle that is about to ensue.

It will be a battle, without a question. As the black cloud drew closer, we could hear their inhuman genetically modified voices.

"Katnissss…"

"Peeta Mellark!"

"Haymitch Abernathy!"

"Hawthorne!"

"Sparrow! Sparrow!"

They said all of our names in hisses and monstrous screams and wails. Every person's name, down to little Posey. But thankfully, they didn't have our voices, or spill any secrets. So I knew then that they were dangerous, deadly, they were designed to kill instead of torment.

And as I stared at the writhing mass of wriggling black bodies and theathery wings, I grew deathly afraid.

Bat mutts. Larger than any bats I've ever seen, practically the size of dogs instead of small birds like normal.

There were so many of them, and there was something wrong with the shape of their wings. They were almost too misshapen to be able to fly and carry their body weight. They had long sharp claws on the ends of their hands, and long snouts that no doubt hid razor sharp teeth. If they greatly outnumbered us, and their teeth and claws were poisoned like last time, and they could fly and out maneuver us…

"We need to create a barrier!" Peeta's voice shouts, when the bats are about 40 feet away from the foot of the cave. And I know he's right, I had just started to think along those lines, but he arrived at the conclusion before I did.

Haymitch shouts for everyone to fall back behind the passageway, and to grab anything we can find to stuff in the passageway to use as a barricade. It's just in time.

The mutts descend with the sound of thunderous wings and inhumane shrieks of violence and hatred, and are only narrowly held off when we shove the extra tent fabric, and as many blankets and linens as we can to block their entry. But they start to rip and tear at the blockade immediately. And I know it will not be long before they will shred through this thin defence.

Gale is shouting for the women and children to retreat to the pool, get in the water, and hide for as long as they can, only coming up to breathe. It's a desperate strategy, but I hope at least if any of the mutts get inside the cavern they won't automatically be able to target the children.

Our warriors form a line in front of the opening, waiting with hearts pounding for the inevitable penetration of the enemy into the cave. Our only advantage will be that we have forced them to file into a small entrance, and they won't be able to overwhelm us as easily as in the open.

This is not something we are prepared for. The sound of their wings outside the passageway is like the rushing of hurricane winds, and I fight against the urge to cover my ears. I can see their long black claws now, as they work frantically to shred the fabric blocking their entrance. Peeta starts hacking at their strange misformed hands. They screech and scream in an ear splitting way that makes us drop our weapons.

And I realize how truly dangerous they are.

"Stuff your ears! With whatever you can find!" I shout to everyone, unsure if they can hear me and tear off a swatch of cloth from my shirt with my knife as I wince in pain from the ringing in my ears. But I stuff the cloth in my ear. I see Gale and Deen do the same, but Peeta is too near the screeching to hear me. And the bat mutt he attacked with his hatchet is almost halfway through the opening it's created, but Peeta's eyes are just clenched shut, as he holds his hands over his ears. He's paralyzed in pain.

I lift my bow and shoot the mutt right between the eyes, and its inhuman shriek dies out, and I rush over to his side, his eyes are opening now, and I grab his face and yell at him to stuff his ears as I hand him my hunting knife and point at his shirt.

He begins sawing off a piece of fabric frantically, while I take up his hatchet and kick the body of the dead bat mutt back into the entrance so that it can block the way of its cohorts. Then he's up and standing beside me, grabbing his hatchet out of my hand so I can take up my stance again with my bow. Haymtich shouts for us to put on our coats if we have them, and cover up as much exposed skin as we can. Luckily someone grabbed a big pile of jackets, and everyone pulls them on as we take turns hacking and shooting the first few mutts that are suicidally throwing themselves forward to tear at the blocked entrance. It's falling apart faster and faster and soon, they'll be swarming in.

Gale douses his arrows with some of our precious accelerants we use only sparingly to get fires started in wet weather. But at this point, if we don't beat these mutts before they overwhelm us, starting campfires will be the least of our problems.

He fires flaming arrows into the first group of three or so mutts that make it in before they can completely crawl through and take flight, but their shrieks are so monstrous, so horrible, we all double over, even though we have our ears stuffed.

I force my eyes open after only a second and am rewarded by the sight of the burning bodies of the mutts writhing as they die shrieking and clawing trying to get to us before they are consumed by the fire. I swallow down my pain and fear and take up my bow again, and start launching arrows into the group behind them that are climbing over the still smoking bodies of their brothers to try and reach us with their claws. I try to shoot as many as I can in the brain. Because their inhumane screams are almost as deadly as their claws, and are surely debilitating.

Half of the fighters are crouching, doubled over in pain, ears no doubt bleeding from the onslaught of sonic attack.

Gale takes up my strategy, and we try to shoot as many as we can before they can start screeching, and Peeta and Rye and Haymtich begin working on another strategy, namely to collapse the entrance to the passageway.

The men take the pickaxes and shovels and begin hacking away at the entrance, bit by bit to try and block the passageway, but more of the mutts have slipped through, now that our attention is divided. They tear around the cave on black wings and fly up and out of the range of Gale's and I's arrows with amazing speed. They begin to attack our backs, and our faces, and I hear men scream, but I force myself to stay focused on targeting them in the near darkness, as soon as they fly into range.

There are too many of them.

As soon as I take down one, another takes its place, and that's when I realize that we need to stop their entrance. I look over at Gale and he nods to me, knowing what I am thinking without a word. We cross the distance and fight back to back, him guarding the rear from the winged beasts, as I take up the main defensive position in front of the mouth of the passageway. The others have been trying to stanch their flow, but are hampered by their shrieks, and if Gale and I only try to clean up the ones that slip through, soon we'll be completely overrun.

So I fire, fast and precisely, and their bodies start piling up as we fight, and they have to claw and tear at the dead bodies of their fallen to squeeze through. But still, my efforts won't keep them at bay forever, we need to cut off their access. I take my eyes off the entrance for a second to assess the progress Peeta, and the men are making on collapsing the passageway and find them engaged in battle, not able to do more than defend themselves. It seems the mutts have figured out our strategy and are targeting us to keep us from trapping them on the other side of the cave.

I want to scream in frustration.

"Gale, they know!" I shout to him, and I feel the knowledge of what I have said run down his body as shiver, that mirrors my own as it travels down my spine in time with his.

"What can we do?" He asks, as he shoots, two, three more mutts in quick succession.

I keep firing as well, wracking my brain for the answer, but I don't know. I don't know at all.

And I hear it.

My sister's scream.

My body is almost torn in two, and I'm screaming her name. But before I can abandon my post Gale's iron grip is on my wrist, rooting me to the spot, and he's yelling for me to hold the line. But my hand is shaking, and I can barely string my bow.

Peeta is shouting for Rory and Deen to fall back to the women and children to make a stand, but Rory and Deen barely make any progress, their efforts are so hampered by the swarm of mutts trying to cut off their course.

Tears are streaking down my face now, and I know, I know, if I stop shooting that more people will die, but I can't focus, my sister's scream runs through me like a virus, infecting everything and making me sick. I'm screaming, shouting at the top of my lungs for Prim to run, to hide, as I shoot mutt after mutt. But it's not enough. There are too many.

Too many of them!

That's when it happens, one moment the mutts are streaming in, almost freely now, and the next moment, they are cut off by a hulking form in a brown coat.

I see Peeta's father's face contort in pain as he uses his own body to block the entrance of the mutts. I scream, a bloody, horrible sound, and Gale swears, people look over and Peeta is suddenly shouting too. But his father's eyes are wide, in fear and pain, and he shouts for all of us to close the passageway.

Gale shakes me when I try to run to the man's aid, hard enough to make my teeth rattle. And screams at the top of his lungs for me to KEEP SHOOTING!

And people are rushing back to the entrance, now that the flow of mutts has been cut off. I'm screaming, a painful broken angry wail that is almost as horrible as the mutt's shrieks, but I'm shooting, as fast as I can, and so is Gale, and soon we've killed enough of them to allow the men to weaken the large slab of rock they had been working on near the entrance. But Peeta is screaming, and trying to get to his father, only Haymtich is holding him back, and Haymitch has tears streaming down his face.

But I can tell, I can see, as I whirl around manically fighting off the last of the bat mutts with my knie and the tips of my bow, because I've run out of arrows, that Peeta's father is dead. His features are slack, his eyes are dull and lifeless.

And when they knock down the rock slab, it covers the entrance, and Peeta's father with it.

I feel time warble around me, after the rocks come down. The bats shriek in fury, and a few of them try to keep clawing at the entrance, but there's too much rock and stone. And the remaining bats are quickly dispatched by the rest of us. I move like a sleepwalker, cutting into the bats that try in vain to rip through my coat sleeves. And Gale, after he finishes killing a bat that tried to come at his eyes, shouts at me that he's going to go check on Prim, and I almost argue with him for a moment, because I think I need to see her with my own eyes, but then he just gestures with a look over behind me, and I turn to see Peeta collapsed on the floor, near the entrance to the now sealed passageway, beating against the ground with his fists, cursing and screaming, tears streaming down his clawed up face.

I gasp, and cover my mouth and run towards him.

I'm trying to hold his hands in mine, trying to stop him from hurting himself, but he's manic, he just strains against me, as I try to hold him back. Until Deen kneels down with me, and we both restrain him.

I feel cold inside all over, and I move to cradle Peeta as the sobs over take his body after the fury runs through him. It feels surreal, like it's happening to someone else, but I am all too aware of the shattered look in his eyes, the way he shakes as he cries. And I look over when I hear big great gulping sounds to my left. Rye, is on his knees as well, collapsed in a big heap and bawling like a baby.

That's when it hits me, and the tears start streaming down my face too. And I'm crying, silently, and rocking Peeta in my arms, trying not to sob.

My mother appears out of nowhere, and her first words are to reassure me that her and Prim are safe, and I can barely register the relief, there is such a bottomless pit of grief welling up in me for Peeta. My mother peers over at Peeta and I uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then I see her eyes do a scan of the survivors.

Then she gasps, and Haymitch has to catch her before her legs give out. And then it's her turn to cry. And I close my eyes against all the pain, and forget about everything, but Peeta's shaking shoulders, and his silent tears.

Time passes and I am only vaguely aware of things that happen.

People are treated for wounds by my sister and Laurel and Hazzelle.

Peeta eventually collapses in my arms after he cries himself out. I just hold him against me, fighting the exhaustion and refusing to set him down when requested.

Rye retreats to a secluded corridor, but we can all hear his pitiful bawling for hours. Laurel checks on him periodically, but she is needed to help the wounded.

My mother has seemingly slipped away into the darkness, and is unresponsive.

And I recall what Peeta had told me during our Games, about how his father had once wanted to marry her. And I wonder at the depth of feeling there, at what they used to be to each other for her to become catatonic as when my father died.

Prim and Hazzelle try to speak to her quietly, after a few hours, but she doesn't acknowledge them.

After a moment I sigh, and call for Deen.

"Help me pry his arms open." I tell him and gesture to Peeta's sleeping form that holds me in that caged hold that overtakes him when he's worried about me leaving him.

And I don't want to. Leave him, that is, because I know what's happening to him right now. I know exactly how he feels. But people need a healer right now, and my mother needs someone to drag her back. So we carefully pry Peeta away from me, and even though he fusses, he's too exhausted to wake up.

I make my way over to my mother and sit down beside her as she stares unseeingly at the pile of rubble that cover's Peeta's father's body.

"Mom." I say, and I can see her flinch. But she doesn't look at me. She just stares ahead.

"Mom, you promised." I tell her through clenched teeth, reminding her of that day in the stuffy room, when I yelled at her and made her vow that she would never do this again. The day of the reaping, the day I thought I would die shortly thereafter and leave both her and Prim alone in this world.

She blinks, and tears stream down her face, and she gasps painfully. And I know, I know she remembers.

"Mom, we need you." I say quietly, and she's shaking her head, but I'm grabbing her shoulders hard, and looking into her fragile blue eyes with all the soul weary energy and anger I can muster after a night like tonight.

"You can't tune out!" I shout, and she blinks up at me, such pain, such desperation in her eyes. She doesn't want to feel this, but hell, none of us do.

No one wants this.

"Make it count mom, what he did. We have to make it count." I tell her as I wrap my arms around her and hold her close to me, and she shudders, like a great force runs through her whole body, and she chokes on a sob, and it's a strangled, agonized sound that breaks my heart, but I hold on.

And she cries again, but not silently this time. She cries in little gasps of pain, as the tears come back and I hold her, and eventually Prim comes over and holds her too, and we grieve, maybe like we should have the first time. And I don't know how long it takes, but eventually she stops, and moves to stand up.

She wipes her cheeks, and her nose on the back of her sleeve, and gets up with Prim to go and check on the wounded. And I feel like someone has cut my strings. I sit down hard, after they leave, on the cold cave floor, and crawl back over to Peeta, and pull him back to me.

His eyelashes and cheeks are wet even in his sleep. But I don't have the strength to do more than register this fact before I am pulled under by exhaustion myself.

(Gale POV)

We're in a sorry state. Most everyone got scratched or bitten, and after a few hours the fevers set in. People get sick, and there's not nearly enough healthy or sane people to do any nursing. Mrs. Everdeen has periods where she just stops, as though frozen, in the middle of walking over to the next patient, or cutting strips of bandage. But she keeps dragging herself out of it, through sheer force of will.

Deen, Laurel, Haymitch, Peeta, and Vic get really bad fevers. Though pretty much all of us get sick the first day after the attack.

Mrs. Everdeen, Prim, Me, Katniss, and Rye are the only ones who don't get fevers or start puking their guts out. Rye looks after his sick, and pregnant wife with such a pained terrorized expression that I can't stand to look at him for more than a second.

Katniss divided her time between helping her mother and Prim, and nursing Peeta. She watches over him like a hawk, with something furious and protective in her eyes. I just try to give them a wide berth, and focus on taking care of my kin. My mother's fever breaks after the first night, but Vic gets fevers for two days straight. We're starting to get really worried for him, by the end of the second day. All the fever medicine is long gone, and Mrs. Everdeen has been treating people with snow, and herbs. But then he finally comes out of it, and sits up and starts eating again. And I sigh in relief, and that sound is big enough to fill the entire cavern.

Soon the others follow suit, and by the third day everyone is awake and alert again.

But there's not a lot of cause for celebration.

As soon as Peeta regains consciousness, he just turns away and buries his face in his sleeping bag, and cries silently for hours, while Katniss watches over him, with a bleak and haunted look on her face. And I feel bad for him in a way I never thought I would.

But all the crying is starting to get to me. The only one who doesn't cry after that first day is Katniss. But everyone else does, on and off like clockwork.

I realize then why she's been guarding him almost day and night. She knew he'd wake up and have to face it all over again, and she hadn't wanted him to be alone. She knew as well as I did what that specific kind of pain felt like. It was written there on her strained features, in her tired eyes. And I sighed as I watched her, because it seemed she'd never be done trying to hold it all together.

But then something happens that makes all the grief that came before feel like an introduction.

Laurel comes out of her fever last, and when she does Mrs. Everdeen and her husband kneel on the stone floor on either side of her, and in quiet tones, they tell her she lost the baby.

The wails that come out of that woman, I just can't face, not after all that. So I go to a back corridor, and sit down with my back against the rough rock wall and close my eyes.

I just try to close it all out. But the universe as usual, could give a damn about my wishes.

Katniss

By the fourth day, we're running low on food and even though everyone would just like to wallow and sit for a week, we can't. We get up, and start to clear the rubble away from the entrance. Rye takes Peeta over to the secluded corridor which houses the pool so that neither of them have to be there for when their father's body is uncovered.

Everyone is weak, and barely coming out of sickness, but we get the passageway cleared in an hour and a half with the shovels and pickaxes. Gale and his brothers wrap Peeta's father in a few almost shredded blankets, and take it outside. And then we all work to remove the dead bodies of the batt mutts.

It is dirty, horrible work, and after even this little bit of exercise most people are exhausted. So Gale and Rory go out hunting, hoping to bring back food to give people the energy they need to work and travel. I busy myself with whatever has to be done. But soon Rye and Deen ask for my help with Peeta.

I follow them to the room with the pool, and find him just blank.

It's like someone has reached inside of him, and emptied Peeta out. He sits unresponsive in the pool, just staring ahead.

This frightens me.

"What happened?" I turn to look at Rye, and he looks over at me watery eyed.

"He started talking about dad, about how he had been trying to protect everyone. Then he said he should never have asked us to come, he said he got our father, and my child killed. I tried to reason with him, I tried to talk him out of it. But he just sat down, like someone pushed him hard, to the floor, and he wouldn't get up. He won't listen to a word I say. I swear, I don't blame him. I swear. Him and Laurel, they're all I have left. I don't blame him, it's not his fault." Rye says, stammering over and over, and I just nod and squeeze his shoulder.

I know this part of grief too. I sigh.

