Hunger Games 1. Strange Occurances

It's too hot. Sweat makes my skin sticky and damp. My chest rises and falls, rises and falls, my lungs attempting to inhale the oxygen I need to help fuel my racing heart. I allow myself the luxury of a small sigh hoping I don't disturb my warm companion beside me, holding me close in our usual fashion.

_Or is he there?_

I shake my head in a feeble attempt to clear it. Holding my breath a moment I slowly release it as I start my usual, if tedious, recital to root me back to reality._ My name is Katniss Everdeen. I was the Mockingjay. I killed President Coin. Prim is gone. I am-_ Even the thought somehow manages to make my throat tighten. I mentally shake myself and try to start again. Movement. So slight and silent that anyone would have missed it. Anyone not used to listening for the slightest sounds whist hunting or for a trap to trigger like I was.

My muscles tense automatically. Surely I was imagining things. What could be after us now? I try to organize my thoughts into achievable action. I have the advantage of surprise if someone- or something is in our bedroom. I doubt whoever it is has noticed my shallow breathing. They surely know I'm in here though thanks to my screaming and thrashing that comes with my terrors. There is the additional issue of the arms holding me close. I scowl in the darkness needing to be free if I'm to have any chance of saving us. I hear a ruffling now to my left, on my side of the bed. Whatever it is it wants me...  
My blood turns to ice in my veins. The Capitol. Yes, that's it. They've changed their minds and think I'm still a threat even here and in my mentally incapacitated state. I did assassinate the past two Presidents, directly or not I had a hand in the death of Snow. Perhaps the tribunal wants blood for blood. But after almost a year since the rebellion? It makes no sense. I need to act regardless and protect Peeta. I hear muted footfalls, it's multi limbed from what I can hear.

I look wildly around willing my eyes to adjust to the dark. I search for the source of the sound my heart thuds in my chest in fear of seeing white scales. I can smell roses. My stomach churns. I reach over carefully, slowly to open the bedside table drawer as quietly as I can. My hand feebly feels for the knife I keep in there. My fingers find the smooth hilt and I grab it. The warm arm around my waist releases me. Now he gets up, surely he could have slept through our murder? I think to myself sarcastically. The movement paces, back and forth back and forth. I wait till the mutt stops by my head I seize the opportunity ready to lash out with my knife when the light on the other side of the bed flicks on blinding me.

* * *

"Meow!"

The ugliest cat in the world looks at me confused flicking his tail behind him as he sits on the floor. Buttercup. I scowl angry at my cat my heart still threatening to burst from my chest. My shirt sticks to me from the new sweat compounding now with the nightmare sweat.

"Damn you I should have cooked you!" I yell at the cat.

I hear a chuckle behind me, stifled but he is very aware I can hear him. I sit up fully and round on the chuckler. Blue eyes full of amusement gaze at my scowl. This infuriates me further. The boy with the bread chuckles a second longer before his brow furrows and his expression changes to concur. The panic must be written all over my face. I attempt to put on my expressionless mask but it's no use. Peeta can see through it. Buttercup takes a few steps behind me and jumps on the bed by my lap.

The flashbacks crash into me. Before my eyes Finnick is being decapitated as I say "Nightlock, Nightlock, Nightlock." His handsome face drained of colour, eyes screaming silent terror and pain. Countless other victims pass before my eyes. Mitchell, Castor, Rue, Cinna - my heart jabs in grief remembering his face as he is beaten before me. I bash on the tube but to no avail. Then the finale... Prim turns towards me her lips about to form my name as she bursts into flames.

Warm, strong arms gently bring me back to the world. Enveloping me tightly to protect me from things Peeta can't even see. He whispers things I don't comprehend as I try to adjust back to our room. Our home. Safety. I hear myself make choking sounds wracked with sobs.

I push him away.

"How could it take you so long to wake up?! We could both be dead... or worse." I yell at him the terror in my tone unmistakable.

"I was awake Katniss. I didn't realise you didn't know it was the cat until you tensed up I thought it was simply at nightmare." He defends himself kindly, without malice. I didn't think of that possibility. I am still ready to doubt him but why should I? He's had my back in a way one else has, keeps me safe at night, loves me completely...

"Katniss, Katniss come back to me." He whispers gently taking me back in his safe arms my head on his chest I seize his night shirt in my hands.

I look up at him to find my lips touch his in a lingering kiss. He holds my face in his hands so I can look in his blue eyes and still handsome face despite our injuries the mutual attraction is always present. What could he see in me without a prep crew puzzles me frequently. I tiredly let the thoughts and images melt away as I look up at him. I must show my mind easing because he rewards me with a smile. I can't resist smiling back even if it's a small smile. Buttercup meows softly as he complain he's hungry. His night hunt must have been fruitless. I groan and glare at the cat as Peeta's hands release my face.

"Have a shower Katniss. I'll see to our invader." Peeta scoops up the pathetic looking Buttercup.

"Do I smell?" I ask a tad offended.

"No, but I know it bugs you and the hot water will help you relax. Although if you would rather wait until I joined you..." he gives me an impish look.

"No, no I'll be fine."

I hurry into the en suite from our room and shut the door, leaning against it. I'm not ready to handle... that. Not yet we're still growing back together.

"It's not like you haven't seen me naked." Peeta calls through the door.

I love him. More than anyone else. I miss the hunger I felt on the beach. His lips have been there through every nightmare and I like it, enjoy it even. I enjoy his arms when we sit together at night simply to talk or when we are at Haymitch's, ignore his eye rolling and huffing. That's been his latest trick to irritate me. We hold hands openly wherever we go, it's no act now. Yet the idea of him being naked in my plain sight or my body in his still fill my stomach with an uneasy feeling that I can't seem to place.

With another sigh I pull off my simple undergarments that Peeta had stripped me down to when I fell asleep on the sofa watching him paint. I run the hot water and step into our shower giving my long hair a much needed wash and rinsing off the terrors on the night. I hear the phone ring downstairs and Peeta's voice answer it a minute later. I wonder who he's talking to since the conversation lasts my deliberately long shower, the hot water too addictive relieving the slight tightness of my skin from the Capitol to cover my burns. I dress quickly and dry my hair as I head downstairs to the smell of bread. Pale light fills the house, no point returning to bed.

Buttercup stands on the table eating from a small dish of fish. He pauses to look at me accusing before returning to his meal. I just scratch his rump tenderly. Prim would smile at that. Peeta is at work at the oven his shirt sleeves rolled up as his gentle hands work. I find myself staring at his entirety and even linger at his behind while I sit at the table. I shake myself as my cheeks get hot and my pulse picks up. He turns and gifts me with a smile full of warmth.

"Feel better?" He places a plate of bacon and eggs before me.

"Much." I eagerly nod my stomach realising it's hungry. I start on my eggs as Peeta finishes the bread he's making. I look at his face again. Something is on his mind making his brow furrow again. He's not looking at the bread he's somewhere else...  
I try to think how to possibly bring it up. If Peeta doesn't bring it up himself it either means he's protecting me from it or he hasn't found a way to tell me about it.

"Who was on the phone?" I ask casually.

"Huh? Oh... Ah... Just Haymitch. He's got some new goslings he wants to show us."

He's not convincing. Not by a long shot. I narrow my stare but let the lie go. For now. I eat the rest of my eggs and Peeta sits down to eat his own breakfast in silence. Something is wrong, our breakfasts are usually filled with talk for the day or at least a bit of chatter, lead naturally by my boy with the bread. He remains silent even when I give Buttercup some bacon. What could cause such a change in him after one conversation? I start running possibilities in my head. Come to think of it, Peeta has been acting strangely for a while frequently giving that far off look. Like he is now.

"What is it?" I accidentally ask him more harshly than intended but I'm worried. And now he knows it.

His gaze returns back and he hastily finishes and turns off the oven. I'm about to reprimand him for ignoring me when he grips the back of the nearest chair. Flashback. I stand and come up behind him holding his waist letting him know I'm there. We stand in silence until it passes. Seems today will be hard on us both. But why?

"Let's go for a walk. Out in the woods." He suddenly says returning to the world.  
I go to grab my bow and jacket when his hand stops mine.

"Just a walk this morning. I want to spend all of it with you." I give him a look but don't object letting his hand slip into mine. He smiles and kisses the back of my hand lingering a moment. We set out of the house hand in hand into the warm sun. I hadn't realised how quickly it rises but it's a pleasant day, one the old Katniss would like and the old Peeta for that matter. We say little while my mind races through bad scenarios that could be the source of Peeta's silence. I manage to race through a wide range of them each worse than the last from the Capitol summoning us to give a statement for a trial of someone we love to an actual death which leads me to fret over my mother, Effie, Annie, Beetee and everyone we have formed life long relationships with. I sit by him as he sits in one of my favourite places where you can view the woods and the Meadow.

"What are you thinking Katniss?" Peeta asks me pulling me out of my reverie.

"Precisely that Peeta."

"Sorry, I have been a bit out of it haven't I?" Peeta smiles a half smile. A bit out of it, out of this world more like it.

Silence falls again between us. I scramble to find something to stop him from drifting again I want to listen to him talk and enjoy his voice.

"Peeta I could smell roses in our room when Buttercup was prowling around. That's why I thought..." My voice fails me.

"Roses? Love we have no roses in the house to prevent your nightmares. The only roses we have are-"

"Primroses." I finish his sentence.

"Yeah."

"They've really taken to the soil by the house haven't they?" I stay away from an inevitably weepy conversation about Prim.

"Somehow I think the plants know you needed a nice reminder of her."

"Plants don't think Peeta."

"Oh wait! That's probably what you could smell. I opened the window last night because it was getting warm." Peeta says sounding relieved I'm not losing my mind.

He puts his arms around me pulling me close to him. I rest on his chest closing my eyes to listen to his heartbeat. He strokes my hair gently and touches my face. I feel his lips on my forehead as I put the rose mystery to rest and enjoy him. We rest quietly in a comfortable silence for a while but when I peek up at Peeta I can see his brow has furrowed.

"I lied to you before, about who called on the phone." He says meeting my gaze.

I sit up looking at him questioningly but say nothing thinking a million different forms of bad news. Why didn't he just tell me if it were something good? Mother rings frequently or I call her to check in almost daily, even just to cry together about Prim. My silence tells him to continue.

"I was talking to your mother." His expression unreadable but his gaze is on the Meadow nervously.

* * *

This is it. The catastrophe I've been dreading. I hold my breath and brace myself for the bombshell. I look around for something to stare at to stop me from crying. I look out to the Meadow. Now plush and green sprinkled with wild flowers, stark yellow dandelions greet the sun happily. Sitting up I fixate on them thinking how Peeta was my dandelion. Happy, bright, gentle and bringing me constant spring sunshine. What I need to survive. I stay quiet feeling his gaze on me now but I don't look at him.

He takes a deep breath.

"You love me. Real or not real?" Peeta asks playing his game that we usually use to settle his flashbacks.

"Real. Always real."

"I make you happy. Real or not real?"

"Real."

"You like sleeping next to me. Real or not real?" He continues. Usually the game doesn't go this long and I am completely confused how this relates to my mother calling. He's testing my patience now my next answer sounding testy.

"Real."

Peeta takes his biggest breath yet.

"You'd say yes if I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me, officially. Real or not real?"

It takes a moment for me to realise what he's asking. Marriage. Not a pretend, if-you-don't-bad-things-will-happen threat from Snow. A real marriage proposal. My brain becomes empty of thought and my first instinct is to run after years and years of insisting I wouldn't, or couldn't marry. Marriage would lead to children. Children that would be put in Reapings, something I'd die before allowing. But I'm not the same person I was just as the world is not as it was, could I do it? For Peeta? _Things are growing back together why does he need to ruin it by proposing now?_ I despise myself for that thought. It isn't the first time this has crossed my mind as happening and I had convinced myself more often than not that I could and would be happy with Peeta.

_But that also means I could lose it._

I have no idea how long Peeta sat with me frozen in place while I argued and wrestled mentally with myself. But when I finally realise I've left him hanging, no doubt hurting him at the same time I turn to look at him to try and muster up an answer to give me time to think, or let him down easy without losing him. The boy with the bread holds a brilliant dandelion in his hand resting his free hand on his raised knee just smiling at it. The sun on his face highlights a few of his scars telling the story of our struggle together. His golden curls slightly messed, blue eyes so kind and gentle promising rebirth and not despair. Promising that no matter what his arms will be there to comfort and protect. His smile on his lips that I have kissed so many times make me smile as well. The boy with the bread, dandelion in the spring, however I phrase it he means that life can be good. My answer is clear.

"Real."


	2. The Onslaught

_Did he hear me? Did I even really answer?_ I observe Peeta still sitting there frozen in the same position before I opened my mouth. I watch his handsome features shift slowly to confusion. I can almost see the cogs in his head turning as he deciphers my answer. For a moment I thought he was enduring a flashback but his expression is different from usual. Perhaps he didn't think I would actually agree to his proposal. No, Peeta was hoping I would say yes. My version of yes. Why else would he ask in the first place? That must be it, he doesn't understand my answer. I return my gaze to his face wondering if all proposals are silent like this. From the few I have heard of they usually involve squealing, tears and smiles on one or both parties behalf.

_But we aren't like everyone else._ I'm hit with a wave of both relief and enlightenment leaving Peeta to puzzle out his thoughts a moment. The walk to my favourite place, the best place he could think of here in 12. His distracted behaviour, his nerves. I'm still dumbfounded by the impact I have on him, it's only fair I suppose since I can't survive without him.

_Perhaps I should say something_.

"Real Peeta. I mean yes." I try to gentle my awkward tone.

Peeta's features start to transform. My heart warms as I watch the ends of his mouth tip upwards to form his kind smile, full of springtime. His eyes start to spark with happiness and he directs them at me. His body jumps into action and his arms are around me. His lips press against my forehead and down to my lips bringing his hands up to frame my face. He scrambles to his feet still grinning. He looks to me for a reaction, I'm still dazed but manage his infectious smile to the best of my ability taking his outstretched hand he pulls me up. In the same action he pulls me to his warm body pressing me to him.

"It will be wonderful Katniss I promise you!" He reassures reading my reservations.

His elation is catching and I find myself smiling just because he is. One of the first times since the Reaping it feels good to smile genuinely with my insides joining in. I'm Peeta's and I can claim him. The twangs of worry still pull from the back of my mind but for now I dismiss them to hold onto Peeta.

"I love you Katniss." He whispers to me.

"I love you too." My returning whisper is barely audible but his kissing lips smile against mine.

Our morning drifts away without our notice as we pick blackberries and have a small brunch from them sitting together. I let Peeta talk wedding details, I smile letting him know I'm paying some attention comparing the last apparent wedding we had. The one we pretended to have to all Panem in a feeble attempt to settle the districts that now run themselves without answering to the Capitol. Snow had used Peeta as means to force me to play along in his own private little games, the memories making me sick to my stomach. The wedding gown Cinna had made shifting white to black... Into a Mockingjay. Regardless how it was used it was a magnificent artwork from Cinna. Perhaps I should wear it honour him? Or one of the five others that were contenders voted on by the people of the Capitol. It matters little to me but the gesture means volumes since he won't be there despite how much I will want and need him with these details.

"Katniss?" I jump at my future husbands voice. Future husband. The impossible really can be achieved.

"Hmmm?"

"This bores you doesn't it?" Peeta smiles holding my hand to kiss it again.

"No, no I was listening."

"Then what was I saying?" He playfully accuses.

"Ummm... The ah... The cake!" I take what I think is a safe bet. That is one part I do look forward to. Seeing Peeta's beautiful edible masterpiece he will create for our ceremony. I think back to the gorgeous cake he created for Annie and Fennick with the sea creatures and waves of blue and aqua. _What will our cake look like? Perhaps little coal- No more coal miners. I remind myself. What then? Little medicines?_ Whatever it is, Peeta will make it beautiful.

"Nice guess, would have worked if you said it ten minutes ago." He chuckles. "Come on, let's go tell people. Officially." He beams. I try not to groan but it escapes me. Peeta gives me a pleading look, he's like a small boy on his birthday or Christmas with his new toy. The idea of telling people we are engaged... Properly engaged is not one I'm fond of. It's all unnecessary fuss. A piece of paper from the Capitol is not overly appealing to me, no Hunger Games or not. There is the Toasting to look forward to but the whole concept of being a wife seems completely foreign to me. But Peeta wants it, badly. How could I deny him that when he has done so much? Give and take, give and take that is how we work best. Together.

I put on a wider smile and nod to him staying close to his warmth my free hand resting on his chest as we walk. He holds my hand on his chest kissing it frequently making our way back to the rebuilt town. Thanks to the new Capitol things in 12 have improved from how they were. Sturdier buildings, safer and stable fought for by our representative for our district. None other than Effie Tricket herself. She worked hard to earn her position, not that there were many who were willing to take the district holding a notorious criminal Mockingjay. The citizens themselves however are friendly enough towards both me and Peeta, doing business with us and going as far as involving us in community events and celebrations. Peeta and I pass through the square over to the Victor's Village over to Haymitch's house.

Unsurprisingly the windows are dark and the gardens unkempt. Hazelle still cleans for Haymitch but, like Peeta says I think it's more she actually likes his company. Haymitch has been sober more and more since she returned with her youngest child who delights in the geese that Haymitch "raises". Until the liquor train comes by. I stand behind Peeta hoping Hazelle isn't there and we'll find the usual Haymitch on the table unconscious. Peeta squeezes my hand in reassurance and knocks at the door. After a moment of silence he knocks again with a sigh. Looking at me we say nothing and we let ourselves in. I sigh relieved that the foul smells are gone still and the house is near spotless. A trail of destruction and disorder points to Haymitch has stumbles through here and is in the kitchen. Peeta leads me through by the hand stopping when we hear a sound that seems out of place in this house.

Laughter.

"I tell you the truth! She pinned him to the wall for liking her!" Haymitch laughs wine glass in one hand his other rests on Hazelle's hand sitting by him. She leans in smiling and giggling long with him touching his arm the flirtation obvious. Peeta is looking just as surprised as I am to see the two of them so... Smitten. Peeta clears his throat and the tow of them separate instantly looking up at us.

"I think the goose is out of the bag." Peeta smirks.

Hazelle hastily gets up wiping the table down avoiding our looks but Haymitch pulls her back down gently to sit by him. I shift my weights from one foot to the other caught off guard by both the woman's presence and her new found romance with my former mentor.

"Don't you ever knock?" Haymitch scowls.

"Usually we don't need to because you're passed out." I respond, voice clipped. Peeta squeezes my waist to remind me to play nice.

"How long have you two been playing footsie?" Peeta changes the subject sensing confrontation.

"None of your business."

"Haymitch they are simply curious, they care for you. Especially Katniss she's a very caring girl and I've known her longer than you." Hazelle soothes in a mothering tone.

She rubs his arm gently smiling as Posy comes tearing inside from the back door shoving a handful of flowers at me. I laugh like I used to at Prim as she jumps up and down.

"Katniss! Katniss! Katniss! Can you hold these when you get married?" The small child yells at me in excitement she is covered in dirt and grass it's even in her hair. I give Peeta a look.

"Do we even need bother with an announcement?" I arch an eyebrow a little annoyed.

"Yes, I only told a select few I was going to ask you."

"So the whole town knows." I tease but think it's a very real possibility.

"I'm assuming by your lovey dovey cuteness that she actually agreed?" Haymitch is still sulking at being caught.

I ignore him an nod happily gauging Hazelle's reaction waiting for the resentment or anger from the way I treated her eldest son. I tense my muscles bracing myself for her reaction as she stands and strides over closing the distance between us. Her lips break into a smile and she hugs us both.

"Congratulations you two! May you be blessed with happy years and lots of children!" She beams sounding like a schoolgirl. She turns to Haymitch tilting her head towards us giving him silent orders. He sighs closing his eyes reaching some decision and walks over to Peeta looking at him square in the eyes. Peeta doesn't move. Haymitch relaxes and offers his hand. Peeta releases me a moment to accept the handshake. Haymitch slaps his on the back "Knew you had it in you. Told you she'd say yes to you." He points still holding his glass.

"Oh this is so wonderful Haymitch invite Sae over and Effie, oh and anyone else you can think of even Katniss' mother surely she could come by for a little while it won't take long by train." Hazelle rambles.

Haymitch flaps a hand at her but does as he is told. Hazelle will be good for him just as Peeta is good for me. Hazelle ushers her daughter upstairs to take a bath ignoring protests from her to collect more flowers for my bridal bouquet. I smile at Peeta both of us stunned into silence by it all.

"How are you feeling?" He asks cautiously.

"Fine. Let's clean up a little since company is coming to stampede us to death over this." I do not want to enter an emotionally loaded conversation right now. Once my fears emerge there will be no stopping them but I keep my tone light to throw him off scent.

Peeta laughs and we set about putting fresh table linen down and set the table with fresh glasses and place settings. We right the furniture that has been disturbed by Haymitch stumbling around in one of his drunken stupors or... I don't even dare consider any other explanation. I go over the recent developments since this morning while Peeta bakes fresh pastries for the onslaught of guests that are now coming. Word has spread like fire, appropriate for the girl on fire's betrothal. I sit back at the table and watch Peeta perfect some of my favourite pastries filled with cream and covered in chocolate a rare luxury sent from the Capitol at Haymitch's or Peeta's request should he need it for precisely this. I look longingly at both him and the dripping chocolate as he dips each pastry into it setting it on the tray. My stomach complains now spoilt with regular meals. Peeta catches me staring and passes me the spoon. It's too irresistible and I grab the spoon a little too eagerly tasting the sweet substance. Peeta finishes his work as Hazelle returns with a now clean Posy.

"Are you going to just wear that to your betrothal dinner?" Hazelle almost accuses.

"I'm guessing not now." I groan inwardly waiting for my prep team to appear.

Thankfully they don't appear as much as I love them, distance has been good from the prodding and dressing, pulling, waxing... I shudder to think of ever having to do it again. Hazelle now ushers me upstairs in a similar fashion to Posy and like Posy I complain the whole way up.

"You'll thank me later now freshen up. She closes the door of what I'm assuming is the spare bedroom. Defeated, I start to undress pulling off my shirt when I hear a small knock at the door.

"Can I get you something?" Posy says very politely though the door. Impossible not to love I smile trying to think what she could possibly do to help me to make her happy. I look around for inspiration, seeing the clothes on the bed I suddenly get hit with an idea for Peeta more than myself.

"Actually Posy I have a secret task for you." I smile and whisper through the door what I require of her sending her off squealing.

I hurriedly shower avoiding long periods alone where I can think and possibly regret what's happening. No, I need to wait until tonight in Peeta's safe arms can I reorganise my thoughts. I dry my hair and use a brush in the cabinet to detangle my hair. I let it drape down my back and I dry my body wrapping the towel around me entering the bedroom. On the bed is my district 11 victory tour dress. I steel myself against the initial pangs of grief remembering Cinna and the image of him being beaten flashes before my eyes. I grip the bed trying to feed air to my lungs. I tentatively touch one of the beautiful orange autumn leaves. The gown of Peeta's favourite sunset orange is as beautiful as the day I last wore it, Posy has completed her mission. I carefully pick it up and pull it on struggling with the zip. It eventually slides up and I check myself in the mirror.

Cinna has done it again, perhaps not directly this time but his design has made me beautiful. The muted orange overlay sits beautifully just off my shoulders held on place by delicate lace of the matching colour. The sleeves ending at my elbow fit comfortably the sheer fabric hides most of my scarring while my arms are still visible through it. Cinched at the ain't by a simple belt the front of the sheer fabric whispers as I move the long trail behind me rests just short of the floor. The overlay is sheer and loose flowing over me but it's the underlay that works the magic. Covered in autumn leaves of a warm palette the underdress is short and fitted hugging and accentuating any curves I apparently have. The straps multiply at my shoulders almost covering them by sheer numbers alone and converge at the low neckline underdress showing the little cleavage I have but in an understated manner. Closing my eyes I twirl for Cinna and he's impressed. I hastily comb my hair again hearing noise coming from downstairs. The onslaught is here. Pulling on footwear I open the door to see Peeta standing there hand raised to knock with a slightly shocked look on his face since I opened before he could complete the first knock.

His blue eyes take me in looking up and down lingering in places, repeating the cycle several times. He smiles finally returning to my face. He's looking effortlessly handsome. His baker's build fitting easily into a black velvet jacket with a simple unassuming olive green shirt beneath. Must be silk I assume but it lacks sheen but brings out his complexion well. Dark pants hide any and all scars but look out of place since I'm used to his less formal more comfortable everyday clothes.

"You look..." He's stunned for words. Thank you Cinna.

"You _have_ seen this before."

"Real or not real?" He's struggling to remember this one. I take his hand gently.

"Real."

He shrugs accepting my word. "Well, it feels like a first viewing and you look amazing. Cinna?" I can only nod in reply.

"I thought this might be something you want to wear somehow." I look down to his hands, one clutches a primrose in full bloom.

I just stare at it tears coming unwelcome along with the flood of memories of my little sister. She would have been bouncing off the walls running around to organise all this. All the while with her shirt untucked at the back. I simply nod hoping he can sense my gratitude amoung the sobs. I take it in a desperate hold while Peeta brings me to his chest. I gently push away when the noise from downstairs demands our attention.

"Best not make them wait much longer, Haymitch will never let us hear the end of it if we don't show up to our own engagement party in his house." Peeta calls after me.

I ignore him a moment hastily braiding my hair and seizing a hair pin from my pants pocket unceremoniously left of the bathroom floor I fasten in to the primrose and use it to fasten my braid and the bloom to the side on my head just below and behind my ear. Satisfied I return to the boy with the bread.

Looking at each other he places my arm to link with his and, with a quick kiss, we descend the stairs together.


	3. Hunger and Games

Peeta's hand holding mine is all I'm mildly aware of. That and his strong arm around my waist holding me upright as we shuffle into my house. Our house. Or it will be soon enough. Peeta lives with me in most conceivable forms regardless. Before yesterday he would sleep with me at night and be there in the morning. We share meals and share the cooking and cleaning. Peeta has clothes stashed in the spare room somewhere amoung the piles of things thrown in there since we returned. Why are we bothering with these silly formalities? My head swims with worries, thoughts, toasting spirits and fragments of moments just passed from the party held for the boy with the bread and the grounded Mockingjay. I sway on my feet despite Peeta's vice like grip. _How is he still standing? He drank as much as I did._ I look up at my fiancé. _My fiancé_. I pull a face at the very thought of the word. How exactly has it come to apply to me?

"It will be ok Katniss." Peeta flicks on the light to the foyer as if reading my mind.

I turn my hazy vision up towards him. He gives me a reassuring smile making circles on my back. He is why we are doing this. Together. I look in his blue eyes seeing the safety there. Of course it will be alright there is nothing left to fear.

