Prompt: Katniss and Peeta talk through her feelings on the train journey back from the Games.
A/N: This chapter is currently being re-written
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"We all play the game, and when we dare
To cheat ourselves at solitaire,
Inventing lovers on the phone,
Repenting other lives unknown,
Remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debentures of quality
And dubious integrity."
'At Seventeen'
Janis Ian
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Haymitch startles me when he lays a hand on my back. In my distraction to find the words to broach the subject of the berries with Peeta, I hadn't heard his approach.
Even now, in the middle of nowhere, he keeps his voice down when he addresses us.
"Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay."
He glances down at the wildflowers in my hands, the bouquet that Peeta had gathered for me minutes earlier, and his face sets in a somber line. I realise he's leaving me to explain his comment to Peeta. The berries and the looming threat of the Capitol. Our fake romance.
A glance at his face reveals such a look of pity for the boy with the bread that I want nothing more than to take Peeta's hand in my own and kiss him, declare that not all of it had been an act after all, and march back into the train carriage and away from his pitiful gaze. But that wouldn't be fair, because I really don't know how much was real, and instead I settle on clutching my wildflowers tightly.
I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Peeta's eyes.
"What's he mean?" Peeta asks me.
His voice sounds genuinely confused with a hint of curiosity, almost as if he expects me to share his confusion. Because we're a team, I think to myself. Because teams don't keep secrets from one another.
"It's the Capitol," I blurt out, not entirely sure of what I'm saying myself. "They didn't like our stunt with the berries."
"What? What are you talking about?" he says, and I finally tear my gaze away from the grass long enough to look at him.
All trace of the [].
"It seemed too rebellious. So Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn't make it worse," I say.
"Coaching you?" Realisation begins to dawn on Peeta's face "But not me..."
If I don't say something now, I'll lose him. I know I deserve this.
"He knew you were smart enough to get it right," I tell him.
I know what he's going to answer before he even opens his mouth.
"I didn't know there was anything to get right," says Peeta. "So, what you're saying is, these last few days and then I guess... back in the arena... that was just some strategy you two worked out."
"No. I mean, I couldn't even talk to him in the arena, could I?" I stammer.
"But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn't you?" says Peeta. I bite my lip. "Katniss?" He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance.
"It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted."
I tell myself it's better this way, to have him gone. That way the Capitol may be merciful to him.
And just let the Capitol try to hurt him. They've seen what I've done to save him before, let them try to touch him again.
I'm brought up short by my thoughts. Regardless of the Star-Crossed Lovers act - or not act, or whatever it was - it's clear I care for Peeta. We're still a team. And no matter how badly this will hurt, we can't afford to stay angry at one another.
I still need him. And no matter what he says, he still needs me. We survived as one, and we'll be expected to act as one, too. And I realise not so willingly that I want to be a team again. Only this time, a team with no secrets.
I swallow hard and gather what courage I have left. If Peeta won't start, then I will.
"Not all of it," I say, using the last of my resolve, and clutching my wildflowers closer to my chest.
"Then how much?" Peeta questions, and the pain in his voice is palpable. He shakes his head. "No, forget that. I guess the real question is, what's going to be left when we get home?"
"I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," I admit. Peeta turns away from me sadly, as if to make his way back to the train, but I surprise us both by speaking up again. "I just wanted to keep us both alive."
His shoulders slump, and he turns back around looking somewhat sheepish.
"I know," he admits. "I'm sorry. I just... need a minute."
"I didn't know it was real."
"Why?"
"Katniss..."
[]. After this, there's no going back. []
"Then how does it feel?"
"I... Parts of it feel strange and I want to know why."
"Katniss," he steps towards me, cautiously, as if he's afraid any sudden movement would send me running into the grass like a deer in the spring. "If there's even a chance you might, []."
"And if there's not?"
"Then we'll figure something out."
"Together?"
"Always."
-{}-{}-{}-{}-{}-
When
I decide to do the same. The journey's long and I want to look well rested. If not for my sake, then for mother and Prim.
Mother and Prim! Suddenly, it all sinks in. I'm going home. Soon, I'm going to be back in District Twelve to live in the Victors Village. Gone are the days of starvation and hollow cheeks. From now on, Prim will never have to skip a meal. I've won. I've kept my promise. I'm alive.
But for how long? If the Capitol is truly angry at me - and I know for a fact they are - then how long will they keep me alive? How long will they keep mother and Prim alive? How long will it be until they arrange some 'accident' or execute me?
Thoughts cloud my head until I collapse onto the warm, silky bed sheets. The world feels like it's spinning, and out of no where, I feel the President's snake eyes boring into my own.
President Snow... I feel as if we'll get to know each other very soon.