"Rye, Deen, you all can go. I'll call you if I need you. But...don't let anybody come back here." I tell them quietly, and though they seem a little surprised and confused, they don't ask any questions. They just depart silently.

I make my way over to Peeta sitting in the pool in just his undershorts. I take off my coat, and pull out the bottle of shampoo from its inner pocket. I roll up my pant legs, and I go to sit behind him.

Slowly, gently, use a soft piece of bandage cloth I had stuffed in my pant pocket earlier to wash his skin. He doesn't respond, or even acknowledge I'm there. But I just continued, knowing that what he needed now was just some quiet comfort.

I washed his shoulders, careful to not put too much soap on his still healing scratches. His body was so familiar, my hands traced him easily, but he just sat there as I touched him and tried to soothe him.

"Peeta." I finally said, after twenty minutes. And he moved a little, but only to hang his head and curl his shoulders inward. I sighed.

Somehow I knew that words wouldn't help right now. Peeta had all the words at his disposal. He always had. Maybe that was the problem, maybe he had too many words swirling around in his head and he needed to tune them out.

So I moved away but only for a second, to remove my shirt and pants. And when I slipped back into the pool, I waded into the water until I was standing in front of him. He looked right through me in a way the regular Peeta never would have. It made me a little angry, because grief, even grief this big, shouldn't be able to take something that belonged so uniquely to him.

So when I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, it was with determination and great command of will. And I brought him down to my lips and kissed him, slowly, but firmly, over and over.

I kissed him until he had to come up for air, and then after he took a breath, I went back to kissing him. I kissed him until I could feel his heart start to beat hard again. It took a long time, and it was hard, because the whole time I wanted to cry. Because I could feel how very far away he was, and I was fighting as hard as I could to reach him.

When he tried to pull away, I didn't let him, and we struggled, for a good while. And when he broke away from me angrily, I just crushed myself against him until there wasn't any space left between our bodies. And I wrangled him, because I knew he needed a lifeline.

He didn't want one. He wanted to be left adrift in this sea of pain, but he needed someone to reach out and pull him back. And I was the only person he knew who could really understand how he felt right at this moment. I was also the only one who could reach this far into him.

So when I kissed him again, I let my hands caress every inch of him as I held him to me with my lips on his. And he trembled, and he held onto me just as much as he tried to push me away. But eventually, he stopped fighting the lifeline that I was holding out to him. He just let me wrap him up.

Because in the midst of all this grief and sorrow, he needed just a moment of peace. Just one. One chance. He needed someone to pick him up.

Like he did for me with the bread in the rain. I threw myself out to him, like those burned loaves of bread, like an offering. I made him feel me, and everything that was ours, still ours despite the darkness. And like that morning when he pulled me up from under the desk, and the night when he pulled me up from the pavement of the Capitol streets, I felt him come alive like I had come alive. Except this time our places were reversed. He needed me to save him from himself. And I did. With all my heart, I reached down to lift him up.

(Peeta POV)

I didn't want to feel. I just wanted to be left alone. But she wouldn't leave me, she kept touching me, and kissing me, and dragging me to her. My mind wasn't in it, my heart wasn't in it. I knew, distantly, that that was strange for me. But I was so far removed from it all, that I didn't stop to contemplate it. I just tried to wait her out. But she was stubborn. More stubborn than I'd ever seen her. She just kept at it, kissing and touching me, until my body started to remember her, even if the rest of me was a million miles away.

And I fought inside of myself against wanting to feel and not wanting to feel. And she didn't take off her clothes or my clothes, but she kept kissing me, and touching me everywhere until I was breathing hard and my mind became aware of the smell of her lemon shampoo all around me, and her wet skin pressed against me.

And my hands remembered how to hold her, and my lips remembered how to kiss her. And it was like she was flipping switches one by one to try and restart me.

She cried when I kissed her back as hard as she had been kissing me. And that made me cry. And then we were holding each other tighter, shaking and kissing and touching like our lives depended on it.

And maybe they did.

But I let her find me. I could feel her dive deep, to grab hold of me. And when she straddled my lap, and moved against me in time to the way we kissed, with her underwear still on, I felt like I took a breath for the first time in four days. And sure, our bodies were responding, and my blood was racing, and I was as hard as I had ever been for her, but there was something else. It was all those things and more.

It was her giving me something that only she could.

It was the way kissed me, like she meant every single one.

So when she pulled my shorts down, and pushed her underwear aside, I looked into her eyes and saw such a fierce devotion in them that I had never imagined before. And when she sank down onto me, we both gasped, because it felt powerful, and undeniable, and right.

And our bodies remembered what to do, and I felt every second come alive around us. And I opened my eyes and watched her as she made love to me. My eyes took it all in, as my body felt every sensation, and it was like one of those moments people tell you about, when the whole world falls away.

Her lips, soft as petals, pressed against mine delicately, as we moved together in time with each other. Her eyes were closed, and her head was tilted back slightly, when she broke the kiss, needing to breathe. I moved my hands down over her skin, and fitted them on her waist so I could help her on the downstroke, and I felt it immediately. Her body must have wanted me, as bad as I had wanted her over this short period of time we had been apart, because she started to climax, so easily, so strongly. And I felt the rush of pleasure seep into my skin as she gasped quietly, as she rose and fell over me.

And then I needed to come inside her, to bury myself deep and take refuge from everything that had almost drowned me.

So I picked her up, without disconnecting our bodies, and waded through the water, as I walked along the edge of the pool. I pressed her back against a nearby smooth surfaced rock formation. She wrapped her legs around my hips and hooked her hands under my arms and around the back of my shoulders for more leverage. So that she could help me get deeper. And when I moved against her it was more powerful, and she bit down on her lip, but a moan escaped her anyway, I followed the rhythm of her body. Then I felt her clenching me again, as another climax took her. And I let go. Until I was empty, and she was full. And it was more than physical, and more than the things our bodies had done. It was like our souls felt clean and weightless when it was over.

After I removed myself from her carefully we slid down back into the pool and held each other. She kissed me softly and I kissed her back. We stayed like that for a while. Just breathing and leaning against each other.

And then she looked up at me with those grey eyes, and I swear it was like I was seeing her for the first time.

And I fell all over again, hard, harder than before.

She just ran her hands through my hair as she combed it back and spoke to me quietly.

"Hey there." She said as she looked into my eyes.

"Hey." I replied, acutely aware of how we had seemed to switch places, and she was the one dragging me out from under an imaginary desk.

"Ready to come out, or do you need another minute?"

Oh, she definitely knew. But I just smiled.

"Ready." I told her, and then she helped me get up, and handed me a towel so we can both start getting dressed.

Chapter Text

(Peeta POV)

When we walk back into the smaller, first cavern, she doesn't let go of my hand. And I'm beyond trying to dissect it. Beyond trying to figure it out. I just know I'm infinitely glad, because I need it. The shift that takes place when I realize that the world has unpaused, and reality has set in again, it feels like being crushed within an inch of my life. And the only thing holding back this enormous weight from killing me, is her. Only her.

Just her. Steady, unwavering. Just like in the arena. Unflinching in the face of death, horror, and now us.

Because yes, finally, I know that despite whatever they tried to do to us, the infinite ways they tried to bind us, pervert us, and break us apart, there is a part of her, much bigger than I ever dared to imagine or dream, that belongs to me.

And I, to her.

It was there in the pool, like it was the night before the wedding that wasn't real.

It was there. And I could feel it, and she could feel it, and now there was no denying it after it had happened a second time. No way to play it off as a fluke, or take it back under the pretense of blackmail, or threats, or anything other than what we had become to each other. We were far away from the cameras, and even though we were still in danger we were in no way obligated to even hold hands much less do what we did in the pool.

She could have left me there. She could have sat and tried talking to me. She could have done any number of different things. And her role as my ally, as my friend would have been fulfilled. But she hadn't. She had chosen.

And however it happened, whenever it happened, (because I still wasn't sure when it had happened for her, when she decided,) it was more real than ever before. That was not a friend comforting me in that pool. That was not even a lover, past or current, in the waters with me. But something more. Something natural and obvious. Something powerful and true.

And I remembered her words that night, "Your lips are what I want, what I need, more than need, so much more…"

And I wondered how I had let that get so twisted in my mind. How had I second guessed it?

And I realized, maybe I was partly to blame for the way things had been between us since our crazy, horrible, and alternatively amazing fake wedding.

I was the one who pulled away first. To protect myself yes, but still, when the going got tough, I flinched first.

At the wedding, and during the trip whenever her and Gale had to be alone. She had been pissed off that I had tried to save her at the river. Tried to give up, as she called it. I thought I was bowing out as gracefully as I could manage, but apparently she didn't take it the same.

Twice. During the wedding when I backed away from her emotionally, and then when I took off my glove at the river. Both times, in different ways. And I didn't regret trying to save her life at the river, but the first one, well maybe after that one perfect night we had together she hadn't wanted me to pull away. I probably must have hurt, or at the very least greatly confused her.

So, maybe now I could understand her reaction at me almost dying a little better. Her desperation, her fury. Her insistence that we had made a promise to face the end together.

It was dizzying, these revelations, along with everything else that was going on. But she was there, by my side, where it seemed she had finally decided to stay.

She sits me down, almost like a child, and I want to protest but she just gives me a fierce look so I obey, and alternatively receive her offers of water, and my wet stone so I could smooth out the knicks in my hatchet blade. People have been shooting us curious little glances, since we rejoined the group, looking out of the corners of their eyes in our direction. And I know I should probably be embarrassed, because maybe it is painfully apparent what we were up to, alone for so long a time. I know we weren't loud or anything, but surely most of the adults can put two and two together. But I'm so tired, so past worrying about decorum, or whatever the hell I should be worrying about, that I just can't find the urge to care.

At least not until Rory and Gale rejoin the group. Then I find the energy to care very much, even if it is only about what form his retribution will take. And even though there's a flurry of movement and bustling to skin the precious game they found and brought back for all the remaining people, I know that if everyone else can tell, he certainly will be able to as well.

But she doesn't scurry away from me. Neither does she linger. She just sets about helping and making arrangements for lunch, and preparations for the oncoming journey. But it's still there.

In the way she bends over the badly torn fabric of the tents with a needle and thread to help try and patch up the holes. It's there in the way she stirs the cooking pot. And it's there in her eyes when he looks at her, as she ladles out his serving. It's a quick look, just a glance really, between the two of them. Quick, but clear.

They have always been able to communicate without words. Something I'd once envied. Now I don't know if I do. It's like a small light goes out in his eyes. But he doesn't say anything, just takes his bowl and joins the circle as everyone eats. And I'm kind of astounded. I'm in awe really. I had expected righteous fury. I had expected...I don't know, something more than that.

But when I look over at him, I don't see hatred. I don't even see much jealousy. It's more like he had been waiting, and finally, finally he knew. There's almost a sense of relief in his features, in the way he eats. And there's relief in the set of her shoulders too. And even though after everything that has happened, and everything I've lost in the past few days I have no real right to feel any sort of relief right now, I do. So I eat my food, and I try to let the things I've lost stand not in contrast, but in balance and harmony even, with what I finally realized I'd gained long before this day.

But then they start talking about burial arrangements, and the relief slips through my fingers. I am not ready for this part. But she just squares her shoulders and takes a deep breath as she sits beside me, and I realize I have to keep going. This is what it means to let her love me. That I didn't get to give up. That she expects me to fight through every ounce of pain, and not take the easy way out. She'd keep me alive, and we'd keep each other.

"The ground's too cold to dig, but maybe...we could build a cairn. I saw rocks, lots of loose ones, big and small on the left side of the mountain, maybe just a half a mile from the cave." Katniss says seriously, and Rye and I stare at each other. It seems to be the only feasible solution.

Even though I wish we could bury our father, and the word still pierces me through like a knife when I think of it, back in District 12, we are at the mercy of necessity here. We have lost too much time to illness. Time that Snow and the Capitol have no doubt been putting to good use. The longer we linger, the worse it will be for us when we start traveling again. So I take a deep breath and agree, and then I force myself to get up so we can make the trek, and so I can say goodbye to the man who gave his life, gave everything, so that I and all our companions could live to see tomorrow.

(Katniss POV)

Peeta and Rye carry their father's body between them. Gale and I lead them to the spot with the rocks, and it's a small gorge, it's stream having dissipated in the winter. Most likely it only filled when there was an overabundance of rain in the springtime. The rock walls on either side make it feel solem and private. The wind whistles through the open space, and I remind myself to be strong. I need to be here for Peeta, for my mother, for Rye and Laurel, for whoever else needs strength. So I steel myself against what must happen next.

Everyone decided to come, the whole group when they heard where we were going. Of course they did. We all owed Mr. Mellark our lives. Another debt I was sure I'd never repay.

I remember seeing him at that moment. A large blond middle-aged man in a brown coat, determined, terrified, agonized, but unmoveable. It reminded me of Peeta. So much of Peeta, on so many different occasions. On the riverbank where I found him half dead, when he untied the turniquiet, when he lifted the berries to his lips, and so many more times since then.

I had wondered before we set out on this journey how a boy who grew up in such a distant and cold family could have turned out so warm and loving. Again I had been ashamed to find out just how wrong I was in my assumptions of Peeta, and where he came from. Wrong, so very wrong.

As we all set about gathering stones, I thought of the man's kindness. The cookies he had brought to me the day I volunteered and Peeta was Reaped. He most likely thought I would have to try and kill his son, but instead of hatred he had felt pity for me. Sympathy, and kindness. That was Peeta, through and through, but I guess maybe since he was his father's son it was the other way around. Now I would never know just how much Peeta took after him. The time I could have spent getting to know Peeta's family I wasted, caught up in my own self centered need to distance myself from them because they represented a design for my life I resented. I hadn't wanted to get to know my future in-laws during the past two years.

And now, I never would.

The thought brings me such regret, such shame, I fight for a moment to compose myself before picking up a large stone. But I tell myself to breathe, and command my body to function like I'm not barely hanging on by a thread here. For Peeta. Who was now the sole focus of my efforts, the fixed point around which I made my stand.

Gale had understood, long before I confirmed his questioning gaze today. And after being in the pool with Peeta I had understood as well, just what Gale and I had been figuring out during this trip. The past few nights, the questions, the last gasps at flirtation, it was a chance to lay it to rest. For both of us. He had told me in so many words that he had figured it out when Peeta had fallen into the river.

He had seen the look on my face and without me having to say a word he had known. Since then it had just been one long drawn out moment between us to see who would let go first. That's why I had been so angry at him, why I had refused to speak to him after. I hated the fact that he knew me better than I knew myself. That he pointed it out and left me with it, unable to refute it, unable to justify it.

By all rights Peeta and I shouldn't belong to each other. If all things had been fair Gale and I would have fallen in love under the trees one day, and who knows if it would have been for a moment or if it would have been forever, but we would have had our chance.

But we had missed it. They had taken it like he always said. And there was no getting it back.

And even if he had the capacity to open up, and love the girl who came back from the Games, I hadn't had the same capacity. A different me had come back and needed different things from a partner, from a lover. And I had raged against it, and fought it until I couldn't fight it anymore. But after all that had happened recently it seemed too selfish to keep lying to myself, and to the people I loved.

I had realized it when my mother sat crying for a dead man she had barely said two words to throughout this entire trip. All those emotions, all that caring, she had just stored it up and shut it away. And for what? Till it was past being of any use to her or him. Maybe she didn't love him the way she loved my father. Maybe she only cared about him, deeply, as a friend. But she never told him. There had been such regret in the way she cried. And I had seen myself in her, and her in me, and I had realized it was time, past time, to just let it out.

A current of relief had run through all three of us, Gale, Peeta, and I, at almost the exact same moment. After I handed Gale his bowl. And afterwards, things had just moved forward as they had to. Because we all had to move forward, and keep going. And if today was about pain, then it was better to get the pain all out at once.

So when the last stone had been placed atop Mr. Mellark's body, I let some of the tears fall. One for Peeta, one for Rye, one for Laurel, one for my mother, one for Gale, and one for me. Six, exactly, and no more. I stood next to Peeta and held his hand tightly in mine. He stared at the mound of stones, silently. And then cleared his throat to speak.

"My father," He had to pause to clear his throat again as his voice tightened with tears, "my father, was giving. He was kind. He was peaceful, almost to a fault. He was the only one-" He gasps a little, and I squeeze his hand, as the tears are coming down his face now, freely, "who ever really lo-" and he breaks off, unable to keep speaking. And I close my eyes, because it hurts, this pain. Now that I consciously and willingly share a space in his heart, his pain cuts through me almost as deeply as my own. And I wonder again how people can stand it, this kind of need. It still catches me unprepared at times, but I cannot go back anymore.

Rye is crying too, and I know that someone will need to speak, need to say something. Except I'm terrible at saying something, and I never even bothered to get to know the man who gave his life so willingly for me, and everyone I love. I am not worthy, but as I look around at the faces of the people here I know I am the only one left willing or able. I rack my brain for words, but they slip through my fingers. That's no good, I don't have enough of them anyways.