_Is there? _

"Come on, off to bed with you." Peeta says in a gentle tone, reminding me of when my father would send me to bed as a child.

Peeta holds me close to his side, our bodies touching as we climb the stairs to our room. My head clears a little as the cool air from the landing window washes over us. It was a beautiful evening inside houses and out. The moon had bathed the world in a pale, silvery light making the slight dew on petals shimmer and mist seem like something from a children's tale. I take a deep breath in but soon realise my mistake as my stomach churns uncomfortably.

Before I can say anything I throw up on the stairs, the carpet and Peeta's shoes. My knees go weak and my head spins painfully leaving me too weak to muster the smallest apology to Peeta. He doesn't complain but simply bends slightly to scoop me up under my knees and carry me close to his beating heart for the rest our journey to the soft embrace of the bed. I'm vaguely aware of his gentle lifts and tugs taking off my beautiful orange dress. I try to mumble to him to treat it with care but I realise quickly this would mean the liquor in my stomach making a quick escape. I swallow hard feeling the comforter being pulled up around me. I listen for Peeta to slide in beside me. Buttercup meows his complaints at being displaced from his sleeping spot on Peeta's side of the bed. I hear the fabric of his jacket and shirt whisper he's changing. I hear the scuttle of him slipping of his shoes and the tug of the comforter before at last his arms around me and his springtime warmth behind me. Comforted, I give in to sleep hoping the morning will be better.

I hold Peeta's hand tightly clingy to his arm as we descend the stairs together to the smiling, noisy faces below turning to look at the newly betrothed pair. My stomach flutters nervously feeling like I'm back on parade for the Capitol. I automatically give my diplomatic wave an smile until I realise these are people we love not the Capitol crowds. I spot Effie first her violently pink wig complete with floral bow in its midst. No one can miss the exaggerated shoulders of her vermillion blazer and shimmering skirt. Still keeping trends alive. But her stare is still vacant. I see my mother standing with Hazelle looking drained just being back in the district. I hadn't considered how this might inwardly destroy her.

I lean into Peeta as question after question is asked. Food is offered with liquor. Peeta never let's me go holding me tight easily falling into his charming conversational self. Happily explaining how he had planned asking me and going as far as asking my mother for permission, how he had used every weapon in his charm arsenal to eventually gain her approval. Like it was any contest she loves him almost as much as I do.

We somehow manage to fit all the guests at a table of some description in the house. Peeta guides me to the head of the table pulling out my seat. I give him a look. He's making me seem plain helpless now. He covers my glare by touching his lips to mine in a quick kiss I accept slightly begrudgingly.

"Just a little longer." He whispers kissing me again. I hear several sighs and endearing sounds amoung comments of how sweet we are together. Luckily my eyes are closed so I can roll my eyes.

Hazelle single handedly serves the table bending to whisper in Haymitch's ear. I watch his expression change and his mouth grumbles nodding. He rises and taps his glass. When the chatter continues he sticks his fingers in his mouth to release a loud whistle. All eyes now on him he raises his glass putting on his best public smile.

"...uh... Let me be the first to congratulate my two best and brightest on their engagement. Again." He rambles through his impromptu toast. Peeta rests his hand on my leg waking something in me. Haymitch rambles for a few minutes making people laugh but I'm too focused on Peeta's hand on my leg to really notice. It feels too much like a Capitol formality, even here.

Several toasts are made all similar in nature wishing us well and for lots of children. I swallow hard at every mention. Each time a reminder that its only a matter of time until Peeta starts asking for them. The thought causes additional uneasiness in my digestive system. I look around the table to distract myself as Peeta takes my hand he must sense I'm distracted. The whole district must be crammed into the house even Prim is here beaming up at me.

_Prim_!

I stare at her dumbfounded. I try to pull away from Peeta to run over to her stairs two at a time to hold her in my arms but I can't.

"Peeta it's Prim leg me g-" I stop mid sentence smelling blood and roses I gasp turning sharply to see Snow's snake like eyes locked on me I try to escape his claws digging into my arms his face distorts and stretches his skin tears away to reveal white scales and a fork tongue escapes his puffy lips to taste my cheek I pull away again searing pain races up my arms and warm liquid flows. My blood makes my fingers slippery.

I turn back desperately I need to save everyone. "Prim! Prim! RUN!" I scream desperately but her back is turned to me as she tries to get people out. Wait. Not people. Children.

My heart tears open as the children start to turn black their skin burns and they start to moan. They claw at each other I see one that was once Rue clawing with the others. At Fennick. His silent screams as they rip him to pieces. I pull at my arm pushing and shoving against the lizard Snow. I have to get free I need to warn Prim and where is Peeta? I scream his name but no sound emerges from my lips. I look around frantically. At least the mutt is preoccupied with trying to devour me but Prim needs to go now. Peeta will save her if I can't but where has he gone?

I cry out again for him and the ground starts to shake beneath the chaos. Flickering light from behind me turns into an inferno of heat and smoke. The lizard Snow has chewed off my arm and now sinks his teeth into my neck just as I see Prim try to say my name while she burns.

"Peeta!" I hear myself scream awake.

"I'm here, I'm here." He soothes.

My eyes adjust to the dark to find Peeta's face in the silvery moonlight. His eyes concerned, lips pressed into a line of worry. He holds me tighter than usual despite my body being saturated in sweat and the faint smell on vomit still lingering around me. I don't care these nightmares will be the death of me and my sole desire is him. To feel anything but terror. To see anything but Prim's burning face. I clench his undershirt in my hands burying my face into his chest. Desperately I press myself against him needing to be closer to him.

"I can't do this Peeta." I sob into the damp fabric. Somehow he actually understands my choking.

"I will keep you safe. You are strong Katniss. It's just a bad dream." He whispers forcefully, his voice taking on a protective quality.

"I'm exhausted and scared. I couldn't find you. You weren't there. You weren't there!"

"I'm right here Katniss. Always."

"You can't protect me there Peeta not inside my head." The words just tumble out whether I want them too or not.

"But I'll be here when you wake up."

"You don't understand I can't do this!"

"The dreams will stop Katniss like they did before."

"No, no, no! I can't do this. We can't get married." I suddenly blurt out. The words pass my lips before I can stop myself.

Peeta goes deathly silent. I've done it now, hurt him a way I cannot fully appreciate until it sinks in what I've said. But it's the truth. I look at his pained expression but his arms stay around me. He doesn't push me away or yell at me. That's not Peeta. He's keeps his hurt buried deep.

"Peeta... Peeta, I-" I mentally kick myself for not finding the words now. _Get a hold of yourself Katniss! You can't lose him now!_ I regroup my thoughts in a split second to try again.

"Peeta-"

"You don't need to explain. You said yes for me. You played along." His tone is like ice but sharp enough to slice me.

"But Peeta-" My throat tightens when I feel his arms start to let me go.

"Peeta I need to explain... I-I-I don't want them to take you away."

He looks at me confused. At least he's still loosely holding me compared to my fists still tightly clenching his shirt.

"If we get married and I let myself be happy... I might lose you. You could be taken away from me. It's inviting trouble. I want to marry you. I-I love you. But I can't risk it. I can't risk you." My voice trembles dangerously during my inadequate explanation but leaves me grateful I managed to get through it.

I look at my hands, white knuckled gripping his tear stained shirt. I don't dare look into his face. Afraid of what I may find. But Peeta gives me no choice gently cupping my chin to lift my head so my eyes are looking into his. My heart hammers in my chest looking into his kind blue eyes. Not filled with malice but compassion and slight sadness in their ocean depths.

"You will never, ever, ever lose me." His tone is confident and firm, his voice remains soft when he continues letting me absorb each word.

"There is no one left to take you from me or me from you. We never need speak of, see, visit or think about the Capitol again if you don't want to."

"But Peeta-"

"No Katniss. I won't let you win on this one. I can't allow you to let us be apart because you think it's safer that way. Being away from you? That is my nightmare and waking up to see you here gives me my peace. Nothing will change as we are now Katniss. We will just sign a bit of paper and instead of returning to my house during the day I will stay and work here. Let me protect you now." He doesn't so much as blink while he says this with such conviction, such _passion_, I have no choice but to go with it.

With my heart still hammering in my chest, our eyes locked together I can hear him breathing soft and shallow. He's afraid too. Afraid I have changed my mind. Do we dare go through with this? I could not survive without him. I had gone over and over it in my mind._ Katniss, you decided you could marry Gale when you were ready to run off into the woods. There is nothing threatening us now._ My shoulders drop with my loosening muscles letting him pull me tightly to his chest his lips pressed to the top of my head. He whispers promises to keep me safe over and over. The next time I look into his protective, scared blue eyes I feel it. The hunger from the beach. Throwing all thoughts aside I allow my instincts to take over and I throw my lips to his kissing him in desperation. This time I want more than frenzied kissing. The hunger serves to remind me that he's what I need to survive. But now I need more.

Needing to feel his heat melt into mine. I squeeze my arms out of his so I can wrap myself around him. The heat penetrating through our meagre undergarments I kiss him hard until I can truly taste him. A moan escapes my lips which at first startles us both. My breathing deep to try and satisfy the burning need for air to match my racing heart. But it races not in fear. I'm hungry for him. I look into his eyes again to find them alight with the same fire that I feel deep inside past the pit of my stomach. We fall into each other our lips meeting, his breath hot on my skin sliding his lips down my chin to my jaw. I gasp for air while my insides writhe and shudder. But it feels _good_. Addictive. Better than the fuzzy haze morphling had brought. Peeta's bakers hand full of soft tenderness slip down my back and crawl slightly under the thin fabric of my garment. His other hand runs through my hair gripping it. I repeatedly open my eyes just to look at him, to see his shoulders and jawline in the pale light available to us. As soon as his lips wander down my throat I tense and close my eyes tight.

"What is it? Stop?" Poor Peeta he never really could hide panic well.

"No... No." I kiss his lips long and as gentle as I can reassuring him.

My heart skips beats watching his lips easily stretch into a smile then send sparks through me when his silken warm mouth touches my collar bone gently tracing along it. His panting heats my blood making me giddy. Muscles clench that I never knew I had. I writhe and squirm in his hold suddenly aware his hand under my under top is gently stroking my spin. Up and down. Up and down. Slowly sending a trail of goosebumps after his fingertips. The other has released my hair and he now uses it to brace himself as his weight shifts pushing my onto my back leaving him laying across me. I'm desperate now. Like a wild beast I let my body take over and find my hands have a mind of their own. I need his skin on mine. Finding the hem of his shirt I pull at it sliding it up him revealing his strong body underneath. Scars and burns cannot taint the beauty I see in him. In his strong form. Peeta halts his lips assault on my skin to deftly remove his shirt in an easy movement. I can't resist making a comment.

"Practiced that move have you?" My voice is raspy, gasping mess of a whisper.

He chuckles. "I have been dressing myself for 19 years Katniss."

I giggle back which is an odd sensation still. I haven't had many opportunities to giggle. It's an experience I would like to repeat. Trembling slightly, I reach up a hand towards his torso my curiosity getting the better of me. I find myself looking to him for permission to which he replies by using his hand to guide mine to the slight left off the centre of the sculpted muscles. My breath catches. I can feel his heart eating as fast as mine. The silken skin is slightly moist but running my hand along it is deliriously good. I trail my hand up to touch his shoulder and around to his back. Peeta softly, slowly resumes his kisses on my quivering skin. I'm secretly and suddenly very grateful it's still very dark. The sight of my burns and scars revolt me in a romantic context. I won't expect Peeta to see them any differently. If we are going to... do this regularly perhaps I'll need to try and keep these dalliances strictly to times where light isn't abundant.

The idea of my bare body being seen, even in this dim light, by Peeta makes my stomach flip involuntarily. Peeta has dressed me before and without a doubt in my mind probably seen most of me already. But I had the luxury of unconsciousness then. Here I am more than aware and awake. What if he doesn't like what he does see? The idea of being naked and being stared at makes me more nervous than any reaping has. I try to smother the uneasiness of no confidence in my own beauty. _Katniss you have been naked in front of your prep team and Cinna. People have even mentioned how attractive you are_. Peeta is working his hand further up my top so that it is dragging up above my ribs now soon to expose me to him. I'm more nervous than I have been for any games. That's it. A game. _This a game. A fun game Katniss. Enjoy it!_ How ridiculous I must seem to Peeta arguing with myself in my head. He doesn't seem to notice, busying himself with my sensitive skin on my shoulders reaching the end and kissing back along. I shiver when he reaches beginnings of my chest and I respond by sitting up. Relaxing in his touch I brazenly reach to tear my top off above my head but Peeta is a step ahead of me. As soon as I sit up he places his hands at my waist and push the fabric up curling his fingers around the hem he easily pulls it off my body accepting my raised arms to help him be rid of it.

For a moment we are both still drinking each other in my heard thudding in my chest so hard it feels ready to burst through my chest. My arms beg me to wrap them around his muscular back so I can press myself to his heaving chest. Peeta stares at my bare chest available to him. He looks ravenous. Afire in lust. I look at his curls glistening a gentle silver in the light slightly disheveled. I can't take it any longer I reach out and seize his hair in my hands. I cry out when I feel warm fingers at my chest touching in a way I have never experienced. Reacting to the intense tingling throughout my being I push myself into his hands. He eagerly makes circles with his fingers. Each hand comfortably supporting each breast. I flush hotly starting to pant harder hearing my voice releasing another moan. His careful fingers start to gently trace and squeeze the ends of my breasts.

"Oh Peeta!" I gasp. I sound in rapture. Good.

My neck arches back which pushes my chest up and towards him. Another sharp gasp coupled with a moan escapes me as I lose control when his lips envelop one breast. No wonder some families are so large. Peeta is more addictive than liquor and morphling combined. I hold my breath when I hear a noise from Peeta. Then again. A grunt mixed with a deep growling moan. It thrills me. I dig my fingernails into Peeta's soft back making him jump a little and grunt again. Suddenly this a new game. To find out how to make Peeta make as many of these sounds as possible and often. Gaining bravery and confidence I slide my hands down him. Peeta does the same with one hand on my back reaching down to my hips making me dimly aware of moisture somewhere...there.

My every pulse, ever heartbeat, every throb in me whispers his name inspiring my lips. I drag my mouth over his arms and chest. Peeta cups my behind and touches gingerly. I kiss his lips to encourage him to other arm supports us and he gently pushes me back down to the bed pulling my leg up under my knee to wrap around him. I reflexively push my hips up and our bodies meet. Soft with firm and I sigh loudly. His lips travel back to each breast and I squirm. But now my body has a new demand. I'm getting impatient.

With my new found courage I run my hands down him finding his shorts. His head snaps up to look at me. I flinch. I've done something wrong I know it. I bite my lip wanting to curl up under the covers and cry humiliated. Or run. Perhaps I can hide somewhere.

But his gaze is not alarm or anger. Why had I expected it to be? It's faint concern behind the lust I can see in his handsome chiseled features.

"Ready? You sure?" He pants with a kiss to my breast.

"Yes!" My response made desperate thanks to his lips.

Peeta pauses a moment deciding it to be easier to let him do he removing this time leaving me to wonder if I should be doing the same. My stomach answers with a nervous flip. Peeta shifts my attention back to him with a kiss on my inner thigh. The brand new feeling around my hips is the best yet. The muscles I have discovered clench harder. My insides quivering my body jerking underneath him with his magical fingers trailing up my legs to drag off my last and only garment.

Surprisingly it's only hunger I feel. As soon as he is in reach I wrap myself around Peeta desperately needing to dissolve into him and share my being with him. His heat on my body inspires me to press harder against him and I kiss him viciously gasping and panting for air. My arms squeeze him and I'm rewarded with his desperate whispers of my name each one sending my skin up a few more degrees. Surely a fever like this should kill a person. Peeta's skin is coated in light sweat our heat creating steam between us. I can feel him resting against me but its not enough.

Peeta raises himself on his elbows but I don't let him go. Curious but trusting him he shifts back a little seizing the chance to kiss each breast again and in the valley between them making me arch my back towards him. His lips drag over my stomach leaving me helpless to do anything but moan. Still wrapped around him he slowly starts to crawl back up to my lips.

I gasp a sharp gulp of air when I feel it. Nothing separating us. Closer than any two people can be together. I close my eyes a moment but the pain is nothing compared to being on fire. I release my held air and smile to my boy with the bread leaning up to kiss him, weaving my fingers through his hair. Peeta lifts me momentarily and we are even closer. I moan against his lips pulling at his hair. It feels like the right thing to do to express the exquisite tension, the sweetest torture anyone could endure. Peeta moves with confidence and care supporting himself by his arms so not to crush me but I want the weight. I want to feel every inch of skin we can share together. My body leads me to raise my hips to meet his until I feel ready to burst with the tension. Peeta's sweet kisses wander my valleys when one kiss to my left breast causes me to fall into pieces beneath him. My body fills with fireworks I had seen in the Capitol. Big explosions of bright colour and spectacular to experience. Unable to control myself I scream. But this is a scream unlike my terrors. I barely have strength to hold onto his back as we rock like waves crashing into the shore. His ocean filling me and he releases the most glorious of sounds slightly muffled against my lips.

I couldn't contain the smile on my face even if I wanted to. Which at this time I don't. Peeta gives me repeated long, drawn out kisses one after the other between our desperate attempts to refill our lungs. Never have I been so happy to suffocate. He strokes my hair from my face leaving me to gently explore his, running my hands through the field on curls. With a contented sigh Peeta let's us fall onto our sides resulting in child like giggles from us both.

"I think I may like this married thing." I giggle settling myself draped across his chest rolling him onto his back. See how he enjoys it. Peeta smiles kissing me on the forehead.

"See? I know what I'm doing."

"Some of the time."

"Hey, I'm your husband to be. Know your place wife!" He teases but my answering glare has nothing playful about it. Peeta can't be swayed from his good mood and my smile refuses to be repressed as he squeezes my shoulders.

My legs are still and muscles complain against any further use. My blood still coursing through me with the last embers if the fireworks. I settle in his arms with a new confidence that the nightmares shouldn't return. Not tonight anyway.

Game over. I think to myself with a smile. _But I'll play again_.

With a sigh I let my eyelids droop and close relaxing under Peeta's last. Everything will be ok like Peeta says. I sleepily play my little game to confirm what I know knew to be true. _My name is Katniss Everdeen. I killed President Coin. But right now I don't care. Peeta Mallark sets me on fire. We are safe and we are allowed to be happy. Everything will be ok._

How wrong we were.


	4. Kiss and Tell

I woke up stunned. I had slept through the rest of the ninth without any terrors. Fireworks plus the safety of Peeta's arms are not a recipe I will soon be forgetting if it means a restful night absent of human torches which had become the norm. I deliberately keep my eyes closed enjoying the comfort of the soft, slightly out of sorts bed and the warmth coming from the boy with the bread laying next to me and playing with what's left of last night's braid. It had lasted the party at least. I doubt even Cinna's styles could withstand what my lowly braid endured last night all the writhing and squirming and movement. The memories force my lips to betray my conscious state.

Slowly I open my eyes to the bright light flooding through our window. Casting golden light on our bed and making Peeta's waves look like a field of golden grain. I blush a little looking up at him smiling giddily. How long has he been awake staring? I feel my face flush under his stare. He clears my hair from my face leaning down with a kiss.

"You're staring again."

"Morning." He touches the end of my braid to my nose ignoring my grumpiness at being watched.

"Is it still morning? It looks mid afternoon to me."

"Noon should be in about an hour. Knowing you I'm sure there is plenty to hunt even with the handicap of a sleep in." He gifts me with another smile making my body whisper desire for him. It feels so new but comfortable like a version of the longing I have felt for him over the years if he wasn't close. This new longing is deeper. More animal. But still sincere.

"Has Sae been today? Are we in need of fresh game?" I lazily enquire more interested in watching his hands. And where they should go if I had my way.

"She is still downstairs I believe. Since when do you turn down a hunt?" He arches a golden brow.

"Since I have a new game to play."

Peeta lights up brighter than the morning sun and without warning lunges over me knocking me flat on my back amoung pillows. In this light I can fully appreciate his slightly golden skin, kisses by the suns rays during our walks through the meadow. Sometimes spending hours outside gardening or for painting and hunting sessions. I wrap my arms around him faintly aware my legs are still wrapped around him. That should provide a nice cramp if I ever walk again.

His lips find mine easily brushing over each lip while his baker's hands start to explore. Running over my skin to pull my thigh further up on his hip. Practically at his waist. When did I become so flexible? He pulls up the other and my foot brushes over something cool and metallic. Seemingly out of place in the warm springtime heaven of flesh I have found. Peeta's prosthetic. He doesn't let it hinder him as he clambers over me eager to return to the new being we formed last night. Who wouldn't? The fireworks are addictive. His hands climb steadily over my contours lingering along their journey until he starts to entwine his fingers in my hair. My lips answer his and I kiss his jaw when he pulls away.

"What's wrong?" I shy away thinking I've hurt him somehow.

Without answering he gently pulls at my braid removing something from the dark wilderness. I push myself up on my elbows to see what his search has produced. Peeta sits up on his haunches to show me a single primrose in his hand. The beautiful bloom I had worn in my hair to our engagement dinner was still relatively unscathed, albeit a little dishevelled glistening in the sunlight. Like me when Peeta is weaving his magic. Peeta smiles at the flower and stretches over me to put it on the table providing me with a unhindered view of his sculpted chest. Peeta might not be a Career or a soldier but he was strong and very pleasing to the eye. I seize the opportunity to get into some mischief. My childhood was stolen from me. I'm entitled. With a wicked smile I kiss his ribs one after the other listening to the melody of gasps, moans, grunts and sighs emerging from him.

"That's cheating. Let me put this down first you scamp!" Peeta chuckles breathless.

"So what if I'm cheating. It's fun for me, and when do we ever play by the rules?"

Easy. Never.

I hear something tip and Peeta swears jumping out of my grasp and out of bed. I roll over to see what could be so disastrous to steal his attention from my kisses. Peeta hastily picks up the vase and the book of memories we had been filling together. Seeing the water stains I too jump out of bed pulling the sheets around me. Something Peeta neglected.

* * *

"Is it damaged?"

"I don't think so. All our pages have made it out ok. The cover just needs drying out I think." Peeta examines the book closely. Inspecting its contents page by page.

"Did the photo make it?"

"Yeah, it's fine. See?" Peeta holds up the photo Annie had sent us of her and Fennick's son as part of our scrapbook of memories to record things that shouldn't be lost. Such as how much the baby in the photo resembles his late father. It saddens me to think another child will grow up without a loving father like I did. But at least I had some memories of my father. I sigh relieved and a little bewildered by the memory of the price paid for the new Panem. Setting my gaze momentarily to the floor where the primrose from my hair lays by my feet.

"The flower is ok too." I pick it up off the floor gently.

"No harm done then."

Peeta looks from the book, to me, to the flower I'm holding in my hand. Inspiration strikes us both making us smile. Peeta sits on a chair by the window opening his arms for me. Suddenly very aware of his nakedness I gingerly pass him his undershorts. Peeta chuckles amused but doesn't comment. I think I glimpse him rolling his eyes slightly. I'll get him for that later. Pulling them on and sitting back down I half trip into his lap my makeshift outfit betraying me. Peeta keeps me steady his arm snakes around my waist and I lean into his smooth chest. The touch of our skin still sending sparks through me. I open the book resting it in my lap still holding Prim's flower. I frown trying to remember how my mother would preserve flowers so they would last longer like her wedding flowers. Peeta proving less than useful amusing himself with my back and shoulders. I glare back at him communicating my displeasure at the distraction.

"You'll need something to absorb the moisture from the flower and then close the book on it." Peeta says resuming his exploration making me squirm.

"How do you know about pressing flowers?"

"Camouflage training. Well it was more like plant training."

"Any other secret skills of yours I should know about?" Something about my question triggers memories of last night. I'm obsessed.

"Well there is this new one I've recently discovered..."

With an evil grin his lips press to mine parting them slightly. A new form of kiss I hadn't really discovered until now. My heart races with a running leap and the book drops to the floor again as I entangle my hands into his hair.

"Poor book. Twice in one day." Peeta chuckles pulling away panting to pick up the book and rose.

I look at the book still in near new condition considering the life it's had. Being flattened, drowned, ink spills, thrown once when I couldn't spell a type of creature from the Quell, had pages ripped out by both Peeta and I when dissatisfied with our work and now dropped. It's a miracle there even is a book after only a few weeks since we started.

I hold the book as gently as I can like it has feelings. I open it again feeling my moments of happiness be sapped away taking my thoughts to lost memories of Prim. Her smile flashes by. An untucked shirt. I always thought she would marry and breed first for sure. It's unfair that Peeta has to drag me kicking and screaming through a simple dinner when Prim would have been screaming for it to come sooner if it had been her. I deftly raise my hand to my chest to try and close the gaping hole forming around my heart. I look at the pages of the book. Cinna and Portia were our latest entries. A new wave of misery thuds on impact with my chest making my breathing seem harder. I massage my sternum subconsciously to ease it. A weight presses that can't be seen but felt. My eyes burn threatening tears, closing my eyes only makes things worse letting my eyes produce the moisture they need for tears. I desperately smell the primrose to trying to get a hold of myself. Peeta gently pulls me to his chest and I fall into gripping sobs.

"I miss her Peeta. I miss them all. How could I let them die?"

"You didn't let them die Katniss. There was nothing we could have done. If I could change it-" his voice betrays him making me look up to see the pain in his eyes and written on his face. Still crying I kiss him to console him. It's all I can think to do to sate this pressing need to make his hurt go away. A fierce fire to keep him safe burning hotter than before. I hold him close, both of us holding onto the other.

"If I could change it... If I could bring them back I would." His voice is strained through each word.

I gently touch his lips nodding. My heart tugs in my chest. I feel his thumb wipe my tears away. In my own mist of misery I had forgotten about him and his pain. How long has he comforted me while enduring his own pain alone? Perhaps not alone, I would be there next to him. Deciding to try once more to preserve the primrose is my only practical offering of a solution. Still clutching to rose I pull open a drawer finding some fabric squares used for wiping tears and noses. Still sniffing, I line the pages with the fabric and place the primrose in the middle. I grip each cover of the book in my palms just staring at the pure white star forming petals dipped in the centre with a radiant yellow. Exhausted from the rush of emotion I watch Peeta slide his hands over mine to gently close the book and set it aside. We sit in silence. I lean back gradually into his hold letting the memories shift and appear before my eyes and fade away again. I feel Peeta's cheek rest on my bare shoulder with lips gently embracing my bare skin. We both jump startled when the phone rings. Haymitch no doubt. He's rung for one of two reasons: to complain about the party we wrought on his house, or that he's out of liquor and the train of supplies won't come for several days.

"I'll get it. Get dressed and I'll meet you downstairs so we can head off ." Peeta slowly helps me to my feet I clutch at the sheets terrified of him seeing me so clearly in the midday sun.