I kick off my shoes, glad I wiped off my make-up earlier, and look at the crumpled flowers in my hand. I want to throw them at the wall. I want to throw them right out of the window and all of my memories of the past few weeks with it, but something's stopping me. Somewhere in my head a voice is screaming at me, trying to be heard over my other thoughts, repeating the same message over and over. What about Peeta? It questions me.
Without the pressure of survival in the arena, I feel as if I can at least attempt to separate my feelings for Peeta. What I did for the camera, what I did because it was simply the right thing to do, what I did for the district, and what I did because I care about him.
I remember his face just a few minutes ago, when he found out it was all just an act. Well, not all of it... But even I don't know just how much. He looked upset, confused and embarrassed all at the same time.
He was heartbroken. I try and fail to push the thought to the back of my mind, but it just keeps coming back. If it's true, if he really loved me since he was five, then everything makes sense. He burnt the bread on purpose. He took a beating from his mother to save me and my family. The reassuring squeeze at the reaping, he was trying to soothe my nerves. His embarrassed look on the train - had he told Haymich he loved me?
Another thought comes to me: Haymich couldn't have been the only one who knew. I'm not too sure about Effie, and know for certain that my prep team didn't have a clue, but Cinna and Portia designed us matching clothes, and even told us to hold hands at the opening ce-
Cinna knew. Out of everybody who helped me, Cinna is the one I trust the most - even over Haymich. If Cinna knew then... He knew Peeta was going to help me. No, he knew Peeta would happily give his life in exchange for mine. Of course, Cinna had no idea the two of us would get out alive. No one could have predicted the berries. I wonder how the betting must have been in the Capitol.
"And remember this. I'm not allowed to bet, but if I could, my money would be on you. Truly."
Cinna's words ring through my head. Maybe he wasn't only betting on me for my mediocre skills with a bow. Maybe it was partly because he knew I was the only one there with someone ready to die if it meant I could live.
And if that really was the case, then Cinna couldn't possibly be any closer to the truth. Peeta had risked death multiple times to save me, and after everything I've put him through, when he finds out I was acting, he doesn't even get mad. He gives me time and space to figure it out myself.
But I realise I don't want time and space.
I'm at the door to my room before I even process what I'm doing. When it comes to people, it's like I'm a castle. It's rare anyone ever makes it past the thick walls surrounding me; even my own mother is trapped on the outside! Even if you do manage to get past those walls, it's practically impossible to get into the main castle structure. Throughout the time I've known Gale, and that's a long time, he's managed to break through my outer wall and is close to getting into the castle, too. What started out as friendship has developed into much more, like the bond between siblings. Peeta, however, is different. Even before the Games started, I realise he was already in the castle, right there next to me. You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope.
I realise my castle analogy must have come from the painting I'm staring at. It's no masterpiece, but has somehow helped me make sense of my messy thoughts.
Adjacent to the painting is a door. It's a deep brown, almost stallion red colour that's been smoothed down to give it a glossy finish. Behind that door lies Peeta. The boy with the bread. The boy who took a beating to save me. The boy who almost died to give me a chance to survive. The boy who, the moment his name had been called out at the reaping, decided he was willing to never see his family again if it meant I could see mine. Behind this door is the boy who made me do the unimaginable. He made me fall in love.
"Peeta!" I whisper urgently whilst bringing my fist to the door. "Peeta!"
No reply.
I knock again, this time a little louder.
"Peeta! Open up!"
A wave of panic rushes over me as I remember calling his name after the rule change, unsure whether he would still be alive at dawn.
"Please," I sob.
A million different scenarios run through my head. What if he's been hurt? Or if he's jumped out the window? I realise that even if I'm being monitored, this is the most privacy I've had in weeks. Hot tears glide gracefully down my face, though I'm not sure whether they're brought on by the stress of the situation I'm in, the loss I feel for my fellow tributes, the uncertainty of my families future as well as my own or if I myself may be as heartbroken as Peeta is. I conclude it's probably all of those combined.
My thoughts are put to rest when I hear a slight shuffling behind the door.
Is he ignoring me? The thought that the person I've been through so much with could give up on me in an instant sends another wave of sobs through my body.
"Katniss?"
The voice at the other side of the door sounds as broken as I feel.
"Katniss, is that really you?"
"Peeta I-" I try to continue, but I hiccup and sob again.
"Give me a second, I'll just put on my leg-"
I bite my cheek to stop another round of sobs escaping my throat. His leg... Yet another thing he's sacrificed for me.
By the time I hear the door creek open, the metallic taste of blood has filled my mouth from my already bitten cheek (that the Capitol's medicine hasn't seemed to heal), and I've been reduced to a blubbering mess on the floor.
"Katniss," Peeta says as he kneels down to my height. "Katniss, please, look at me."
Even in the darkness of the train carriage I can make out his calming blue eyes, though now they're bloodshot from crying.
"Peeta," I choke out.