I'm in danger of beginning to cry, when Deen catches my eye. He mouths one word.

Sing.

And it frustrates me, but it also strikes me as the only other option. So I run through the songs I can remember off the top of my head that could be appropriate for this moment. The meadow song comes to mind, but I don't think I could sing it at two funerals. My pain over Rue's death is still almost as fresh as the day it happened even two years later. I don't know if it will ever fade. But there is another, a different kind of farewell. An old song that is used for weddings, funerals, and all manner of partings.

(The Parting Glass-Ed Sheeran/Lauren Paley cover)

Of all the money that e'er I had

I spent it in good company

And of all the harm that e'er I've done

Alas it was to none but me

And all I've done for want of wit

To memory now I can't recall

So fill to me the parting glass

Goodnight and joy be with you all

Of all the comrades that e'er I had

They are sorry for my going away

And all the sweethearts that e'er I had

They would wish me one more day to stay

But since it calls unto my lot

That I should rise and you should not

I'll gently rise and I'll softly call

Goodnight and joy be with you all

A man may drink and not be drunk

A man may fight and not be slain

A man may court a pretty girl

And perhaps be welcomed back again

But since it has so ordered been

By a time to rise and a time to fall

Come fill to me the parting glass

Good night and joy be with you all

Come fill to me the parting glass

Good night and joy be with you all

Somewhere in the middle people start singing along. Our voices bounce off the high walls, making it sound like a real choir, rather than a few scraggly survivors singing a few lines. It's a widely known song, heard on poker night down at the Hob, and on the night before a groom gets wed, but I've also heard it at funerals. Someone, another miner, had sung a few bars at the group funeral when my father and all the other miners he died with were buried. It hurt to sing it, but it was like opening up the windows in a shut up dark room. Uncomfortable, but necessary. And by the time we get to the last line, almost everyone is singing, or humming the tune if they don't know the words. And when we finish, Haymitch of all people takes out a flask that I have not seen in a long time, and unscrews the top and pours a stream of clear liquid out for the earth. I hadn't even known he had brought spirits with him on this trip. He must have been guarding them closer than his life.

But he had emptied the flask, and his face was tight but his eyes were clear. And I nodded over at him, and he nodded over at me, proud again and I felt just a tiny bit better. Peeta looks down at me with such gratitude, it makes my eyes water. And then we're all swinging out packs onto our backs, and buttoning up our coats, because now that this is done, we must carry on.

We head northwest, hoping to get back on track. We need to make good time if we'll make the next camping spot on the map. Luckily we're only 9 miles out. And unless it starts to snow unexpectedly before dark, we should be able to make it. I walk beside Peeta, and even though I feel him a little heavy on my mind and heart, I also feel him lighter than before we left the cave.

"This is the sharpest part, the first few weeks." I tell him quietly, and he looks over at me a little confused for a moment and then he sees the look I give him and his eyes water a little but he blinks and nods. I sigh. I don't know if I'm making it better or worse talking about it, but it just feels like I should say something, since I have experience and he is obviously still a little unbalanced after the funeral.

"How...how long does it take…?" He asks quietly, looking straight ahead at the path, but I can hear the desperation in his voice.

"Peeta, even after all this time, it has never gone away for me. I'm sorry." I tell him when I see his expression sink in disappointment. I take a deep breath.

"But it does become, well, not easier exactly, just more familiar. You'll learn to anticipate it, to expect it. And one day it will just be like an old wound, sharp and achy, but familiar. You build up scar tissue over time, and eventually, well, you just live with it." I tell him and he looks over at me, seeming to absorb my words wholly. Then he nods, and exhales. He reaches out and takes my hand, and I let him. We walk hand in hand, and I only withdraw to pull out my bow if I want to take a shot at an animal. The miles pass, and in the quiet we acquaint ourselves with the new openness. There's something oddly freeing about walking beside him, as we scan the forest together and guard the rear hand in hand more often than not.

We reach the next spot and surprisingly it is an abandoned old ruin. It must have been a factory, or a school or some other equally large place, because its concrete foundation is large and mostly intact. Its walls are crumbling and there is evidence of fire and destruction that looks old, very old. But it's got a few solid corners that should keep most of the wind off our badly patched tents. And our group spreads out, finding the best nooks and crannies to tuck into, but not so far apart that we wouldn't be able to hear each other if someone raised the alarm. A thin flurry of snowflakes is making its descent as we all get ready to turn down or take up watches.

When they assign watches Peeta and I are assigned together without question. I guess nobody needs it spelled out. Deen gives me a small smile, and I look away, not wanting to appear enthused at this. Peeta just huffs out a little sigh of relief. And we sit side by side, at the entrance of the structure, in the entryway for our watch. And we don't need to speak, or say anything at all. But after an hour or so he looks over at me.

(Listening Track: I Love You- The Hound + The Fox)

"Thank you, for the song." He tells me quietly. His eyes are clear, and he doesn't seem in danger of crying, so I sigh in relief.

"You're welcome." I tell him, a little stiffly, because I don't know how to brush off what I did without seeming callous or rude. But I don't deserve the credit or the praise.

"I know I can't really feel it right now, the whole of it, because of everything going on, but I just wanted to let you know, I do feel it Katniss." He tells me, his eyes locked with mine. And I know what he's talking about. I gulped a little, because I hoped he did know, I wanted him to know, I just wasn't sure if I wanted to discuss it.

"It's more than happiness. That seems too fragile, for what this is. Happiness couldn't stand up under the weight of everything that's happened. It's more than that. Much more. I know, and I want you to know, that I understand." He says seriously, as he holds my hand. And I feel my heart expand.

He's beautiful again in the shadow of the archway. There's love in his eyes for me, and so much gratitude, and so much blue, like an ocean of blue. It cracks me open, and I don't flinch.

"Good." I tell him seriously, and I turn to lean my head against his shoulder. He sighs a little, as we look out into the night, aware of every shadow, every sound, but also aware of each other. And his soft breath as it steams the night air is like a kiss sent among falling snowflakes for me. And my fingers that stroke the arrow notched against the string of my bow are like a caress meant for his skin. And we just lean on each other as we keep watch against the dangers in the dark. And it feels as if we've always done this. Like we've been here over and over again. It feels like this is who we are, and that it is finally, blessedly enough for us to be together this way.

So when our shift ends, and Rye and Deen take over for us, I don't hesitate to follow Peeta back to his sleeping bag rolled out against a fragile crumbling corner that has just enough tree coverage to keep most of the snow away. And I don't hesitate to crawl into the sleeping bag with him to just sleep beside him. We've been here before too.

In the first cave during our Games, sick and afraid. On the train during our victory tour, heartbroken and terrified. In the tribute center as mentors. In his house, in his bed. In a cave again but a different one, when I held him after his father died.

Here we are, in each other's arms once more.

In grief, in sickness, in pain, we have been here. And now we are here again and I am not afraid.

I kiss him goodnight, and he whispers he loves me. I smile against his lips, and fall asleep.

(Gale POV)

"I don't get it." Rory tells me, an hour and a half after we start our shift. And I fight the urge to say something angry, or just get up and walk away.

"And what makes you think I have all the answers?" I finally say, as I blow out a frustrated breath. I don't really want to talk about this, but ever since he heard the birds talking that day, I've had to answer some of his questions if only to prevent him from disrupting the group dynamic again.

"You know her, better than anyone. The way you hunt, and fight together..." Rory continues and I want to kick him. Because I know all these things. And so does she. And none of it matters. His father dying was the last push she needed. And it didn't matter I guess that she hadn't really had a choice. She couldn't help it. She loved him.

"Sometimes people just change." I tell my little brother, hoping that in this he would at least have the decency to leave it.

"After the river I was so sure…" He murmurs quietly as he looks out onto the night. And I scowl. I knew he was just too loyal, too wholly devoted, to not be offended on my behalf.

"That's when I knew too." I tell him with a sigh.

"That she loved you?" He asks and I nod, but then I go on.

"Yeah, only, when I saw her face when he started breathing, I realized it would never be enough." And with these words he seems more confused.

"But she was pissed." He replies, his dark eyebrows drawn down in uncomprehension. So I say the next part slowly, so he'll get it.

"Yeah. That's how you measure it. And she was monumentally more pissed at him." I tell him, and finally a look of realization crosses his face.

"I still think you're better for her." He mutters in a petulant manner and I smile. So maybe his indignation on my behalf isn't completely unappreciated.

"Last time I checked, votes weren't being taken into account." I tell him, part sarcastically, part regretfully.

"Geez." He says and sighs finally. "What are you going to do now?" He asks, and of all the questions this is the one I want to answer the least. Because I don't really have an answer for it.

"Whatever I need to do. We've got two more days of traveling left." I tell him sternly. We've got a mission to complete. Personal crap has no business getting in the way of that.

"You gonna be ok?" He asks after a beat, in a slightly worried tone. And I try to dig up an unconcerned attitude, but don't quite pull it off. It still hurts too fucking much.

"It'll pass." I tell him after a second, because it's the only thing I can say.

"Yeah." His reply is doubtful. But there's nothing else for it. I have to let it pass. Nothing more I can do.

Chapter Text

(Deen POV)

Most of us wake before the sun. We've been freezing our asses off all night. Trying to huddle in our barely usable tents as it snowed until almost morning. Well maybe not everyone froze their asses off. My mentors look particularly cozy wrapped together in a single sleeping bag. I'd say something sarcastic or suggestive to tease them, but after all the death and sadness that's happened lately I don't think anyone would find it very funny. So I just resolved to be quietly pleased about the development.

I can tell though from the way Haymitch looks over at them that he's pleased too. I guess there was never any doubt who's corner he was in, but still I hadn't expected for it to be apparent just how invested he was in the outcome. I've noticed other people too, smiling at them when they aren't looking. Katniss's little sister, Prim for instance. Also Peeta's brother and his wife, who seems paler and more withdrawn lately, spared them a small smile when she looked back and saw them holding hands periodically as they guarded the flank on our way over here yesterday. Even Katniss's own mother had caught sight of them wrapped up together in the morning, and after shaking her head for a moment, just smirked to one side as if both amused and annoyed by the development.

But at this point what, it wasn't a matter of national importance who's sleeping bag Katniss Everdeen shared.

We had almost made it to District 13. Two more days of traveling, and by mid morning on the second day we'd be there according to Haymitch and Gale's calculations. So we all got a move on after scarfing down a quick breakfast. The forest was cold and quiet, and slightly misty. I tried to walk quietly as Katniss had taught me, but it was hard to see the lay of the forest floor with so much mist covering the ground. And it only got thicker the farther north we traveled, until finally I felt a simultaneous unspoken collective shudder run through me and Haymitch next to me, and I looked back to the flank to see it in both Katniss and Peeta's eyes.

She let out a short two note sound, like a bird call with a wooden whistle she pulled out of her coat pocket, and Gale and Rory who were on point suddenly stopped. He looked back at her, his face became worried at whatever he saw there. She mouthed something almost silently to Peeta and both of them came up from the rear to speak in conference with the rest of us.

"Are you sure?" Gale asks as he stares at her, and then Haymitch and me and Peeta, lastly.

We all nod. This fog is not natural. It has a funny feel to it, like it covers the ground too perfectly. It's too crisp at the edges, like a carpet instead of a smokey soup. Gale swears, turning his head to the side, and then pulls out the map. He scans it, and Haymitch leans over the map too, squinting. But I can see from even this distance that it's pointless. There are jagged steep mountain ranges to our left, and more frozen rivers on our right. We're caught between two dangerous elements. The rivers were too treacherous to cross again. And we can't afford to take another detour in the mountains. The last mutt encounter had almost killed everyone, even with the advantage of holding a defensible position. If we delayed any longer they'd zero in on us and drag us all back to be tortured and executed at their pleasure. If it came down to it we'd all rather die trying to reach freedom than in a Capitol cell after they had broken us beyond repair.

"We have to keep going." Katniss says, matter of factly in that irrefutable no bullshit way that had made me like her immediately when we first met.

And we all look at each other. We don't have to say it out loud, it's true. We have no other option at this point.

"Alright, but let's proceed with caution. Hawthorne, we'll be following your steps, exactly. This fog is covering the ground like they've got something special planned. You've got the lightest, surest step, let's go as quick as we can, but single file." Haymitch orders, and we all nod and pass on the word. The group rearranges itself, and we head out again. It's slower, since we all have to go single fine, but surprisingly, not as slow as I feared. The oldest Hawthorne actually takes all the guesswork out of it, and chooses the flattest, easiest, and safest path and we all just follow obediently. We get another three miles before we hear it.

Growls.

Far off, but definitely menacing and not something a normal animal could produce. I turned to see Haymitch sweating, despite the cold weather, and Gale considerably picked up the pace. We went faster and faster, as fast as we could, until people started having trouble following his steps and he had to slow down, and we cleared another mile before I saw them.

Long, lean, and full of deadly poise and agility, running alongside the outermost edges of our group's line of sight barely visible in the dense fog. A few frightened cries rang up, but at the same time arrows took flight. They shot through the air and fog with only a slight rushing sound as they sank into their target.

A guttural cat cry rang through the forest, bouncing off trees and reverberating like a ricocheting bullet in my chest. I hadn't been sure before, at least I hadn't wanted to be sure, but now I was.

Mountain lions. They had released giant cats to hunt us down.

But Katniss had hit one, the one that got too close to our right flank. But now the others were growling and pressing in against us. But Hawthorne just kept running, and so did we, and he and Katniss fired arrows anytime they got too close.

The lion mutts were sandy colored, but as they continued to try and press closer to us I could see their eyes were unnatural colors, like lime green, purple, and blood red. They seemed to be trying to throw us off course, to herd us somewhere. But Hawthrone kept adjusting course, everytime they tried to shift our direction he would compensate. And I found myself more than a little impressed with his command of presence, and his skills. He didn't have time to pull out the map, he barely had time to think but he kept us all moving.

Until finally the cats got tired of playing with us. I didn't know if they were programmed to try and bring us in unharmed if they could, like they were supposed to intimidate us and lead us into a trap of peacekeepers or something like that, but we all knew the moment they abandoned their initial strategy.

A cat that had closed in on the right middle side, right in front of me surged forward and snaked out a paw quicker than lightning. It's giant claws grazed the back of Gale's littlest brother's calf and he screamed, and went down. At almost the exact same moment, Katniss's arrow shot out from behind us and I saw it catch the mutt in the back of the thigh. But the damn beast just growled and retreated out of our line of sight. I didn't even blink. I scooped the kid up and shouted for everyone to keep running. Vic, I think was his name, was huffing and trying not to cry as I carried him, half thrown over my back like a sack of potatoes, but Gale after looking back for only a split second and seeing I had his brother, had turned around and resumed his fast pace. Though his eyes had been wide and full of fear.

It was the first time I think I'd ever seen him afraid.

And I could feel it, the fear that started to permeate the air around us. And I wished there was some way to calm everyone. The smell of fear would only excite the mutts more. But it was unavoidable. These mutts were bigger than even the wolves, although maybe they were the same height, they were longer than Gale was tall, and broader than Peeta's giant brother Rory. And now I could see there were three of them. Katniss had already shot two of them, but they had shrugged off her arrows like they were nothing. Soon, very soon, they would force a confrontation. So I looked over at Vic's mother, who was three people behind me, and caught her eye.

"When the time comes, I'll need you to take him so I can help fight." I tell her in a sorrowful manner. But there's only steel in her eyes, and she doesn't even flinch, just nods confidently and I turn back around.

'Haymitch?" Peeta's voice calls out from the back, and my mentor turns around to look at his first two victors for a split second.

"You still got that flare?" Peeta calls out from the back, and I gasp.

What the hell? Haymitch had been holding back on us? Damn. That could have really come in handy during the last fight. But after a second I realize that maybe Haymtich had been saving it, saving it for something really dire.

"Yeah!" He calls back to Peeta, and I just huff a little harder as I run.

"Got anymore liquor or accelerant?" Peeta calls out and Haymitch's eyes go wide as he seems to run over the supplies in his mind.

"No liquor, but we've got some acceperant, and a little blasting powder!" Haymitch calls back.

And I feel my shoulders tense in anticipation.

We all know, the four of us, without a doubt, that it will happen very soon. Somethings you just pick up after having to fight for your life in a pageant to the death.

And the mutts must not like us talking because the next one darts in and makes a swipe not for Haymitches's calf, but his entire back, and I'm just barely fast enough to pull him out of the way. He looks over with a startled 'thank you' in his eyes, and I just keep running. My heart is just about beating out of my chest, and not because of the exercise.

"WE NEED TO DO THIS QUICK!" I yell out, really fucking terrified for the lives of the only four people that matter to me in this crazy shitty world.

Gale grunts from the forefront, and seems to cast about for just a second before he practically dives back into a sprint.

"There's something up ahead, I think it's a trap. Should I chance it?" He calls back to us, and it takes me longer to puzzle out what he's asking than it does Katniss.