"To?"

"Hunt. I'll bring my paints and the book in case you think of anything to add."

Trust Peeta to find the best solution to our worries. A hunt will clear my head and if I'm lucky fresh meat for dinner. There was nothing wrong with what we already had in the kitchen. But it has that slight stale taste of being another's kill that's been stored for days. I like my meat fresh. I stretch carefully still holding my bed linen gown. My legs ache from the vigorous activity from a few hours ago. This may make things difficult.

I stiffly pull out fresh clothes and head the the bathroom blushing at the mere thought of him seeing me naked. As if there is anything he hasn't seen now.

"You sure I can't join you?"

"Get the phone." I order. It must be urgent, the phone usually doesn't ring so long.

I hear Peeta laughing, his chuckles trail out the door but I wait a moment longer to be safe. I drop my make shift gown and wince seeing the now white scars of the skin from the Capitol doctors treating my burns, giving me new skins. Parts are still pink indicating it was a terrible wound. I dare to glance in the mirror and shudder. From the deep wound in my arm to the burns I'm no longer the beautiful Mockingjay. Just the girl who was on fire. Thankfully it was dark last night while Peeta worked his magic to bring about the fireworks. I doubt seeing me with clarity would tempt him to kiss and touch me like that again. I turn away and rinse off the negative thoughts and feelings. With the day warming like it is, damp his may be useful. I fix my hair into a braid humming any song that enters my head. My spirits lift by the time I finish my hair. Peeta loves touching my hair. I pull on my undergarment and a light top and pants. I pause at the pants. I eye off my drawer. Could I lure him into wanting me again with that ravenous hunger? It's worth a shot I figure so I grab some shorts out instead and a slightly more fitted top that still allows me my free movement. I'm about to pull on my father's jacket when I notice I can still hear Peeta talking. Perhaps my mother has decided marrying at a young age is not that good an idea. Best to give Peeta aid.

* * *

The stairs are a challenge for my stiff and sore joints. My body is already overworked. An interrupting shout from downstairs distracts me enough to hurry.

"Are you crazy?... No I don't care... I never-... She's just starting to recover. Do you want to send her completely mad?... I owe you nothing!..." Peeta's voice is cold as ice.

I stop just short of the door.

"A wedding gift? Are you sick?!... You heard me when I swore I'd never go back there..." Peeta's fury makes my bones shake.

"That's none of our concern now leave us be!... Have you learnt nothing from the hell we went through?"

I crouch near the door hugging my knees my stomach lurching. Something is very wrong. Peeta sighs a suddenly defeated sigh. Sae is sitting at the table staring off into the nether. Something is very, very wrong.

"It's disgusting... Yes I know that's what happened... It's different-... She's happy now... Yes we got engaged last night." Peeta hisses to whoever is aggravating him. Whoever it is mustn't know Peeta very well.

"A favor? A favor!" Peeta spits out the word like poison, cut off by whoever is speaking.

"Fine if we have no choice. But know this Gale, neither Katniss or I will ever support such a revolting government act, you tell your precious president that!" Peeta slams down the phone.

I cover my mouth to cover a gasp that threatens to turn into a sob. Gale. Gale called me? What has he done or said to make Peeta react in such a violent way I haven't seen since the games? Hazelle would have told him about Peeta and I by now. She talks to him daily. I peek behind the door to see Peeta sunk into the closest chair a hand covering his face.

Behind me I hear a clicking sound and the soft whirring of the projector and our screen lowering indicating a transmission is coming through from the new government. My skin crawls sending shivers up my spine to the hairs on the back of my neck. I stand up faintly hearing Peeta saying my name realising I'm there but that's all I faintly notice because the screen holds my attention.

Paylor is on the screen flanked by banners and dressed in official looking garb. It's still strange to see her as president. She looks slightly awkward looking off camera for some sort of cue. Clearing her throat her voice is authoritative and clear as she begins to speak.

"Citizens of the new Panem. We have shed blood together to pay the price for our new freedom. The Capitol, where I sit now, once demanded the sacrifice of your children as a reminder of the oppression and control of the old Capitol coming in the form of their Hunger Games." She pauses as if waiting for something. My blood races through my vein pulsing in my ears.

"Today is a new day. A new era. A new Panem. The price we have paid with our children's blood must be repaid. So, as a new reminder to those who feel reluctant to support our new system of self sustaining government-"

Peeta grabs my arm from behind to pull me away. The president continues.

"In conjunction with the support of both the district representatives and the former victors who shaped our victory in the War-"

Peeta reaches to turn it off.

"Leave it." I say with deadly conviction.

"It is the will of the new Panem that the Capitol citizens contribute to the welfare of the districts as the districts have done for them for a final sacrifice for the-" Paylor drones on.

"Katniss-"

"Peeta no!" I shrug him off a second time straining to hear I turn to take back my arm only to see pure horror in his blue eyes. I hear a commotion outside and yelling out the front of our house accompanied by a bashing on the door. Familiar voices argue all the while bashing on the wooden door and its frame. I'm subconsciously surprised the door is still standing. The commotion is deafening but the announcement can still be heard above the din. From behind me I hear President Paylor utter words that freeze my blood, stopping my heart.

"The 76th Hunger Games."


	5. No Rest For The Wicked

Time loses its value.

My thoughts come in huge, confusing, crashing waves. One cataclysmic thought after another hits me harder and harder. I simply stand there staring blankly at the now static screen. My neck feels stiff and hot. I must be dreaming.

"_The 76th Hunger Games_." Paylor echoes in my head.

The abhorrent horrors of my games experience flashes by in a whirl of dizzying, terrifying colour. There must be a mistake. The rebellion would not sacrifice their own children for the same entertainment that was the last Capitol's downfall. The political climate is still to fragile. Too tense and full of potential to dissolve into civil unrest as the dust settles on the new democratic system. It's like a storm ready to break at any moment to purge those below into chaos. That's one thing we've had more the enough of.

The president mentioned previous victors. There are so few of us left it must be including me and Peeta. My mind struggles to drag up memories of anything remotely connected to the Hunger Games I could have acquiesced to. I stand there frozen trying it remember the last time I was in the Capitol. It wasn't a memory I voluntarily visited often.

The children of the Capitol. The games will sacrifice the children of the Capitol as tributes. Prim's revenge. Or so I thought. Now it is reality I feel nothing but self revulsion. My chest tightens and there is no longer enough air in the room. I need to run, I need to escape. I turn on my heel to grab my gear and flee only to come face to face with Peeta. His grip on my arm has disappeared and he's mid flashback judging by the look in his eyes. I can't face him. Not when I have contributed to this. He was absolutely against this blatant act of revenge. It has taken me this long, to come to loving him and having him this close to realise my why he had fought so vehemently against it. I betrayed him in my blind rage. I can't stay. I need to run. Clear my head to think how not to lose the boy keeping me alive.

"Peeta I-" What could I possibly say to fix this? It's done.

I stammer around to find words. Any words.

"Please don't hate me." My voice is pathetic and weak.

"I could never hate you Katniss. I love you. You love me." He murmurs raising his gaze. "We will sort this out like we always have."

"Together." I finish his thought comforted.

But I still have to run.

I look down and start to move past him, his hand is up in a flash to stop me. I silently plead him to let me go.

"Be home for dinner. Please." He says softly.

Relieved and touched at his understanding I lean up and kiss him stroking his face before seizing my bow and flying out the door to my sanctuary.

Straight into Haymitch, Effie and Plutarch. All three tumbling over each other from my initial impact into Haymitch. I just look at the three of them stunned and dazed. But I don't have the time to talk and argue. Not now. Without a word I pick up my belongings and flee to cross the square to the woods, sprinting. Not stopping until I'm sure I'm invisible from the world.

* * *

It's dark when I return but not later than I had promised. I come home to a dark house save for some light in one of the rooms leading off the main hall. I flick on the foyer light to leave my things by the door. A fruitless hunt and pointless attempts to organise my thoughts are all I have to show for my flee. I kick off my boots hearing something crumple when I finally get them off.

Peering in the little light available I pick up the piece of paper under my boot unfolding it to reveal a scrawled sketch of a bloody scene. Mass upon mass of bloodied bodies all disfigured or dismembered each one dead from a different cause. I drop Peeta's sketch only to see more paper in the dark. I turn on the main light to be met with tens, even hundreds of angry sketches. Each more gruesome than the last. A swarm of murderous wasps killing a girl in one. A figure without a tongue screaming silently in another. The last to be drawn still hangs on the easel. I hold in a gasp reading the red dripping letters furiously thrown onto the canvas.

_Happy Hunger Games._

I stare at all the abominable paintings and sketches. This was how Peeta dealt with his demons. While I ran into the woods to hug myself and cry at each horrible memory that flashed past, Peeta simply drew each and every one that entered his mind.

I had made to my old spot I would sit and talk to Gale surrounded by berry bushes. I hadn't felt like eating but the place had inspired a sort of solution in my desperate sobs for help. What if one year no one watches? Gale had said that to me once. While it was impossible to get everyone to ignore the games there was nothing to stop Peeta and I spending the time with lazy sleep ins, baking, writing, painting, hunting, visiting Haymitch and now Hazelle, the list was endless of what we could pass the time with. While it would not change anything, it could help us survive. It was only one Games. Confident in my plan I straighten up the room and remove my jacket to join the voices I can now hear coming from the kitchen.

"We were promised to be left alone." Peeta is still furious.

"No one is arguing with that Peeta-"

"You can't expect us to willingly just go with it because a few stuff shirt Capitol high ups say so."

"Manners Peeta! Our new leaders deserve respect." Effie's Capitol accent clears the din indignantly.

"Curses is all they get from me." Haymitch enters the fray.

"Do you think we could refuse?"

"Doubt it. Not much has changed since the last lot. Do as your told or things get sticky for you." Haymitch's words come slightly slurred.

"Now see here, I'll not sit here and listen to you badmouth our government. The decision has been made, and if peace is to continue then protocol and law must be followed." Plutarch has stayed silent til now since I returned home. I only brushed last him when I left but his face was almost purple in anger.

"Damn it I'll not be a piece in their games anymore!"

"Sit down you fool you don't have a damn choice."

"How will I tell Katniss? This asks too much of her."

"She agreed to it when it was put to a vote. She made the choice knowing full well what it meant." Plutarch's words slice through me. I did know what it meant, but somehow I never thought it would actually happen. A small part of me delights in the chance of revenge. For Prim. Even if deep down I know she'd be mortified by the suggestion.

"What next? Will President Paylor decide that we should get married again in front of Panem too?"

"Don't be ridiculous Peeta." Effie still indignant dismisses the rage in his tone.

I listen crouched down hugging my knees amoung the paintings. There's a piece I'm missing. It must surely have occurred to Peeta that we could simply not watch.

Then it dawns on me. _They want us involved._

It makes sense from a political standpoint. Have the victors there to support the President, strengthening the faith in her from the people and lessen the chance of opposition to the barbaric games. With us there it presents a united Panem against the old Capitol, finalising the victory. It's wasn't a matter of if we were involved but in what capacity. Pretty showpieces more like it. Interviews, smiles and sparkly dresses. At least I won't have to pretend to be hopelessly in love with Peeta. It's easy as breathing now. Just slightly different. _They'll probably want that lovey dovey cute display like the one we showed last time_.

Silence falls momentarily, I hear Peeta let out a resigned sigh. More secrets. Haymitch is right, nothing has changed. The silence lasts until Peeta releases another sigh.

"What about Katniss?" He murmurs.

"What about her?" Plutarch sounds bored without any sensationalism he can broadcast or boss someone around.

"She doesn't know about any of this."

"She didn't speak to Gale?" Plutarch sounds intrigued.

"No I did."

I can't listen to much more so I drag myself off the floor still listening in, just in case Peeta tries to hide anything when I ask him for details later. My legs protest aching and cramping. I bite my lip and proceed slowly, making movements as slow as I can. I keep my footsteps small and light, as if hunting.

"He spelled things out pretty clear."

"I heard he wanted to visit personally but he has the same demands as you do, not much time to prepare so we must keep to our schedule." I wait for her to add something about a big, big day but not tonight.

I can almost hear Peeta's expression souring.

"But how-" Peeta cuts off seeing me in the doorway. The three other faces at the table follow suit.

I wait expectantly for someone to tell me exactly what's going on. Peeta looks at the others and then back to me standing awkwardly at the entrance of the kitchen. He opens his arms slightly gesturing to me that I can come close. The perfect invitation. I slowly, carefully keep myself together walking to his side of the table opting for the empty seat beside him instead if his lap. Ignoring the longing for his warm arms, it's only a matter of time until I'm there.

"What's going on?" I keep my tone stoic.

"They're hosting another games using Capitol tributes." Haymitch says as if I have been under a rock until now.

"I know that. What's that got to do with me?" I look at Peeta taking his hand under the table. "With us." I add softly.

"You know they wouldn't let you get away with just taking a vote on it sweetheart."

I try not to glare at Haymitch using my little nickname again, nodding instead. Peeta isn't looking at me, he's somewhere else I can't reach him. Plutarch is looking jolly as always but it's Effie with her usual enthusiasm that beats him to the mark.

"You get to be mentors!"

* * *

All eyes are on me. No matter what the world will always be fascinated with me and my reactions it seems. I suddenly feel very tired. I keep my face blank, there is something sickening and irritating about Plutarch's look of anticipation. A suspicious thought crosses my mind. Being the secretary of communications I wouldn't put it past him to have installed cameras around my house to capture this dramatic conference. I'm sure Panem is waiting for a reaction from all the victors. Assassin or not, I am more than aware of my numerous fans that will still be influenced by footage of me and Peeta. My stomach feels queasy. How can I possibly mentor someone I know will die in the games I barely survived myself? How can I look at a child in the face and tell them it will be ok if they listen to me? What's if they're my age and know full well the reality of their situation? Not only that but these aren't just randomly selected tributes. These are children of the old Capitol and if Paylor has any sense the choices will be strategic.

The deluge of thoughts make my head throb. I massage my forehead covering my eyes. I can still feel the stares.

"You won't be competing, simply coaching. With your skills your tribute will be a smashing success! Of course you will have your counterpart mentor with you and Haymitch and I to show you how to woo sponsors. You'll be under our wings again!" Effie offers what she considers help.

"Indeed everyone receives the upmost care and the same state of luxury. Most of the games facilities made it through unscathed." Plutarch adds.

Haymitch says nothing but takes a swig from the bottle clutched white knuckled in his hands. I look from him to the boy with the bread. He's in a world of his own, his eyes are empty of their usual mirth but look in my direction. Every now and again he suddenly snaps back into the real world to look at me with concern. He squeezes my hand letting me think but the silence is unbearable and I want to hide in bed and be consumed by his warmth. I attempt a position of strength in the only question I can think of.

"When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, we best let you rest. We have a big, big, busy day!"

Plutarch raises a hand. "I need to brief them first Effie, contact Cressida and tell her to be ready for filming tomorrow."

"Cressida is here?" I ask as Effie says her good byes and sees herself out. Her impossibly high heels clack on the floors.

"Yes, she has been allocated as part of your tribute's team no matter who they are."

Of course she is. No one else would be trusted or want to work with the crazed Mockingjay. We leave tomorrow? Gives us no chance to run very far if we want to refuse. It's dizzying how fast this is all going. I wistfully wish to be back at my Meadow with Peeta.

"Why are they coming here? There are no important Capitolists here." I jump hearing Haymitch, I almost forgot he was here.

"We want to capture every moment of these games. Mentors, tributes, the districts' citizens reactions and opinions the whole lot. The Reaping will occur at the Capitol. Be ready for the train and head to the Presidential mansion for prep when you arrive."

"Couldn't Effie have told us this?" I ask suspicious.

Plutarch laughs. "You miss nothing Miss Everdeen. It will have to be Mrs Mallark soon won't it? What can I say, you scour your way into people's hearts Katniss. I had to wish you both my personal congratulations... And see how you were all fairing. The district is flourishing nicely, I'll have to be sure to mention that to Cressida, it will make great footage to boost morale!" He checks his pocket watch, his eyes widen slightly. "Besides, I'm not as busy as our newest Gamemaster! Oh look at the time we all must make a move!"

With that Plutarch stands to rouse Haymitch who has fallen asleep on the table. Peeta gestures to leave him and shows Plutarch out, speaking with him a moment at the door. I stare at my hands in my lap processing slowly. Glancing over to Haymitch I get up and fetch a blanket. I don't have the strength in my limbs to haul him upstairs and no way am I undressing him. I doubt Peeta will feel up to carrying him either and with his leg he's not as strong as he once was. I find some blankets still on the sofa I frequently fell asleep on after hard emotional days and scoop them up. I return to the kitchen and drape them over Haymitch to find Peeta has already put a pillow under his head. He raises finger to his lips and takes my hand. We switch off the light and head upstairs together.

"Wanna talk?" Peeta says gently unbuttoning his shirt and kicking off his shoes.

I shake my head just watching his hands. My own hands stop at the hem of my shirt, my brain switches off. What is happening to me? Peeta turns to me when I don't answer. Looking at my face he opens his arms, tipping me over the edge into a weeping abyss. I don't know how he closed the distance between us so fast but his warmth is exactly what I need. How did everything get so heavy? I just want to bask in the warmth. He isn't close enough. Everything needs to melt away. His lips find mine and he pushes me gently towards the bed. His lips get progressively more eager making my skin heat and tingle. I can taste my own tears in his kiss. His hand appears on my cheek to wipe away my tears and our lips part a moment to take a breath. His free arm pulls me closer but when his lips move to my neck I gently push him away.

"Haymitch is downstairs." I sigh.

"Katniss I doubt he'll come to anytime soon."

"Later I promise. We'll have plenty of time... Soon." My throat closes for some reason. Will we really ever have time for just us? Will we even feel like sharing each other knowing our tributes will be in the arena, a specialised hell dying of exposure? What kind of people will we be if we do that? It's exhausting to contemplate.

Peeta games my face in his hands and kisses my head. I half smile so he won't worry and undo his buttons for him which makes my smile widen a bit more. I don't care what others may think of our scars. He's beautiful. His muscles so sculpted, the scars actually make him look stronger, like a warrior. A survivor. He shrugs off his shirt and steps out of his pants and waits. I leave my shirt on and blush hard taking off my pants. It still bothers me being seen in clear light. I hurriedly get under the covers mumbling at Peeta to turn out the light. He shakes his head slightly and smiles plunging us into darkness and slips under the covers taking up his usual hold around me.

* * *

"Where's your liquor? Peeta still got you detoxing girl?"

I pull the covers over my head trying to ignore Haymitch's tirade downstairs. At least he knows where he is.

"Peeta do you think I can gag him if you pin him?" I grumble rolling over only to find my bed empty. Great.

My mood takes a serious downturn worsened by the fact that it's Reaping day. Maybe I can get away with staying here under the covers. Perhaps I could get some more sleep before Paylor sends the new versions of Peacekeepers after me. I linger in my warm little nest of covers until Haymitch stomps up the stairs and bashes on the door.

"I know you're in there sweetheart! Where's the liquor before that woman arrives to kick us on a train to hell."

"Don't you dare come in!" I growl.

"Just tell me and I'll be on my way."

I groan. Best deal with him now. I can't blame him, knowing what's ahead makes me want to hit the bottle too. But I have Peeta to think of. I slip out of bed and pull off my shirt from yesterday. Somewhere, a lot of people are talking. I look out the window to see camera crews taking interviews from various people around the village. All dressed in their finest I spot Effie a mile off. Her gold wig sparkles in the light making her look like a walking sun. I pick up my pace and pull on the first thing I find. A simple dress of two layers. A cotton underlay of white that stops short of my knees and an overlay of a matching colour that resembles a fishing net that pools on the floor behind me. It will have to do. Effie will have a fit if I try and get away with my usual clothes. I pull on the fanciest shoes I can find and test them for balance. Easy enough to stand in. I'm out of time, Effie's voice can be heard downstairs.

"Places everyone it's a big, big day!"

Give me strength.

I open the door looking for Haymitch but he's no where to be seen, neither is Peeta. I stop at the top of the stairs to see chaos below. There are camera crews and prep teams, there's luggage and equipment and people. Lots of people. But why in _my_ house? The strong smell of bread tells me Peeta has fed everyone. I swallow at the slight metallic taste in my mouth, saliva gathering at the delicious smell. Effie bounces from person to person giving directions and people start to move. Maybe I can get away without being interviewed this morning.

"Katniss!" Cressida calls out from the crowd.

Damn. Here we go. Clip board in hand she races up the stairs.

"Hello to you too." Her voice drips with sarcasm. "Don't panic, I'm not going to film you yet. Just the trip to the train, standard stuff."

I nod hoping the relief isn't obvious.

"Have you seen Peeta?"

"Kitchen. We need to go soon so grab any personal items you may need."

"Right. Thanks." My book. I need my book and my jacket. Judging by the mess downstairs everything but my furniture is packed.

"Oh and Katniss-" Cressida adds.

"Yes?"

"Congratulations."

Peeta and his gossiping mouth. He's lucky he needs that mouth to kiss me. Cressida and I look at each other a moment both thinking the same thing. If only we met again in better circumstances. I nod my thanks and quickly duck into our room to grab the book hugging it to my chest.

I descend the stairs ignoring everyone pushing through to the kitchen. Peeta looks fresh in a blue shirt and black jacket and pants. He looks through a pile of bags checking their contents.

"Hey," I kiss his cheek already in showmance mode. I need to remember this isn't our show anymore. Not as much.

Peeta opens his mouth to greet me when Effie bursts in.

"No time we'll fall behind. Come now everyone out!" Her cheery tone makes me want to strangle her. _Eager to murder children are we?_ It's not a fair thought. If anyone is to blame here, it's me.

Peeta takes my hand in his and people silently take bags and start dragging them out towards vehicles to travel to the train station.

"Wouldn't hovercraft be faster?" I ask Effie.

"We thought the train were best. For... Health reasons." She glances from me to Peeta. She's right, it would be harder on Peeta than me, I was unconscious half the time. Flashbacks wouldn't make very ideal footage for their games. Especially if both of us decide to go mad reliving the past.

I shrug and start to follow holding onto Peeta, hearing him say my name I turn.

"Mmm?"

"Nothing. You just look pretty." He says casually.

No wonder his pastries are so sweet. I peck his lips letting him slip an arm around my waist and we step out of the house closing the door behind us. Together.

* * *

No one says a word the entire trip to the station. An eerie déjà vu makes my skin crawl during our drive through the village and out through the district. People wave at us and shout support for its victors and the rebellion. A definite change in mood from the usual crowd in district 12 this time of year. Some even yell out congratulations and blessings. Is there no one in the district that doesn't know now? Peeta and my entwined hands rest on my leg, he looks out the window occasionally squeezing my hand. My stomach sinks when the village is out of view. I'm ready to vomit by the time the train station can be seen. Our whole trip is filmed, Cressida makes no effort to hide her frustration at such boring footage. Peeta must have noticed because he becomes more active, playing with my hair or kissing my hand which seems to satisfy her for the time being. It's so quiet, almost like something is missing...

"Effie! Where is Haymitch?" I feel a twinge of guilt at having forgotten him.

"No worries Katniss, he left as soon as Effie arrived." Peeta soothes.

I relax back in my seat sighing.

"I'll have to mention how you worry about him."

"Don't you dare." I shoot the boy with the bread a look. He laughs which infuriates me quickly. I do care about Haymitch, but he doesn't have to know.

I notice Effie's unimpressed look, Haymitch has found a favourite pass time in annoying almost everyone but Effie is by far his favourite to irritate. He must have been missing her over the last couple of years. She ushers us out of the vehicle to the train. Like last time, the cameras are waiting for us. I swallow hard against the metallic taste in my mouth that has returned. Effie walks ahead of us reminding various crews that we were not taking any interviews yet. Visuals only. I can only imagine the mortified looks of my old prep team seeing me without makeup, hair in a plain braid and a dress they probably don't even like. For some reason it makes me giddy with glee a moment. With some encouragement from Effie we wave a few times before getting on the train, all three of us relaxing when the doors close.

"Haymitch!" Effie shrieks making Peeta and I jump.

A crash from the dining car tells us Haymitch is on board. Locking onto the sound Effie storms off leaving Peeta and I a little stunned. Her voice echoes all through the train.

"Where were you?!"

"Unlace your corset woman, they've seen me before."

"That's not the point I told you what to do! This reflects on all of us!" She continues to shriek.

"So what? What are they gonna do? They want all these tributes dead this year."

"It's to... It's to..."

"It's blood money. What if we win? I doubt they'll reward the district. I'm soaking up all the perks I can get out if this job." Haymitch places his boots on the table, drink in hand. Effie goes purple.

"So you're giving up on them too?" Peeta's fist in clenched his tone, like his gaze, is ice.

"I didn't give on you sport."

"We had to _shower_ you remember? Actually you probably don't."

I look from Haymitch to Effie to Peeta. Why are we all fighting amoung ourselves? My head starts to ache with a sharp pain through my skull. I rub my forehead frowning, together with the sour taste and the moving train I feel unsteady. Perhaps if I'm unwell I can't mentor. But what about my tribute? I turn to head to where I remember the personal quarters are doubting my absence will even be noticed at the rate they are squabbling. I wish I ate something at breakfast the floor feels so unsteady or it could be these shoes. How in Panem does Effie do this everyday. My hair sticks to me it feels so warm in here, the train must be in some state of disrepair since the rebellion.

My head is spinning, colours are blending together. I idly reach for something to grip onto, a doorknob, railing, anything but find nothing. Everything lurches forward before me. No it's not, I'm falling towards it. I can feel the carpet in my skin.

When everything goes black.


	6. The Reaping

It's quiet. Very quiet and dark. Why can't I move? Why can't I cry for Peeta? He'll find me. Make sense of the dark. I must not panic. I must... What do I do?

I open my eyes in alarm but it's too dark to see. If I'm still on the train I'm unable to tell. My head is still swimming if I so much as move it the world tilts dangerously. I see nothing, inky blackness is all that surrounds me. The last thing I can recall is hitting the floor and colours swirling past my head. Perhaps my little trick can be of use.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I promised Peeta I would marry him two days ago. I think._ I can only guess how long I have been in this darkness unable to sense anything of the outside world. I'm beginning to doubt it exists. I can feel sensations, like the tightening of my chest and airways at the rising panic that I'm lost forever. That I can work with, now to see what exactly just feels things and what can I actually move. Extremities first.

I try to move my fingers. Success! They tingle all over like fine needle points jabbing every inch of skin on my hands but at least they work when I tell them. My arms feel like lead, the muscles heavy like trying to move through mud. My eyelids are heavy. I hear the whisper of a door opening, gliding on rails. So we're probably still on the train. Clacking heels walk into the room. Close by another pair of feet shift slightly.