His expression morphs into one of concern.
"Let's get you back to your room," he says.
I want to object, but as soon as his arms wrap around me, I feel safe. Maybe it's good if they're watching us. Maybe it will help convince the President I was not trying to defy his stupid Games.
I close my eyes and count to ten, hoping to stop the tears. By the time I open them again, we're in my room and Peeta is setting me down on the bed.
"Goodnight, Katniss," sighs Peeta as he walks away from my side, back towards the door.
"This isn't fair," I tell him in a voice surprisingly firm.
Peeta freezes at the door, but doesn't turn around.
"It isn't fair, the way you're acting," I continue. "We hadn't even spoken to each other before this all began. We were practically strangers, and I did all I could to keep us alive. You and I both know that."
For a second, nothing happens, and I'm afraid I've upset him in some way.
"I know," he eventually replies, but still he doesn't turn around.
"I'm only trying to protect you," I tell him.
"You saved us. I know that." Peeta agrees.
"Not just from the Games, Peeta. From me too. There's no point loving me because I'm never going to get married anyway and you'll just end up hating me later instead of sooner," I blurt out.
Love. The word sounds foreign when I say it aloud. I've only ever said it to my family, and whilst I link it to Gale, it's only in a brotherly way.
"It doesn't matter that I love you because I'll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to family, to children. A-and how can you? How can you after what we've just been through?"
He slowly turns around and faces me.
"We're only sixteen." His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. "Who knows what will happen in the future? So I'm not saying never. I'm saying not right now. I've just-"
He freezes.
"D-did you just say you love me?" Peeta asks.
Now it's my turn to freeze. I had, but I can't let him know. Say something, Katniss. A voice nags me. Tell him he misheard.
"I..." I begin.
Tell him you'll never love him in a million years! Go on. Do it.
"I- I'm scared," I choke out as my body wracks with sobs for the second time this evening.
Peeta hobbles his way towards my bed and crouches down at my bedside.
"You and I both. We're just children, and we've been through such a traumatic experience," Peeta says.
"No, it's not that. It's the Capitol. They... What are they going to do to me for pulling out those berries. It was my idea. I'm to blame. They'll kill everyone I love! And Prim! Sweet little Prim who wouldn't hurt a fly! What if they kill her?"
He places his strong, firm hand atop my fragile one.
"I promise you I won't let that happen," he tells me.
"I didn't want to defy the Capitol. I just wanted us both to live," I say.
"I know, Katniss. Everything will turn out okay in the end. But you still haven't answered my question."
I think about it for a few seconds. Should I, shouldn't I? To tell or not to tell? My debate must go on for longer than I intended, because Peeta rises and begins to walk away, defeated.
"I can't," I grab on to his hand. "They'll take you away from me."
"Katniss," he says, turning around once more. "You know just as well as I do that they'll not take me away. If anything, they'll force us to spend more time together acting madly in love."
He's right. And even though my feelings for Peeta are very different to the affection I showed him in the arena, maybe it's best I don't hide it.
Maybe the friendship before the Games wasn't as forced as I thought it was. As far as training for a fight to the death goes, his company actually turned it into a bareable experience at times.
The other tributes, who were the only others to know how it felt to be surrounded by people who you will either have to kill or be killed by, even bought into our friendship and romance. Little Rue even a-
Her name makes me sob once more.
"Katniss," Peeta kneels down and wraps his arms around me.
"Shh Katniss, it'll be alright. I promise you everything will turn out okay in the end."
It takes all my effort to pull away from the hug to look Peeta in the eye. His calm blue eyes that remind me so much of the sky in the forest on a warm, spring morning. That's when something clicks in my head.
I will never be alone. No matter what happens, no matter where life takes me, I will always have Peeta by my side. Every year of mentoring and train journeys, banquets and parties, even through the uneventful days in the Victor's Village, I will have his strong hands to grip onto and his smooth voice to reassure me. Haymitch will be there, too, but I prefer not to think of that.
He begins to back away into a standing position, but I can't hold it in any longer. I pull him back towards me and crash his lips into mine. A feeling of bliss washes over me and for the first time since my father died, I feel hopeful for the future. Maybe things will get better? Unlikely, but hope is all I have left.
I pull away when my lungs are burning from lack of air and rest my forehead against his. His eyes don't look bloodshot anymore. Instead, they're twinkling in the thin strip of moonlight from the ajar window.
"Don't leave me," I whisper. "Not tonight."
Peeta nods and begins to climb into the bed next to me, but I stop him when I notice the way he uncomfortably shifts on his prosthetic.
"Your leg, Peeta. You're in pain."
He pauses what he's doing and looks up at me.
"I didn't want to alarm you," he says in a hushed whisper.
I sit up and lift his trouser leg enough to see where the prosthetic meets his stump and unfasten it with shaky hands.