"DO IT!" She calls and I realize that they are going to try and spring the trap around the mutts, if they can. But there's nothing saying that we will be able to do that.

Shit.

But what can we do? We don't stand a chance unless we try something desperate, and even with a flare and some blasting powder we need a distraction or diversion to even retrieve the materials before they start ripping people to pieces.

So Gale descends into what looks like a deep ravine, and pulls people along after him as he tells them to climb and hide along the ravine walls and try to stay out of the way. Then those of us with weapons take up a position at the entrance to the ravine that dead ends toward the north. Its walls are crumbly, so the cats can't really climb down since they are so heavy and large. They circle around the tops of the ravine walls, growling and roaring and taking swipes at the women and children that are trying to hide, but the height is too great and they can't reach them.

Peeta and Haymitch go about gathering the supplies they spoke of from the packs while the rest of us guard the entrance and them as they work.

"Where did you see the trap?" Katniss asks Gale stoically as they stand side by side looking for all the world like a pair of fierce warriors who could have been fraternal twins, they are so alike in aspect and demeanor sometimes.

"There." Gale moves his eyes to a corner of the ravine that looks like an empty patch of forest floor, scattered with dead leaves and snow. The cats are working their way back to the entrance now, but I'm a little distracted trying to puzzle out what Hawthorne sees there that is any different from another patch of forest floor. But for the life of me I can't tell.

By the way Katniss is squinting; she can't tell either, but she just nods to him and I can see a strategy beginning to be worked out in their minds. It's a little freaky the way they talk without talking sometimes. It always lent more credence to my secret twin theory. But I've never mentioned it since that would bring up too many unwanted questions.

I can see they almost have it worked out, whatever it is, when one of the cats, the one with purple eyes that caught two of Katniss's arrows, takes a mad leap down from the right side of the entrance, at a height I would still consider too great for even an animal of that size to make. But it lands with unnatural grace just behind Haymitch and Peeta.

Gale's arrow pierces it's shoulder before it can make a swipe at either of my mentors, and then Peeta is on his feet, wielding the hatchet and catching the beast in the side of the face. It howls, and strikes out at him even in its pain, raking its claws down the side of his prosthetic leg.

This is unbelievably lucky, because of course the prosthetic is made of mostly durable metal, with only a thin layer of plastic painted in a convincing hue that looks like cat's claws only peel back strips of plastic. So Peeta doesn't stumble, or cry out, he just swings the hatchet down on the creature's offending arm, cleaving down to the bone. It howls in furious bloodthirsty hatred at him but jumps away and out of range of his weapon.

And then the other two cats are rushing the rest of us near the entrance. And Katniss is screaming for Haynitch to hurry and finish whatever he's doing. And Haymitch is screaming something back but I tune them out. I focus on the fight before me.

And just like before, when I stood on the precipice of the platform in the arena of my Games, I felt myself come alive and burn with energy and speed.

Because this is what defines me.

I have never been good at school, never had a head for figures, or much patience for reading or history. I have never drawn a decent picture, or won a medal or a prize. I never wrote down a poetic line or took the time to learn to do anything lasting or worthwhile.

But fighting, that I can do.

That I have always known how to do.

And it comes back to me so easily. I throw myself down in a sliding stroke of movement as I pass under the belly of the red eyed cat that's trying to claw Rory's face off. I strike out at the soft flesh above me with my right hand, and propel myself forward and out from under the beast simultaneously with my left.

The creature snarls in pain, but misses its target and Rory, ashen faced and sweating, jumps out of range what would have been a second too late. But then he's running around to my side so we can fight back to back. And I don't hesitate to accept his offer of alliance. Hesitation gets you killed in the arena.

I just keep my eyes peeled on the now injured, but very pissed off, more than 6 foot long giant cat that's eyeing me with murderous hatred in its eyes.

Its blood drips into the cold frozen ground, and it hisses, pacing back and forth in front of us, as it tries to work out how to get under our now combined guard.

I can hear fighting, all around us. The battle is raging, but I don't look at the others. That's what Rory is for, to watch our backs. I focus on my opponent.

"How's it looking?" I ask him as I eye the cat that is kneading its claws into the bloody dirt, as if anticipating sinking its hooks into our flesh.

"They're trying to get them to the corner!" Rory says in an agitated voice. My guess is his near brush with death has left him rattled, since he sounds almost frantic.

"Well then that's what we need to do too." I tell him sternly, and start to pivot to my right.

I look back for just a split second to see exactly what the layout of the battle is.

Katniss and Gale are keeping the other cats off Haymitch, and Peeta and Rye are trying to corral the now injured and bloody faced purple eyed cat that tried to attack Peeta towards the corner Gale indicated.

When I turn back around, it's just in time to see the red eyed cat, which had been a good ten to twelve feet away from me, has covered the distance in a single jump. It's powerful leg muscles send it flying in my direction, no doubt eager for a chance at revenge. But I hook my arms back and under Rory's elbows and roll the both of us out of the way of its assault. Then I'm yanking him up and shoving him forward and telling him to 'run, run, god damn it' for the trap.

He's off like a burst of lightning and I think he's skills might lie more with agility than brute strength, as I periodically turn back to look over my shoulder. The red eyed cat is sprinting now, claws piercing through the snow covered ground, through the frozen layer, and giving it traction as it comes after us like a heat seeking missile.

Rory has just reached the edge of the trap corner, when Gale cries out, and the red eyed cat has just made another incredible, unnaturally long leap in our direction.

It looks like death in motion. Claws out and body stretched as it sails through the air, and I think, no I know, it will take both of us down. It's front paws will catch Rory on the back of his shoulders, and its back legs will knock me down. But I grab onto the back of my ally's jacket again, and throw myself in the opposite direction as hard as I can, trying to offset the momentum we have both gained from running headlong into this danger.

I hope that the cat over shoots us, and lands in the trap instead, missing us completely. But I don't compensate for the astounding limits of its agility, it turns in midair, flips itself in a crazy untrackable movement to grab onto the only thing it can to keep itself from landing where we want it to.

Rory's back.

I feel the tug of the creature's claws as its full weight yanks him down. I feel my arm's strain against their combined weight. I feel myself being pulled forward along with them. I hear Rory's shocked scream of terror. I grab onto him harder, with both hands as the cat tries to pull itself up using his flesh as a foothold.

Torment, that is what I see in Rory's face. Agony and ice cold fear.

But I just hook my legs around him, release my left hand from his shirt, and grab my knife which had fallen in the dirt. I reach over him to stab the creature.

Over and over, in its paws, face, arms, anywhere I can, as fast as I can, so that it will fucking LET GO.

And it does. It falls with a snarl, and a scream to the ground on its back when I stab it in it's hateful red eye and then Rory and I, and everyone who was close are propelled into the air.

An explosion, like a mine had been set off.

I soar for three, four seconds, far, to almost the middle of the ravine. I land in an ungraceful, bone shatteringly hard thud against the forest floor.

Rory lands fifteen feet away, and I can tell he's been knocked unconscious by the way his body goes limp after the equally brutal impact.

My head is spinning, my ears are ringing. And for a moment, I don't know how long, I'm unaware of what goes on around me. But then I'm up, on unsteady feet, and rushing to guard the kid who once tried to degrade the only family I'd ever had. I'll defend him with my life, because that's what it means to be allies. You don't have to be friends, you don't have to like each other at all. You just have to stand, and fight together, against whatever comes.

(Peeta POV)

The explosion knocks us off our feet. My brother hits the wall of the ravine with almost a skull shattering force. I stare at him for a minute, a horrible wild minute where I feel helpless and sick, before I see that his chest is still rising and falling. Unconscious but not dead.

Because of the explosion, I had flown wide, to the right, landing in a messy heap next to Gale. We are both up almost immediately, searching for Katniss, and our loved ones, and assessing the damage. Gale's eyes light on his little brother, wounded and unconscious and he's up and running for him.

Rory and Deen had triggered the trap too early. And while it had killed one of the cats, and disoriented the other ones, it had also disoriented and thrown off the rest of us.

There was nothing to do for it now. We had to hope that Haymitch's flare, enhanced with gunpowder and accelerant would work.

Hopefully we could kill off one of them with the flare, or at least wound it. And then take down the other cat without combined forces.

I survey the damage. A great gaping circular hole has been left where the ravine corner used to be. And Deen is getting up, surprisingly fast to come to the aid of an unconscious Rory. But Deen had always been quick on his feet, even after taking an injury. The kid was a born brawler if there ever was one. He knew how to throw a punch, take a hit, and get right back up for more. It had certainly come in handy during his Games, and it was beneficial now as well.

He would be fine.

My eyes search in vain for the person I need to see the most.

Damn it, where is she?

After scanning the battle ground twice, I finally found her. She's been blown far toward the back of the ravine, probably because she's so light. She's unconscious, and bloody. The lion mutt with the unnatural green eyes is circling her. My body propels itself up and forward of its own accord. My damaged prosthetic leg is slowing me down. It's been a struggle just keeping myself up right on it, after the mutt lion raked its claws down the side of it. The metal parts deflected most of the blow, but the tiny intricate workings in the knee had been slightly mangled.

Still I run, as fast as I possibly can.

"KATNISS!" I yell over and over at the top of my lungs, hoping to wake her. But she is unresponsive to my voice.

But I'm far, too far. The mountain lion mutt is shaking its head, as if to stop the ringing in its ears, but in a moment it will notice the easy prey right in front of it. I'm running fast, and hard, wobbling with every step but I just use the unsteady energy to propel me into the next step and the next.

I can hear Haymitch's voice, calling for help, but I can't stop, I can't turn around. I can't help him, someone else will have to do that. I just have to reach her.

The cat sees her, when I'm still 9 or 10 feet away. It focuses on her slim unconscious form.

"NO!" I scream, "Over here! Hey! You! Green eyed son of a bitch! I'm right here! Come and get me!" I'm yelling, hollering as hard as I can to try and draw its attention. But it doesn't even turn in my direction. It just coils power in its legs, in its impossibly strong limbs, so that it can pounce.

On the girl I love.

On the girl who picked me, finally.

And I am not going to make it in time!

A broken strangled sound tears out of my chest as I try, try with every fiber of my being to cover the distance.

But someone beats me to it. And it's not Gale, as I thought, or Deen.

It's my sister-in-law, Laurel. Who doesn't even have a weapon. She throws herself on top of Katniss, sacrificially, suicidally. I don't even have time to register the horror before the cat's jaws close around her throat.

There's a sound, a horrible strange gurgling sound that she makes right before the mutt's mouth tears away from her. And I hear the women and children scream, and I think I'm screaming too but not in terror. In fury.

I fly into the side of the mutt, hatchet swinging for all I'm worth. With every ounce of my worthless, slow, too slow, too crippled self. It's rage, and pain, and enormous self hatred that I take out on the cat. And I am only vaguely aware of its claws raking down my arm.

I barely even feel them.

All I feel is white hot hatred for this beast. For this killer. For this monster that has stolen another part of my family. And I hack, and hack, and drive my blade down until I'm practically blind from the blood. Until I'm choking on it. Until the animal goes limp, and I remember about the girls, both of them. One my sister, the other my lifeblood.

But as I turn around to look, I hear Katniss start to scream. She has awoken finally, and to an unimaginable sight.

Laurel's body has slumped down lifeless and landed atop her legs. Her blood, her literal lifeblood is tragically bleeding out all around her, from the gaping wound at her throat. Katniss closes her hands over the wound desperately, as if she could stanch the flow. As if she could stop a wound this grievous.

As if my sister hadn't already bled out more than could ever be replaced here in the cold lonely forest.

And I tell myself not to feel it. The agony. I shut it off. This is the arena all over again. There is no time, no time at all for sorrow. No time to give in. Not if we want to live.

I tell myself to pick her up, the living girl, and drag her away until she can find enough of a grip to keep on fighting. There's still one more of those monsters. We are not safe yet. Not yet.

But of course by the time I get to her she has closed Laurel's eyes, so quickly, yet so gently. She has her hand curled around her bow, and there is a bottomless pit of fire that is directed at the remaining mutt in her eyes. I pull her up, and we're running. She's got a grip on me like iron, pulling me forward with her, not letting me falter or fall.

Haymitch has maneuvered behind Deen and Gale, who are working together to guard both the unconscious Rory, and my aging mentor who it seems has finally, finally finished constructing the god damn weapon. Gale, it seems, is out of arrows. And I can see from the cat's back that more than a few hit their mark.

But these animals weren't born, they were fabricated in a laboratory. What would normally kill or cripple a regular mountain lion hardly makes a dent in them. Gale is trying to hold off the cat with just a hunting knife. Deen looks dazed and a little unbalanced, but he's got both of his knives in his hands and isn't backing down from the deadly beast.

But the cat is too close to them. Its reach far exceeds theres. If it comes down to close quarters combat it will tear them to shreds. And they can't set the flare off at that distance. Katniss and I see this at the same time, and we react in concert.

I take point, hatchet aimed and ready to fly if the beast lunges in our direction. She fires an arrow into the beast's meaty, thick hide. And because these are muttations, and not normal animals, it doesn't pierce the monster's heart. It just lodges deep between two ribs and makes the creature yowl in pain. I'm in front of her, shielding her as she knocks another arrow. We're trying to draw it away from Haymitch. Trying to give him time to get some distance so he can fire.

She shoots again, from behind me in the crook of my elbow and the arrow flies but this time the mutt anticipates it and dodges with incredible speed. It's attention is divided now. It backs up a few steps, trying to keep its original targets in sight while also trying to dodge the arrows Katniss is sending its way.

This gives Gale time to drag Rory's unconscious body away. It also gives Haymitch and Deen the chance to retreat to a safe distance inch by precious inch. The cat is just about to turn back in their direction, when Katniss finally lands another arrow, this time in it's left leg. It turns back toward us.

It's all the distraction Haymitch needs, and he fires off the flare that he has somehow modified enough to go off less like a shot and more like a cannon. And it hits the creature square on its left side. The thing catches fire immediately, and its screams are horrible. But it doesn't go down even after its entire left side is engulfed in flames. It just makes a last desperate attempt for Haymitch's throat. But Katniss's arrows and Deen's knives strike the beast before it can hit its mark. And it goes down in a howl of anger and pain.

Then I am there, ignoring the flames and its desperate attempts to strike out with its claws. I cut through its head in three strokes.

And then it's finally over.

Katniss is next to me, pulling me back and exclaiming worriedly about the claw marks on my arm.

And Gale is trying to shake his brother awake.

And that's when I push away Katniss's hands and look around for my brother. He seems to have regained consciousness, and is sitting up and looking around at the aftermath of the battle. He's about to say something, to call out, and I wince.

The pain of this moment before he realizes the truth of what happened during the battle hurts one hundred times worse than when the mutt made mincemeat of my arm.

He catches sight of Mrs. Everdeen, cradling Laurel. She's bloodless and white as a sheet. Even though her throat has been covered in a bandage, it's soaked. It's obvious she's been dead for quite some time.

And Katniss and I just grip each other's hands, bracing for my brother's inevitable screams.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

There are twelve of us left. Half of which are either injured or in shock. Peeta's left arm is clawed from the shoulder to the forearm. My mother cleaned and wrapped the wound but it looks deep. Still, he seems to barely even notice it. But his prosthetic leg is getting increasingly difficult for him to maneuver on. Deen has a moderate concussion, but he's still able to walk. Rory's back is a horrible sight, and he passes out before my mother can finish cleaning the mutilated flesh. He was lucky, so lucky he hadn't fallen into the trap with the mutt and blown to bits.

The back of Vic's calf is scored from the knee down to the ankle, and he can hardly put any weight on it. Haymitch, poor Haymitch, had to rig the flare so fast, and there was so much confusion during the battle, he hadn't had time to build a proper casing or way to contain the accelerant and gunpowder. When he ignited it, it had blown back a bit into his hands. Which were now burned, especially the left one.

The worst was Rye. He had no wounds other than a bad concussion, but he still wouldn't let go of his wife's lifeless body. He sat in the dirt, clinging to her and brushing back her hair.

Gale looks at me with hollow eyes as we survey our group.

"We're not going to make it like this." I say matter of factly, because I can see it in his eyes.

He shakes his head once, and there is such a set look on his face.

I think for a second.

"Someone needs to go for help." I say after exhaling a deep breath. His grey eyes flick towards me. A small flicker of something there, hope maybe.

"We don't have enough fighters." He says quietly, as we watch my mother working at a fast pace along with Prim, and now Posey and Hazelle trying to patch people up. But there are so many injured, and not enough medical supplies.

"We don't need that many. We just need enough to slip through the traps, and the obstacles. Really, the less people we take with us the better." I tell him quietly.

And his eyes flick up to mine, and hold mine there.

"You'll come with me?" He asks, and I shoot him a look.

"Gale, we're the fastest. We're not injured. We're the best shot the others have. And I would never let you go alone." I tell him quietly. And he blinks a little in surprise. But then he nods, gratefully.