"Any change?"

"Nothing. Medic put it down to low blood sugar." Peeta sounds unconvinced.

"Probably was. Do you think she will hold up through the interviews and Reaping?"

"I couldn't care less about the Games or the Reaping. Her waking up is what I'm focusing on."

"Gale should be notified." Cressida says carefully.

"It's not his concern."

"He's Gamemaster. Of course it's his business."

_Gale is Gamemaster_? A mixture of anger and hurt comes with the memories at the sound of his name. Is that why we are mentors? Is Gale still punishing me for hurting him? The Gale I knew would never consider such an insidious position. Ever. He was one of the strongest supporters of the Rebellion but he would not hurt children. It must be an error. I imagine Gale in a room surrounded by screens and holograms smiling menacingly and concocting new horrors for the tributes. It doesn't fit with the same Gale I hunted with. Who put his name down more times in order to save his siblings.

Spurred on by my sudden anger I force my eyes open. Peeta mustn't notice as he changes topics to our wedding and how I'm "coping". I lift myself by my elbows dragging my lead like arms up under me. The world becomes hazy before it can even come into focus properly. Peeta has now noticed getting up from his chair facing the bed to place a restraining hand on my shoulder.

"Easy, slowly." He says tenderly but firm.

I try to shrug him off. How do the same hands that hold me tenderly have such restraining strength? I glare him.

"Did you know?"

"Katniss you need to rest up and eat-"

"Did you know?" My anger burns brightly.

"Yes I knew."

The world starts to tilt again but I refuse to let the shock have its way.

"When exactly were you going to share that little gem of information?" I hiss at him.

"When you were strong enough to take it."

"Who are you to decide that?"

"I'm you fiancé." He looks right back at me just as angry now. He won't let me win this one easily. I glare at him unable to come up with a rebuttal that won't do more damage I can't undo.

Cressida clears her throat.

"Katniss are you up to eating? We need you at full strength for filming the footage of your initial interview before we arrive." I glare at her for reasons I don't even know.

"I don't think she is-"

"We don't have much choice Peeta, fainting won't excuse her from the Reaping." Cressida is straining to keep her tone even. Even she is running out of patience with him.

Listening to them talk around me about me, as if I'm not even there is frustrating. It's bad enough I'm treated like a porcelain doll in case I go crazy or fall into a weepy mess. In fact it infuriates me. I've proved more than capable of looking after myself. A fainting spell wouldn't even be noticed in the old district 12.

The whole exchange is more exhausting than a sprint.

"How long until we get there?" I sigh.

"A few hours, you'll need to be ready an hour before so be ready in two."

Good that means a sleep of an hour and a half.

"I'd like to rest a while." I mumble really wanting to hide under the covers forever.

Cressida nods and exits whispering something to Peeta who nods.

I lay back down wanting to sleep the rest of the trip but Peeta practically force feeds me. By the time he slides in next to me I'm more than welcoming to the sleep that quickly descends.

* * *

A nightmare causes me to wake up screaming after seeing my tribute being ripped apart by a Prim wolf mutt. Her eyes are still in my mind when Peeta's lips on my shoulder tell me he's there. I take a shuddering breath. The Capitol has come into view.

"Do we have to?" I indulge in a complaint.

"Afraid so."

His squeeze on my shoulder tames my nerves. I linger in his hold a little longer before slipping into a black and white dress that's shorter at the front than it is at the back. I pull my hair into a braid pinning it up duplicating the way my mother did at my own reaping. Or my version of it. I sneak a few glimpses of Peeta changing behind me, watching in the mirror until he catches giving me a smile which I have no choice but to return. Cressida descends on us painting my face with a bit of make up camera bug men in tow. To think last week I was rid of this.

Thankfully they allow both of us to be interviewed at the same time giving Peeta the opportunity to shine. He doesn't disappoint answering all the bland questions with easy, making jokes and turning my stammering answers into must see television. Without being conscious of it we slip into our formal showmance roles acting flawlessly. Once Cressida is satisfied she disappears with the bug men for editing and to get a prime spot for the Reaping. Her carefree tone making me lose my appetite requiring Peeta to force feed me again. A few times I see the worry creep into his expression. Haymitch stumbles into the dining car just as we finish, Effie on his heels like a wolf hunting prey.

"One thing Haymitch, I gave you one thing to do!"

"I'm here aren't I?" He grumbles.

"We have missing footage now! What have you got to say about that?"

"That I had a good sleep." He chuckles making Effie go deep red I half expect her to explode.

"Everyone to the exit! We're behind schedule!" She's back to shrieking but at all of us now. Shooing us out of our seats. I gulp the last of my hot chocolate before she goes any redder.

Like cattle we shuffle to the carriage door none of us in overly good condition as the doors open and the reporters crush in around us to shout and flash, shove and snap at us as we walk past. Peeta takes my hand which only intensifies the frenzy. It's incredible that people are still curious about us. Haymitch frequently stumbles bringing about laughter from the crowd all the way to the huge square courtyard with people and set up with new screens and a repaired stage.

Effie leads us to the steps and gestures for us to take the last two seats up on the platform. I recognise a few people instantly. Beetee, Johanna, Enobaria, Annie all sitting in a row with Haymitch on the end before us, between them grey suited rebels, or government officials now, sit looking to the podium. Annie holds a bundle in her arms, they must have agreed to let her hold him if it kept her calm. From the far side of the stage I can see she has been crying. In front of us, centre stage are an additional two empty chairs. And Gale.

Gale doesn't look at anyone but stares at a fixed point in front of him. His dark hair a bit longer than I remember and he's put on a lot of muscle making him even more handsome in his uniform and ceremonial badges. I feel nothing but a numbness that almost radiates off him. I look at this new Gale, one I don't know anymore. Stone hearted and expressionless. I want to talk to him before all this starts, to implore him to stop this but what could I say? He would have no cause to listen to me. Especially after I voted for this. He was right about one thing. I think of Prim before she burns, saying my name, when I look at him.

Before the podium a step down from the stage the children of the Capitol, all dressed in their best clothes huddle together surrounded by soldiers. Their terrified faces weaken my knees and cause my hands to shake. Peeta holds on extra tightly to me stone faced, reminding me to wear my own expressionless mask. I don't want to give them the satisfaction of an emotional display. The crowd is a huge wave of sound, cheering, screaming, crying, some are waving fabric in the air others yell insults. It forms a cacophony of a haunting call for blood. The children look around wildly in fear, some are crying others simply have gone numb in shock or resigned to their fate. Is this how we looked? How has previous victors just sat here and watched the victims be condemned to death?

President Paylor, flanked by intimidating body guards steps up to the glass podium from the opposite side if the stage. That was no accident. Just like the sudden appearance of grey uniforms behind me. I cross my legs to sit more comfortably and the uniforms behind me jump. I feel a strange sense of pride I can at least make them uneasy, in my small way make them regret bringing us here. Every eye in the crowd jumps from the president, to me and back to the president. Several people flick back to me at once at any given time. Paylor sets down her notes and begins to read.

"Welcome to the final Reaping for the new Panem. As a reminder of the price paid for our new freedom and as homage to ty lives lost in our second and last rebellion. Tributes, we honor and thank you for your sacrifice." The crowd eats it up cheering and clapping. I feel breakfast stirring.

"To celebrate our new unity, and, as a reflection of the districts coming together to form new strength we this year assign mentors both past Victors and elite warriors from the Capitol to train our new tributes." At hearing a reference to the group seated on the stage the cheering doubles.

I lose all interest in Paylor's speech and browse the crowd while she outlines the procedure. Anyone here would be able to give the same speech. It's nothing new. Silence falls when she calls for volunteers. It is then I lock my gaze with a pair of snake eyes making my blood run cold. The girl they belong to stands stone faced glowering at me and unmoving. Her almost white blonde hair flows down her shoulders and down her slender frame. She's impossibly thin with full lips that look unnatural on her thin face. Her pale skin is almost translucent against the black glittering dress she's wearing. She looks to be about seventeen however her make up could mask her age and make her look beyond her years. There is no mistaking her by her eyes passed through two generations. Snow's granddaughter.

Neither of us flinch or blink she the names start being read. Neither looks away when one young boy is torn from his mother screaming and wailing as she reaches for him. One by one the next mentor along our row is called up to claim their allocated tribute. I hear Annie sob as she is called for the boy. Who will soothe her episodes now? I think of Peeta and what I would feel if I was here alone. Without him to hold my hand. It's then I feel a twinge of emotion tug my heart. But I don't remove my gaze from the snake eyed girl. From what I can tell from my peripheral vision the tributes vary in age. Each are from a family that were very powerful Capitol family, save one but we both know where she will end up. A last punishment to keep us both in line. A last chance to prove my loyalty.

I tear my eyes away when Peeta releases my hand. I look in his direction to see him stiffly walk across the stage to stand behind a tall black haired girl of a muscular build. She's an athlete which makes her a threat. She eyes off the others before sizing up Peeta. Seemingly satisfied with her mentor she faces the crowd.

"Last tribute to be selected for these hunger games is..." I hadn't realised it was Gale making the announcements. This was my tribute being selected, best to pay attention to the formality of drawing out the name of Snow's granddaughter. I look at Paylor ignoring the cameras on me. This is just a formality.

"Delphi Crane!" I dislike the excitement in Gale's voice.

I look in the crowd. Both snake eyes and I are startled. Perhaps it would have made people suspicious if she was chosen? How can they punish these other families when the most powerful Capitol family escapes unscathed? Regardless I can do nothing but play my part now. Everyone stares at me and I numbly stand and make my way to the end of the line. Delphi, a girl of roughly fourteen with flaming hair and impossibly large eyes. Her skin is a golden tan making her an unusual beauty. Her huge eyes brim with tears as she starts excusing herself past people towards the stage. I bite my lip wanting to run to her and throw my arms around her to tell her it's going to be ok. Even if it is a lie. She reaches the stairs carefully lifting a leg to lift herself up to the first step, the hairs on my neck stand up when a clear, elegantly voiced shout is heard from the crowd.

"I volunteer!" Shouts the descendant of Snow.

The crowd is in stunned silence. My blood freezes in my veins and my neck painfully fills with heat.

"I volunteer." She says stoically still looking at me ignoring the open mouthed people around her. This must be planned. Although Gale looks as shell shocked as the rest of us. All eyes and cameras follow each elegant step of the perfectly postured, impossibly thin young woman who pushes Delphi aside with little effort.

"Cornelia Snow, mentored by Katniss Everdeen." Gale's surprise couldn't be more evident.

She slinks her way in front of me holding her head up defiantly.

"Was that your friend?" I murmur as then crowd begins to clap.

"I have never seen her in my life." Her Capitol accent enunciates flawlessly.

I stand unnerved behind her wearing my mask for the cameras waving on cue until we start to file in pairs into cars to take us to the Training Tower. Cornelia Snow suddenly rounds on me snakes eyes filled with rage but her voice is soft so only I can hear.

"You aren't the only one who can rebel Katniss Everdeen. You stole my life, now I'll be taking yours."


	7. Medusa

Cornelia is silent the entire trip to the tribute's quarters.

She is unmoved by the splendour of the luxurious accommodation.

_Of course she is this is roughing it by her standards_. I think with disgust. Peeta is busy trying to pry off his tribute who fawns over him. It's an unusual sight as the warrior built girl who is head and shoulders taller than Peeta being attentive like a puppy. A new fire flares up, I instantly do not like his tribute. So much so I am momentarily spurred to tear her to pieces. I direct my attention back to Cornelia Snow to find her serpent gaze watching me intensely a small smile on her unnatural lips. My insides shudder, a scent of blood and roses enters my nose. My stomach lurches painfully but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of letting her see she affects me. The sadistic enjoyment of torturing others must be genetic.

Effie's heels clack on the floors as she babbles about the history of each room. She hasn't realised no one is paying attention. Peeta finally pries off his tribute I can't recall her name but my blood is still seething. Cornelia, still smiling, pretends to take interest in her surroundings. She looks like she's floating when she walks, her hair floats behind her just as weightless as she is. Hauntingly beautiful and frail. What could possibly motivate her to volunteer? She won't survive long in the games, I doubt she's overly quick or strong. She's clever though, resourceful. Snow probably shared tips with her to make poisons just in case. I only need to tolerate her a few days. It's up to me to help her survive. Even if I don't want to.

"Now you are permitted two hours tributes. You receive one five minute visit from any friends or family in your quarters. After that we will come collect you to take you to your prep teams." Effie instructs.

"Where are the Avoxes?" Cornelia asks in a superior tone.

Effie is taken off guard causing her to take a physical step backwards.

"Most were killed in raids." Peeta says tersely.

"Why not have more then?"

"Because it's barbaric." I snap looking at her, thinking of Darius and the girl I never had a chance to know. I look over to Peeta who's gripping a near by table for support enduring a wave of flashbacks. I clench my fist and bite my lip tasting my own blood to resist punching my tribute in those full lips.

"We have professional staff to see to your needs." Effie says her voice strained. "Your meetings will begin shortly. We will call you lunch."

Destruction wrought, Cornelia floats after Peeta's tribute. I need to learn her name, and perhaps some other information about her skills I might be able to research like we did for the Quell. Even if I loathe the idea of aiding the serpent queen it is what I have been commissioned to do and must do if I want to keep Peeta safe from consequences of my rash actions. The sooner it's over the sooner we can return home and Peeta can organise our wedding. Then perhaps, we could have peace at last. Together.

Effie turns on us with a forced smile.

"Where's Haymitch?" I ask thoughtlessly.

"Housed with his tribute, Annie Odair and her tribute on level 4."

Effie simply looks at me thinking the same thing. Level 4 was where the District 4 tributes were accommodated. A fresh hell for Annie to relive without Fennick. Like us, she'll be reminded of what could happen should we choose not to obey. Remind us why we are here.

"Come sit down, let's eat while I brief you for your first and most important duty as mentors. The Tribute Parade." Effie sits down delicately arranging her vibrant blue suit complete with feathers arranged like a peacock tail. I hadn't noticed her green wig was dyed to match. I glance over to my husband to be. He's still gripping the table hunched over, his face white.

"Give us a moment Effie." I say flatly walking over to the boy with the bread.

I gently wrap my arms around him from behind and lean my cheek on his back. He's cold an rigid from staying in place too long. He takes a sharp inhaling breath and stands straight, returning to me. He touches my hands holding him and I slide around to face him. I gently touch his cheek. I take his hand and sit with him at the table holding up a hand when Effie tries to speak. I fill Peeta's plate for him finding all our favoured foods there. They remembered. I smile thinking how I've come to know him so well. I fill a bowl of lamb stew feeling famished. Peeta stares blankly at my dish.

"Peeta eat." I press gently.

He continues to stare, tears forming in his eyes.

"Peeta what's wrong?" I touch his arm.

"Nothing." He pokes the food on his plate. I stare at him not accepting his obvious lie.

"My tribute. Aelia. Aelia Flickerman." He looks at me and I nod understanding.

She's Caesar Flickerman's daughter, announcer and host of the Games programming. He had helped us in his own eccentric way. He also had a taste for the lamb stew. He told me during my interview last Games. They should not be punishing him. Perhaps I can help Peeta and help him save Aelia. I can think of nothing that will provide him with comfort breaking my heart.

Effie can barely wait for us to finish our first mouthful when she begins to babble again.

"Now, you will get all timetables on any given day at 0700 sharp just like before. Printed on your arm." She wrinkles her nose. Anything on her skin that's not on trend is disdainful to our Effie.

"It is your responsibility that your tributes behave within the Games policy and guidelines of conduct."

She brings up a document on the screen. Standard rules. No killing each other before Panem can watch. Peeta actually reads them while I nibble on my stew suddenly losing my appetite.

"You are, in conjunction with me, responsible for your tributes' attendance to all compulsory events. Starting with tonight, the Parade." She continues flawlessly, she's given this drill a few times. Did Haymitch ever pay attention?

"All sponsors will be in attendance in a specifically designated area where we will be seated. After we give the tributes over to the care of their stylists I will take you there. From here we start work."

I look over to Peeta wondering what he's thinking of all this. He looks determined. I feel unmotivated.

"The richest sponsors now have children as Tributes but not all of them. I have left documents containing this information and matching photographs in your rooms. Do not tell anyone about this document."

"Rooms?" Peeta questions.

"It is against Games policy for mentors to fraternise with other mentors. Even those of the same district."

"Who's policy?" Peeta's expression darkens.

Effie looks at me flustered. We all know who set the policy. Regularly the Capitol wouldn't care if the mentors were from the same district. The mentors had a certain degree of freedom in the Games another reward for surviving. There were whispers of romances between mentors and sponsors but some mentor romances were almost expected. Gale clearly is not amused that I am marrying Peeta. Perhaps he wants to ensure Cornelia dies by starving her of any support they may come from fans of Peeta and my romance. No, that would be pointless. The sleeping arrangements wouldn't be made public and people think I'm married still. This is Gale's personal message. I rub my temple a sudden headache blooming in my head. As if in defiance Peeta kisses the place I rub.

"Remember you're manners! You need as many sponsor's to favour you as possible." She looks directly at me. "Now your teams should arrive any minute to dress you, interviews will follow. Praise your tribute. Sponsors will be watching. Your behaviour reflects on all of us." Effie says sternly.

I pour some water to rid myself of the metallic taste still plaguing my mouth. The entrance doors open and our prep teams walk in. I almost choke on my water when Flavius grabs me to hug me and kiss each cheek and pass me along to Venia and Octavia. Her skin only has the faintest hint of green. Venia scolds me for not taking care of my eyebrows and the usher me to a space to prep me. I've missed my pets and even their idle gossip which has still managed to continue. Apparently one of the stylists was dismissed when caught bribing a sponsor to import finer materials than were made available for the teams to use.

I haven't missed the prodding and poking. The waxing and stinging and plucking. I tolerate it in silence just glad to see them in good spirits. I'm mostly ignored as they chatter. Until they get onto wedding talk. Begging and pleading to help me with everything from my dress to my hair. I grumble agreement knowing it would mean the world to Peeta for me to look pretty on the day.

"Cinna gave us a dress for you." Flavius says solemnly catching me off guard.

"Yes I have the six he made before." I say stiffly my throat tightens.

"No Katniss, a last design for your 'real wedding' as he put it. We can theme the whole thing around it."

I feel tears slip. Even today he is still making me beautiful.

"Katniss! Eyeliner!" Octavia scolds hastily repairing.

After what seems like hours I'm allowed to move around. Dressed in a dress of black velvet, the silk neckline is interesting as it looks like the petals of a flower along the strapless edge. The back dips low unnerving me when the air touches my bare skin. The gown hugs my figure closely flaring at my hips to form black velvet pools on the floor. I look closer in the mirror at my pale face. My skin shimmers slightly and my make up has been kept basic apart from the dark shadow in my eyes. My hair has been pulled up to the crown of my head. Accessories shine in the light casting rainbows on the ceiling. Intimidatingly beautiful. Soft darkness. I smile to demonstrate my approval to my team and carefully hold the skirt up to walk out to a waiting Effie in the dining area. She taps her foot in annoyance.

"Always leaving things so close." She mutters.

Peeta emerges moments later also entirely in black. Seems we still be presented as a pair despite our tributes being trained to kill each other by us. Effie leads us into the elevator and presses a button for the prep level.

Peeta leans over to whisper in my ear.

"You look beautiful. I think that dress is a favourite of mine."

"Why?" I whisper back smiling.

"Because it looks easy to take off." He gives a playful smile but I flush red.

Effie shoots us a stern look of disapproval I can hear her mentally reprimanding us for our bad manners.

"Off we go! Remember you each have a tribute to fight for." She ushers is into the elevator down to the ground floor and out into the transports to take us to the parade venue. Peeta's hand slips into mine.

"How are you feeling?" He says in a hushed voice.

"Repulsed." I hiss.

"Just be yourself and pretend you are acting for someone who you actually like. Pretend you are selling me to them."

I look at him horrified at the mere idea but it would probably help. The rest of the trip is quiet. I never let go of Peeta's hand. The transport leaves us at one of the numerous entrances. Burly soldiers check identities at the door leading up to the exclusive seating for sponsors and mentors. Peeta helps me out of the car and I hear a baby crying. I turn my head in the direction of the sound finding Annie in a simple turquoise one shouldered gown. Her dark hair to one side bouncing a bundle of silvery blankets in her arms talking to them. She must feel my gaze because she looks up in my direction. She gives me a smile and a nod as she's ushered inside by her escort.

Peeta leads me towards the glittering people entering the huge doors. The soldiers don't even bother asking our names there isn't a man, woman or child in Panem that wouldn't know us. We climb the stairs hand in hand ignoring the stares and whispers as we pass until Effie turns to enter an archway leading out to a balcony high up but close to the stage the Preseident will greet the tributes from. Everything glistens and glows. Huge banners and screens have been placed so no one misses a single moment of footage.

"Smile." Effie hisses as we walk over to the closest group of finely dressed people I don't recognise.

Peeta pulls me along mingling effortlessly into their midst putting on a smile that makes my heart flutter. He turns to address a plump woman wearing a gold circlet on her brow to match the dress covering her round figure. It shines extra brightly against her ebony skin.

"Oreilia you lovely thing!" Peeta turns on the charm. Oreilia has no chance against such an assault.

"Ah, Peeta Mallark. We meet at long last I was your sponsor last year do you remember the soup I sent?"

"Of course I do you life saver you! Saved us both. You know my wife Katniss." Peeta pulls me forward taking my waist. I smile my best smile I can manage against the sick feeling in my stomach from her strong perfume.

"Mrs Mellark."

It sounds so odd being addressed that way but I get no chance to respond before the woman pulls me into an embrace crushing me against her. I look at Peeta for help as my lungs protest against the lack of oxygen.

"Easy there Oreilia my wife isn't quite as accustomed to such a magnificent embrace from your prestigious District." Peeta smoothly covers. I try not to gasp too loudly at the relief of air. The woman takes my hand in both of hers.

"We were so sorry to hear about your loss."

I look at Peeta again for guidance he simply nods in her direction subtly.

"Oh... Um... Yes. Thank you for your compassion." I try to use a smooth voice like Peeta.

"Be sure to look out for our tributes tonight, Oreilia." Peeta grins.

"I surely will sire! But you realise I can only afford to truly support one tribute. From what I hear, both of yours are the most interesting." She arches eyebrows that aren't there. So that's it then, game on.

I browse the balcony of wealthy sponsors. Some approach me guaranteeing support simply because they liked me and once I agree to attend a party or function of theirs the deal is sealed. But others need convincing giving me glances of concern and mistrust. The world starts to spin again and I hastily look for a seat. Perhaps I should seek out a medic after this. Although the humidity is the one down fall of being in such a crowded place. I sink into a chair beside an aged woman in a silver dress. Seeing the opportunity to gain another sponsor's attention I put on my smile.

"Do you care?" The woman says in an unexpectedly strong voice. She doesn't look at me, keeping her eyes fixed on the currently empty chariot track.

"Sorry?"

"Do you _care_ about what happens to her?"

Her question catches me off guard. No haughty hello or kisses on both cheeks. Just a direct question.

"I'm her mentor."

"But do you care?" She turns her eyes toward me now. My mouth opens seeing her eyes are pure white with no pupils or irises. Her pearls rustle around her neck. I get the feeling false niceties won't affect this woman.

"I have to."

"Says who? The new brutes in power? She's the descendant of a dictator. Why are you even trying?"

"Because I'm human." Is all I can think of. The old woman seems to make some judgement based on my answer.

"Has she tried to kill you yet?"

I sit there unable to answer. She couldn't kill me, the tributes are constantly surveyed and are extremely limited to what they are given access to. Behind me I hear Beetee mention the quick reflexes on his tribute that will make her a sure victor, he's hard to miss in his cog covered suit and tie that lights up. Even Annie expresses admiration for tribute's ability to cope so well already. Time for some selling.

"Not yet but the games are only just beginning. Cornelia will not just lay down and die like the rest of them. She's clever." I use a voice like silk.

"You haven't done your research very well Mockingjay. I can guarantee she has already tried to kill you a dozen times over during your trip here. If you want support you best know how to convince me that you care for your tribute."

"Why would that matter?"

"Because no one will listen to a passionless sell. You're the girl on fire aren't you? Show me your flames. If you want revenge, it is better you help her survive so that she is forced to live with the knowledge that she owes you her life and showed her the mercy she would not show you." The woman leans forward on her jewelled cane.

"It wouldn't matter to her. She hates me."

"But she is a Snow. She craves power and lives to be seen. This is simply a new outlet for her to take a place of strength, to be feared to get the power she wants."

It makes sense. Cornelia has already won points for volunteering as I did for Prim which would reinforce her grasp on the Capitol elites who I hear speaking her praises, of her gracious behaviour. Loved or feared it's all a game of power to get a spoilt little girl what she wants. She wants her life back.

"She'll just kill me."

"No she won't. She'll kill your husband first." She says as casually as if I asked the time.

"Then I shouldn't help her."

"Help her. If you do she will be ever reminded on every public screen, in every public place, in every conversation that you are superior. If you are superior you are stronger and she is weak."

Before I can continue arguing with this woman the lights dim and I hear Gale's voice.

"Everyone the proceedings are beginning shortly. Please take your seats."

I turn to see Gale sweep on the stage wearing a customised uniform, badges and sweeping cloak. The crowd cheers wildly and his face is splashed on every lit up screen and banner. I jump feeling Peeta's hand hold mind I hadn't heard him take the seat beside me. I grip his hand unnerved by my last sponsor conversation. The cameras focus on the balcony and without fail I see my own image sitting beside Peeta on the screens. Peeta waves confidently while my face remains the same. A look of deep concentration on my features until I consciously rearrange them into a half smile. I'm no where near as charming or look as relaxed as Peeta. I just look aged.

The crowd intensifies its defeating roar as the new anthem begins to play and the screens display the doors opening to the arena. The chariots emerge one after the other each costume more ridiculous than the last.

"I heard the stylists were told to reflect the personality of each tribute this year. So we remember them easier." A man says in Capitol accent behind me. I look a bit closer and start to see distinct attributes portrayed on each child of the Capitol. Some are in sweeping ball gowns of luxury indicating they originated from district 1. One girl is dressed in leaves and flowers like camouflage, another boy is dressed like a hunter another still is dressed like Beetee, his suit lighting up wires that cover his body. Most wave and work the crowd as best they can. One boy makes rude gestures thinking it will make him memorable. I hear his mentor behind me try and explain away his actions blaming it on loss from the second rebellion. The screens suddenly flick back to a close up of Peeta. I search for the reason why but the cameras themselves answer my confusion.

