Livia spewed the berries from her mouth, wiping her tongue with the end of her shirt to make sure no juice remained.
Peeta pulled her to the lake where they both flushed their mouths with water and then collapsed into each other's arms.
"You didn't swallow any?" Livia asked him.
He shook his head, "You?"
"Guess I'd be dead by now if I did." Livia muttered.
She could see his lips moving in reply, but she couldn't hear him over the roar of the crowd in the Capitol that they were playing live over the speakers.
The hovercraft materialized overhead and two ladders dropped, only there was no way Livia was letting go of Peeta.
She kept one arm around him as she helped him up, and they each placed a foot on the first rung of the ladder.
The electric current froze them in place, and this time she was glad because she was not really sure Peeta could hang on for the whole ride.
And since her eyes were looking down, she could see that while their muscles were immobile, nothing was preventing the blood from draining out of Peeta's leg.
Sure enough, the minute the door closed behind them and the current stopped, he slumped to the floor unconscious.
Livia's fingers were still gripping the back of his jacket so tightly that when they took him away it tore, leaving her with a fistful of black fabric.
Doctors in sterile white, masked and gloved, already prepped to operate, went into action.
Peeta was so pale and still on a silver table, tubes and wires springing out of him every which way, and for a moment Livia forget they were out of the Games.
She saw the doctors as just one more threat, one more pack of mutts designed to kill him.
Petrified, she lunged for him, but she was caught and thrust back into another room- a glass door sealed between them.
Livia pounded on the glass, screaming her head off.
Everyone ignored her except for some Capitol attendant who appeared behind her and offered her a beverage.
Livia slumped down on the floor, her face against the door, staring uncomprehendingly at the crystal glass in her hand.
Icy cold, filled with orange juice, a straw with a frilly white collar.
How wrong it looks in her bloody, filthy hand with its dirt-caked nails and scars.
Livia's mouth watered at the smell, but she placed it carefully on the floor, not trusting anything so clean and pretty.
Through the glass, she could the doctors working feverishly on Peeta, their brows creased in concentration.
She could see the flow of liquids, pumping through the tubes and watch a wall of dials and lights that meant nothing to her.
She was not sure, but she thought his heart stoped twice.
It was like being home again, when they brought in the hopelessly mangled person from the quarry explosion, or the woman in her third day of labor, or the famished child struggling against pneumonia.
Livia's mother wore the same look on her face.
Now was the time to run away to the woods, to hide in the trees until the patient was long gone and in another part of town the hammers make the coffin.
But Livia was held there both by the hovercraft walls and the same force that held the loved ones of the dying.
How often she had seen them, ringed around their kitchen table and she thought, Why don't they leave?
Why do they stay to watch?
And now she knew.
It was because you had no choice.
She startled when she caught someone staring at her from only a few inches away and then realize it was her own face reflecting back in the glass.
Wild eyes, hollow cheeks, her hair in a tangled mat.
Rabid. Feral. Mad.
No wonder everyone was keeping a safe distance from her.
The next thing she knew they had landed back on the roof of the Training Center and they were taking Peeta but leaving Livia behind the door.
She started hurling herself against the glass, shrieking and she thought she just caught a glimpse of pink hair when the needle jabbed her from behind.
When she woke, she was afraid to move at first.
The entire ceiling glowed with a soft yellow light allowing her to see that she was in a room containing just her bed.
No doors, no windows were visible.
The air smelled of something sharp and antiseptic.
Her right arm had several tubes that extended into the wall behind her.
She was naked, but the bedclothes were soothing against her skin.
She tentatively lifted her left hand above the cover.
Not only had it been scrubbed clean, the nails were filed in perfect ovals.
She touched her cheek, her lips, the puckered scar above her eyebrow, and was just running her fingers through her silken hair when she froze.
Apprehensively she ruffled the hair by her left ear.
No, it wasn't an illusion.
She could hear again.
She tried to sit up, but some sort of wide restraining bound around her waist kept her from rising more than a few inches.
The physical confinement made her panic and she was trying to pull herself up and wriggle her hips through the band when a portion of the wall slid open and in stepped a redheaded Avox girl carrying a tray.