I know what he thought. He thought he'd be on his own. And since two of his siblings are in urgent need of medical care he'd have to go, he'd have to try, even if it was just him alone.

But we're hunting partners. And he's my oldest friend. That hasn't changed, no matter what else has. We watch each other's backs. We help each other survive. I'd never let him face something like this alone.

"Peeta's leg is…" He tells me but I shake my head abruptly. I know that too.

Peeta can barely walk steadily right now. His leg won't hold up for another 12 miles of arena.

He will have to stay behind.

"He's not going to want to stay." Gale tells me and I just take a deep breath.

I know this too.

"Did you see anywhere they can hold up and hide on our way over?" I ask Gale and he nods.

Good, if I can convince Peeta we need him to stay behind and guard the others, it will make it infinitely easier.

I tell Gale to help me start getting people up and moving. There's no telling how close any search parties might be, or if there are more mutts nearby. Rye is the hardest to wrangle, but eventually Peeta is able to get him moving after we find a place to lay Laurel's body to rest out of sight. We don't have time to dig, or even build a cairn. So we have to settle for a small alcove and cover it with leaves and branches until she's hidden. I tell myself that I'll have to unpack what she did for me later. Later when we're all safe in 13. Until then, I just can't think about it.

We head for a small point bar located on the closest river near us. It's like a small finger of an island that sticks out along the river, but it has high defensible slopes and provides a vantage point to look out from and it's surrounded by the river to the back, so they'll have a more defensible position.

We settle everyone down in a blind of trees and I ask Peeta and Rye to set about camouflaging the camp. They are all exhausted, and so are we. But Gale starts packing our knapsacks and I start separating a small amount of rations. We won't need much, 12 miles we can cover before the sun even goes down. If we cut a clear path and don't run into too many...delays.

My mother eyes me packing and there's a look of realization and then fear in her face. But I shake my head at her once, in a swift cutting motion, and she just blinks at me for a second before returning to check on her patients with her head down, and her shoulders drooped inward. Prim notices, and looks over at me too. I ignore the look with stiff shoulders.

Finally, Peeta feels it, the change in the air and he drops the branch he's laying across the tent. His eyes widen as he takes in my bag, my bow in hand, the look on my face.

"What are you doing?" His voice asks incredulously.

"Getting ready." I tell him matter-of-factly.

"Stop it." He says, not in a commanding voice, but in a pleading voice. And it hurts me.

"Someone has to go for help." I tell him sternly, not letting my voice or my resolve waver.

"Fine, then let Deen go, let me go. I'll go. Anybody else but you." He says, rushing over to me. But I get up quickly and swing my pack on hy back and take a step away from him.

"You can't even walk. Nobody else is in any condition to go. You know I have to do this." I say resolutely. His eyes get a frantic look then.

"No! I don't! I know I have to keep you safe! I'm not letting you back into that god damn ARENA!" He starts yelling and I grit my teeth. I expected this, his anger, but I still wasn't comfortable having this argument in front of the whole camp. But there's no avoiding it. I wouldn't patronize him by telling him to calm down. He has a right to these emotions, I know that. But I have to make him see reason.

"AND IF RORY DIES? If more people die because we don't leave and get help as soon as possible?" I demand, and he blanches, looking over at the tent where Rory is laying incapacited and still unresponsive despite all my mother's done to try and help him.

"No one is going to die." He chokes out the words, but even he isn't convinced by his argument.

"Mom," I called my mother, knowing she at least will speak the truth. She values human life too greatly to ever lie, even to spare me a trip into danger. She looks between the two of us, a sad and pained expression on her face.

"He needs real medical attention. He...might last a day or two...but after that…" She says in that quiet voice of hers and Peeta's face falls. I bolster my defenses against his expressions, because I can't let him sway me. Not right now.

"There. It's settled." I say with the most emotionless voice I can dredge up and go back to putting my hunting knives in my jacket pockets.

"No it's not!" Peeta practically growls, anger and hurt in contrast with his usually sweet features.

"Peeta. I'm not asking." I say with steel in my voice. And I mean it. I am absolutely not asking for his permission.

"No, you never do, do you?! You never fucking ask me, you just charge ahead-" He starts yelling again, ranting, and I lose it a little.

"That's enough!" I yell back, with such force that he just stares at me for a second. He's breathing hard. His eyes are flashing with fury, and I'm starting to get a little worked up myself. This is one of the downsides, I think, to feeling this way for someone. It's impossible to see them going into danger without fighting against it like hell.

Gale has turned away, sometime during all of this. He is looking out into the trees. But his deep voice rings out anyway.

"I can go alone." He offers, and I want to kick him at that moment. Peeta's eyes light up. But I quickly snuff out that desperate hope I see in them.

"No you can't. You're a good fighter, you know the woods, and you know traps. But you don't know the Games. Besides, Peeta knows it's almost impossible to survive the arena without allies. You'd just get killed and we'd be down another fighter, and delayed further." I say through gritted teeth as I stare directly at Peeta, even though I'm addressing Gale.

And Peeta weakens, just a bit, but he does. He knows I'm right, and he'd be worse than selfish to ask Gale to go alone.

"You can't ask me to let you go. You can't, not now." Peeta tells me in a quiet, broken voice. And it rattles me, damn him. But I knew this was going to be hard. This is Peeta after all, who can wield words as easily as I wield my bow. And I can't let him dissuade me.

"And you can't ask me to stay and let these people get captured or die." I tell him quietly, but forcefully.

He turns away from me, chest heaving, breathing hard. And it hurts to see him hurting.

"We're supposed to go together. Isn't that what you said? Me and you or not at all?" He tells me, not looking at me, but his voice is strained.

"Peeta-" I start to say, feeling like I'm losing ground. But then someone interrupts.

"I'll go with her, with them. Since you can't go, I'll go for you." Deen says to Peeta, his coal dark eyes sincere and resolved. And Peeta looks over at Deen with such gratitude, such relief.

"You could use another victor anyway." Deen tells me and Gale and stands on his feet. But I don't want Deen to risk his life along with us. He's one of the healthiest ones we have left. They might need him.

"You've got a concussion." I tell him trying to shoot down his offer of help, even though I know it's a weak argument. He won his Games with much worse injuries. But I had been forced to watch Deen go through all that. I never wanted to see it again. He shouldn't have to face another Gamemaker trap or mutt for the rest of his life. There's no way I'm asking him to go back in.

"So do you." He says with a shrug. I scowl. I do have a concussion, but it's not very bad. Deen smirks at me, convinced he'll win the argument.

"They need fighters, Deen." I tell him, trying to dissuade him from volunteering for this.

"They've got Peeta, and Rye, and Haymitch. They're just as good or better in close quarters anyways. And by the time Peeta gets done camouflaging this place I don't even know if we'll be able to find it." He says with a smile, looking at the already well camouflage camp that indeed looks like half of it is disappearing into the scenery. But I shake my head no.

"Besides, they'll be looking for a group on the move. We'll deflect attention from them." Deen tells me as he picks up his pack and swings it onto his shoulder, ignoring my protests.

I look over at Gale for help and he scrutinizes Deen.

"He's fast, quiet, and he's good with a blade and a bow. If he wants to come, I think it would help." Gale says and I shoot him an angry betrayed look, but his grey eyes tell me he's trying to be truthful here. He really thinks we'll have better chances with Deen on our side.

And he might be right.

Gale is strong, and swift. I'm agile and precise. But Deen is the best fighter out of us all. If it came down to a physical fight, he could tip the scales for us. I would be little to no help if it came down to a contest of strength. Besides, I was running low on arrows. So many of them had been damaged or lost in the last fight. And even though Gale and I had been making replacements throughout this trip, we were going through them faster than we could make them.

I shake my head, not wanting to drag Deen into this, but then I sigh. We're wasting time arguing about this and we need to get going.

Deen smiles, and starts relacing his boots tighter and checking his pack to make sure he has everything he needs.

Peeta looks over at me, and even though he doesn't have the completely terrified look on his face like before, he still looks worried out of his mind.

And I understand. If I was in his position, I'd probably feel the same way. I'd probably break something.

I take two quick steps into his arms and he grabs onto me, hard and fast.

"I need you here Peeta. To protect them all. You're the only other person I trust to do it. And you need to be here for your brother." I tell him quietly, my face pressed into his torn and bloody shirt. But I don't care. I just close my eyes and breathe him in.

Beneath the dirt, and the blood, and the sweat, he's there. Warm and strong, and always smelling like fragrant spices and the unique scent of his skin. He makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. I hug him a little tighter.

"I love you." He tells me breathlessly and I look up into his very blue eyes. Those gentle blue eyes. And it's there, right on the tip of my tongue. But I don't want to say it, here and now. I want to save it. For when I make it back. I need to save it, so I can have one more reason to hang on.

Because if I'm honest with myself, I don't want to go almost as bad as he doesn't want me to. These last few days have really pushed the tenuous hold I have on my emotions, and my mental state. But I can't avoid it. I have to go back into this arena that Snow and the Capitol have created in the woods for us or else we'll all die or be captured and then all this will have been for nothing.

"I'm coming back." I tell him and his face pinches in a little. I know he's disappointed, but when I say those words they have to be for us, and not because of danger or death or anything else. We've made too many promises and done too many things out of fear. And that, saying those three words to him, has to feel right. I don't ever want it to be tainted or questioned, or doubted. I want them to be undeniable. I want them to be real.

So I kiss him. Soft and sweet, and promising that I will come back. And he kisses me like he doesn't want to let go, but I pull away, breaking the kiss. He gasps painfully. But I just whisper against his cheek.

"You've got some things of mine, Peeta Mellark." I say, and he looks headlong into my eyes.

"Like what?" He asks, with an ache in his voice.

I reach down and grab his hand, and place it over my heart, my hand atop his. He gasps.

I nod, once. His eyes water.

But then I slipped out of his grasp before my eyes misted over.

If I don't leave now, I know I never will.

"So take care of that until I get back." I tell him, not turning around before I walk away to join Deen and Gale who are waiting for me.

Chapter Text

(Katniss POV)

We head northwest cautiously, but as quickly as we can. We had to get back on track and go as swiftly, as directly, as we could to the District 13 rendezvous point to bring back help for the others. But after only a quarter of a mile, we came upon that same fog from this morning (had it really not even been 24 hours yet?), that had signaled the entrance into territory modified as an arena.

Of course the Gamemakers would plant the most deadly and numerous traps along the straightest route. This would not be an easy journey despite the relatively small distance we had to cross. Practically every mile would be boobytrapped or guarded by muttations. And we had to cross right down the middle.

All of my senses were on high alert. Gale's eyes were sharp and clear as we trekked through the woods side by side. He was on the look out for traps, while I scanned for evidence of a Gamemakers plot, or signs of mutts. Deen was just two steps behind, covering the flank. We wove in and around patches of leaves on the ground that Gale pointed out as having all round and spherical shapes, not one leaf bigger or different from the others. They were too perfect. And I learned how exactly he had spotted a trap in the ravine with the mountain lion mutts earlier.

The traps were everywhere. And small animals scurried in the shadows after us. Foxes, and rabbits and squirrels with razor teeth that had silver or golden eyes. White foam dripped from their mouths, and they tracked us with an almost intelligent precision. Gale and I shot them whenever they got too close. But the longer we traveled, the more kept popping up. They seemed to be trying to unnerve us and throw us off track, more than they were interested in actually attacking. My guess is they were programmed to try and thin the herd, seek out weak points, and poison or infect anyone they could get their teeth into.

But the three of us were really the fastest. And the most precise. They never got even remotely close enough to bite or scratch us. We covered mile after mile at a grueling pace. But soon I could see the tension building in the middle of Gale's back as he had to take each yard at a slower and slower pace. The traps were almost everywhere now. We couldn't go a few yards without running into one. His jaw muscles were flexed in consternation, as he eyed a forked path up ahead.

"Which way are we going?" I panted as I kept pace with him to reach the rapidly approaching Y shaped intersection between two hilly areas.

"We can't go either of those ways." He tells me quietly, and then stops running before we get 30 feet away.

I look over at the intersection. And that's when I notice the precise slope of the hills. The glossy and almost glittery glint of the ice and snow that isn't natural.

"Both directions are traps aren't they?" I tell him and he nods.

"We'll have to go around then."

"If we do that we'll put ourselves in danger of getting caught between the river and a steep valley that would make it almost impossible to travel through while keeping this pace." He tells me and I scowl in furious annoyance.

"So what now then? We try to follow the river until we're past it?" Deen asks, as he catches his breath a few feet to my left. We've been running for hours. No one has really had time to rest or recover from the previous battle, but we've all kept the grueling pace Gale set.

"It might delay us just as much. But it might be our only option." Gale answers, worry lines creasing his forehead and the corners of his mouth.

"No." I tell them both as I stare at the man made fork in the road. This cleverly concealed patch of woods that the Gamemakers created just for us. To scare us. To corral us. To kill us. But not in the way Gale is thinking.

"We'll need to trigger the traps here. If they set this trap knowing it would force us into different paths you can bet there will be squads of peacekeepers and bands of mutts and more, waiting for us at the end of that valley, or along that river. No, we have to keep going this way. We can't afford a delay, and if we don't make better time, we'll have to camp in the arena overnight." I tell them both. And Gale, surprisingly, nods as if he had almost come to the same conclusion. Deen just shudders at the mention of camping in the arena overnight.

And I agree with the sentiment wholeheartedly, the sooner we got through this forest the better.

"Alright, let me scout around and see if I can figure out what exactly they're using as trigger devices." Gale says, and moves to take off his pack, but I reach out an arresting hand to stop the straps from sliding down his shoulders.

"No...don't get too close. The Gamemakers, if they set this trap, they most likely have a camera going somewhere. They could be watching right now, waiting for one of us to get close enough. They can set things off remotely." I tell Gale with the utmost seriousness, and his dark brows draw together in frustration.

"So what do we do?" Gale huffs out the question as he shakes his head. And I shake my head too because, although I have enough information to warn him about the danger I am not sure I've worked through a solution to this particular problem.

"Simple, get a decoy." Deen says looking over at us. Gale turns back to me.

"See, told you he'd come in handy."

We work out a plan, after ten minutes. It takes a lot of pointed looks and half conversations, since we didn't want to alert the Gamemakers to the nature of our plan if they were already listening even from this distance. But Deen helped us lure one of the fox mutts close so that Gale and I could capture it with ropes. Even after we had it tied up, it still snarled and snapped at us wildly and tried to wriggle out of the hold. But Gale kept a firm knee on its neck as Deen and I stalked closer to the trap. I could tell he was nervous. During his Games he had almost gotten his jugular vein pierced when he had accidentally set off a knife trap on a mission to bring back food for him and his district partner. She had had to stitch the wound closed with a fishhook and some bloody thread, and he had almost died of secondary infection by the time he was the last tribute standing.

He hated traps. But he just exhaled and I shot him a reassuring glance as we simultaneously approached both sides. He threw me a cocky smirk and I knew he was back on track.

My path seemed innocuous, at first glance. But then I saw all those perfectly formed brown leaves. And the ice started casting little flecks of rainbow light in strange places. I scanned the ground cautiously as I took a step forward. I couldn't see any evidence of indentation or disturbed dirt. But sometimes eyes can be deceived. So I just resolved to try and use my other senses to feel this out.

And when I get halfway, I stop. I look over to the wall of dirt on my left, the side of the manufactured hill. There's something strange about the way the pebbles are scattered down this particular section of earth. And I know, then that the next step I take will be my last. I let out a short bird whistle, and waited for a beat.

Then when I hear the sound of paws clawing into the dirt. I turn back around and raise my foot to take the last step.

The fox mutt careens down my side of the intersection, and I barely have time to avoid it's snapping jaws as I jump back. It misses me, and its momentum from the attack sends it forward. The side of the hill seems to come alive, and open, and before the mutt can turn around and escape a large chrome nozzle appears from the black hollowed out earth. Then a stream of flames is shot out, incinerating the mutt almost instantly. The fire is scorching. The blast, is huge, and I jump back, fall, and scramble to get out of range. Still the heat licks at my face, for a split second.

"Motion activated, side wall, flames! 15 steps in!" I shout to Deen. And I hope in the confusion, if the Gamemakers are watching they won't be able to deactivate the trap fast enough. Then I hear the sound of an arrow striking dirt, and the same sound of the mechanism opening. The rush of air and roar of flames, and then silence.

"Deen?!" I call out in a frantic voice.

"Still here, Mockingjay." His self assured voice rings out and I exhale a breath I'd been holding in.

"Gale?" I call, but then he's there beside me, helping me up from where I had fallen in my haste to get away from the flame thrower.

"Good work, Catnip." He tells me, smiling just slightly for the first time in I don't know how many days. And it's so good to see his spirits lifted, even about something like outsmarting the Capitol lackeys he's always loathed. I smile back a little and he looks forward as he releases my arm gently.