Aelia's chariot comes into view and my eyes can't be taken off her. Her stylist is almost as clever as Cinna dressing Aelia in a suit that makes her look like a warrior princess. Shining in white armour her shield containing her family name. She's defending their innocence. A moving and more importantly memorable gesture as she puts up the three fingered mark of respect for her father. Her face painted white to resemble him and the relation is indisputable. She slams down the base of her spear and a hologram of her father appears next to her as if he is presenting her as the victor already. I look at Peeta, he's pleased. They will be my biggest threat if I take the old woman's advice to destroy Cornelia.

"Cornelia will best her." The sightless woman says beside me.

As if saying her name summoned her forth Cornelia is plastered on every screen and the arena is purged into chaos. Half a screaming for her blood the other screaming adulation. As I take in her costume I'm still undecided if I respect her resourcefulness or hate her more.

With her blonde hair dead straight and flowing behind her Cornelia Snow glistens almost blindingly. Her slender figure is covered in scales. Translucent scales. The shimmer like mother of pearl swirling with colours tinged in green. On her head she wears a crown of snake heads with burning eyes their mouths opened in a ferocious manner, ready to strike. They flare out in all directions most of them moving. A long tail shimmers behind her. She's is completely covered in scales but you can see straight through them only a few are misted for concealment. Her nails are long and painted in the same pearly tone. She looks ethereal. Her face has been painted in a way that her eyes demand your attention. She stoical holds herself in a powerful stance.

She is almost at the end of the track when the snakes all open their mouths wider and release a deafening, terrifying wail. The high pitched scream causes most to cover their ears. The camera stays on Cornelia. She turns her head to peer up at me her terrifying eyes pierce my soul. I vaguely recall my father once told me of an ancient legend passed down before the Dark Days. The legend was of a terrifying creature, once a woman who had lost all turned into a serpent, punished by gods. It was said that her stare could turn you to stone and her wail could kill. I refuse to look away at this serpent queen.

"She's a human being Katniss. She has a right to live too." Peeta whispers to me. Amid all my hatred at this girl in my care who threatened to take everything dear to me it will be for Peeta that I let her live. I will not play her game. I deliberately look over to Peeta and then force my features into a proud smile as if I am happy my tribute has made herself so memorable. Sure enough my expression is plastered on the screen. The crowd starts to cheer my name fooled into thinking this was my ingenious and merciful plan to save the granddaughter of the serpent king. I watch Cornelia's delicate features crack into unfathomable rage. She shudders infuriated I have stolen her attention and releases her own blood curdling, impossible loud screech so horrifying it silences the majority of the crowd to the point her next words ring through the air.

"Blood shall be my new spotlight." She hisses.

Annie suddenly screams beside me causing me to turn in alarm. Time freezes just long enough for me to turn my head to find the source of her horror.

Just long enough to feel Peeta's hand slip out of mine as he falls off the balcony into the sea of people below.


	8. Better the Devil You Know

She has forfeited her right to live. I won't just kill her.

I will destroy her.

* * *

I scream out Peeta's name trying to see him amoung the panicked crowd swarming around where he landed. I desperately search for a sign he's alive. I look up at the serpent gaze of the monster that has hurt Peeta. My Peeta. Cornelia stares at me, snake eyes delighted her mouth pulled upwards into a smile.

"Peeta!" My voice screeches, I scream his name over and over but to no avail I can't even see him.

My legs, seemingly of their own accord drag me away off the balcony towards the stairs shoving people out of my way taking two at a time. My chest radiates with a sharp pain. I clutch against it with one hand stumbling down the last step I crash into the landing between the tiers to where Peeta fell. Tears fill my eyes blurring my vision. I need to get to him. I can't have lost him. Not now. He can't be gone. He can't be, he must just be hurt but I need to reach him, he needs me. I growl in frustration and push myself off the smooth floor kicking off my shoes furiously. Once free of them I leap to my feet sprinting down the last flight stumbling on my long dress I push against the huge doors flinging them against their hinges. I faintly hear soldiers speaking to each other through their communicators in hushed, urgent tones. The medics should follow me soon.

There is yet another crowd of glittering people to get through. Steeling myself in desperation I run across and push people out of the way shoving myself towards where Peeta should have fell. I grip one man in both my hands throwing him to one side. I call for Peeta not bothering to excuse myself.

"Peeta!" I cry out again finally reaching the centre clearing, my breath catches in my throat sealing it tight causing me to choke.

Peeta lays motionless on the row of seats. His prosthetic leg lays at an awkward angle from being dislodged on impact. His skin is inflamed in areas covering his skin exposed by his torn shirt in angry, red blotches. I swallow the rising bile when I see the blood pooling underneath his side where white bone has punctured through his skin on his arm. His head has a deep cut and foam drains down his chin.

"Peeta...Peeta talk to me... Peeta." I shake violently touching his arm that's relatively injury free.

"Please... Peeta... PEETA." I shriek as the panic rises. Hands reach for me but I lean in closer over the boy with the bread cradling his head into my lap.

"Put him on his side!" I hear a familiar voice shout.

Gale rushes to the front of the crowd.

"Citizens please make room for the medics. Move!" He commands.

I press my cheek to Peeta's mouth checking for any breath of life in him as my mother had showed me. I wait. I wait. And I wait. There, the tiniest trace if breath touches my cheek. I dare to start hoping that I can still save him.

I gently turn Peeta's head to the side watching his pale face closely. Peeta doesn't react. I whisper his name to no avail. I cradle his head in my arms looking around franticly. Agonising moments pass before a haze of white uniforms surround us. one of them tries to pry Peeta out of my arms but I refuse to let him go. Another set of hands cut open Peeta's shirt and yet another feeds a tube into his arm and bandages it hastily. The medic who tried to remove me from Peeta place a mask on his face, I feel oxygen flowing through it. A new set of large hands pull me away, I'm too weak with worry to fight them as I watch helplessly as the man I promised to marry is lifted onto a stretcher and hurried away. I try to follow but the hands hold me firm.

"Let me go!" I struggle, tears turning my pleas into desperate choking sobs.

"Katniss, let them work. You can't save him."

I whip around to face Gale square in the eyes ready to scream I can save him. He needs me and no one else will do.

"They will save him Katniss. He will be alright."

"How the hell do you know? He was fine moments ago and then he fell! He fell off... I couldn't..." Talking is too difficult I need to see what they are doing to Peeta. Gale pulls me close shielding me with his cloak. I don't resist glad to hide from the cameras and the faces.

"Katniss listen to me. Get a hold of yourself. Look." He points above us to the mezzanine that Peeta collapsed from.

"Yes he fell-"

"No Katniss, look, its not even a full level high. He will be fine, the fall will not kill him." Gale says like it's good news.

"Did you even look at him?"

"You can't help him like this. Go to your quarters and ensure the Tribues-"

"To hell with your tributes Gale! You should not have even brought us here what business were we of yours or did it eat you up that badly that I am marrying Peeta and not you?" I push him away furious all he cares about is his games. I'm sick of all these revolting games and agendas. Gale looks cut deeply staring at me a while. Both of us ignore the crowd, the stadium watching our exchange. Gale shields me again firmly escorting me out of the crowd's wandering eyes. I try to resist him but he's too big and strong. Nor is he in a dress.

"Let me go!" I hiss trying to think how I will get to Peeta/

"Shush. I'm taking you to your mother."

"What?"

"Our official Hunger Games Chief Medical Officer." Gale says still pained. "We have provided the best for all involved."

"Thank you." I whisper.

I follow Gale to the waiting transport. Ignoring the questions shouted by reporters and commentators, even my own camera crew are ignored. I close the door and hold my head in my hands terrified of what awaits me at the medical facility.

* * *

I hug my knees hands in my own hair. The infernal constant beeping from near by machines sends constant waves of shuddering tears through me. I had sat here for the duration of the parade, the President's speech and the night in its entirety. They had explained away the scene with Peeta as an "unfortunate accident as a result of dehydration. No one will buy into that one. I cover my mouth to hold back the sobs and look up at the single bed in the room.

The boy with the bread lays perfectly still, surrounded by medical equipment orchestrating a melody of beeps and whirring sounds like lungs taking in air he looks like a small, sick boy asleep and innocent. His skin is pale with a green tinge, his lip split from hitting a chair. Tubes snake over both his arms and some enter his lungs. His arm is enveloped in medical foam that has hardened to hold the newly set bones in place. Red and clear fluids enter him. A few of the drugs I recognise from my numerous visits here. Morphling for his pain, a sedative to keep him sleeping, both bring back new horrors from the past. I furiously rub my tears away with a hand and bury my face back into my knees.

Cornelia's wicked smile grins at me revealing menacing fangs dripping with blood. Her full lips pull her fangs open to articulate her single phrase menacingly.

"His blood will be my spotlight!" She laughs maniacally.

Her hair changes to vicious serpents all trying to sink their fangs into my flesh.

I jolt awake hitting my head on my knees. Peeta hasn't moved, still in a heavy sleep from the sedatives feeding into his arm. I jump as a cup of tea is shoved into my hands.

"Drink." My mother orders in her medical voice.

I take a small sip discovering the blanket around my shoulders keeping me warm while I slept. I stretch my legs wincing at the cramps. I've been asleep a few hours.

My mother watches the screen in the far corner of the room. Footage of empty streets is being shown with headlines declaring the scandalous Tribute Parade was still a smashing success. Images of Cornelia, Peeta, Gale and I all flash up in turn.

"You need to rest regularly. He'll be out for hours." My mother says stoically.

I look at her trying to hold back the tears I feel forming, burning my eyes. Dressed in a medic uniform of plain white my mother is still an ageless beauty. Stethoscope around her neck and covers on her shoes she looks every bit the chief medical officer position she richly deserves. I enjoy her calls when she updates me on some highlights from her patients or bizarre medical occurrences. I look at her for information my voice failing. Just as my mother opens her mouth to speak Gale sweeps in. The sight of his cloak sickens me. I return to the safety of the dark hiding behind my knees.

"How is long until he wakes up?" Gale says in typical Gale style, to the point.

"He is expected to make a full recovery. He's had extensive surgery so he will need constant care should he feel able to return to active duty. It will take weeks before he will be able to resume any sort of normal activity."m

"Weeks?" Gale is unimpressed.

"Peeta has suffered a head trauma which we only just were able to save him from, several deep lacerations, broken femur, blood transfusions, has several broken ribs and is undergoing a treatment of hydroxocobalamin. He will recover when he recovers. We have done all that we can to speed up the process." My mother says curtly. Not appreciating the lack of respect for her patient.

"Katniss you will need to take over as mentor for both Aelia and for Cornelia until I find a replacement." Gale says jaw clenched and storms out. I rub my eyes wearied by his immaturity.

"Katniss he is in the best of care. Go rest and take care of your tributes." My mother says clinically.

Why would my mother say that? What possible reason to I have to give Cornelia anything but death? This a request I simply refuse to follow.

"What was that last treatment?" I change topic.

"It's a antidote used to treat traces of cyanide that we found in Peeta's blood."

"So he was poisoned."

"Yes this resulted in the fall, he's lucky it wasn't a very big one. Katniss can you think of where Peeta would come into contact with cyanide?"

I look up at my mother. We both know who has done this. Poisoning is a signature kill of only one family. This has Cornelia's bloody signature all over it, all to get back at me. I've risked his life again. One thing is nagging at me, why has she selected a poison that could be treated and traced? It's an anomaly she would not have overlooked. Why has she risked getting caught? Untraceable and untouchable is her style of murderous acts.

"He's reacting well to treatment he will be fine Katniss." My mother tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Peeta needs me." I insist.

"You are of no good to him exhausted and in such a mood. Go rest. I will call you with any changes."

"I'm ok." I force a reassuring smile.

"Gale tells me you have been fainting."

"Gale should mind his own business." I snap.

My mother sighs and pulls off her stethoscope to press it just under my strapless dress I still have on from yesterday. I just breathe deeply knowing it to be futile to argue. For some reason a thought crosses my mind unexpectedly voicing itself with my vocal cords.

"Everything has been tasting... Metallic." I mumble.

"How is your cycle progressing?"

I lean back put off by my mother's random question refusing to give her the information.

"I'm assuming you are in the midst of it. That would explain that and the fainting your blood pressure lowers during that phase." My mother sighs exasperated.

"Katniss I have other patients but please, rest. I will have someone call you if he wakes. Go to bed. Your tributes need you to start training them tomorrow and now you have two tributes to get sponsors for as well." My mother uses the tone to imply it was not up for negotiation.

The trip back to the tower is a blur until I find myself in the elevator travelling to the 12th floor. I review the conversations I had during the day and the evening of the day before. For a moment I idly wonder about how I will sleep without Peeta there, marvelling at how plans change in the course of a few hours. I carefully avoid thinking of Peeta's fall as I walk along the corridor to my room. Neither tribute is seen. Good. If I see either girl now I may kill them on sight with my bare hands and it would not be quick. I close the door behind me and head over to the dresser to change for the night. Alone. I had planned tonight quite differently. I had intended to explore new places of Peeta. Perhaps light some fireworks.

My last conversation with my mother hangs over my head. The question over my bodily rhythms and functions confused me. I had refused to answer her but she must have and a prognosis in mind or at least had some medical cause to ask. I need to stay well to care for Peeta and to be there when he awakens, the flashbacks will be terrible enough without the unnecessary stress of him facing them alone. If mother had a concern over... That... Area of my health I should cooperate. I grasp the door handle of my room about to open it when it dawns on me that my rhythms have been somewhat overly smooth. Smoother than I should be the last few days. Oh no. I brace myself against the door to stop myself from falling in my knees. I turn my back against the door to lean on it as I slide down to the floor. I cover my mouth silently desperately searching for a more logical, less horrible conclusion. Anything, anything could be better than this one thought explaining the fainting, the metallic taste, the sudden flashes of anger and lust.

This one abomination of a thought, the worst of my nightmares comes to light tearing through my mind. I count through patterns like my mother showed me 4 years ago. Shivers traverse my body. Of all our problems this is the last thing I could ever possibly need or want to happen to us.

I'm pregnant.

I sit there a moment the realisation of the possibility strikes like lightening. But it doesn't last long. I curl up on the floor, hide in my knees and cry.

* * *

I sit there, hugging my knees until the sun starts to turn the sky a pale grey stained with pink. I hold myself still crying until my head starts to pound and no more tears come. I'm left making choking sounds and retching without the luxury of tears. I ache for Peeta's arms and lips upon me to talk me into feeling it will be alright. I long to be back in district 12 left alone by Presidents and Gamemakers. Away from murderous, beautiful snake women. Back into Peeta's warm arms. But that's exactly what has created my latest problem. That will bring about changes in my body, my life and this... Child's life. How could I have been so careless to allow this to happen? I furiously reprimand myself, shaking, feeling a fear as old as time itself. How will I do this? Carry a child while these Games are still being held, there is nothing to stop this new government coming after my child. Peeta's child. I had vehemently swore oaths I wouldn't allow this to come to pass for this exact reason. Damn Peeta! Damn him for making me so comfortable I have grown complacent, instincts dulled and now look at where we are.

I rock on my heels trembling. I don't know what to do about my new state. I only understand mother basic mechanics of how it works. The thought of which makes me feel even sicker. Hunting is going to be out of my life for months. I'll go crazy just sitting around with Peeta fussing over me. Peeta. I take a gulp of air through my mouth, my nose painfully blocked from my sobs. As if wrapping his arms around me the tears stem their flow allowing me to take shaky breaths. Peeta will be overjoyed. We have hardly spoken of it but I know how badly he wants this child.

_Get a hold of yourself Katniss! You might not even be carrying anything!_ I think conflicted. This thought is not as comforting as I had expected. I can give Peeta something no one else can give and should not deny him this. He's done too much for me. He would always insist while we would talk as he baked that I would be a great mother. Perhaps it might work after this is all over. Still holding my hair I gaze at my stomach. Not sure what to expect maybe a sudden roundness to appear under my dress. Or perhaps for it to explode with movement. I feel normal. I don't feel any different. Maybe this won't be quite so bad.

As if some challenge was accepted by the being growing inside me to prove its existence a wave a nausea crashed into me with the force of a tidal wave. I leap to my feet as my stomach lurches. I need a sink. I need a bucket. Something! My feet stumble on things I can't quite see in the minimal night. The door to the bathroom slides open taking seemingly an eternity to open I force my way in, squeezing past the door and throw up my last meal in the sink and partially near the drain to the shower not quite making it. The smell makes me heave again. And again. I grip the sink to hold me up. Nope this won't work. Not 9 months of this weakness and vomiting. I need Peeta close to reason me into this conscription. It's his fault anyway.

I run the tap and rinse my face and mouth but the taste if metallic vomit lingers. I wait to see if my stomach will up turn any more of my sustanence. When I hold everything left down I pull off my dress and press a few buttons on the control panel for the shower wanting it running cold. I'm covered in sweat, I glance down at my stomach again. Great mother I'm turning out to be blaming it for everything. I pull off my undergarments as the water runs stepping into the gentle stream releasing a long sigh. The sun streams in through the one small window in the bathroom. _She _will be waking up soon. Unable to relax I let the shower cover me in sweet smelling suds, rinse and dry myself. I return to my room and open a few drawers finding undergarments to put on. As I stand there wondering what a mentor should wear my prep team waltz in through my door. Luckily for them, being naked around them is now standard practice.

"Don't you ever knock?" I snap irritable from lack of sleep.

I glare at each of them in turn to see them staring at me. I look to my right to the floor length mirror, I'm holding my stomach without realising. She did I become one of those women? I hastily drop my hand like nothing happened.

"We'll? Don't you?" I glare.

They look up at me with grins.

"Didn't you get your timetable?" Flavius reprimands.

I show them my bare arms. Being on time is the least of my concerns.

"Shouldn't you be dressing the girls?" I ask as Venia brings a tourqoise dress over that looks far too small.

I doubt tight fitting clothes is an ideal choice for my suspected condition. Before I can object she pulls it over my head and down my body. The dress is lace at the back that reaches up to form straps for the front. The dress has no other detail or zips or buttons but fits comfortably and doesn't pinch or restrict me. Octavia braids my hair and Flavius applies minimal make up.

"Your job is to sell your tributes to sponsors, if you don't look good no one will listen. It's the ways of the old Capitol. The old money, the ones with the most, will always play by those rules." Flavius inspects his work, nods and puts his tools away. As usual the team have turned a sleep deprived, shadow of a person into a fresh faced beauty.

"Oh and Katniss," Flavius turns on his heel at the door.

"Yes?"

"You can sell your tribute if you talk mother to mother. Your tribute is a daughter too. Congratulations." He grins and follows his team out.

"Flavius! Wait, don't t-" the door closes making me groan.

Scowling I rinse out my mouth again and enter the main bedroom. I place my arm in the scanner to get my timetable. It has very little on it. I intended to ignore it and check on Peeta anway. He should wake up soon I hope desperately. If Flavius has realised half the Capitol will know by noon.

I stomp out to the dinning room. Aelia and Cornelia are already there eating in silence. Soldiers have been posted at the entrance. Paylor or Gale must have sent them, neither of them are fools. Both of them are clean in their training suits. Cornelia has her long hair pulled back tightly in high ponytail. She looks up and gives me a smug smile. I don't react looking at Aelia who is avoiding my gaze. Instead fixing my gaze on the table laden with foods. Their smells make my stomach feel uneasy in warning.

"Good Morning." Cornelia says pleasantly. I sit at the other end of the table wondering if there is anything I shouldn't eat. I look at a few dishes and try some bacon but its smell makes my stomach churn. I settle on some muesli with a bit if honey with seems to go down well enough.

We sit in silence eating. I'm frequently interrupted by the need to swallow hard when I sip some tea. I smile to myself, Peeta prefers coffee a rare delicacy he keeps an eye on when the supply train is able to import some to us and will whistle all morning just because he knows its coming. He had been drinking it frequently since we have been here with it being freely available. I reach for the coffee and mix it with a bit of the hot chocolate to sweeten it and take a sip ignoring Aelia staring at me. It's delicious. I drain the cup of its contents and smile wider. _Definitely Peeta's child._ I feel an odd warmth inside me at the thought of the thing inside me being like Peeta and not like me. I am happy to bring another springtime person like Peeta into our lives. It will make this tolerable.

"Aren't you supposed to advise us at some point?" Cornelia says curtly.

The very sound of her voice makes my mood plummet in a nose dive. I look at Aelia who looks at me hopeful. She deserves life saving advice.

"Do not show your special skills until the private sessions. Don't let the others see your strengths because it will give them a week to plan how to kill you with it." I say flatly.

I think a moment of what Peeta would add.

"Watch the others. Don't bother with Haymitch's tribute he will tell them to hide their skills too. Learn any new skill you can don't bother relearning what you already know."

"Is that it?" Cornelia asks sipping her juice.

"What more do you want? After your little stunt no way can I get anyone to sponsor you. It would be like supporting a new rebellion. The trick to this game is to be _liked._"

"Perhaps that's not a bad thing. The elite are not used to this lack lustre new system. People here liked the old ways."

"You won't get the chance." My anger rises, she's proud of what she did.

"What about alliances?" Aelia's deeper voice asks sensing conflict.

"Don't bother. They'll kill you in the end anyway. Or you will kill them." I fold my arms.

"What skills do you recommend?" Aelia asks.

"Survival skills. I'm sure you have some killing skill already. Survive first. Kills second."

The elevator doors open and Effie hurries in.

"Oh good you are all up! Come on now girls straight to training we have a big, big day!"

I walk over to her keeping my voice low.

"Have you been past the medical facility?"

"Yes I was just there. They're letting him wake up on his own. You can't do much mentoring today have the day with him." She gives me a sympathetic smile. I can't resist hugging her grateful.

"Thank you Effie will you take them down?"

"It's standard procedure. Can't have you mentors spying in!" She says cheerily. I turn to see the girls waiting and I step back to let them pass. Cornelia floats past but Aelia lingers even when Effie enters the lift.

"Aelia you go too." I encourage.

"I need to talk to you." She looks around uneasily and over my shoulder at Cornelia. Something tells me to hear her out, perhaps she has evidence of Cornelia's criminal act. I nod.

"Effie I'll make sure Aelia comes down, I need to update her on what's happening. With her mentor."

I lie pathetically but she buys it, closing the doors. I notice Cornelia smiling. My instincts tell me I won't like what Aelia has to say. I gesture for her to sit in the nearest chair by the entrance, the soldiers leaving now that their ward in in another area. I sit on the edge of plush green sofa. Aelia chooses the seat furthest away from me. Sinking into it and holding her face in her hands.

"What's up?" I ask her when she doesn't speak. She plays with her hands looking down.

Her shoulders shudder and she murmurs something I can't hear.

"We don't have long Aelia." My words come out more harshly than I intended.

She looks up at me tears in her eyes.

"I did it!" She shouts.

"Did what?"

I look at the athletic girl crying in her own hands. I reach out to touch her shoulder to offer some form of comfort but she slinks away. I put my hands in my lap and simply wait patiently.

"I did it..."

"Aelia I don't understand-"

"I poisoned Peeta. I'm the reason he fell. I almost killed Peeta."


	9. Good News Travels Fast

"I did it. I needed to train with you so I watched Cornelia. It went hard her arrogance made her think no one was watching after she bribed some of the camera people. I knew she would use an untraceable poison to kill you with so I snuck in and changed the contents of her fancy vial to cyanide."

I grip the seat, digging in my nails. The world makes no sense at all. My react is not one of anger at the girl opposite me in tears but of confusion and a pain radiating from my heart.

"But how did you get her to target Peeta and not me?"

"I just had to wait til dinner. She poured the stuff right into your glass without you seeing while you were talking to Effie. All she had to do was lie to the boy who was fixing up the drinks and flirt a little and she slipped it right in. So I pretended to want a glass of water and switched the cups while he fetched it for me. It's all me, no one else."

"Why switch the poisons then if you could just switch the glasses?" The incredulous question escapes my lips before I can think twice.

"I didn't want to kill him... Just make him a bit sick so I was relegated to the next mentor... You. I honestly didn't think it would take so long to work and he would fall... I'm so sorry."

"But why hurt Peeta? I thought you liked him."

"I do. I love him. But I knew if I wanted to win, to... To avenge my father and restore our good name... You needed to be my trainer."

At the last sentence she completely dismantles getting up. I try to stand, wanting to talk to her more to understand fully why she wanted me train her so desperately, why she felt she had no other choice. Flashes of Peeta slipping from my grip replay before my eyes, the sound if his bones breaking, the smell of bleach fills my nostrils sending me to search for a basin instead. By the time I return, weak and unsteady on my feet Aelia is no where to be found. I look over to the elevator, the numbers indicating which floor the elevator is currently at are flashing backwards down to the training level. She was desperate to save herself and her family. I could not find it in myself to be angry at her regardless of the monumental damage she had dealt to my heart by hurting Peeta. I would have done the same for Prim a couple of years ago. If it meant surviving, I would have pushed Peeta off any balcony at the time. Before things changed. When things were simple. I collapse back onto the green sofa, tears begin to fall down my cheeks again making my chest constrict as I'm overwhelmed by my situation.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am pregnant with Peeta's child. And I have murderous tributes trying to kill us both._ I've hit the bottom now. I glance down at my stomach again but feel repulsed that something inside me is hijacking my body, stealing food and messing with my emotions. I need my springtime. My dandelion in the rain to turn things around. I need Peeta. I recall Effie mentioning he should be awake soon, I'll be the first thing he sees when he does no matter what any medic says.

I wipe the last tears away and get up carefully. My stomach cramps. Basin. Now. This time I might actually be ahead of the rising bile as I run the now familiar route to the closest bathroom. I grip the cold sink bringing up the last of breakfast burning my throat. I cough and wretch, my hand clutches my stomach. I look over my dress to check its unspoiled. I sigh relieved to find it still clean. I look in the mirror to see my make up has survived the ordeal too. I look down at where the being hijacking my body is.

"Behave yourself. I need to get to Peeta and I'd appreciate not vomiting in the halls. It's bad enough Flavius knows you're in there." I mumble reaching the elevator in moments. I ignore the looks some of the soldiers on duty give to each other as I pass. I reach the doors of the medical facility and suddenly I'm on the floor. I look around, I've run into something. My stomach is the first thing I check. All safe. Next priority: who knocked me off my feet. My eyes meet Gale's his mouth hanging open. He scrambles to his feet and helps me up lifting to my feet.

"I've really lost you haven't I." He nods at my hand covered stomach.

"Gale I'm still you friend-"

"You know how I feel..."

"Gale I'm getting married..." My voice is soft, it's not what I intended. I need to be strong with him.

"Only because you're scared if you think about it any longer you'll realise-"

"Stop Gale, please I have to get to Peeta-"

He grabs my shoulders and presses his lips to mine. I franticly shove him off trembling. His behaviour beyond erratic. I hold him away from me step back and look at him square in the face.

"Stop this Gale. I'm marrying Peeta. But you lost me long before this." I turn on my heel and walk to Peeta's room a dull ache in my chest causes me to deftly rub it as if I could make it go away.