The sight of her calmed Livia and she stopped trying to escape.
She wanted to ask a million questions.
They girl set the tray across Livia's thighs and pressed something that raised Livia to a sitting position.
While she adjusts Livia's pillows, Livia risked one question.
She said it out loud, as clearly as her rusty voice would allow, so nothing would seem secretive, "Did Peeta make it?"
She gave Livia a nod, and as she slipped a spoon into Livia's hand,
She felt the pressure of friendship.
Peeta had made it.
Of course, he did.
With all their expensive equipment here.
Still, Livia hadn't been sure until now.
As the Avox left, the door closed noiselessly after her and Livia turned hungrily to the tray.
A bowl of clear broth, a small serving of applesauce, and a glass of water.
That was it? Livia thought grouchily.
Shouldn't her homecoming dinner be a little more spectacular?
But she found it was an effort to finish the spare meal before her.
Her stomach seemed to have shrunk to the size of a chestnut, and she had to wonder how long she had been out because she had no trouble eating a fairly sizable breakfast that last morning in the arena.
There was usually a lag of a few days between the end of the competition and the presentation of the victor so that they could put the starving, wounded, mess of a person back together again.
Somewhere, their stylists would be creating their wardrobes for the public appearances.
The mentors would be arranging the banquet for the sponsors, reviewing the questions for the final interviews.
Livia didn't know what would happened in the near future- now that she had survived and Peeta had as well.
It was hard to tell and with the unknown, came fear.
It had never happened before- ever.
Two victors.
Two victors in love.
Two victors in love from two different districts.
She could only imagine the chaos.
She wanted to get out of her bed.
To see Peeta- to find out more about what had been going on.
And why couldn't she?
She felt fine.
But as she started to work her way out of the band, she felt a cold liquid seep into her vein from one of the tubes and almost immediately lost consciousness.
It happened on and off for an indeterminate amount of time.
Livia's waking, eating, and- even though she resisted the impulse to try and escape the bed- being knocked out again.
Livia seemed to be in a strange, continual twilight.
Only a few things registered.
The redheaded Avox girl had not returned since the feeding, her scars were disappearing, and did she imagine it?
Or did she hear a man's voice yelling?
Not in the Capitol accent, but in the rougher cadence.
Livia couldn't help having a vague, comforting feeling that someone was looking out for her.
Then finally, the time arrived when she came to and there was nothing plugged into her right arm.
The restraint around her middle had been removed and she was free to move about.
She started to sit up but was arrested by the sight of her hands.
The skin was perfection, smooth and glowing.
Not only were the scars from the arena gone, but those accumulated over years of hunting had vanished without a trace.
Livia's forehead felt like satin.
She slipped her legs out of bed, nervous about how they would bear her weight and found them strong and steady.
Lying at the foot of the bed was an outfit that made Livia flinch.
It was what all of the tributes wore in the arena.
She stared at it as if it had teeth until she remembered that, of course, it was what she would wear to greet her team.
She was dressed in less than a minute and fidgeting in front of the wall where she knew there was a door- even if she couldn't see it- when suddenly it slid open.
Livia stepped into a wide, deserted hall that appeared to have no other doors on it.
But it must.
And behind one of them must be Peeta.
Now that Livia was conscious and moving, she was growing more and more anxious about him.
He must be all right or the Avox girl wouldn't have said so.
But she needed to see him for herself.
"Peeta!" Livia called out, since there was no one to ask.
She heard her name in response, but it was not his voice.
It was a voice that provoked first irritation and then eagerness.
Effie.
Livia turned and saw them all waiting in a big chamber at the end of the hall- Effie, Haymitch, and Cinna.
Livia's feet took off without hesitation.
Maybe a victor should show more restraint, more superiority, especially when she knew it would be on tape, but she didn't care.
She ran for them and surprised even herself when she launcher into Haymitch's arms first.
When he whispered in her ear, 'Nice job, sweetheart' it didn't sound sarcastic.
Effie was somewhat teary and kept patting Livia's hair.
Cinna just hugged her tight and didn't say anything.