"Now that that's done, let's keep going." He says hastily, all business again and I nod. He's right. No time to celebrate these small victories, not until we've accomplished our mission.

…

Gale tells us we've cleared 9 miles after we pass the flamethrower trap, and then my spirits lift. Three miles left to go. We make quick work, thwarting traps left and right until it's almost routine for our trio.

But then I feel a strange sense of dejavu.

It feels the same, exactly the same for a moment, after we activate a net trap that would have caught us up and held us high in the trees as prisoners, as when Peeta and I had finally heard the cannon sound after I shot Cato. When we stood waiting for the announcement of our victory. When we thought we were almost home free.

That moment, while the Gamemakers surely laughed at our naivete in their cold control rooms before announcing that the rules had changed, and there could be only one victor, played in my head. And I break out into a cold sweat instead of a hot one from overexertion and exercise.

The feeling starts in my gut, and spreads unstoppable as we clear the 10th mile. I bite on my lip. Not wanting to give voice to my fears. Not wanting to give them credence, because I'm afraid if I do, they'll materialize. But just as Gale deactivates a really obvious pit trap trigger, the feeling consolidates into a sharp sensation, right between my shoulder blades.

"GALE!" I scream, right as he tosses the trigger mechanism behind him with a casual movement, as he simultaneously steps forward. He looks back at me, and doesn't see it. The slightly hexagonal indent that the very tip of his boot has pressed against.

The ground opens up right in front of him, and he throws himself back trying to grab onto the sides of the drop off. I hear someone yell, as I run towards him, but Deen gets there first. He grabs onto Gale's forearm and starts pulling him back up. But as I get to the side of the hole I see a smaller, strange hexagon shaped tile, grey and dark metal colored, that looks completely out of place in the earth of the forest, open up. And the sound of buzzing, loud and chaotic fills the quiet of the woods.

My eyes go wide, recognizing the sound immediately.

"Trackerjackers!" I scream, and throw myself down beside Deen to help pull Gale up. He's heavy, but between the two of us we have him up in record time. And we don't stop to let him catch his breath, Deen and I, we propel him up and then we're sprinting, all out, as we try and avoid the other traps that are characterized by the round leaves and glittery snow, all the while the impending sound of buzzing is bearing down on us.

I know that we won't be able to outrun them, we'll have to find a water source, or something to draw them away from us. But I can barely think, the buzzing is so loud, and we're running so fast.

"How far away is the river?" I demand of Gale, who has taken the lead again, with me in the middle and Deen behind us again.

"A mile." is Gale's tight lipped reply.

"Fuck!" Deen shouts, and I can't help but agree internally with him. That's too far, we'll never make it.

"Where can we h-hide?" I pant, and my side is splitting from doing so much fast paced running today, but I don't slow down, I just try to go faster.

"I don't know!" Gale shouts, and I feel panic rising higher inside me.

"We need a distraction or a diversion!" Deen yells, and I shake my head.

"The foxes and follower mutts are too small, they'll never draw them away!" I pant as we run.

No one says anything then. Because we need to save our breath to run. Running is the only thing we can do.

It's twenty feet in front of us when Gale and I see it at the same time. A hollowed out dark den, hidden by the mess of tree roots that grow down from the overhang above it.

An animal den, wolf or bear by the looks of it. But a normal one. Hopefully it's a bear, and the bear is home, because if so this could be our only way out of a very excruciating death.

Gale launches an arrow as soon as we get into range, and we hear the distinct sound of an arrow piercing flesh, and then a roar. The tracker jackers are right behind us, but then the bear, and it's a big black bear that comes stumbling out of the den, is charging at us.

It's a race to see who gets there first.

And I feel a sharp, all too familiar burning sting on the back of my sweaty neck, and I cry out, right at the same time Gale does. I pull up my hood, trying to protect more of my skin, and I swat at as many of the mutts as I can with my hands. But then the bear is barrelling towards us, and I'm knocking back an arrow and shooting through the stinging pain.

I don't know if it helps, that I've been stung before. I only hope I can stay mobile long enough to escape before we start to hallucinate.

Gale has regained control of himself and is shooting the bear now. It rears up on two legs, and we dodge it's giant, clumsy paws that are slowed from sleepiness. And we don't stop to engage it, we just make a break for the den, as the cloud of jackers descends on the creature.

It notices them too late, and we have already rushed past it, when the swarm overtakes it.

We hear its howls of pain, along with his thundering paws as it tries to turn and run in the opposite direction.

We squeeze into the tight space, just as the bear's roars ring out around the forest. It's trying to fight off the insects with claws and teeth, but there are too many and they are too small and too great in number for the bear to win. We pile out packs in the entrance, trying to block the intrusion of tracker jackers, but a few slip in. Deen groans in pain as they catch him on his cheek and behind his right ear, but he too has been stung before. Gale though is looking a little sweaty and his normally deft hands are already starting to shake. He got stung four times, on the back of the head and the right side of his neck. But before I have time to inspect his appearance further, the bear's face, and teeth are before us, as it tries to push its way into the den alongside us. Deen stabs the poor creature, in the nose, mouth and eyes, and the buzzing of the mutts outside starts to ratchet up to mind shatteringly loud levels.

The bear moans, in pain, from being attacked on two fronts, but it's clear that it is dying now. Its eyes are growing hazy and dull, and its breathing is shallow. It has stopped fighting. Gale, angles his pack to close the opening the bear's entrance had created, and Deen and I do the same.

And then we wait in the dark, for the mutts to grow tired of their game, for them to realize the bear is dead.

It's a long while before we hear the last of them buzz away.

….

It's an hour before we can leave the den. And by then Gale has started up with fever. But Deen and I seem to have gained a little resistance to the stings since we've had them before. But I feel unsteady on my feet. Both Deen and I have to hoist Gale's large frame up, and drape an arm around each shoulder so we can get moving again.

We stumble and drag Gale along at a very decreased pace from what we were accomplishing before. But after Deen leans Gale beside a tree for a second, and fishes out the map, we see we're only half a mile away.

But even that short distance seems almost impossible. We're injured and exhausted, and our teammate is immobilized. We're so close to our indented goal...it's like the Gamemakers couldn't have designed it better if they had tried.

Now we would have to choose between making the perilous trek slowly, and imprecisely, with Gale, or to leave him behind and forge on to get help as soon as we could.

Deen looks over at me, his gaze telling me he'll go along with whatever I decide.

And it's impossible to make this choice.

Leaving Gale defenceless in the woods while he's injured is not an option.

Neither is stumbling through the last leg of the arena with his unconscious body.

Because yes, now that we've stopped he's slipped into unconsciousness and I know soon the hallucinations will be starting. I bite my lip.

It's no good.

The only solution is that one of us will have to go on and the other will have to remain with Gale.

"Deen, give me Gale's quiver." I say, standing up. He blinks at me in surprise.

"We're leaving?"

"No, just me. I need you to stay with him. Take him back to the den if you can. And wait for me there. I shouldn't be long. If I don't make it back by morning….well then you'll have to try and make a break for it. But don't leave him until you absolutely have to." I say, stepping into Deen's space, looking right up at him in my most commanding voice.

"Katniss, I'm the better fighter. I should go."

"You still aren't good enough at recognizing the traps without Gale or I to tell you. I'm sorry Deen. It has to be me." I say quietly, and he starts to protest.

"I promised Peeta I'd keep you safe. I….think you should let me go, and if I don't come back with help in two or three hours-"

"And you have! Kept me safe. You've done everything you could have Deen. Now, I need you to trust me. As your mentor, I'm telling you this is the only option that we can take that has the best chance of everyone, not just the three of us, making it through this thing alive." I tell him as I stare him down.

"I don't know if I'll be able to live with myself if something happens to you."

"None of us will live if I don't hurry."

He sighs. I can tell he's exhausted. And he got stung more than me, he'll probably be fighting off a low grade fever soon himself.

I get up to leave and he reaches out to grasp my wrist.

"Don't take any chances Mockingjay. Play it smart ok?" Deen says with the most serious gaze I think I've ever seen in his dark eyes.

I nod.

"Wouldn't dream of it." I reply, and then I'm off.

The last half mile is eerily quiet, and I know the rendezvous point isn't in the center of District 13, but at more of an access point that only a trusted few know about. It's in the middle of nowhere basically, with the only landmark to distinguish it being a large oak tree with two fallen limbs entwined together in a small clearing.

I pick my way carefully but as quickly as I can through the woods, trying to remain quiet and unobtrusive. If there are anymore mutts or traps nearby I can't afford to trigger them. My biggest hurdle right now is time. There isn't enough of it. But I push myself, and I demand my body to keep going. My body, though, is fighting my commands.

I know I'm nearing the bottom of my energy reserves, as I start to stumble no matter how hard I concentrate on putting my foot down carefully. Soon there won't be anymore energy or stamina to keep me going. But I tell myself to worry about that later. I just have to keep pressing on. Everyone is depending on me.

I come upon the clearing and find evidence it has been rigged with traps. I shudder. I don't know what this bodes for me, or our group. It could be a coincidence. It could be evidence we've been sold out or the Capitol somehow discovered the rendezvous spot. I wait for a short time, just watching for any sign that there are peacekeepers or mutts hidden in the trees or nearby.

But everything is quiet. The wind blows, the leaves rustle, and there are no signs that there is anything other than traps in the clearing. And I know I have to chance it. There's no other way to get help.

I slipped past the first three traps easily, but triggered a forth one that shoots spikes because of my damn unsteady feet. I'm terrified as five inch long wicked looking spikes fly into the air in a high arch. One catches me in the left shoulder, pinning me to a nearby tree. And I can't breathe for a minute.

I gasp in pain, but bite down on the urge to cry out.

My eyes lose focus. And all I can feel is white hot agony piercing my shoulder. I pant, trying not to cry. I bite down on my sleeve for a long minute.

I don't know how close the enemy is. I don't know who or what is nearby, waiting to respond to cries of pain from wounded prey.

I breathe through my mouth shallowly, and look down at the wound. It's horrible and dizzying to see something sharp and menacing protruding from my flesh. It's conical in shape, with a wide end that tapers down into what I'm guessing is a razor sharp point. But it's not fatal. The projectile actually caught me in a lucky spot, not hitting anything vital. That is, if being impaled by something the size of a railroad spike can be called lucky.

It's not bleeding profusely at present, but I know the second I remove the spike it will start to. So I tell myself to be calm. I tell myself I must do things in precisely the right order, before I pass out from pain or blood loss.

First, I must use my knife to try and pry the spike and myself apart from the bark of the tree. If I can, then I won't have to take the spike out. And I'll have a better chance of not passing out.

Second, if I can't do that. I'll have to pull the spike all the way through my flesh and work fast to get a distress message out to District 13 before I lose consciousness.

Third, If I can't do that….well we're all screwed so I have to make one of those options work.

So, I carefully take my knife in my opposite hand, and twist myself as far as I can without getting blinded by white hot flashes of pain shooting down my entire left side. Even these small movements bring on waves of agony. But I just pant through the pain as quietly as I can, and angle the tip of the knife behind my shoulder and begin rooting around for the part of the spike that went through my flesh and into the tree.

I look up at the sky. I try to find a cloud, a bird, anything to focus on as I work on prying the spike loose. Tears stream down my face, but I don't cry out. Not when blood starts to trickle down due to all the prodding and digging. Not when I hear the knife chip, unable to properly get under the spike tip. I just grit my teeth and try again.

This time, finally, I can feel the blade beginning to pry the spike free. And I groan, as a fresh wave of agony hits when I am finally released with a popping sound from the bark. I fall forward, on my face. And I just lie there for one whole second, trying to get a deep enough breath into my lungs to stand up.

Once I swallow past the tears, I crawl towards the oak tree. And when I reach it I try to remember exactly what Haymitch said.

"There's a tree, a big oak with branches that hang down like giant arms dragging on the ground. There's two branches, on the right side, that are tangled together. Go to them, and feel along the bottom of the branch that's touching the ground. You'll feel a small protrusion, like a knob with three rounded spokes. Turn the knob, around twice to the left, and once all the way to the right. That will send the signal that we've arrived."

I can hear his voice in my head, instructing us before we left camp. He spoke slowly and clearly, and there was both hope and fear in his eyes. That image gave me strength. I got up, to a crouching position, but even that took enormous effort. And my shoulder was throbbing now, in a horrible pulsing way that made me think that the spike might have been laced with something. Poison or some immobilizing agent. So I made myself hurry.

Hurry

hurry

HURRY!

And when I felt the knob under my fingertips I almost sobbed with joy. I turned it, just the way Haymitch instructed. And then, because I couldn't see straight anymore, and everything was white hot and blurry, I sank down across the bottom of the branch and lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

(Deen POV)

I feel my skin buzz with hot sticky movement underneath its sweat lined outer layer, as I drag Hawthorne back in the direction of the bear den. It's like the insects laid eggs inside of me...and now they are waking up and moving...and before long they'll burst out of me...and I'll di-

I shake my head fiercely.

It's the hallucinations talking.

I'm running out of time before they completely take over. I keep seeing and hearing strange things. It's getting harder and harder to differentiate what's real and what's not.

And Hawthorne weighs a shit ton.

And I'm so fucking tired. But….I have to get him somewhere safe. I've got to hide him. So I keep walking, keep dragging me and him and the both of us on.

To that dark little hole in the earth that feels like a grave...that we'll never crawl out of...that will be our tomb…

I don't know if I'm going to make it. Everything feels wobbly and shimmery and dark and deadly at the same time. And I stumble, go down hard. I hear Gale grunt as I drop him but he doesn't wake. We're still a few yards from the den. I have to get up. I have to…

I close my eyes for just a second…

Serious blue eyes stare at me from behind my eyelids. And they are seriously pissed off. I blink awake...and try to shake myself into clarity. But no, I see my mentor, Peeta standing before me. He's wearing his white wedding suit. He's angry at me.

"You're like my brother! How could you let her go off alone?!" He shouts at me as he shimmers in a blinding wave of righteous fury and glittery hypnotism.

"I can't..I'm sorry.." I manage to say weakly, hoping he'll take pity on me.

"She believed in you. Always. From day one. And you ABANDONED HER." He tells me as he grows huge, like 7 or 8 feet tall and towers over me like some kind of furious god bent on punishing me for my transgressions.

"I tried…" I try to say weakly, in vain. I know his punishment will be swift and deserved. I lift my hands to cover my face so I don't have to look into his inhumanly blue eyes that are now glowing like blue coals in the pits of his eye sockets.

"DID YOU? YOU DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER ALL THE THINGS SHE TRAINED YOU FOR." His voice is like an earthquake over the world, and I tremble.

And I think this is it, he's going to kill me. But then I hear a bird, singing somewhere far off and when I look up at him he's not giant anymore. He's not terrifying. He's normal again and he looks as kind and easy going as ever.

"You just have to remember what she taught you." He tells me and points to my left. I blink, in confusion, but then I look in the direction he's pointing and I see them.

Three pointed leaves, with spidery white veins and jagged edges. The ones Katniss told me can be used to treat tracker jacker stings. I crawl over to them. They are mostly brown and dried looking, but some of them are still a little green. I gather as many of the good ones as I can and chew them up in my mouth, and then I spit out the paste-like substance and rub it over my stings quickly, as quickly as I can.

The relief is immediate. The world ceases to quiver and shake uncontrollably. After a minute or two, the shininess fades from the corners, and I turn back to gather more leaves. I half crawl, half waddle over to Gale and start treating him. He starts to stir, and he looks over at me like I have two heads. So, I just back up and decide to give him some space for the hallucinations to subside. I get more leaves and make more paste and apply them to us both. And after a bit he starts looking around with more awareness.

"Catnip?" He whispers and I wonder if maybe I used too many of the best leaves for myself and the more brown ones aren't working as well. He keeps whispering it though and looking around.

"Katniss?" He calls again after a second, and I crinkle my brow in confusion. Is that his nickname for her or something? Weird… but then again he's kind of a weird guy.

"She had to go Gale. You and I got stung too many times. We weren't gonna be able to make it." I tell him as patiently as I can. But I'm no nurse, and I don't exactly have a good patient bedside manner. He looks over at me alarmed. I expect him to protest, or get mad.

Instead he bolts up, unsteady and starts trying to crawl out of the den.

"Hey! You're still hallucinating! Sit down!" I tell him and try to push back.

"Get your hands the fuck off me party boy!" He mumbles in an angry but surprisingly self possessed way. I blink. Well, I guess he gives everybody nicknames.

Whatever.

He falls on his ass. I shake my head.

He tries to get up again but his legs give out.

"You've got to sweat it out. It's the first time you've been stung. And you got stung more than me or her. You're not going anywhere...fake cousin." I tell him and he frowns at the nickname I give him.

"If you can walk, you have to go after her…" He says in a voice that almost sounds pained and pleading. I look over at him in surprise.