When I first reach Peeta tears sting my eyes to find he hasn't changed since I left him. Still asleep surrounded by machines I don't understand. I slump into a chair massaging my temple. I wipe my face with my hand. Things are too complex with murderous tributes and proposals and children and old friends that want to be lovers. The weight of it presses on my shoulders and I find myself standing to walk over to Peeta's side. Without hesitation or reservation I curl up beside him. But without fail, a sighting of Gale follows with memories of Prim. A dull ache starts where the part of my heart where I kept her would be. A place one else can fill. Without thinking I hum the same lullaby I would sing to her wondering dully if the little hijacker would like it one day. The thought of bringing them into the world still makes me sick with fear. I place Peeta's hand gently on my stomach as if it would somehow magically make me just as gaga about it as he will be. _What if he isn't?_ A dark part of me snickers behind my consciousness. I huddle closer to him carefully lifting his tubes out of the way. Sleep creeps up on me and I don't hinder it's embrace.

I smell blood and roses. I look around, my senses on alert. My heart jumps at the slightest of sounds. He's here.

No he can't be here, I saw Snow's last moments myself. I get up from Peeta's bed to find it empty. My heart doubles its rate. Where could he have gone while I slept? My mother would have told me if they had moved him... As I look around the whole floor looks empty. I peer through the glass walls. No patients, no staff. No white or grey uniforms are in sight. I squint against the dim lights white and sterile, lining the corridors and rooms in strips. The facility looks completely sterile without people filling its rooms. Nothing but steel, bleach and glass. My muscles tense and I spring up crouching on the bed. I need a weapon. There is hardly ever a good reason behind an evacuation. I hold my breath to try and pick up any sound. A faint sniffle can be heard a few rooms away. Using a light tread I inch out of the door, left open like all the others I can see along the corridor. Beds and gurneys bare of all linen line the hall shining coldly as I pass.

The sniffle turns into a small whimper and then a cry. It's a child. They have left me and a child behind. I pick up my pace not caring for a silent tread. An animal ferocity guides my course through the halls of the hospital compelling me forward. I fire in my chest burns with a white heat intensity. I skid across a sharp turn crashing into a floor length mirror. I press a sweating hand to it. It's out of place for a medical facility who would want to see themselves here? Physical appearance would be the last thing thought of during the healing process. I hear another whimper and I'm directed down a singular dark hall it's floor a single uninterrupted mirror. I have no time to analyse or exam the small child crying in the dark cries louder. I sprint down the endless hall stumbling in the dark slipping several times until my eyes catch on a glimmer of light. My head snaps around to see a cone of light surrounding a tiny child hugging her knees. Curtains of blonde hair cover her face and her knees forming something resembling a tent. Her pale arms wrapped around her tightly her tiny frame. I come to a halt unsure what to say to the tiny being. I open my mouth and she looks straight up at me. Blue eyes immistakable, like springtime. I stand there paralysed in shock. How long have I been asleep?

My tiny daughter looks at me and her lips produce a smile immistakably like Peeta's. A flood of sunshine fills me and my arms ache to hold her. I stretch out my arms dropping to my knees. The little girl bounces up to leap toward me when her expression changes.

"Come on little one." I encourage smiling. That's when I see it.

A serpent gaze locks onto the beautiful little girl. A snake head with Cornelia's eyes enters the light robed in pearly scales. Venom drips for protruding fangs. My voice fails me as I try to warn my little girl to run towards me. I urge my legs forward but they refuse to move. I look down in panic, Cornelia will bite her... But my legs are entangled in a scaly body. I struggle to pull at my feet but the snake coils around my knees forcing them together. I flail around trying to break free, to strike the snake to let me go. Bones crack causing a scream to tear through me. I force my tear filled eyes to look at the little girl to tell her run only to see the snake mauling her small form. I find my screams tearing through the bizarre silence that had veiled us til now. The tiny squeals from the grizzly scene before me tear through my heart like a blade through tissue paper.

* * *

A gentle kiss on my head wakes me with a start. Screams still echo in my head as I try to grip this new reality. If that's what it is. I open my eyes to my mother changing Peeta's dressings over his arm and ribs. She works quickly and quietly her hands moving with ease as she binds one wound tightly, the other replacing padding and additional layers of support. I sigh disappointed having hoped it would be Peeta I would wake to. His blue eyes becoming memories already after only two days of not looking at them.

"Anything?" I yawn.

"Shh. He's still resting. He will sleep a while, it allows the body to recuperate and repair. It's doing him good." She assures, today wearing her white uniform with a light blue undershirt peeking through in places. An additional layer of pain piles on as I think of Prim and her untucked shirt.

"Is it alright I wait here?" I ask politely, both of us aware I won't accept no as an answer.

"Shouldn't you be doing mentor things? I've hardly seen any footage of you with your... People."

"The way things are going there is little to do." I shrug trying to hide the tension in my tone.

She finishes with Peeta's dressing and checks various monitors and the fluid coursing into Peeta's arm. Satisfied she gives me her full attention. I admire her hands silently wishing I had such a useful skill.

"Are you alright Katniss?" She asks gently her fair brows knitted in concern.

I nod giving her a half smile. She's not convinced.

"You look very pale, have you been eating?" I can tell she senses something she usually leaves me to my own devices.

"I've had a bit of stomach trouble. Worries about Peeta and all. This mentoring isn't easy." I keep my tone light.

"If it keeps up have basic starchy foods. Absorbs the fluids."

I smile nodding.

"When will he wake up?" I indulge in a wifely question my stomach churns with worry for him.

"It's up to him."

I let out a sigh sinking back into the chair looking around for something to keep me occupied. A flash of white outside catches my attention. I look out the glass wall facing the hallway to see several white uniforms racing past with two gurneys. They obscure my view of who is injured but my stomach tells me it has something to do with one of my tributes. The hairs on my neck screaming its Cornelia. Aelia may have poisoned Peeta to get to me, but she doesn't strike me as the type to kill subtlety. If she kills it will be face to face and armed.

I glance back at Peeta when a crackling can be heard over the speakers posted throughout the Capitol.

"Attention mentors and tributes. Due to unexpected recent events, the training period for Capitol tributes is suspeneded until further notice. Mentors please proceed to the conference room on the top floor of the Tower. End of announcement." The crisp voice of Paylor disappears. They want to discuss reprimands for our tributes no doubt.

"Sleep Peeta. When I come back this will be all settled." If I don't kill both tributes myself. My heart cracks a little when I gently stroke his hair. I force myself away from him and give my mother a hug before I leave needing the comfort. She stands limp eventually brining her arms around me.

"Look after him mum. Please." I whisper.

"Katniss what's going-"

"It'll be fine."

"Alright. Katniss look after yourself." She gives me a rare smile.

I nod easing myself slowly to the door taking a quick detour to the adjoining bathroom. I can feel my mother's eyes following me. I grown internally, another person finding out about my situation before Peeta does. I avoid her gaze when I make my way out towards the sliding door of Peeta's room.

"For both of you." My mother waits in the hall handing me a packet of dry biscuits from the near by food cart. I look at her mouth agape for a split second and grab her in a genuine grateful hug. Her smile puts me at ease though my new found instincts tell me she'll have words for me later. I release her from my grasp and head down the hall. Making my way to the elevator I tap one of the top buttons waiting the few moments it takes the elevator to glide up to one of the highest levels reserved for meetings of important people.

The foyer revealed by the elevator doors is lavish. Plush red carpets and dark panelled wooden walls form a luxurious environment. Soft chairs and sweet smelling plants fill the waiting area leading to two huge gold inlaid doors with intricate handles. Tense tones can subtly be made out from the room beyond. The name Cornelia has already been raised several times. A crystal water pitcher sits idly on a mahogany table by an oversized chair. Pouring a glass I drain its contents in one swig and set the flute back down carefully by the jug. Straightening my dress slightly I walk up to to the double doors and push with my body weight trying not to strain myself much. To my surprise they swing open easily. Seeing both familiar and unfamiliar stressed faces look at me upon my arrival. For a moment it's quiet as if no one knows what to say or do.

Then the barrage of sound descends beginning the meeting of the mentors.

"I want her blood! Just kill her now!" Enobaria screams with blood lust eyes alight.

"Cool it wench. That wouldn't be quick enough where is the fun in that?"

Johanna smirks at Enobaria enraging her further making her reach for her throat. Gale grabs Enobaria by her dress and pulls her back to her seat effortlessly. Haymitch is busy at the liquor sitting at the back of the room.

"The Games parameters must be followed." Beetee injects.

"Listen here Volts take your policies and-"

"He's right the President's orders must be adhered to." A grey uniformed man with grey sideburns says in a booming voice. His muscles bulge in his uniform sitting arms crossed with a large boot on the table. For a man who claims to be a subservient to the the President he's awfully sloppy from his posture to his unbuttoned jacket.

"What are you even doing here? You aren't a victor! What could you possibly teach these brats?" Enobaria snarls.

Her eyes flash towards me.

"You!" She growls.

Everyone present jumps at the sound of flesh slamming on the elongated marble conference table. I scan the room quickly assessing what is going on. Peeta, Annie and one of the uniformed fill ins are all missing. Three vacant seats set aside along the white marble conference table inlaid along its edges in gold. The black chairs remind me of the thrones Peeta and I were crowned on. Unlike the foyer the panels of white stone give way to thick panels of glass offering views of the city. No not glass, screens. The emblem of the rebellion flashes on the screens. Gale's fist is still on the marble, with all eyes upon him his tone is not his usual calm, carefree tone but on solemn authority.

"Everyone sit down."

I take the nearest seat the black fabric is soft and comfortable. Enobaria's gaze never leaves me as she sits reluctantly. Haymitch practically passes out in his chair almost knocking Beetee flying into Johanna who throws him off. It's bizarre seeing her dressed so femininely. A soft gold gown sits delicately on her shoulders off setting her brown eyes and short black hair that has regrown considerably over the last year. She leans slightly towards Gale not taking her eyes off him. The other four people including the muscular soldier are all unfamiliar but sit to attention at the table. Gale straightens and adjusts his cloak in a deft movement.

"Now we're civilised, welcome-"

"Get on with it." Enobaria groans. Her lack of respect for the new order has formed a new sort of infamy for her. Gale simply ignores her.

"Most of you are aware there have been some incidents involving this year's tributes and as a result-"

"Incidents is right! Tributes killing tributes before the games now where have we heard that before?" Haymitch laughs spilling his drink on Beetee who simply wipes off his suit with a dissatisfied look. Like a student seated next to the local trouble maker to be a good influence.

"The reason we are here, Haymitch is to come up with a consensus as to how we proceed from here. It is obvious that some of the tributes," Gale glances at me. "Cannot be trusted with the others but we cannot deliberately disadvantage one tribute."

"Why not she's clearly resourceful enough on her own to try and kill a mentor. She's had enough training don't you think old Snowy would have taught her plenty." Johanna sneers.

"She's still a human being her lavish lifestyle would not be conducive to learning survival skills which kills 20% of tributes. It would be in league with the Capitol's treatment of us." Beetee speaks up.

"What's that Volts? Sticking up for the Capitol now? Still sour over being overlooked as head nerd of the Games in favour of pretty boy here." Enobaria jerks her head towards Gale.

"Watch your tongue." Johanna hisses. Still fiercely a protector of freedoms it seems.

"Or what? You'll have your tribute kill me in my sleeper would you rather have your buddy over there commission her tribute to poison me instead? My tribute actually has a shot at this thing and I'm going to make sure she's trained to the best of her ability." There had been rumours amoung the stylists the Enobaria had a strong advantage in these games with both the pull on Capitol sponsors and with the trainers. She herself was a career and was whispered to be sneaking in extra training.

I rest my chin on my hand observing the chaos, there was no plausible defence I could use to sway them to let Cornelia off. Both Enobaria and Johanna manage to agree I can't rein her in as seen by her attempt on Peeta. I consider revealing the truth of Peeta's assailant but my new instinct stays my tongue. It would only create more problems than the ones I already had on my hands. As a mentor I should come up with some solution, I should be trying to save Cornelia instead of allowing everyone else plot different ways of disposing of her. Imprioning her or executing her would be too quick, too merciful. I want to destroy her.

"Why don't we just isolate them when training? Give them individual sessions on a timetable." The booming muscle soldier suggests his voice loud enough to silence the squabbling women.

"It would strain resources. We already are providing much needed personal in the group sessions and as mentors. It would draw out the process." Gale says diplomatically.

"And it wouldn't work as well as vengeance for the last 75 years would it? Your audience would get bored." Haymitch may be intoxicated but still doesn't miss what's really going on.

I decide to say the first and only solution that comes into my mind.

"Why don't we end the training early then. Everyone seems to want it over with and get straight to the blood anyway." Ten pairs of eyes look toward me at the end of the table mustering confidence I franticly search for further reason why my ludicrous suggestion would work.

"Everyone gets the same training time on the last days, they've trained up already and it robs Cornelia of any more opportunities to hurt anyone else. If your tributes are as good as you think-" I look to Enobaria. "Then they should be ready now."

Even Gale looks satisfied with this solution. Enobaria scowls but says nothing which pleases a smirking soldiers look bored but stay sitting in an upright position.

"How long would you give them?" Haymitch eyes at me.

"I dunno, couple of days? Give them a last chance to get to each session."

"We could manage to timetable a few days." Beetee agrees.

"Minimises the risk." Johanna nods glad to be rid of her tribute sooner her hatred for the Capitol still fresh.

Gale runs his chin over his faint stubble nodding.

"All in favor of reducing the training period to that of two, timetabled days concluding with private sessions on the last day raise your hand."

Everyone raises their hands but Enobaria who scowls further before begrudging raising her hand.

"A consensus has been reached." Gale announces. "In addition Katniss you will escourt your tribute to these sessions. Our archery master has fallen ill. She is the best we have." Gale adds directly to Enobaria. I nod feeling drained I glance down at my stomach silently blaming the person sharing my body for my sudden exhaustion.

Simply clad staff enter remarkably in time with the meeting conclusion and serve dinner on the table. Gale glorifying it as a gift for our time and a chance to get to know each other. He seemed the only one pleased about it. My mind difts to Peeta, he should be waking soon he'll be in bad shape if I'm not there to assure him he's not being tortured again. A plump woman sets a plate before me and the scent assaults my senses. My stomach clenches and lurches, I swallow hard gulping down some water. A female soldier to my right leans over.

"I had a hard time with my first too." She smiles through her auburn curls.

I spit out some of my water looking at her wide eyed.

"That really builds the appetite." Johanna teases. No one looks remotely shocked or stunned.

"Good news gets around fast." Haymitch sips his soup.

I look from one face to another to try and deduce a source of guilt or some indication of who the snitch is. I look at Gale, he's the only one in the room that knows who could have spread the gossip. This is not the Gale I knew spreading news that wasn't his to share, seeking revenge because I'm getting married by torturing both Peeta and I. The rebellion has changed him. Haymitch interrupts my seething glare at Gale.

"There was footage of you suffering with morning sickness, they managed to get a few shots of those little glances too..."

Perfect, all Panem really does know before Peeta.

"It's only rumours..." Gale tries to save himself.

"Doesn't mean you don't work any less than us." Johanna says indifferently. "If you need to take a break, pass them over alright?" She focuses on her meal.

"I... I don't have much of an appetite." I say feebly standing, met with no objection I walk as quick as I dare back to the foyer and elevator.

When the elevator doors close I tug and my hair. This cannot be contained now all I can hope for is that Peeta isn't awake yet to see the latest gossip of the day being broadcast across the country. If I'm fast enough and stay with him until he wakes I can salvage this. Peeta will somehow know how we can keep people at bay or at least be his usual charming self to distract the public and have them eat out of his hand to our advantage. Without realising I slam into the glass door of the medical facility. I frown at the automatic door back tracking a few steps to try and step into the range of the motion sensor. Nothing. Red lettering appears on the door. _Visiting hours are over. Please return after 0900. _I have no escourt with an access card this time. Defeated I let my shoulders sag and return to the elevator. It feels cold and empty now that my hopes are severely diminished. I shuffle out at my floor into the dark quarters silently grabbing a glass of water and nibble a biscuit my mother had given me purely for the sake of Peeta's child. Clearing my glass I stumble in the dark to find my room unhappily locking it. I don't even bother visiting my tributes to see if they're both alive. I'll deal with it in the morning. I lean against the door closing my eyes covering them with a hand.

Like everyone else in Panem, Peeta will wake to the news that not only am I pregnant, but his tribute will be sent to her death much sooner than anyone expected.


	10. Bows of Silk and Steel

The night brings new terrors, evolved and reality based. Prim no longer bursts into flame but instead Peeta yells at me in disgust that I had let our little secret slip before he knew himself. I wake drenched in an icy sweat after viewing our child being devoured by a pearly scaled snake to find the sun isn't even hinting at rising. My sheets stick to me damp like my moistened skin making sleep impossible.

I drag myself up to the shower rinsing off not bothering to remove undergarments until I change into a fresh silken robe hanging in the closet. I pull my wet hair back into a braid wanting the cool to last against my back. My stomach growls with accompanying pangs reminding me my last meals didn't survive digestion. The metallic taste has returned to my saliva filled mouth but my body maintains its hunger. I'll need my strength for the archery sessions today regardless. I tie the robe securely and lock the lavish door to my room, a somewhat improvement from my last one. I wasn't aware that was even possible. Regardless I don't feel like company tonight.

The room is awash in turquoise with dark soft carpet underfoot. The bed appears to be larger and easier to get lost in with its crisp white sheets and dark covers illuminated by a series of panels that when touched light up to reveal silhouettes of forest trees bare of leaves. Looking at them summons an ache for my woods. While I can still hunt in them. Cupboards and drawers seamlessly integrated into the far wall with glossy white doors that require only a slight amount of pressure to open stay dormant. Of course to crown the room and possibly, as a subtle reminder from the Capitol designers of the room of why the inhabitant is there, the wall to the left is complete glass displaying the Capitol shimmering in its finest. All the previous unsightly damage and make shift refugee village that had existed until last month are nothing but a shaow of a memory to the shimmering city twinkling in the night.

I search the walls for the panel containing the menu, finding it, it lights up at my touch and I carefully flick my finger to browse the contents. I sit cross legged on my soft bed and browse the softly glowing blue screen. I opt for sweet noodles in a peanut sauce with an assortment of vegetables selecting it with a tap of my finger and it materialises shortly after. I'm mid spoonful when a light tap at the door sours my mood. I set down my meal but keep the knife that accompanied my meal. I'm doubtful that Cornelia would be polite enough to knock but I cannot afford risks while in the Capitol. I open the door keeping my body shielded behind it. I relax slightly seeing Aelia in a simple nightdress.

"I-I-I'm sorry if I woke you." She fumbles her words.

"I was up, the meeting didn't finish very long ago. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine I just wanted to know what happened at the meeting." She looks at the floor.

"You want to know if you're being punished."

"Yes."

"Training is being cut short. You get a few more sessions on your own and then it's straight to interviews." I open the door to let her in.

"But what about me? I poisoned Peeta."

"They don't know that." My eyes narrow.

"Do they think Cornelia did it? I'll tell them it was me."

The shock or confusion must be apparent on my face.

"She's been protecting her family too."

"By getting you all killed." I retort snorting.

"My father taught me that you take responsibility for what you do wrong."

I take a proper look at the unusual girl I'm speaking to. She has a strong resemblance to her father in structure and the shape of her face. I wouldn't know about her colouring. The few times I saw or spoke to Caesar Flickerman he was violently coloured with the latest in Capitol fad. Her hazel eyes are kind but sad as she avoids my gaze. Her black hair cascades down her back with impossible smoothness. Is there no one from the Capitol who isn't blindingly beautiful? Her athletic build doesn't seem to affect her femininity but it does make her dangerous.

"Nothing can be done now the decision has been made."

"Did they blame you?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

She nods letting silence descend, I look at her face carefully. She's deciding on which words to use next.

"My father didn't even support the Capitol you know." She states softly.

I look at her feeling empathy for her the grief on her face unmistakable. My mind reaches back to the hurt that seemed endless when my father died. I gently touch her arm and look in her eyes nodding.

"I know."

"I don't want to die. No one will fight in my family for our name. I've got to win." She keeps her phrases short but the wobble of unsteadiness in her voice creeps in.

"Why did you stay in the Capitol? You must have known they'd be after you."

She shrugs, "It's what we knew. All we knew. The soldiers watched who was trying to leave. No one would want to deal with us inside the city let alone outside."

Trapped. Just as we were. I'm not sure exactly what to feel finding myself in the opposite position of the one I was brought up in. She wouldn't know how to starve like I do.

"You know Peeta is probably a better mentor than me. I don't play nice well with others."'I point out.

"But because of you he lived." She's wiser than she looks.

"I guess so. Peeta still isn't awake because of what you did." Venom creeps into my words.

"Will he ever wake up?"

Her eyes fill with tears of genuine remorse her face wrought in pain.

"He will. He'll probably forgive you too."

"And you?"

I stay quiet. A glow of distrust and anger still emits from an ember of what happened to Peeta. I munch on my now cold noodles unsure of what responsive to give.

"You better go rest. You need to be up early to talk strategy." I say through noodles hoping they'll keep a raising flood of tears away although their cause is lost on me. She nods rising.

"Goodnight Katniss." She says from the door.

"Goodnight Aelia. Don't forget big big day tomorrow!" I do my best Effie impression making Aelia smile. She takes strongly after her father.

I would probably have acted just as she did should I have been in her position. But I'm not.

I watch the sun rise going over different ways I could attempt to save either tributes life. My glance wonders constantly to the screen in my room just waiting for the gossip to be broadcast nationwide. I scan my arm in for my timetable. It's considerably longer than yesterday's with hourly sessions with each tribute. An hour is not very long to teach someone to shoot. Those who already know how to use a bow could use the time to practice shots or I could perhaps show them how to aim correctly or possibly how to fashion a bow out of basic materials.

"Katniss." I hear Gale's voice. I look around for Gale but my door is closed and no one is outside.

"Katniss there is a communicator embedded in the panel by your bed."

Probably cameras too. I scowl and locate the crudely installed steel communication panel hitting a green button that seems to be the right one to press.

"Come to apologise?"

"Katniss about today's sessions, keep them professional will you? Don't give any other information apart from that about hunting and shooting got it?" He didn't appreciate my demand for an apology his tone is both exhausted and sour.

"Yeah I got it. Look Gale I can't teach them anything in an hour you know that."

"It's out of my hands Katniss."

"Your the head Gamemaster aren't you?"

"It was handled by another department. I've been busy keeping your... Condition out of the press. Creates a bad look to make a pregnant woman work even a stubborn one like you." A playful tone sneaks in at the end of his sentence I can picture his smirk as I listen.

"Thank you Gale." I let my tone thaw.

"Oh and Katniss-"

"Yes?"

"I can't hold off Plutarch much more before he goes straight to the President herself. I told him you'd give an interview. Just play nice you know..." He sounds sincere, ever since I arrived Gale has done nothing but confuse me. I sigh liking the familiar voice of the old Gale I knew. Who had my back.

"Give him a good show?"

"Exactly."

A slight clipping sound and the channel goes dead. I can mentally count down until Flavius and the team burst through the door rife with gossip and oversized shoulder pads. I nod along as usual to Venia and Octavia trying to catch me up on the latest gossip. Today it's mostly about Enobaria's latest interview with her tribute. Apparently the boy didn't get a word in between Enobaria's violent threats against Cornelia and I. Rumours are multiplying about an illicit affair between Johanna and Gale. She was staring at him last night. Fire and fire. It's an odd fit. Of course such fraternisation is frowned upon by those watching and partaking. Who knows what extra information she could glean from him if that were the case. I struggle to picture them together acting smitten in dark places whispering to each other over a meal while Flavius fits me in a starlight silver strapless gown with a tight bodice and high waist. The skirt is nothing short of ridiculous ballooning out to my knees but tucked under itself to resemble a jellyfish. It's covered in a slightly furry fabric like a fleece arranged into huge roses to cover the bobbing skirt. Feathers cover the top of the bodice in a matching silver to the patterns pained on my arms. I wobble in the heels that have been placed on my feet. I turn awkwardly trying to keep my balance glimpsing the vibrant make up on my face. Cinna would never allow me took so incredulous but it will have to do. My hair escaped the ordeal staying in a braid. I thank my pets and head to the dining area carefully.

Cornelia sits perfectly postured unaffected by her guards behind her. Blonde hair in an intricate bun and gold bar earrings shinning from her ears. Aelia sits by her munching some bacon dripping in syrup he black hair pulled into two buns on either side of her head. Both fitted int their training suits for the day.

"Morning." I say curtly more for Aelia's benefit. Cornelia stays focused on her breakfast but starts to smile sending me on edge.

"Nice dress." Cornelia replies.

"Thank you." I try not to choke on the words swallowing some milk to wash out the metallic taste in my mouth.

"I had one just like it at home. Come to think of it, it was _precisely_ like that one."

I handle my knife deliberately.

"Should I have it screened for poisons then?" I narrow my eyes.

"Such words from a mentor. I would think you are implying something Katniss."

"I'm not implying I'm stating. I know it was you who poisoned the other tributes. Get that from grandpa did you?" I say harshly.

Cornelia's eyes flash with anger but she holds her expression steady. Countless years of politics have bred a dangerous deceptive agent in her.

"My grandfather taught me how to win. A few lives are a small cost for an overall victory. You should know that better than anyone. Send in the pawns and utilise the queen." Each word is dripping with antagonism.

"Mustn't need me then."

"Now, now Katniss. Weren't you told by your old friend to play nice?"

How could she have known about a conversation I had moments ago? She's inherited more than her grandfather's looks. Aelia comes to the rescue resting her spoon in her bowl.

"Any more advice to help us survive Katniss?" She offers.

"Water." I take a sip from my glass.

"What about water?" Aelia frowns.

"Water is your best friend. Find any source of water you can and make sure you remember where it is."

"And if there isn't one?"

"There'll be one. It's boring to watch tributes die from thirst. If there's anything alive they'll be water near by." I smile realising I sound like my old drunkard of a mentor on level four.

"What about a weapon?" Cornelia still examines her breakfast.

"Forget it unless you want to die first. The cornucopia is a bloodbath. Run. Run the other way. Then find shelter. Caves, trees if you can climb them-"

Cornelia snorts. My temper flares, knife in hand I jam it into the table.

"Listen up precious, you may think these games are beneath you but let me tell you the other tributes want to live and the new government wants you dead. You want to live you damn listen to me. The odds aren't in your favour this time."

"Anything we should do today?" Aelia tries to disperse the tension.

"Find a skill for the private sessions. Work on refining it tonight. Whatever you do make it something they won't forget." I check my arm my first session of interviews will be starting shortly causing me to rise.

"Don't be late to training." I add heading out to the doors leading to the elevator.