Then she noticed Portia- Peeta's stylist- was absent and got a bad feeling.
"Where's Portia? Is she with Peeta? He is all right, isn't he? I mean, he's alive?" Livia blurted out.
"He's fine. Only they want to do your reunion live on air at the ceremony." Haymitch explained.
"Oh. That's all", Livia mumbled- the awful moment of thinking Peeta was dead again passed, "I guess I'd want to see that myself."
"Go on with Cinna. He has to get you ready." Haymitch said.
Livia guessed he had been the one to volunteer to style her for the interview.
She'd admit the abandonment of her other stylist stung just a bit, but thoughts of seeing Peeta overwhelmed anything else on her mind.
Cinna placed his protective arm around Livia's shoulders as he guided her away from the cameras, down a few passages and to an elevator that led to the lobby of the Training Center.
The hospital then was far underground, even beneath the gym where the tributes practiced tying knots and throwing spears.
The windows of the lobby were darkened and a handful of guards stood on duty.
No one else was there to see them cross to the tribute elevator.
Their footsteps echoed in the emptiness.
And when they rode up to the twelfth floor, the faces of all the tributes who would never return flashed across her mind and there was a heavy, tight place in her chest.
When the elevator doors opened, her own prep team- Venia, Flavius, and Octavia- engulfed her, talking so quickly and ecstatically she couldn't make out their words.
The familiarity of her prep team was a blessing in disguise.
They were truly thrilled to see her and she was happy to see them, too.
They swept her into the dining room and she got a real meal- roast beef and peas and soft rolls- although her portions were still being strictly controlled.
Because when she asked for seconds, she was refused.
"No, no, no. They don't want it all coming back up on the stage." Octavia said, but she secretly slipped Livia an extra roll under the table to let her know she was on Livia's side.
They headed into a room and Cinna disappeared for a while as the prep team got her ready.
"Oh, they did a full body polish on you", Flavius said enviously, "Not a flaw left on your skin."
But when Livia looked in the mirror, all she could see was how skinny she was.
She was sure she was worse when she came out of the arena, but she could easily count her ribs.
They took care of the shower settings for Livia, and they went to work on her hair, nails, and makeup when she was done.
They chattered so continuously that Livia barely had to reply, which was good, since she didn't feel very talkative.
It's funny, because even though they were rattling on about the Games, it was all about where they were or what they were doing or how they felt when a specific event occurred.
"I was still in bed!"
"I had just had my eyebrows dyed!"
"I swear I nearly fainted!"
Everything was about them, not the dying boys and girls in the arena.
To keep from hating the prep team, she effectively tuned out most of what they were saying.
Cinna came in with what appears to be an unassuming yellow dress across his arms.
He slipped it over Livia's head.
She immediately noticed the padding over her breasts, adding back curves that hunger had stolen from her body.
Her hands went to her chest and she frowned.
"I know", Cinna muttered, before Livia could object, "But the Gamemakers wanted to alter you surgically. Haymitch had a huge fight with them over it. This was the compromise."
He stopped Livia before she could look at her reflection, "Wait, don't forget the shoes."
Venia helped her into a pair of flat leather sandals and she turned to the mirror.
The sheer fabric softly glowed. Even the slight movement in the air sent a ripple up her body.
In this dress, she gave the illusion of wearing candlelight.
"What do you think?" Cinna asked.
"It's wonderful." Livia said.
When she managed to pull her eyes away from the flickering fabric, she was in for something of a shock.
Her hair was loose, held back by a simple hairband.
The makeup rounded and filled out the sharp angles of her face.
A clear polish coated her nails.
The sleeveless dress was gathered at her ribs, not her waist, largely eliminating any help the padding would have given her figure.
The hem fell just to her knees.
Without heels, you could see her true stature.
She looked, very simply, like a girl.
A young one.
Innocent.
Harmless.
Yes, it was shocking that Cinna had pulled this off when you remember she had just won the Games.
It was a very calculated look.
Nothing Cinna designed was arbitrary.
Livia bit her lip trying to figure out his motivation.
"I thought it'd be something more. sophisticated-looking." Livia quipped.