I let out a small gasp, though I'm not quite sure why. The Capitol have done an excellent job making it look as clean as possible. I can't even see any stitches.
"Katniss-" Peeta sighs in a shaky voice.
I cut him off by placing a kiss on the end of it. I know some of the nerves must still be working because I feel him shiver at the touch.
I turn to face him again and he pulls me to his chest.
"We'll get through this," he says into my hair. "I know we will."
I lie down, not breaking his loving embrace and let myself be lulled into oblivion by his steady heartbeat.
***
"Katniss!"
My eyes shoot open, and immediately I go to sit up, only to find I'm [].
"Katniss! Open the door! This is important!"
I feel movement to my right and turn my head to see a mop of ashy blonde curls.
"Good morning, Katniss," he whispers into my ear.
"Good morning, Peeta," I reply.
"Katniss! This is serious!"
Peeta directs his gaze towards the door.
"Sounds like Haymitch is sober," he smiles. "Must be important."
I want to get up, but for the first time in weeks I feel relaxed. Peeta's stump lays between my legs and my head is on his chest. My arms are wrapped around his torso and one of his arms is protectivly round my back whilst the other plays with my braid.
I snuggle further into his chest when Haymich continues his shouting.
"It's about Peeta!" He yells.
I sigh and decide to just yell back rather than open the door.
"What is it?" I call.
"We can't find him anywhere. He's not in his room and the window is unlocked. The train will be arriving any second with crowds of people eagerly awaiting your arrival and he's gone." He sounds genuinely concerned and, is it just me, or is he actually upset?
"Maybe we shouldn't have been so hard on him. The poor thing was smitten for you. You know what he told me the first morning on the train? He told me to count him out, because he wasn't going to survive. He told me either you would go home, or twelve wouldn't have a victor."
I look directly into Peeta's eyes.
"Yeah. We shouldn't have," I answer.
"I thought you'd be more concerned about him, Katniss." He tells me. "Love him or not, you've still been through so much together. At least pretend to be upset!"
Peeta and I exchange looks, a silent agreement that he should reveal where he is.
"She's not concerned because I'm next to her!" Peeta calls out.
I try to picture Haymitch's reaction to this news. Jaw hanging open, eyes wide. And confused, very confused.
"Alright, screw privacy, I'm coming in!"
I hear the door click open and the sound of heavy footsteps fills the carriage. I turn my head from Peeta's smug grin to Haymitch looking utterly dumbfounded. He stares at us for a few seconds before the corners of his lips tug up in a smirk similar to the one Peeta wore mere seconds ago.
"You having fun there, sweetheart?" He asks.
I forgot how annoying Haymitch could be. I send a scowl his way and he just laughs.
"You look tired, Haymitch. Do you want a drink?" Peeta questions almost too innocently.
"Yes, actually I do," Haymitch tells him. "I was too preoccupied trying to find you after your 'heartbreak', but clearly I had no need to."
"I was too preoccupied in trying to figure out why you two would leave me out of the plan and then break my heart, but clearly I had no need to," Peeta imitates.
My grip around Peeta's torso tightens slightly and I turn away from Haymitch, burying my head into Peeta's soft, cotton pajama shirt.
"Look, kid, I'm sorry. But with every passing second, District Twelve is getting closer and closer, and if you're not up soon, Effie will be ma-"
Haymitch gets cut off by a mob of feathers pushing him to the wall.
"Up, up, up!" The feathers start. "It's going to be a big, big-" The ball of feathers, who I can only assume is Effie, stops herself abruptly.
"As sweet as this is, I'm going to have to ask you two to get up. There'll be plenty of time for this when you move to the Victor's Village!"
I almost bolt upright in my bed as what Effie says settles in. We're almost home! I can finally move Prim away from the disease ridden Seam to a house where she can have a room for herself and food in her belly. And Peeta will be there, too. Right next door.
"We're almost home!" I exclaim, as Peeta sits up slowly, resting his neck on the headboard.
"How long left?" He questions Effie.
"Not long enough for you two to get ready if you don't hurry off!" She scolds as she leaves the room, Haymich in tow.
"We better get up," I warn Peeta. "We don't want an angry Effie on our hands!"
He chuckles nervously as he places his prosthetic back on.
"See you back home," he smiles as he leaves my room.
***
I smooth down my dress as I exit my room and walk towards Peeta, beads of nervous sweat forming on my forehead. My girlish attire has reminded me who I must be from now on. A young teen, almost a child, who is head-over-heals in love with Peeta Mellark.
I dread to think what will happen if I fail to pull this off. Will they kill me? Or worse still, will they kill my family or the Mellarks?
I stop myself before I overthink things. I can worry about that when the cameras are finally gone, but right now, I have a harvest festival to attend.
-{}-{}-{}-{}-{}-
I take Peeta's hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.