"She asked me to stay here and take care of you." I tell him in an annoyed tone. He eyes me in a way that is a strange cross between manic and serious.

"You don't give two shits about me. But...she's family to you….please…" He says as he opens and closes his eyes, blinking as if trying to decide if what he's seeing is real or not.

I wince.

He's not wrong…

"Please. I'll be fine here. I'll just hide out until you all get back. Go find her." He says again in that way that seems so out of character for him. And really, he doesn't have to plead. I was already considering going after her.

"I was already going. Just had to make sure you weren't gonna die from an overdose of venom. Don't move an inch from here Hawthorne. You're in no condition, so just stay put. Or I'll break your face in when I get back." I told him seriously.

He has the audacity to laugh. It pisses me off. Because if I'm gonna go I need to know he's not going to try and come after both of us while he's still tripping.

"I'm not Peeta, man. I won my Games the fucking old fashined way. Don't test me." I tell him with more force and he looks over at me with a slight twinge of respect after a moment. He nods in agreement.

I turn around and start to exit the den.

"I knew you'd come in handy." He says quietly with amusement that can only be characterized as hallucinatory and just plain nuts in his voice.

"Whoopy-fucking-do." I mutter under my breath and drag myself up using the tree roots as support.

I try to picture the map in my mind, and once I get a clear image I start to trudge off in the direction Katniss left. Every step I take gets steadier, and soon I'm walking almost upright.

Alright my favorite mentor, I'm coming to help you. I think to myself as I pick up the pace.

(Katniss POV)

I wake to the sound of a deep gravelly voice calling my name. I blink awake and see chocolate colored brown eyes staring down at me. Attached to them is the face of a bald man with dark skin, like rich dark chocolate. He looks to be about in his 40's, and he's asking me my name over and over.

"Katniss Everdeen? Katniss? Can you hear me? Miss Everdeen?" He's asking me, and I look down to see he's wearing an unfamiliar grey uniform and I snap alert. Peacekeeper? Gamakemaker? I don't know but I need to get some distance between me and this person I've never met until I can find out. I struggle against his hold, and try to get away.

"Katniss, Katniss, My name is Boggs. Commander Boggs. Do you remember the passcode Haymitch Abernathy told you about?" He asks me as he loosens his grip on me. I scoot away, a little and think over what he said. My brain feels hazy, but I do remember Haymitch saying something before we even started out. About a password, that we all needed to know in case we met any District 13 rebel soldiers. And for a second I stop struggling. I look up at him with wide eyes. I nod.

"Nightlock." He tells me gently and I relax. I look around. I find myself in the same clearing as before. There are seven or eight people in grey uniforms carrying guns that are spread out in a tight perimeter. I look back up at the man, Boggs, he said his name was.

He sighs and signals for someone, a man carrying a small grey pack wearing a white band over his arm with a red design on it. The man starts to examine my injured shoulder.

"We received your signal. Where are the other members of your group? We were told to expect 14 of you. Are you the only survivor?" He asks, and I shake my head. I wince as the medic, at least I'm assuming he's a field medic or something of the sort, prods my shoulder gently.

"They got injured. I was the only one who could go for help. The Capitol, they turned the forest into a Game. An arena." I tell him as I stare into his eyes, willing him to understand. He looks down at me sadly. He nods. The medic pronounces my injury to be a flesh wound, but advises to wait until we're 13 to try and remove it because of the danger of blood loss.

"Yes, we've received reports of Capitol activity…" Boggs tells me when I describe the traps and injuries some of our group sustained.

"You all knew?" I ask furious, incredulous. These people are supposed to be our allies, and they just stood by and watched as we were hunted down?

"We had no way of contacting you, or pinpointing your location. The only thing we could do was wait to see if you all would make it." He tells me regretfully.

But the anger in me doesn't completely subside.

"Well now that someone has shown up, and can tell you the exact location, will you and your people do something about it? Or do the rest of my friends and family have to make it through miles and miles of arena to rate good enough to join your little Rebellion club?" I ask him in a sarcastic and biting tone.

Instead of rising to the bait, he surprises me.

"We're just waiting on your word, we've got a team ready to provide an extraction."

I surprised myself by choking out a sob. And then I reign it in, immediately, and ask for a map.

I give them the location and he issues a few quick commands over the radio. Then he speaks to some of his men. Finally he turns back to me.

"Alright Katniss, we're going to leave right now to retrieve you nearby teammates. Deen Sparrow and Gale Hawthrone. I'm gonna take half my squad, and we'll be back as quick as we can." I start to stand up so I can go with them but he shakes his head at me.

"No, no, you're injured. Stay here. We'll be back before you know it, if they're as close as you say and haven't moved." He tells me and I reluctantly sit back down. I didn't want to admit it, but my vision swam when I stood up earlier. I tell them about all the traps I knew about on the way, and Boggs nods in thanks.

So I watch him leave, with a worried but hopeful feeling in my chest.

….

The medic and the rest of the soldiers offer to help me start the trip back to a District 13 access tunnel, but I refuse. I don't want to leave until Deen and Gale are brought back.

So we wait. And they ask me some routine questions about our group. How many people, how long we traveled, what we encountered. I try to keep my explanations brief, but they seem more interested in information on Capitol strategies and weapons than the gory details of our escape. So I try to focus on that. And I tell them as much as I'm comfortable with. We're somewhere around the Jabberjay encounter when the soldiers call out a warning.

"Incoming!" I hear the word go out around the clearing and the soldiers take up defensive potions and stand with their weapons at the ready. The medic soldier takes out his pistol and stands in front of me, like a guard, but I wish I could stand up and see what's happening.

Then I hear shots ringing out all across the woods, and the soldiers are shouting orders, and trying to call for help on the radio. The medic shouts for me to "STAY LOW!" Right before he gets shot right in the head. He slumps over, dead right in front of me.

I scream. And try to start crawling to get behind the giant oak tree, hoping it will at least provide cover.

My heart pounds wildly, as I clamber for cover. I look out into the forest and see an approaching force of 20 Peacekeepers advancing with automatic rifles.

The district 13 soldiers are calling frantically over the radio, but I can tell it won't make a difference. We're outnumbered. I shut my eyes, against the noise, and fight for control a long moment. I reach over and grab the gun out of the hands of the dead soldier in front of me. The last two soldiers fall. I know, without a doubt, what I have to do.

I won't be taken alive. A cold feeling runs through me. And I think of Peeta at that moment. I shouldn't have waited. I should have just said it. The trigger feels cold and smooth under my finger as I begin to squeeze...

But then I hear a voice ring out, in pain, in fear.

And I look over to a peacekeeper who is holding someone in front of him, a small device with electric sparks coming out of it poised at the point of his prisoner's neck.

"Katniss Everdeen. Surrender peacefully, or this one will die slowly. Very slowly." His commanding bellow rings out over the clearing that had been turned into a smokey bloody field of battle. His face was hidden behind a white helmet with a black visor. I couldn't tell what he looked like. But it didn't matter. I saw who he was holding captive.

Deen looked out at me with a horrified expression. His hands bound, his mouth covered with black tape. He shook his head, but the peacekeeper just cuffed him roughly on the side of his ear. His face was already bruised and battered.

No.

No, not Deen.

I feel the moment slipping through my fingers…

And I'm in the square again, in front of the Hall of Justice, on a hot summer day. Sweating in my mother's hand me down blue dress. And a name is being called from the Reaping bowl. And I feel like I just got the wind knocked out of me...

"Take me instead!" I scream out.

My voice had broken silence, but there's a noise in my ears. A humming whine, that's growing louder by the second.

"We have orders to bring both of you back alive." The Peacekeeper says.

I raise the gun to my temple in a flash. My finger is ready on the trigger.

"You can't have us both." I replied.

I can tell by the set of his shoulders he's agitated. But if I had to guess, and after all these years I think I understand President Snow more than most people would think, I would say that while their orders are to bring back as many defectors as possible…

It's me that Snow really wants.

I wait for him to make up his mind.

"Fine, put down your weapon and we'll let him go." The voice says from behind the mask.

"Let him go and I'll put down my weapon." I tell them. Another tense moment. But then, the peacekeeper is pressing the point of the electrical shock device into Deen's neck and he's convulsing as he's held in place by the man's thick arms.

I bite back a scream, and my eyes water. Deen hangs limp in the man's arms, unconscious. My finger trembles against the trigger, along with my entire hand.

"Put down the gun, and surrender now, or I'll fry him right here in front of you." The man threatens, holding the device to Deen's neck. I grit my teeth.

"Fuck you." I spit the words, and my hand steadies a little on the trigger. If I couldn't buy Deen's life with my own, then I wouldn't give Snow the satisfaction of dragging two victor's back to the Capitol to torture today.

The Peacekeeper is breathing hard, I can see it in the rise and fall of his chest. He's angry.

Well, so am I.

I am so angry.

That we went through all of this, sacrificed so much just to end up here. And if I had to lose today, then I was going to lose on my own damn terms.

The silence stretches. And after a beat, Deen stirs. He groans. The Peacekeeper's grip tightens on Deen's shoulder.

I breathe in and out. As steady and even as I can. There's only one real outcome here. And that is my death. Whether it be here and now in this clearing with a bullet to my brain, or slowly and tortureously back in the Capitol. Either way, I was going to die.

And once I had realized that, then the fear had gone away.

"Decide already. I don't have time to wait around for Snow's lackeys." I tell the Peacekeeper, and I can see him visibly bristle. But then he takes out a knife, and I think he's going to stab Deen right in front of me. My eyes widen, they water, but I think at least it will be quick.

But no, he just leans down and cuts through the plastic restraints holding Deen's ankles together. And he hoists him up, and pushes him roughly forward. Deen stumbles, but then he gets up and starts walking toward me.

"You. Walk forward now. And if you try any funny stuff. I'll give the order for my men to turn the boy into swiss cheese." The Peacekeeper commands in a loud voice, and I obey. I take a step for every one that Deen does.

When I get to the middle of the clearing I nod for Deen to keep moving. He has tears in his dark coal colored eyes. His lanky shoulders droop with exhaustion, pain and defeat. He stares at me for a long minute silently begging me not to go through with it. But Deen knows me better than most.

I could never let him die, if I knew there was something I could do to save him.

The broken boy who won the crown...the boy we all failed to protect.

This time I wouldn't let him pay the price. This time I would save him.

And I realize in all the time I've known him I never realized how much he looks like the pictures my mother has of my father when he was young…

"Keep walking, Deen, and don't look back." I told him.

He tries to say something, but the tape over his mouth makes it impossible to make out.

I just keep walking.

When I get ten paces in front of the Peacekeeper, I stop. I listen for the sounds of Deen's footsteps receding into the forest. And when I don't hear them any more I look at the Peacekeeper. I still can't see his face.

I sigh, and let the gun fall to the floor. The Peacekeeper rushes forward and kicks it away. But it doesn't matter...it doesn't matter.

Peeta had once told me I should never play poker. He said I was terrible at bluffing. That seems so long ago, so very long ago…

But today I think I would have made him proud. Today I would have made them all proud.

The gun had been empty. All its bullets used up. I had tried to fire it earlier. It had just clicked softly and denied me my swift end.

So just like with those beautiful berries that had brought me pain, and heartache, and love, I had bluffed and managed to buy the life of someone I cared for once again. If that was the last thing I would be remembered for, then it was something good.

And Peeta could take heart in it. And use it to fight the Capitol. Wherever he was….

I had to believe he was ok. I couldn't let myself consider anything different.

They're cuffing me now, roughly, and someone shackles my ankles. Orders are being given, to try and pursue Deen. But I know him, he won't waste this chance. He'll slip out of their grasp. He won't let them catch him twice.

I find my eyes wandering up to the sky...it's so blue.

"Let's go." The Peacekeeper guarding me says as he yanks me away and back towards the forest.

And I sigh.

I close my eyes and say goodbye to everything and everyone I love.

Where I am going there will be no sky. No escape.

Only the memory of this priceless blue moment.

The exact color of his eyes.

"I love you.." I whisper to the sky, right before they drop the black bag over my head.

Chapter Text

(Peeta POV)

By late afternoon after they've left I am almost frantic.

"Haymitch, you said there were only 12 or so miles left right?" I look over at him. He looks miserable. I mean we all look terrible from all the fighting and running and injuries, but he looks an odd mixture of grey and green looking that is almost painful to look at in itself. His hands are bandaged and clean, but there are no more pain killers, or any booze. And for someone like Haymitch who's first impulse is to blot out pain, be it physical or emotional, this must be the worst.

"Kid, there's traps everywhere. Give 'em time." He tells me with a very thin layer of patience over his agony. I nod, a few times, but the gesture does not convey reassurance to either myself or him and he sighs, and leans back against the inside of the tent and closes his eyes.

I start to fidget with a piece of tent fabric that's loose around the edge of the entrance. It doesn't help anything. I look over at my brother and wince. He's laying on his back staring into space. But there are tears streaming down his eyes. I remind myself that he is in so much pain right now. He just lost the love of his life. And we just lost our father.

I go over and sit by him, just close enough so that he knows I'm there. After a few minutes I try to think of something, anything. But all I feel is immense and overwhelming guilt. I had asked my family to come with me on this journey thinking to save them from retribution from the Capitol, thinking it would be a second chance at life and freedom. But instead of those two things, we had found only death and pain.

"Rye...I'll never be able to make it up, or fix it...I'm so sorry…." I tell him quietly, and feel my throat get tight. But I need to tell him, I want him to know that it's not his fault. Because I think he blames himself right now. But if we really want to get to the heart of the issue, it's all my fault. If I hadn't needed to run away from the Capitol, our family would still be alive and intact, and together.

Amazingly his eyes flick over to me.

"Peeta...it's not your fault...Laurel...well I knew her. I knew her through and through. She believed in this...in what you told her that night...about you and...Katniss...coming here, not just to get away but to help fight. She's always had this quiet rebellious streak in her. I knew that even before I married her. I knew it was a risk, to love a girl like that ..." He tells me and stares right into my eyes and we share this moment, this connection, where I can feel how he's telling me he knows how I feel because Katniss is the same way...only more. So much more rebellious and reckless, and willing to take risks. She's off right now, charging into danger on the off chance they could actually make it past this death trap of a forest.

And I close my eyes against the pain of it. Her not being here, it feels like an essential part of me has been misplaced. And I felt like I had only just found it…

The way she looked at me before she left. Grey eyes that seemed to encompass all of me, and everyone of our moments together. From the first day and on and on down the line, until she finally put my hand over heart and nodded, answering the question, the only one that ever really mattered between us.

Somehow it had been more perfect than hearing her say the words aloud. The joy I felt in that moment, the unmitigated vast triumph and exhilaration over the lies and the Capitol and our own fears, could only be measured in contrast with the utter despair that came with watching her leave.

And I kept telling myself every second, every moment that I was worrying for nothing. That between her and Deen and Gale, they'd be just fine.

But I couldn't shake this feeling...

And right when I'm about to open my mouth to speak to my brother again, I hear them.

The rumble of air, the roar of engines. Hovercraft. I tense up. Rye sits up, more alert and responsive for the first time since the morning, and he reaches over to grab his weapon.

I reach into my pack and grab the hatchet. Haymitch scowls, and makes a pained expression as he too grasps his knife in his right hand, the less burned one, shakily.

"Stay here." I say as I look at both of them, and Haymitch starts to protest but I shoot him a look. Then I unzip the back of the tent and crawl out.

Once on the outside I quickly readjust the branches and foliage over the tent to hide its presence to outside observers, and I crouch low as I make my way over to the vantage point at the top of the point bar's northern facing slope. I hide among the brush and peer out in the direction where I hear the noise.

It's coming in fast from the north. A wonder of technology and aviation descends from the sky. It's a gun metal grey color, shaped like an arrowhead with a circular section cut out of the rear section where the ring of high powered engines burned with blue flames.

I looked up at it, silently cursing, hoping that we'd somehow be able to remain hidden or at least maybe Rye and I could fight long enough to let some of the others get away. But as it got closer I noticed something different about the markings on the bottom of the wings…

The letters D13 and the word NIGHTLOCK had been painted hastily, in crooked letters it seemed on the bottom side of the wings.

And for the first time in hours I felt my spirits lift with joy. They had made it!

But then I told myself not to be hasty, it could be a trap. I didn't know how the Capitol would know the password Haymitch had told us all to guard with our lives and could only be used when we actually got to the rendezvous point outside of 13. But, well it never hurts to be cautious.

So I observed hovercraft land rapidly, and squinted to see just who stepped out.

Men and women in grey unadorned uniforms. They had guns and bullet proof vests, most of them. But some of them looked like medics, with red arm bands over their sleeves. And they were carrying a stretcher….

There's only one way they could know we needed a stretcher, and that's if Katniss and Gale and Deen had told them!

I stand up, and rush forward, stumbling a little as I descend down the slope quickly.

"Hey!" I call out as I wave, "Hey over here!" I say and they immediately see me.