"I thought Peeta would like this better." He answered carefully.
Peeta?
No, it was not about Peeta.
It was about the Capitol and the Gamemakers and the audience.
Although Livia did not yet understand Cinna's design, it was a reminder the Games were not quite finished.
And beneath his benign reply, Livia sensed a warning.
Of something he couldn't even mention in front of the team.
They took the elevator to the level where Livia trained.
It was customary for the victor and his or her support team to rise from beneath the stage.
First the prep team, followed by the escort, the stylist, the mentor, and finally the victor.
Only this year, with two victors, the whole thing had had to be rethought.
Livia found herself in a poorly lit area under the stage.
A brand-new metal plate had been installed to transport her upward.
You could still see small piles of sawdust- smell fresh paint.
Cinna and the prep team peeled off to change into their own costumes and took their positions, leaving Livia alone.
In the gloom, she saw a makeshift wall about ten yards away and assumed Peeta was behind it.
The rumbling of the crowd was loud, so Livia didn't notice Haymitch until he touched her shoulder.
She sprung away, startled- still half in the arena.
"Easy, just me. Let's have a look at you", Haymitch said as Livia held her arms and turned once, "Good enough."
It wasn't much of a compliment.
"But what?" Livia said.
Haymitch's eyes shifted around her musty holding space, and he seemed to make a decision, "But nothing. How about a hug for luck?"
Okay, that was an odd request, but- after all- they were victors.
Maybe a hug for luck was in order.
Only, when she put her arms around his neck, she found myself trapped in his embrace.
He began talking, very fast, very quietly in her ear, her hair concealing his lips.
"Listen up. You're in trouble. Word is the Capitol's furious about you showing them up in the arena. The one thing they can't stand is being laughed at and they're the joke of Panem." Haymitch explained.
Livia felt dread coursing through her now, but she laughed as though Haymitch was saying something completely delightful because nothing was covering her mouth.
"So, what? I didn't break my promise to my brothers. It's all that matters to me. Screw the capitol." Livia whispered, but she plastered a fake smile on her face.
Haymitch rolled his eyes, "That was very out of character for you, Livia."
Livia giggled, disguising their conversation as something lighthearted.
"Your only defense can be you were so madly in love you weren't responsible for your actions", Haymitch adjusted Livia's hairband, "Got it, sweetheart?"
He could be talking about anything now.
"Got it", Livia nodded, "Did you tell Peeta this?"
"Don't have to", Haymitch explained, "He's already there."
"But you think I'm not?" Livia fought the frown, taking the opportunity to straighten a bright red bow tie Cinna must have wrestled him into.
"Since when does it matter what I think?", Haymitch muttered, "Better take our places."
He led her to the metal circle.
"This is your night, sweetheart. Enjoy it." He kissed her on the forehead and disappeared into the gloom.
Livia tugged on her skirt, willing it to be longer, wanting it to cover the knocking in her knees.
Then she realized it was pointless.
Her whole body was shaking like a leaf.
Hopefully, it would be put down to excitement.
After all, it was her night.
The damp, moldy smell beneath the stage threatened to choke her.
A cold, clammy sweat broke out on her skin and she couldn't rid herself of the feeling that the boards above her head were about to collapse- to bury her alive under the rubble.
When she left the arena- when the trumpets played- she was supposed to be safe.
From then on.
For the rest of her life.
But if what Haymitch said was true- and he had no reason to lie- she had never been in such a dangerous place in her life.
It was so much worse than being hunted in the arena.
There, she could only die.
End of story.
But out here everyone she cared about could be punished.
Funny, in the arena, when Livia poured out those berries, she was only thinking of outsmarting the Gamemakers, not how her actions would reflect on the Capitol.
But the Hunger Games were their weapon and you were not supposed to be able to defeat it.
So now the Capitol would act as if they had been in control the whole time.
As if they orchestrated the whole event, right down to the double suicide.
But that would only work if Livia played along with them.
And Peeta.
Peeta would suffer, too, if it went wrong.
She had so many questions swirl around her head, but all of it would have to wait.
Because the most dangerous part of the Hunger Games was about to begin.