Cornelia leans over the table with a smile and jams her knife right next to mine into a fly. The knife wobbles slightly shuddering from the impact.

"I think you'll find Katniss, that the odds indeed are in my favour. Enjoy lunch." She grins showing perfect white teeth.

I hide my shudder until I am out of eyesight closing the door behind me. I rub my arms against tingling chills but its not the environment. Lunch was hours away but I have a feeling Cornelia has already decided the menu.

I take the elevator up to the foyer of the conference room to find the camera crews set up and filming my arrival. Plutarch appears from my left enveloping me in a hug so exaggerated there is no doubt he's playing it up for the public. A cosy relationship between mentors and the rebellion must be important to maintaining faith in the new order. Effie sits perched perfectly on one of the plush sofas. Being the district's representative she must be there to serve as a representive of the government. A friendliness between me and the current system apparently still holds some sway over the population. My eyes glance over her at first, her crimson jacket blends her into the couch. Her gold skirt shimmers against the daylight matching her large earrings. Her blood red lips make her face more devoid of colour than her customary white face paint. Flame like feathers adorn her wig which, set against the tangerine colouring of the hair piece makes her look like she's on fire. I grip my chest at a pang of the last memory of Prim. The flames licking at her innocent face as her lips try to call for me.

"You look splendid, sit, sit." Plutarch gestures by Effie.

I awkwardly shuffle in the Capitol heels to sit by Effie avoiding looking at her too closely. Plutarch's sky blue suit makes the three of us resemble the cosmos. Sun, moon and sky. I shoot a look at my prep team standing by the camera insects in case of any cosmetic catastrophes.

"Thank you." I say softly.

"So Katniss, this has been a big year for you." Plutarch sits opposite us in a winged chair.

I put on my public smile not sure if he wants a reply to his obvious statement.

"First year as mentoring is often the hardest Plutarch but our Katniss has it all under control." Effie beams shamelessly.

"It is interesting that you are mentoring the only volunteer this year. Being a volunteer yourself has this helped you bond with Cornelia Snow, who by all rights should be your enemy?" Plutarch leans in.

_Show me you care about your tribute. No one will support a passionless sell._ The old woman from the stadium remind me.

"I'm here to help her live. She is different from her grandfather. Bonding is difficult given the situation." I say as charismatically as I can. She is different from her grandfather, she's female. That's about as far as the differences go but it puts truth in my words.

"Do you feel she has a chance at winning?"

"Yes." I reach for more words frantically. "She's a merciless fighter and strong in herself. She's smart, she knows how to exploit weaknesses. She looks good in a training suit too."

I see Plutarch, Effie and all other occupants in the room stare at me. I even let my own mouth drop mentally. How would Peeta fix this? I start to laugh to cover my odd last statement making it out to be a witty joke. Plutarch and Effie join in to help me cover my bases. I clench my jaw against my skin crawling that I have to say anything remotely positive about my venomous tribute.

When the laughter dies down I'm finally inspired with an angle to promote both girls at once.

"If you sponsor either of my tributes, you sponsor me. My work. The same work that won two games in a row." I continue talking before Plutarch or Effie can remind Panem that I didn't really win the Quell. But I lived. I need to reinforce this quickly with something to rope in support.

"The same work that brought about the New Order we enjoy today." I try to sound as confident as possible without being threatening. Plutarch laps it up.

"To which we are all grateful." He flashes a smile at the cameras.

The interview drones on with familiar questions to previous years causing me to stumble between answers for intelligent words. I think of Peeta, how he could have the crowd eating out of his hand and follow suit burying the longing that rises up with it. I talk up Cornelia's skills as best I can without brining up my breakfast and make a smooth transition into discussing my new tribute Aelia. Relating her to Peeta is fairly simple and it will win her the sympathy vote. I relax into the seat more bringing up her father and her valiant quest to bring back her family's good name. I go as far as mentioning how Caesar helped me during my interview so it's only fitting I do the same. I owe him a debt. Another name to add to the list. I'm struck by an idea that may save Cornelia's neck as Plutarch feeds the conversation, his face lit up, he's got some good footage of a new side of the fallen Mockingjay. An exclusive unlike any publicist before him. Effie sings my praises at every turn, my determination to mentor my tributes with a sick husband in a serious condition. It's all very touching, enough to make even me want to support our efforts. I smile and smooth my dress to avoid playing with my hands and turn my head appropriately when Effie or Plutarch speak and manage a merry fake laugh at their lame jokes.

"When it comes down to it Plutarch, this is all about our mark on Panem. Cornelia has had some indiscretions recently but she is striding for something we all want. To build a legacy for ourselves... Memories for those left behind. She takes a position of strength to hide the scared little girl that's lost everything to change. To support her would mean to support preserving old ways into just that. Old ways to allow room for new. Who wouldn't want to say they sponsored a piece of history that brought about change in even the unlikeliest person?"

I smile sweetly forcing my child bearing sickness back down my throat.

"Who indeed wouldn't. Thank you Katniss for an ever enlightening experience." Plutach says diplomatically.

I sit back satisfied that I had managed to make Aelia into at least a matyr, Cornelia a scared weak little girl with a vicious capacity to lash out at the cruel world that had shut her out and tap into the sponsor's empathy and desire to preserve the history of Panem and ensure it is not forgotten. This should pull in both Capitol loyalists and any new sponsors with any luck. I give Plutarch my hand for him to kiss it, my stomach lurches slightly I'm pushing boundaries being so far from a place to empty it's contents. It takes all my strength to keep smiling as Plutarch delivers a conclusion and the camera insects finally tell us we're done. I look at Effie for help holding my mouth.

"Not on the day bed!" She shrieks. "Here!" She gives me a near by bin just in time.

Plutarch takes a step back and Effie inelegantly jumps on the daybed as she called it to save her shoes. I ignore both of them sealing the bag and pressing a button I remember will reduce the contents to ashes, setting the bin back down. I stand upright, straighten my dress and glance at my arm. My training sessions start in a few minutes. I turn to my prep team who are half across the room to mend my make up that my sickness must have effected.

"It doesn't matter I need to be down in training in a minute." I insist.

"We know your suit is inside the conference room we'll change you there." Flavius says in a tone of disapproval of my lack of faith in him.

In mere moments my stomach feels nauseated but this has nothing to do with the child I'm carrying. The sleek feel of the battle suit has too many memories for my liking. But I have no choice as is the current theme of things in Panem. Do what the people in power tell you to. I test the boots I've been given. New and not worn in. I kick the floor a bit and wriggle my foot. The friction seems adequate, but they aren't anything like my hunting boots. I move my feet while I ride the elevator down to the training level matching the one allocated on my arm. Different levels now assigned to different skills to efficiently run the new training program. The doors open and I'm still trying to work in my boots but step into the empty room except for a few stands containing bows and several full quivers lining the wall. My eyes adjust slowly to make out a line of targets looming some distance from the stands of bows. I step out stretching my arms. A slight humming catches my attention sending me running to the weapon racks. I seize the first bow within reach and feel a slight vibration making me relax.

I glide my old bow through my hands, I actually welcome its familiarity. The bow hums in my hands, how long has it been on for? Barely containing myself with the thrill of holding my favoured weapon, feeling like the old Katniss who spent her time roaming woods not Capitol errands, I seize a quiver and aim for the first target I see. My hands seize it in a practiced grip the adrenaline races through me making me feel more alive than I have since I arrived. I let myself melt into my weapon, feeling it vibrate with light responding to my touch.

I hold my breath. Relax. And exhale. The arrow flies free of my bow and buries itself into the target. Not in its heart.

In its eye.

Hunting time.


	11. You Are What You Eat

When the doors reopen behind me I have fired a full quiver into the targets before me. Some arrows, basic in construction made of wood have been cleaved in two as my arms remember their old strength.

I'm pleased my skills haven't slipped given its been a week since I last practiced. I shoot mercilessly even when the doors swing open and footstep echoes bounce off the mostly empty room. I reduced the lighting from a panel I found along a wall which I have discovered makes my targets move at a constant speed, intervals at different speeds and unpredictable shifting speeds. I enjoy the few minutes I get of the challenge. My muscles tremble with adrenaline and my bow shakes in return keeping my shot straight and true. My mind empties and I release arrow after arrow after arrow until my arms ache. I touch my cheek to find tears spilling without my knowledge staining my suit with dark splotches. I pant slightly from the exertion trying to pat away the tear stains and frantically wiping away the tears still on my cheeks.

Tears mean vulnerability. Vulnerability means weakness.

Weakness means death in the games.

Unless... I examine the tears on my hand. If I could perhaps convince Aelia the grief for her father could evoke empathy in the audience that would incline them to sponsor her. Everyone can identify with her pain given the recent rebellion that left no one untouched in its destruction that the order rose out of. I think back to when I was training as a tribute. My thought patterns, my ideals, all changed and I'm not entirely convinced its for the better. The thought that I could easily think this through, selling empathy and manipulating emotions for sponsorship. But it means keeping my tribute alive. It's what a mentor does even if I do feel less human for it. The whole arrangement fully explains Haymitch's drinking, the last few days I've actually missed him shuffling around with his slurred speech.

It's all so complicated laced in self motivated agendas. I reload and fire, reload and fire. Arrow after arrow until another quiver is empty of its contents. Each one finding its mark without error. The thrill of an emotional outlet to unleash the anger and frustration is addictive like Peeta's fiery touch on my skin. It feels like an eternity since that sweet moment we last had together. Another arrow soars to sink its sharp head into the centre of a targets chest.

Someone sneezes and I whip around arrow aimed at my eye level. A boy about fifteen cowers behind me.

"Lighten your tread or you'll get killed." I hiss but in truth, I'm terrified I almost killed him.

The terrified youth just nods. I walk over to him and pull him up straight, he's only a few years younger than me but he seems so young. My own fear creeps up my chest gripping my throat. I was never any good at teaching really or nuturing. Straight and to the point is how I work. Like an arrow.

"Don't show your fear. They will target you to kill first or worse, catch you or starve you out. Can you shoot?" I mask my voice with a direct, crisp tone. I toss the basic spare bow at him, he fumbles with his hands and it clangs to the floor. I check a clock on wall above the door. He's been standing there watching me shoot for 15 minutes.

"Ok, don't talk just listen. We've wasted time don't do that in your other sessions. Stand here." I move aside pointing where I was firing.

The boy half trips over his own feet in his hurry to do as he's told. Cornelia will have this kid dead in minutes but I'm not supposed to warn him. I stand just in front of him and shift my stance to slightly side on towards the back row of targets with arrows splintered out of their sides.

"Stand like this if you can when fire." I say quickly.

I grab a basic arrow and circle the tribute poking him and prodding him into loading his bow and how to pull back the string.

"Open both eyes and use your mouth or cheek as an anchor. When you're ready to-" the arrow cartwheels before us landing at our feet. I seize it and show him again how to load his arrow.

"Hold it. When you are ready to fire hold your breath or your moving chest will mess with your shot and you will miss got it? Now pull it right back, hold your breath and when you release your breath let the arrow go with it... Be your bow." I let my voice soften.

He closes his eyes the arrow and bow shuddering worse than machines I once saw mixing paint. His slight frame looks barely strong enough to support the bow. He shakes his caramel hair out of his eyes squinting. He closes his eyes again and holds his breath until he goes slightly purple and let's go. The arrow springs forth but quickly loses speed pathetically skidding to a stop bouncing off the base of the target. Delicate pampered hands are not strong enough to fire a bow.

"Who is your mentor?" I ask handing him another quiver. "Eyes open this time. Both of them." I add firmly.

"Beetee." His nasal voice replies, his tongue lolling out as he aims with one eye.

"Both. Eye. Open." I stand in his now blind spot making him jump. I look closer at him and recognise him as the youth in the lit up jacket. Amazing what the stylists can do. But this boy is not strong is arms, like Beetee he's intelligent but physical activity is not his strong suit. But that is not a reason to underestimate him. He's in good hands.

"See it's important. And you will be more accurate." I nudge his shoulder down a little. "Again."

By the end of the brief session his last arrow manages to travel the distance to the closest target without it moving. The arrow apathetically half lodges into its hip. Felix, it occurred to me after half an hour I didn't know his name and an enquiry seemed polite, seems proud of himself pushing his bangs out of the way. The district 9 escourt scurries in to collect him muttering how late they are. I check the clock, dead on the hour. It looks like an obsession with punctuality is a requirement to be an escourt. Felix hangs his bow and offers me his fist turned on its side hanging in mid air. I look at him confused. Turning the tables he grabs my hand folding in my fingers and turning it knuckles up to the roof. He gently brings his fist to nudge mine.

"Thanks bro." He lets his hand drop with a smile.

"Good luck Felix."

I watch his violently coloured escourt usher him out feeling a pang of sadness. I cannot allow myself to get attached to any of them. They're all competing for same sponsors my tributes need. They are all potential murders of Aelia or Cornelia and, on a self preserving note, they're all likely going to die. It isn't advisable getting close to them. I take the moment between sessions to examine my surroundings. Basic facilities off to one side, the targets and the weapons. A viewing window hangs above my head on the wall facing the targets. This is where they hold the private sessions but the room is only half as big and hardly equipped from what I remember of it. They must have worked all night to section it off and ensure the sponsors wouldn't have to travel very far. I dash over to the toilets to rinse my mouth out and wash my face. My make up is still on, still flawless but I've gone pale. Breakfast has been absorbed by the other occupant of my body and I'm tired. My feet fill constricted in the boots I was supplied and add to my body heat causing me to sweat and develop sores already. I wrinkle up nose kicking them off sighing at the cool relief. I rinse my mouth out, have a quick sip of water and jog back out to find my next student waiting. Bow in hand, string pulled and looking full of promise. Until he releases the string and the arrow flips into the air and lands back at his feet causing him to shriek and fling the bow across the room. How was this one even managing the group training before? He must have stayed at the camouflage station, unless he thought the paintbrush would attack him.

It takes me half the session just to convince the latest tribute that the bow will not bite him or do anything he doesn't want it to. I lose my patience with his ridiculous behaviour several times before I finally attempt a different tact and switch to my sponsor wooing, silk voice. He might have a delicate disposition but he's stronger than Felix and sharp in his reflexes. My instincts warn me that he's had some form of military training the way he's quick to adapt to new information and technique and obeys orders to the letter. Before long he's burying arrow heads into the hearts of statuesque targets. Encouraged by his progress I seize the control panel for the targets and begin a slow movement pattern causing him to shift his weight nervously. He glances around as if he expects to be eaten by something.

"Eyes on your target." I order like a sergeant.

He snaps back into focus but misses every shot until he is escorted out by a grey uniformed escourt.

I stretch between sessions flexing and bending. I rub my neck feeling the tension held there. The remaining sessions vary in personality slightly usually arrogant and thinking they know more than a victor shamelessly self promoting pointlessly, the numb ones who simply do as their told with blank, empty gazes or like my second student so terrified of so much as touching a weapon the majority of the session is wasted rendering the exercise pointless. The rest of the day I go to only two places; the training room or, in my breaks, I go to check on Peeta to find him still sleeping unchanged.

At noon Effie clicks into the training area looking around as one might look around a quarantine of an epidemic, like she could catch a deadly disease at any moment with a wrong step.

"Katniss, you have lunch with the other mentors, come come let's get you properly dressed." She begins to drag me by the elbow, I barely get a chance to hang my bow and tell it goodnight to power down.

"Are they going to film is eating too?"

"No, no, no. After your little shooting performance the President herself wishes to join the luncheon. It's all very exciting!"

"Just because I can still shoot a few rounds? Isn't that dangerous for her?" I ask skeptical.

Effie pauses to look at me.

"You still have a lot of sway over the people Katniss. Many people from the Capitol are amoung your biggest fans!" She looks at me hinting subtlety.

I look back at her thinking it through. The Capitol was the biggest supporters of Snow, so, by extension the mentor of Snow's kin must be considered some sort of ally of sorts. That would hardly excuse me from murdering Snow and bringing about the effective end of their lives. As a victor I supported these Games which took their children. There is nothing that immediately presents itself to warrant such support. Most of my celebrity was lost when I became the Mockingjay murderer of Coin.

Murdering Coin, the enemy of the old ways.

Ironically I'm now a symbol for the hope that the old ways might return which is dangerous as the rebellion leaders are well aware, a symbol means hope, hope means people banding together which all leads to the possibility of an uprising. A lot of Peacekeepers and Capitol businesses all lost jobs or their lives thanks to the last revolution. President Paylor is trying to dissolve that link between me and a possible new rebellion by establishing me as a mentor, a trainer and now, a lunch buddy. Single handedly she will gain supporters who still have any faith in me and strengthen the bond between victor and the government. The Capitol gentry still love the games, the television shows and enormous turn outs at the parade and Reaping testify to that. Suppress a possible uprising and gain popularity. Well played Paylor. However it is this connection and support I'm relying on to keep Aelia and even Cornelia alive. There's always the empathy play but that won't work in Cornelia's case. She's managed to create an image if herself devoid of all emotion except fear and loathing. I glance back considering if I can squeeze in a last round if bow therapy. Judging by Effie's tapping foot the odds don't favour that course of action.

I sigh rubbing my face and tugging on my braid following Effie silently wishing Peeta was near to convince this would all work out somehow. I think of his smiling face and sparkling eyes but it only makes the hole in my heart larger. Effie rambles about how this is such good news for my tributes and the district. If we win the government may be more willing to provide grants and much needed repairs, equipment and supplies to bring District 12 up to par.

I feel numb through the idle chatter of my prep team. Still gossiping over the romance between Gale and Johanna placing my mood in a downward spiral. The gossip shifts to the latest development in the saga of what happened to Peeta. Enobaria is now the prime suspect of the people thanks to her vehement threats to me and Cornelia together with her boasts over her own tribute. It's only fitting she gets the physically strongest competitor. If they have a temper tantrum she could beat them back into their place. The more I hear and observe about each tribute and mentor pairing, the more unlikely it appears to be a truly random draw. Being a formal lunch with the president, the gown is more subdued. A lace collar around my neck comes to a point at my collarbone to release sheer curtains of fabric that hang down loosely covering the lace bodice I've been laced into and joining at the drop waist sitting on my hips. The shiny skirt in a soft fabric hugs my legs together to my knees where it fans out in dramatic elegance. I feel like I'm wrapped in a fine mist of a cloud or fog. The pale grey varies in hue over the different textures of the dress making it more cloud like. Even the earrings and bracelets adorning me are a shimmering silver. All a similar colour to the uniforms of the soldiers, making me blend in. I thank my team for their miraculous work and shuffle with bound legs to a waiting Effie by the elevator. She hits the conference room button and we fly to the top of the tower.

Haymitch is the first I recognise wavering by the liquor trolley. He's more drunk than usual, considering he's also bound up in a modern fashionable suit crisp and clean. His hair has been wrestled back and his stubble dramatically neater he could almost pass for a respectable Capitol citizen. Beetee has convinced some short sighted stylist into dressing him in a suit that resembles a giant microchip, he sees me and hurries over pushing his glasses up his face.

"Katniss thank you for the brilliant training you did with Felix today. He's unequivocally more confident now he can shoot a ranged weapon." Beetee beams at me.

"It was nothing Beetee, he's a good kid. Shame he had to be dragged into this."

"Indeed but at the rate of unfortunate accidents around the other tributes he is highly probable to be a favourite to win"

"What accidents?" My neck hairs stand on end.

"Don't you know? Two tributes had accidents with faulty equipment during training this morning. One has a serious calf injury and the other is permanently deaf in their left ear. Katniss are you feeling well?" Beetee frowns.

My heart drops to my stomach. The same injuries are too familiar to be an accident but to save myself from vomitting on Beetee I dismiss it as coincidence.

"Just hungry." I put on my showmance smile. "Will they compete?"

"Of course. Your mother is very talented at fixing people."

I laugh a half laugh and make my way to the closest seat before my knees give out. I seize the back of the chair and pull myself into it to find myself looking directly at Paylor herself. She greets me with a polite smile allowing me to gather my manners.

"Hello Katniss."

"President Paylor." I nod politely keeping my voice gentle, Paylor's bodyguards eye me off ready to end my existence should I attempt to repeat history.

"Enjoying your new role?"

"It reminds me more of a war zone." I say bluntly.

She laughs in agreement.

"Interesting batch we caught. Serves their purpose though I suppose. Your tribute in particular is keeping us on our toes." She cuts through pleasantries in a way that makes you feel like you are still exchanging in normal chit chat.

"I think you better double your guard Paylor, you don't know what she's capable of. I can't bring myself to imagine it. I think she's working her way through anyone important to get to me." I keep my voice hushed and tone urgent. She needs to be warned.

"Don't you worry. It's bad for your condition. I survived the war remember? I have this under control with my own measures in place." She leans back into her chair full of confidence or arrogance I couldn't tell.

I open my mouth to try and warn her again but Haymitch interrupts leaning a hip on the table.

"You look very chummy." He takes a swig of his glass.

"Haymitch I think you should go easy on that this is televised..." My attempt to help him is fuelled purely because Peeta would have done the same.

"I told Annie I'd stop drinking when she got here to talk strategy. Nothing wrong with enjoying the refreshments sweetheart trust me its one of the few perks with this gig."

"Where is Annie? I haven't seen here around yet."

"She's putting the baby to sleep first. She'll only be a minute. That kid of hers is a good one hardly makes a noise unlike the tribute I got slapped with this year. She ain't like you. No guts." He spills his drink on his shirt. I seize it and put it out of his reach.

"She might not need them. There's plenty who won on other things."

"Nah, I'm telling you this girl wouldn't know where to find food or what it even looks like before it appears on command in her room."

"Have you heard from Hazelle?"

Haymitch turns his attention to Paylor who's been looking on in interest.

"When are you going to fix that liquor supply schedule up Paylor? I'm resorting to bird raising when my emergency stash is out." He points a finger around wildly making the grey uninformed guards skittish.

Paylor leans in to answer when a blood curdling scream tears through the room. The doors explode open and a distraught Annie screams her way into the room.

"Is he here? Where is he? Where did you take him?" She screams making my ear sting, her eyes mad in terror she trembles head to toe.

Everyone stares stunned by her entrance not saying anything. Haymitch gets up taking strides towards her. Annie sees him and grabs him in a white knuckled grip.

"He's gone Haymitch I can't find him!" She pleads.

"Who Annie?" He asks in an unexpectedly kind voice.

"My baby! My son he's gone I can't find him! I went to say goodbye for lunch and-" the rest is lost in her barrage of wails, sobs and tears. Her coral coloured dress hanging off her shoulder as her knees to weak and she falls onto Haymitch who puts her in the nearest seat. Gale appears with water sitting by her and speaking quietly. I push past Johanna and Beetee to get to her, once there I'm lost as to how to proceed. Who would kidnap such a young baby? He's as famous as his parents with segments of television frequently showing the infant and how he is developing to look like his father.

I look at Gale who's thinking the same thing. He's too recognisable to snatch and ask for a reward. Killing him would only make unnecessary enemies. I listen to Annie's shrill recollection of how the lower levels have been searched to no avail and no one has been seen leaving the tower with a child. It's too inconspicuous.

_Enjoy lunch._ An echoe comes to the fore of my thoughts. Is this what she planned? My hand automatically finds my stomach, she's issuing a warning, a preview as to what she has planned for my future. My attention refocuses on the conversation before me.

"He couldn't have disappeared or gotten far on his own."

"Level 4 was locked up pretty tight. There's soldiers everywhere it has to be someone familiar that wouldn't look out of place with him." Haymitch is remarkably sharp considering his blood alcohol level.

"Have you checked where the tributes are?" I speak over the rising debate between Gale and Haymitch over the best search methods.

Annie looks up at me eyes full of tears, face wrought in desperation through her wild dark hair.

"Why would he be there? Is this to do with your tribute?"

"I don't know." I mumble feeling as if I were the one who has hidden her son, causing her pain.

"It's the next likeliest scenario." Gale agrees.

Without needing any more information or anyone's permission I head out the doors to the elevator pushing the button that leads to the old group training area and where the tributes used to have lunch together. Knowing Cornelia, she would want to leave some sort of clue. Her twisted enjoyment of riddles and clues is becoming too predictable.

The doors open and I'm met with a dark room. I hide behind the open door listening for any movement. Faint echoes bounce off the walls and whatever is left in the room. I look around for a weapon but find none. My heart races and I slip off my heels silently. I'll need to look around unarmed. My feet light I slip out of the elevator to the inky black room.

A scuffling sound makes me freeze. A slapping of flesh on a hard surface leaves me imagining the worst. I close my eyes fending off old memories there is no place for them here, it'll get me killed. I wait for the accompanying sound of dipping blood or a cry to follow the slapping of flesh. The lack of it confuses my senses. I reopen my eyes now adjusted to the dark. Empty tables line the disused hall. I slide onto all fours to take cover under the closest table. A subtle glint by my hand grabs my attention to reveal a blunt knife to my surprise. Clearly cleaning staff are in short supply by the rough and slippery things my hands come into contact with as I crawl to the next table. I grip the knife in my right hand as I flatten myself against a nearby wall. A light ahead hurts my eyes and a small figure can be seen moving in the centre of a spotlessly clean table against the side wall out of immediate eyesight. He smacks the table top with his hands entertaining himself. Pacifier in his mouth he looks unhurt and his dark hair is even still in place. His green eyes curiously look around him changing his expression to worry. I resist my new instinct to run to the child and flee with him. Hold him close and safe in my arms. I need to assess the risk. She could be in here.

A few more moments in dark silence and the baby begins to cry now bored with whatever he had in his hands. The new instincts take Over and I leap the table between me and Annie's son to snatch him in my arms wrapping my arms protectively around him. I hold the knife up against any attack but none follows. The baby boy looks up at me smiling like I've been playing a game with him. I look down and smile back at him. Edging my way back to the elevator slowly, listening for sounds of any other inhabitants. If this was Cornelia, this is a very easy puzzle and too easily foiled against harming the child. I don't relax until the elevator doors close and the small child gently taps my face.

"Gentle there little one I'm not going to hurt you." I giggle at his grin he tries to hit me again when I gently hold his hand away from my face.

I indulge in a gentle squeeze a warmth rises in my chest spreading through me radiating from the little smile in my arms. Instinctually I smooth his hair and tickle his chin.

The lift doors open to the conference floor and I stride with the child into the conference room. Everyone is gathered near the head of the table all hunched together speaking quickly in somber tones. Hearing the doors, Haymitch, Annie and Johanna turn around first. Annie's eyes widen and she sprints over to us seizing her missing child from my hold. She coos to him holding him as tight as her slim arms will allow checking him over to check he's unhurt.

"Where was he?" She says in a relieved sigh.

"Tribute lunch hall. No idea how he got there." I smile watching him seize his mother's hair squealing at her.

She smiles back kissing his head.