"Peeta Mellark? If that's you, can you please provide your half of the passcode?" A stern looking woman with dark hair pulled back into a severe looking ponytail asks as she points her gun in my direction.

I put my hands up, to show them I'm not a threat.

"Mine is the old request: If I cannot have freedom, then give me a handful…" I say and trail off waiting for her to end the phrase.

"Of nightlock." She answers and nods her head at me, and then her team. They quickly spread out and start forming a perimeter.

"Alright, my name is Jackson and I'm in charge of your rescue today. Have you encountered any bands of Peacekeepers nearby?"

"Not for a few days. But we've all been injured in one way or another by traps and mutts. We need medical assistance badly."

"Yes, Katniss Everdeen relayed the message about your group's injuries-"

"She's alive? And safe?"

"Yes, waiting for the retrieval of the rest of her teammates at the rendezvous point, but we don't have time to go into details. If you haven't seen any peacekeepers it's only a matter of time. Our arrival will no doubt draw them, unless we evacuate you all as quickly as possible. Please show us to your injured team members, so we can be on our way."

"Of course, they're right over here," I tell her as I lead her back to camp.

…..

We get everybody loaded onto the Hovercraft at record speed. And For the first time in days I see the faces of my friends and family members smile.

Then before we know it, we're up and off leaving the forest and its nightmares behind for good.

We land in a covert hanger, that's hidden behind doors that open up mechanically from inside of the vast underground complex that Jackson tells me makes up District 13.

I barely pay attention to her explanations. I'm just counting down the seconds until I can wrap Katniss in my arms again. The district 13 medics rush Rory and his little brother off first down to the medical ward. But when they insist I go, I argue with them. I tell them I want to wait in the hangar for Katniss and Deen and Gale to get back.

But then Jackson tells me they were all reported by Kantiss to have been stung by tracker jackers and they would all most likely end up being taken to the infirmary as soon as they got here, so I finally relented.

I watched as they rolled Rory off to surgery. His mother looked nervous, but her other children sat on either side of her holding her hands. Even though Rory had said some awful things about Katniss during the trip, in front of everyone, I still hoped he would make a full recovery. He wasn't a bad kid, he just had no idea how fucked up our lives had become because of the Capitol. I just hoped that he had gotten the medical attention he needed in time.

I sat, bouncing my good leg with frantic energy as the nurses rechecked the scratch down my arm, and various cuts and bruises I had accumulated over the course of our escape. I really just wanted them to finish so I could go back to sitting by the door and waiting for Katniss to come in. But then I heard the doors open, and I jumped down from the examining table much to the surprise and annoyance of the nurses. But I didn't care. I just ran as fast as my damaged leg would allow back over to the entrance.

I saw Gale, being carried in on a stretcher. He looked awful. His whole face and neck and even his head was swollen with what I could only guess was at least four or five tracker jacker stings. He was rolling back and forth trying to say something but the medics kept telling him to be still. I rushed over.

"GALE!" I cried out as I reached his side, some of the medics and nurses tried to tell me to back off but I ignored them, and when one soldier tried to grab my shoulder I shook him off as hard as I could.

"Gale, where is she?" I ask him as quickly as I can because now more soldiers are coming over to try and remove me so the doctors can take him off and treat him. But my arm's on the stretcher, holding tight and not letting them move forward.

"She took off...to get help...told them where to find me...they told me she's on her way…" Gale says weakly and I curse internally as I let the stretcher go. I guess he doesn't know anymore than I do….

"Wait! Wait! GALE! Where's Deen?" I ask frantically, when I see that indeed my fellow victor was nowhere to be found. And Jackson had told me that Gale and Deen had both been stung and left behind by Katniss.

"He went after her….I made him go…." Gale calls out in a voice I can barely hear. But then he collapses against the stretcher and I allow the soldiers who are surrounding me to lead me away.

I bit my lip as I returned to take my seat. My leg went back to bouncing up and down. I looked over at Haymitch's face, finally beginning to return to normal after being contorted in pain for so long, after they slipped an IV with painkillers into his arm and began unwrapping his hands.

I looked over at Mrs. Everdeen and Prim, who sat quietly waiting next to Posey. Gale's mother had taken off in the direction of her eldest son, no doubt to check in on him.

10 of us were here, safe in 13 already. And from what Gale and Jackson had said, Katniss herself had told them where to find everyone. But no one had made mention of Deen making it to 13.

Was that the horrible feeling that had been plaguing me all day? Had we lost the only tribute we'd been able to save from the Games, and from the clutches of the Capitol manipulations, just to lose him to an arena built into the nature surrounding 13 itself?

The thought made me feel cold and sick all over…

Katniss will be devastated… Haymitch too, if it's true…

I hope it's not true. I think loudly, so loudly in my head that I think I might actually mumble the words. And Mrs. Everdeen actually reaches over and grabs my hand.

I look up in surprise for a moment, and then give her a small grateful smile. But then the doors are opening again, and more soldiers are coming in. And I keep waiting to see a stecher or to even see Katniss walk in but she doesn't.

Still, a man with dark colored skin and a completely bald head heads straight for me and Mrs. Everdeen. And the horrible feeling in my stomach multiplies exponentially.

"You all are Katniss Everdeen's family members? Mother, husband and sister?" He asks, looking between me and her mother. And Mrs. Everdeen nods, and I find myself surprised she doesn't correct him about me.

"I'm commander Boggs, second in command here in 13. I was the one who initially made contact with Katniss earlier this afternoon. When we heard about the teammates she had to leave behind I took half my squad to recover Hawthorne and Sparrow. We were able to locate Hawthorne, but Deen Sparrow is currently missing." He tells us and I feel the stone in the pit of my stomach lurch painfully.

But then the next thing he says wipes any other thought out of my head.

"I'm so sorry to give you this news, but another unfortunate incident occured after I took my half of the squad on the recovery operation. The rendezvous point was attacked and Katniss was caught in a fire fight between 13 and Capitol forces. It's believed she was captured after they killed the remaining squad members."

Prim screams, I think. Or maybe Mrs. Everdeen does, I'm not sure.

Then Haymitch is there, getting in the man's face, cursing him and his mother and every soldier in 13…

I hear quiet gasps of femmine sobbing and I know Katniss's mother has started to cry.

And I….

I just look down at my hands, in shock. I had her in my arms just a few hours ago.

She had kissed me.

She had placed my hand over her heart.

.

.

.

.

.

.

And now she is gone….

And I am gone

And all of it is just GONE...

Chapter Text

(Prim POV)

(Recommended Listening Track: Yesterday-Imaginary Future & Kina Grannis)

I look around the clean, orderly hospital ward. Coming back to myself after an extended period where I must have disassociated from reality. I blink at the scene. People are still going about their routines despite my mother's hysterical tears. I reach over and pat her back, but she seems to hardly notice me. She is really on the brink. She has been for sometime now.

The District 13 soldiers forcibly removed Haymitch a few minutes after he started causing a scene...what was his name again? Colonel Boggs? The tall dark skinned man with the sad eyes released Haymitch back to custody of the doctors, even though someone said Haymitch could be charged for attempting to assault an officer. They are making him sit down on a hospital bed right now, and he's still cursing. He's demanding to speak to someone in charge.

Peeta, well he looks like he's still in shock. He hasn't moved an inch. I look over at him and he just keeps looking forward, and blinking. Not a very good sign, that he hasn't responded to the news after 10, 15 minutes? I sigh. That won't last.

And after the initial shock passed, where I think I screamed, I found myself in a very familiar situation as three years ago.

The Capitol has once again stolen my sister from me.

And I am here left to pick up the pieces just as before.

I must pick them up. Since she has done it again, and taken all of our places, I must make myself get up right now. I must take care of them, since she won't be here to do it. I pinch the outside of my right leg, to bring back some feeling into my body. Sometimes, a person who has had a very bad shock can have trouble shaking off the numbness that seems to come from the mind trying to protect the body from a pain it cannot control. Or at least this is what my mother has told me, when we have to give people bad news, or inform them of the passing of a loved one. I gasp a little. And tell myself that those thoughts are premature. Very premature. I pinch my leg harder, still not feeling anything.

The sharp sting of my flesh brings me back out of my head. I take a ragged breath, and stand up. I quietly walk over to a man who has an air of importance about him. People are bringing him charts to look at and sign off on. His dark rimmed square glasses glint in the fluorescent lighting.

When I step up before him he doesn't automatically acknowledge me. But that's ok. Most people don't notice me at first. They always notice Katniss, of course, but I don't mind. We're just different. She stands out, and I blend in. She's special that way. It would have been much easier for everyone if Katniss had never volunteered for me. My death would have been so much easier to accept than her and Peeta's survival. But, there is no way to undo the things that have been done. So I just clear my throat and finally the man with the thick cut glasses looks up over his medical chart at me. Several other nurses do also, as well as two or so doctors who had been grouped in conference.

"Excuse me, my name is Primrose Everdeen. I need to speak to someone about the medical care of the people in my group. Are you the head physician?" I ask the man and he seems a little surprised. But then he nods and tells me he's called Dr. Kenton. He eyes me a little suspiciously. And I know what he sees. A petite blond girl. Someone soft spoken and easily dismissable. But right now I have to fight that.

"Young lady, everyone is being taken care of appropriately, I suggest you return to your seat. We'll find someone to keep an eye on you if your mother is too overwrought at the moment." One of the nurses says as she takes a step towards me, intending to lead me back to the chairs. But I side step her.

"There are some medical concerns that you need to be aware of in regards to our group. First of all, Haymitch Abrenathy, the middle aged victor, has a substance dependency problem, it includes alcohol or painkillers. He's been sober most of this trip. But after the news we received today, he'll need to be kept on a strict watch. If you leave him unattended he may very well seek out substances to try and cope with my sister's kidnapping. Also, my mother needs medical attention as well. She suffers from severe on-going depression. And she exhausted her antidepressants while on this trip, so that she could keep functioning while trying to cope with all the trauma and hardship we've had to endure. If someone doesn't get her on some mood stabilizers soon, she'll likely become catatonic within the next few hours." At this I glance up and look at the head doctor, and he, incredibility is instructing his nurses to write down my suggestions. I take a shaky breath and continue.

"And my…...brother-in-law, Peeta, he should be monitored as well, or maybe sedated." I say, using the new term that fits strangely in my mouth. I know Peeta and Katniss aren't really married. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love her like they really are. I wince at this thought.

"Does he have a substance abuse problem?" One of the other doctors asks and I shake my head.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. It's just, well, my sister is like his whole world. And...with her captured….well it's very possible he may try to harm himself, once the shock wears off." I tell them all and the head doctor instructs some nurses and another doctor to go and check on Peeta.

I let out a deep breath.

"Anything else we should be made aware of Ms. Everdeen?" The man with the square glasses asks, looking at me now with a new found respect.

"Yes, I might suggest you don't tell Gale Hawthorne that my sister is missing until he's recovered a bit, please. They're close you see. Cousins, and well, if he finds out he may try and go after her before he's even better." I say, wondering what Gale will really do when he finds out. Nothing good.

The head doctor instructs someone to make another note. And then he looks up at me again after reading the note and seeming satisfied with it. He hands it back to the nurse as he considers me.

"We've noticed that many of the people in your group received first aid and rudimentary medical attention, am I correct in assuming that you played a part in that?"

"Oh, I helped my mother. She's what we call a healer back in our District. Something of an apothecary and nurse. She's been teaching me." I look over at my mom when I finish saying this. She has stopped crying sometime during this conversation. The silence worries me more than the tears though.

"Well it seems you've absorbed a lot of knowledge. Thank you, Ms. Everdeen for saving us some time when it comes to treating your group. We'll be better prepared to take care of them because of the information you've given us. Is there anything you need?"

"I'd just like to speak to someone about my sister's predicament, whenever that's possible. And I'd like to help take care of my mother." I tell him and he nods.

"Of course. I'll have one of the nurses escort you and your mother to one of our hospital rooms. Where you'll both be able to wait for word in a more comfortable environment." He tells me, and then he gives me a small pat on the shoulder and one of the nurses leads me back so I can collect my mother and follow her to a room.

I see that they have already taken Peeta to a room, and they are examining him, shining a light in his eyes and reading his vitals. His brother is with him. I sigh in relief and keep walking to the room they are putting me and my mother in.

I am oddly reminded of the Reaping. My mother and I had been ushered into a room then too, to wait to say our goodbyes to my sister. But this time we hadn't gotten the chance.

The impending fallout from this thought, and all the ones associated with it, threaten to overtake me. Even as I help the nurse get my mother into bed. And it presses in, while I help to describe the medicines and herbs she takes for her moods. I don't know how much help I'll be, but I try my best to be thorough and detailed.

I feel the weight of the knowledge follow me around, as I busy myself helping the nurse get my mother to eat. And then after they give her a light dose of mild antidepressants to see how she responds, she barely moves. She doesn't say a word. I sigh and settle in to watch her through the night.

After about an hour I finally hear what I've been dreading.

Peeta's voice. He's screaming for the security guards to get out of his way. He says he's discharging himself and he's going after his wife, and his protege. The doctors tell the guards to retrain him. He loses it. I've never seen Peeta angry. I never imagined what it was like.

He doesn't hurt anyone, doesn't so much as puch the guards, he just slips out of their grasp. But every breakable inanimate object within reach is demolished. Including a metal sitting chair in the lobby. Then Haymitch's voice is there, and he's trying to calm Peeta down. But Peeta refuses to listen, and they have to sedate him. Haymtich is causing a scene again. And it's just horrible, really horrible to see these two people who care this much about my sister have to try and pick up the pieces without her.

And I think I am very very close to falling apart myself.

I don't know what I'm holding on for. I really don't. I just have this fear inside. It's a mind numbing terror that's been gripping me since we first got the news.

I fear that this time I won't be able to stand it.

I'll crumble if I have to watch them kill her….

My thoughts are interrupted by a flurry of activity as the lobby fills with the sound of people rushing in. My heart leaps in my chest. I ran back to the entrance.

I see them wheeling a person in on a stretcher.

It's not my sister.

My heart breaks open, but then when I recognize the battered and beaten face beneath the swelling I cry out in alarm.

"Deen!" I exclaim and rush to his side.

He's unconscious. He looks to have multiple serious injuries. Stings, cuts and bruises, and even...bullet wounds? What in the world happened out there?

"What's his condition?" I turned to look at one of the doctors that was a part of the conference I interrupted earlier when I spoke to the head physician.

She eyes me quickly, but then quietly she informs me.

"Critical. Two gunshot wounds, internal bleeding, erratic heart rate, tracker jacker poisoning, two broken ribs, severe concussion, and multiple smaller injuries. We're taking him to surgery now. Who's his next of kin?" She asks and I go blank for a second.

Deen is an orphan. He has no family.

No wait, that's not right.

Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch.

From that list there seems to be only one real option.

"Haymitch Abernathy. He's Deen's legal guardian I think. And Peeta Mellark, they're like brothers. They're the only family he has." I tell her quickly and she nods, before disappearing through a pair of double doors.

And that I think was the last straw.

I finally sank to my knees on the cold hospital floor.

And the tears and choking sobs start escaping from my throat and chest where I can't contain them anymore.

Yes, this all feels too familiar. So familiar it's like my oldest nightmare.

My sister.

My only protector.

She has been taken.

And the tears burn bitter and unstoppable in my eyes, and down my throat.

This time I don't know if I'll be able to survive being left behind.

...

Chapter Text

I'd like to dedicate this story to my dad, who passed away during the Pandemic.

Losing him was one of the worst experiences of my life. But it also changed me in many ways for the better. One of those changes was to reignite my passion for writing that had been waning for many years. I don't think I would have ever started writing fanfiction if I hadn't needed a creative outlet for all the emotions and ideas that were whirling in my mind during that painful time. It was on the anniversary of his passing that I started writing this story. And the words just poured out of me. Over 270,000 words written in a little over 2 months. Now when I go back and read it I can see so many mistakes in the grammar and tenses. But when I was writing it I was just trying to find the fastest way to get the story out. I felt like I wouldn't be able to have any peace unless I finished this. (Technically the story isn't anywhere near over. There is of course a sequel and maybe even a prequel that are still floating around in my brain). Still, I consider closing out this part of the tale a big success for a person who never had the courage or confidence to share any works of fiction with anyone ever, except maybe my husband. But after my father died, I couldn't keep my stories to myself anymore. I took a chance and published them on the internet for everyone to enjoy for free. And the feedback overall has been so wonderful and encouraging. So if you liked this particular fanfiction in even the smallest way, its all in thanks to him, my dad. He always encouraged me to read, and read a lot. He never stopped buying me books. Never stopped being proud of my small talent in writing. His support made this story possible. For that, and for the wonderful father he was to me, I will always love and miss him. His life and death lead me to to this wonderful community and place of expression, where I've met so many incredible people who share inspiration and kindness and amazing stories everyday.

Thank you. And I hope you like the sequel.