"How did you know he was there?" Johanna raises an eyebrow. I shoot her a glare.

"Instinct."

Gale looks at me from behind Johanna mouthing "Cornelia?" I nod in reply.

Annie vows over and over never to leave her son unmatched again rocking him close to her chest. I look past her, everyone is still quiet and huddled in the corner.

"What's this sweetheart?" Annie says taking a piece of paper off her son frowning, she opens it and reads its contents a worried look spreads over her face and she hands it to me.

"What's going on Annie?" I take the paper and nod at the crowd in the corner. Annie looks more troubled.

_You should have stayed for lunch Katniss. _The paper reads in a delicate handwriting.

"Katniss... After you left to find my baby, Paylor had some sort of fit... The medics are over there now..." She holds her baby even closer.

My neck sears with stressed heat and my hands feel ice cold as I push past victors and uniforms.

Only to see Paylor on the floor with a medic desperately trying to revive her.


	12. While You Were Sleeping

I test my door to ensure it's locked securely. Training sessions have been suspended for the day while the nation is purged into complete chaos. The collapse of the president was broadcast live despite the best efforts of Plutarch who materialised from a corner. Instead he resolved to broadcasting the concern on all our faces.

The immediate shock of the president's collapse was short lived, Enobaria was the first to explode with her finger jammed into my chest. She was not hostile over the attack on Paylor but infuriated that her tribute had their training and probably the games cancelled. Gale had flown out of the room talking to his wrist in a strained voice before the grey uniforms ushered us into the elevator to take us back to our floors. The last I saw of a terrified Annie, she held her sleeping child close to her chest stepping out onto the fourth floor looking back at me mouthing _thankyou _with Haymitch leading her and taking a last swig of the decanter he swiped from the conference room amoung the chaos.

I lean against the door with a sigh at the two shadows stationed behind the frosted glass. Everyone is in lock down but I can guarantee that our floor is only amoung a select few with guards at our door. With nothing else to do and unable to see Peeta or find out how he is, I found this out when I tried to use the communicator in my room to find it disconnected, I resort to a shower to rinse off my make up and free my body from the restricting bodice of the grey dress opting for a much looser, much simpler pair of pants and one of Peeta's shirts I had smuggled in from my own bags. I sit on the bed in my undergarments breathing him in, closing my eyes to remember his blue eyes under a mess of unkempt blonde hair.

I wake up unaware I fell effortlessly to sleep to an upset stomach causing me to rush to the bathroom. After emptying my stomach of bile I rinse out my mouth several times and re-braid my hair. It doesn't take long for boredom and restlessness to set in. To keep my anxious thoughts at bay I resort to reorganising my drawers and nibbling on small meals courtesy of my control panel by my bed. From there it's a insanity provoking pattern of napping and looking outside at a city devoid of citizens in the streets. It seems several sectors near by are also in lockdown, small figures patrol streets far below. By the time the sun sinks past the buildings I'm desperate for something to fill my time and look at the blanket screen on the far wall. I groan and turn on the panel to see if Plutarch had any information me through his programming. Claudius Templesmith has somehow survived and has retained his position as commentator to the games. I glare at him on the screen just for existing. How did he escape when Aelia Flickerman was left without her father? With a scowl on my face I watch him laugh and banter with a incredulously made up woman. Her feathered patterned skin and coloured get up looks like a peacock paired with her bobbing head. I watch Claudius press on his ear a moment and his face split into a grin.

"I have news that the games will resume as planned and President Paylor has survived the attack, I repeat she is in a stable condition and has requested the games progress as planned."

"Such wonderful news Claudius!" The peacock woman replies in the Capitol accent.

"And of course we wish the President a speedy recovery!"

"Of course we wish all tributes and mentors just as swift a journey to good health." Her nasal voice is rather unpleasant to my ears even if it didn't stir stabs of pain with it as I think of Peeta alone in the medical facility, having no inkling how he is or if he is awake is enough to sting my eyes with tears.

Highlights of the parade are repeated frequently on the program with emphasis on Cornelia's costume. I'm forced to look away as the hole in my chest rips open an overwhelming ache and longing with the recollection of Peeta slipping out of my fingers. My eyes settle on an open bag I had tossed into a corner devoid of all it's contents save one item I can just see peeking out of the bag. In one swoop my fingers grip the leather bound book of memories Peeta and I had started. I press it to my chest hugging myself tightly trying to shield the hole from any more hurt using the leader tome. I inhale sharply and the scent of nature and Peeta's smokey scent fills my lungs stilling my entirety for a sweet moment. I flick through its pages sitting cross legged on the bed deciding to add a page for Caesar Flickerman and a mention of Aelia. My handwriting leaving much to be desired courtesy of the impossible to grasp pen I found in a near by drawer and my trembling hand. I glance down at my stomach frequently. I chew on the pen deftly considering a new entry that may interest the little being invading my womb in the future. I carefully form each letter on a new page.

_How I met the boy with the bread._ I chew on the pen again scrutinising my work. Unhappy I scratch out the heading to replace the last phrase to read _How I met your father. _Better. I manage a half smile at the butterflies of excitement in my stomach working up to my chest. Jumping startled when the bolt locking my door clicks open.

My bedroom door opens and two uniformed men enter brusquely. Both impossibly muscular they silently stand in the middle of my floor staring at me. I instinctively have flown to the furthest wall crouching on my bed staring at them. For a moment I wonder how long these men are going to stay in my sole allocated room or as it is now, my cell. The two muscular men are like night and day, one stone faced with ebony skin, strong hands and towering well over six feet, the other fair complexioned with more delicate features despite his build.

"Katniss Everdeen?" The tall one says in an unexpectedly light voice.

I consider giving a response stating that of course I'm who they are looking for, I'm known nationwide. My face has been plastered over every screen in every home of Panem. One look at either man makes my rationality kick in.

"Yes."

"Please accompany us without resistance." Sensitivity is low on a soldiers priority list. I can't resist adding a bit of venom of my own.

"Where and why." I state frowning when I realise that should be a question not an order.

"That's classified." The fair one growls.

I stand without complaint, inching off the bed like a cat. The men each take up a side beside me making me feel like an ant, insignificant and at the mercy of the giants around me. I keep my gaze slightly lowered to the elevator. A delicately fingered hand holds out a thick, black fabric hood. I look up at the fair man puzzled.

"Wear this." Is the only explanation offered.

"And if I refuse?" My guard flares up.

"We put it on for you." The light voiced guard answers.

I don't realise I'm shaking until I snatch the hood from the soldier wanting to throw it back at him but instead putting in on my head and the world goes dark.

* * *

The light, fluorescent and arctic white, is blinding. I squint against the painful light in the otherwise cramped, grey, dark room. I cough against the fumes from the hood glaring to help my eyes focus to my new environment. I find myself sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair with my own limbs full of lead. I struggle to pull at my paralysed limbs to send sharp needle like pricks up my arm. I cough harder struggling to breathe when an unseen door opens and closes bringing Gale into view. Gentle hands tilt my head up to offer me water but the gesture is more an insult than a kindness. If Gale wanted a chit chat there were less aggressive ways to get my attention than treating me like a criminal.

"What the hell Gale? This how you're getting my attention now?" I splutter.

"Calm down-"

"Calm down? I'm pregnant you idiot! What was that your buddies gassed me with?" The words feel so strange coming from my lips but this child matters to Peeta therefore, to me too. Gale physically flinched at my words and is momentarily rendered speechless. I continue my glare trying to rouse my limbs into moving to no avail.

"Katniss you are in trouble here. People are starting to talk-"

"What did you gas me with Gale?" I shout over him, our friendly conversations feel a lifetime ago in the woods.

"Nothing that will hurt it."

"Them."

"What?"

"Them. Not an it. We're living things." I tear off another strip off him causing him to take a calming breath against his flushed complexion. He's angry but after his treatment of us and what he did to Prim, I don't care. Rage is blinding all my senses and I don't stop it.

"Katniss did you attack Paylor?" His eyes tell me he's serious.

My eyes widen as I realise I'm becoming a scapegoat and I know somehow my tribute has orchestrated this but how is she reaching officials that are supposed to hate her? When I speak my voice trembles in fury with my shaking lungs and searing blood.

"Me? No! Gale you were with me when I met Paylor you know I wouldn't hurt her."

"I didn't think you would kill Coin either." He says curtly.

"That was different." I hiss narrowing my gaze.

"Was it? Coz that's what a panel of representatives think."

"Just as stupid as the last lot are they?" I snap.

"Katniss!"

"Gale we both know who did this what is going on?"

"Katniss Cornelia has corrupted members of the panel. I'm sure of it. The media is turning on you it's not like before. Different program's say different things now. It's not just Plutarch's shows. Cornelia may not be able to kill you herself but if she continues to make _you_ the monster who won't mentor her and now attacking the president, she may kill you using someone else. I'm doing what I can but you need to sell the mentor thing like never before now." Gale wipes his face with his hands looking truly exhausted, his eyes ringed with stories of sleepless nights.

I sigh and take a breath myself to calm my shaking insides. My breaths become short and ragged in the stuffy humidity of the room making me feel trapped in such a small place. The room feels underground with the heavy presence of earth almost tangible.

"How do I fix this Gale?"

"Just stay out of trouble and out of the spotlight. Do your job. Leave the rest to me." Gale says unblinking. A warmth glows faintly in my chest seeing him guard my back again, like he used to. The positive feelings may only be echoes now but they aren't gone.

"Did you need to haul me in like this?"

"I needed it to look like I'm not giving you preferential treatment if I'm going to get you out of this in one piece." He says off handedly shrugging his cloak back. The ridiculous garment should be removed all together, perhaps this new Capitol Gale likes it, just like his slicked back hair and decorative medals auspiciously placed on his uniform designed to flatter.

I simply nod gaining some movement in my arms and feet slowly moving them slightly. Without another word Gale walks into the inky black of the back of the room and a click followed by metal sliding on metal is heard along with Gale's hushed tones. A single grey uniformed woman accompanies Gale on his return.

"She's cleared. See she gets to her room safely." Gale's authoritive tone makes him almost completely unrecognisable.

The grey uniform nods making some gesture and helps me up with caring hands. Oddly I miss the odd pair that brought me in, preferring to do things myself. I shuffle carefully after her pausing when Gale clears his throat.

"Please look after yourself Katniss, if not for you then for those who depend on you." Finally my Gale makes an appearance but rather than relief, he brings pain and old memories. Warm lips, strong body and the smell of trees. Intoxicating and sickening.

"I'll do my best." I reply weakly leaving the room with my soldier escourt.

* * *

The sight of Aelia and Cornelia upon my return is not a welcome one. I straighten and walk past at first saying nothing, seeking water to rinse out my mouth. Then, swallowing down bile I turn to my tributes.

"Your last sessions are tomorrow with your private sessions. Don't screw up. Pay attention and learn as much as you can. If you have a question ask it. Once you're in the arena you're relying on what you learned." My voice more a bark than commanding.

"I'm training on my own." Cornelia pushes back a waterfall of silken hair like a model on a Capitol advertisement.

"Considering what you did that's a good idea."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you could be implying _mentor_." Her eyes lock onto me with their snake like ferocity.

"Aelia what I your skill?" I ignore her venomous tone spewing from her forked tongue.

"I can use a mace pretty well..." Aelia's golden skin turns slightly pink at her cheeks.

"She cleaved a dining table in two." Cornelia cleans her nails unmoved by her comment.

"Practice that tomorrow. Any chance you get. If you're going to make friends then do it fast but remember you have to kill them in the end. Tomorrow night I'm drilling you on interview questions and strategies. Find out anything you can on the other competitors."

"Aren't you curious as to my talent?" Cornelia says patronisingly kindly.

"I know you're good at killing people. Your score was already set when you upset the head game maker so do what you want." My words are unkind but there is little sense sugar coating what Cornelia already knows. She's uninterested in training so be it. My time is pressed without accommodating a diva.

"Get something to eat and rest. You'll need your wits and strength." I add turning on my heel. There's only one person I want to see for the rest if the night.

"Where are you going? Shouldn't we discuss survival stuff more?" Aelia calls after me.

I pause at the elevator doors.

"Wake up extra early and I'll make up for it."

Without waiting for any objections I step into the elevator hitting the button for the medical facility. My priority is not to these games or my tributes or any president. It's Peeta. I've left him too long. I bite my lip nervously not sure if I hope he's awake and talking and able to calm my storms building in my head or if more selfishly, I was hoping he's still asleep and hasn't seen any news that has broadcasted my condition before Plutarch or Gale could censor it. I ignore the numerous stares from patients and medical staff alike as I weave through the labyrinth of sterile, ammonia filled, bleach white walls. Finding Peeta's room I linger at the door to brave myself for either outcome, conscious or unconscious, I had been role playing in my head while my feet carried me here. I slip a hand on my stomach and take a shuddering breath opening the door.

My heart sinks.

Peeta lays in the same position I had left him in, fast asleep. Machines blinking and beeping around him. I look around to see if any staff are close enough to see into his room to find them all preoccupied allowing me to draw his curtain across without notice. With the space now occupied by Peeta and myself a crushing weight drags my shoulders down and my heart manages to sink further into my stomach. I take small, shuddering steps to Peeta and crawl in beside him. Keeping my body close to him without disturbing him too much to allow us both on the bed I place my cheek to his chest and listen to his heart beating. I watch his chest rise...and fall...rise... And fall. My eyes fill with held back tears blurring my vision leaving me to rely on my ears to listen to his rhythmic breathing. Even that is drowned out by sniffles and small, muffled sobs when I hide my face in his warm chest.

At some point I manage to fall asleep and remain undisturbed until I wake myself up by instinct at the sun's rays streaming through the seamless window to my right. I allow myself to sit by Peeta and simply stare at him. Occasionally speaking softly updating him on recent events. His bandages are somewhat lessened in quantity and size. His lacerations are mostly uncovered and now look like minor scratches from a scuffle. The bruising however looks like something from a war zone. Most have bloomed yellow or green against his pale, waxy complexion. Being unconscious and unable to eat has resulted in both muscle and weight loss leaving him looking frail yet his expression remains peaceful and at rest. I gently comb his hair with my fingers causing one machine to produce a quicker beep in its steady beat. Hearing the muted chatter of medical jargon I'm forced to leave Peeta with a quick kiss on the head and make a quiet slip away back tothe elevator and the twelfth floor.

My mood improves finding no one is yet awake allowing me a quick shower and a chance to dress myself into my trainers suit and my hunting boots. My skin tingles against the slight chill in the air and I opt for a loosely knitted black jumper. I scan my arm to find a very full timetable awaits. Sessions have been crammed in to make up for yesterday's disruptions and the knock off time has been pushed back til almost midnight. My shoulder and hip aches with fatigue simply at the sight of it. I glance at my stomach and give it a coaxing pat like one might pat a pet.

"Please behave for me little hijacker." I do my best to coo. My unintentional nickname for my offspring brings about a smile that spreads just because smiling feels good even for a little while. Before the cold fear of what's ahead for my body grips tightly, clawing up my veins.

Rubbing my arms to warm myself I go searching for breakfast meeting Aelia at the dining table with a perfectly manicured Effie inspecting her nails. A screen has been activated displaying the odds already being tallied based off the parade and recent events. The bookies clearly favouring the assassin mastermind that is my tribute. My face appears several times with questions over my involvement in the most recent attack on the President. I watch Paylor clutch her throat and collapse quivering to the ground gasping for air before a grey uniform obscures the cameras view. Annie and her baby boy in the arms of her tribute are shown, Haymitch probably came up with the baby kissing angle for her. The hosts of the show debate over my involvement in recent events one arguing since I saved Annie's baby I must be innocent while the other insinuates it's simply a feeling of guilt for conspiring with Cornelia.

"Morning!" Effie practically sings.

I grumble a greeting sitting next to Aelia.

"Cornelia?" I yawn feeling raw from sleeping in an awkward position.

"Went off with her armed guard to train on her own." Aelia showers breadcrumbs towards me making Effie spill her coffee.

"Now your private session is today." Straight to business seems to suit Aelia, she listens attentively nibbling some toast. I sip at some hot chocolate having a sudden desire for it. More than a desire, a need. I want gallons of the stuff even while I gulp it down. Effie smiles enjoying being in on the news. I groan internally.

"This is an important session. If you score low it'll be hard to get decent sponsors if you look weak but score too high and the others will hunt you down because you're a threat. Being a threat is the better alternative I can sell." I toss my wet hair over my shoulder before I continue.

"Most of all be memorable. Make them remember you. The parade was a great boost to start on for sponsors but its the game makers that will be watching you tonight. Conserve your energy it will be late and keep in mind you need to be unique. Everyone will be doing pretty interesting things." I suck on some toast fingers dipped in my hot chocolate. I'm ravenous.

"Like what?" Aelia's voice interrupts my train of thought.

"Something only you can show them that will make you a winner. I shot an arrow at them but they're protected against that now especially this year. Give a solid performance and you should be fine. Show them everything you have. Put on a show for them in the off chance some well to do sponsor can bribe their way in." I think outloud.

From here the conversation turns to my own experiences of the games and I give as many tips for surviving as they come to mind from shelter, to hiding fires to types of animals that are edible. I finish my current mug of chocolate when Effie interrupts clapping her hands.

"Come, come Aelia. Big, big day! Training time!" I check my arm as Effie flusters around shepherding Aelia out of the apartment. I sigh relieved to find I can fit in an hours nap before I need to be at my first session for the day.

Filling my mug again and picking up a toast finger topped with butter I almost gleefully go to my room enjoying the solitude. The toast doesn't make it to the door of my cell but the chocolate does. I set it on the table and slide into bed kicking off my boots. Jumper and all I pull over the covers. I freeze when I feel the covers shift beside me. I hastily roll over struggling with the sheets letting out a small cry when I meet a pair of blue eyes staring back at me on the other side of the bed causing my heart to skip a beat during its race. I force sound out if my clenched throat.

"_Peeta!_"


	13. Notes and Numbers

I look up to meet Peeta's gaze looking down at me with nothing but relief etched on his handsome face.

"Oh my God Peeta!" I gasp and latch my arms around his neck inhaling his scent. My body trembles uncontrollably followed by an onslaught of tears.

"Hey." He winces coughing. "Watch the ribs!"

I pinch myself to make sure I'm in actual reality, my nightmares are becoming more and more complex threading themselves with reality, a check is necessary. I hold his face in my hands relieved to have some form of sanity return to me.

"How did my mother let you go with broken ribs? How did you get here?" I think over my morning, he could have walked right past me while I was focusing on Aelia. I look up at his smiling blue eyes expectantly, keeping my body close in case he disappears or worse, I wake up.

"They aren't broken, after all those procedures as soon as I could walk I left. Judging by the broadcasts things have gotten messy." He touches my braid smiling wider. His gentle hands on my back stroking my spine up to my neck.

"Peeta how did you get in here?" I ask alarmed he could limp past me with no one noticing.

"Came up the emergency exit." He says simply.

"Weren't there soldiers?"

"Not that I could see. I don't think most people realise it exists. Especially since its hidden behind one of these panels in each bedroom for the tributes and mentors. The new staff are district 13 citizens most can't find the bathroom let alone a hidden escape route."

"That's how she's doing it. Why there's no evidence to tie her to this." I gasp.

Peeta looks at me in confusion but I'm in my own web of thoughts retracing how Cornelia has been able to poison and manipulate everyone so far without leaving her room according to her armed guard. I look up at Peeta who is mystified but allowing me to think. I kiss his lips ensuring I taste every inch of his mouth leaving him slightly breathless complimenting my rushing blood.

"What did I miss?" He smiles despite the pain he must be experiencing with me draped all over him.

I explain the events following his fall, carefully avoiding the topic of the baby. I tackle one issue slowly outlining the revelation Aelia had been the one to attack him not Cornelia as its being broadcast.

Peeta doesn't interrupt only nods and listens closely, frowning and thinking. He takes in the whole account of his fall and the betrayal of his tribute before saying anything. Even when he does its so unexpected it takes a moment to process.

"So Aelia saved my life." He says thoughtfully, running a finger along his jaw.

My own jaw hits the ground.

"Peeta aren't you listening! She tried to _kill _you!"

"You said that she switched cyanide with the contents of the vial correct?" He says calmly.

I nod flabbergasted.

"Then she knew that whatever was in the vial was lethal, untraceable and probably untreatable. She swapped it with something obvious that probably wouldn't be enough to kill me anyway."

"She _poisoned _you to get transferred to my care Peeta. It's psychotic!" I can't comprehend our argument fully. Peeta defending the person who almost stole him from me seems surreal.

"She wanted the best. She wanted to save you. I'd expect nothing less from my tribute." He actually grins purely to infuriate me. Let's see how much better he's feeling when I snap his neck in frustration.

"Katniss if you think about it-"

"Think about it? _Think about it?"_ I spit the words out. "I've thought of nothing but losing you for days! I'm not as unbreakable as everyone seems to think!"

Peeta pulls me in close as could be without sharing each other. I allow myself to melt into him and let my tense muscles dissolve. But there is important information that needs to shared before anyone else can get hurt. Peeta's arms refuse to release me.

"Peeta more has happened. You've been asleep days. Cornelia has attacked tributes, mentors and even Paylor."

Peeta looks unnerved hearing my tribute has managed to reach the highest official residing in Panem. He glances at me with a furrowed brow. My stomach murmurs with worry. I clutch one of Peeta's hands sighing at the steadying normality and relief his touch brings.

"How has she been able to move around?" He frowns further.

"That's just it she has had an armed guard. They're thinking since they're sending her to the Games she'll die anyway what else can they do? It's the same as our situation Peeta. They can't take out any more punishment. Besides there's no evidence to actually connect her to all this until you told me about how you got in here."

He nods not releasing my hand instead kissing the back of it gently.

"Who do we talk to about this?"

I look up at him all my conviction failing me. Peeta is not going to want to hear the name I need to supply. Good terms or not my stomach lurches at the thought of leaving them alone together in a room.

"Gale."

"_Gale?_ Gale who kidnapped you, interrogated you and is pinning this mess on you. I saw the last broadcast this this morning Katniss. They think you had inside information." Bile makes its way up my throat with my temper at Peeta's tone. Gale hasn't been able to censor things as well as I'd hoped. The fallen Mockingjay is more interesting that speculation over a formal first family member of the Capitol. Cornelia will be furious and I've returned to enemy of the nation. At least it's still all speculation and now Peeta is awake. But this petty jealousy of Peeta's is the last thing I want to hear in his voice.

"He's trying to protect us Peeta."

"Us?" His voice rips through an octave in surprise at my choice of words.

Now I've done it. My throat slams shut not that I could produce anymore words. I spring out of his arms not wanting to be restricted feeling trapped in the little corner I've backed myself into and there's no way out. Peeta looks up at me still pale and thin. His brow creased with lines of not only confusion but deep concern aging him ten years in seconds.

"I've got to tell Gale what's going on." I attempt an escape clause.

"Katniss... What do you mean us?"

"Peeta there's no time..."

"Katniss..." Impatience creeps into his voice unnerving me more. I mentally shake myself to see reason. He deserves to know. All Panem knows. This should not be so hard to say to him but uttering the actual words brings them into my reality which is full of problems as it is._ But this isn't a problem for Peeta. _The thought gives me enough clarity to relax my throat but Peeta is too quick for my vocal cords. He looks at me eyes wide and hopeful.

"Katniss..." His voice thick with emotion this time. His mouth moves to form words but he's voice has failed him as much as mine has. His gaze lowers slightly and travels back to my distraught face. Answering his questioning look I stand numbly staring back at him stuttering and producing sounds but nothing intelligible. Peeta's eyes are alight with curiosity and excitement, for my sake he inhales slowly calming himself.

"Are you..."

I just nod numbly before any thoughts or feelings prevent me from doing so.

Peeta stills completely. He doesn't blink or smile or anything. I glance at his shoulders to check he's still breathing. I'm overcome with dread that he's not happy. It's too soon and he doesn't know how to respond.

"I'm not completely sure... I've been distracted but I've been careful, I-I" I stammer weakly.

Like when he returns from his flashback the light comes back into his eyes and he refocuses on my face. My heart hammers against my chest watching his lips part to reveal his teeth and light up his whole face with an overjoyed smile. One stride towards me and I'm enveloped in his arms, in his eagerness he lifts me off the ground and sets me back down laughing and holding my sides looking me over though I'm puzzled as to what he expects to see. His smile is infectious with an alarming brief incubation period and I'm smiling at his excitement. Peeta cups my face in his gentle hands and kisses me briefly and repeatedly. When the barrage ends he looks into my eyes holding my gaze.

"We'll do this together. I'll look after you and it will be ok I promise." He steps impossibly closer and a warmth appears on my stomach where his palm easily covers most of my abdomen. It takes all my strength to keep myself upright before I melt under his touch and collapse like butter. I bite back a response that it will be my body changing and enduring the hijacking of my moods not him but I swallow them down and let him comfort me, his lips find my neck and my knees buckle. I grip him on his bicep finding it still has retained some firmness. A small sigh escapes my lips, the contact making my eyes roll back.

"Peeta..." My tone is more breathless in longing than the desired firm command I wanted to give.

"Mmmm Katniss..." He purrs stirring my appetite for him.

"Peeta we can't not now." I gently push him away ignoring his head hanging forward in disappointment. I lift his chin to look at me and I manage a smile.

"Gale needs to know so we can contain her until the games. After that we go back to our normal lives."

"I'm coming with you." Peeta winces just sitting up.

"No you're not. Should you even be here?"

"I'm fine. You want to see the paper too?" He reaches back waving something in my direction. Giving him a skeptical look I snatch the paper to stop him waving it.

I glance over at the seal officiating that Peeta is fit enough to preform mentoring duties. Spotting some details he omitted I point on the paper.

"You need supervision and rest it says." I raise an eyebrow.

"I'm fine." Peeta says defiantly.

I sigh looking at the time displayed on the decorative clock above the bed. I have sessions starting in a few minutes I don't have time to argue with Peeta or try and locate Gale. Perhaps technology could do what I haven't got time to. If I'm to persuade anyone of my innocence I'll need to be keeping my responsibilities as a mentor and trainer. Peeta grasps my smallest finger in his following me to the other side of the bed to the communicator pressing on the button hoping it reaches Gale. We sit waiting in the still listening to the crackling white noise. The white noise thins out and eventually Gale's exhausted voice is heard. I sigh relieved I could get through.

"Katniss I did the best I could-"

"Gale there's an emergency passage Cornelia is using. That's how she's able to get past the security. It's not much but it's a start."

"She's under constant guard don't worry. But I'll follow through with the information. Don't worry."

"Gale be careful she's resourceful."

"Will do. And Katniss..."

"Yes?"

"Send my regards to Peeta."

"How did you-"

"There are cameras everywhere Katniss."

With that the conversation abruptly ends. I silently hope Gale meant Peeta was seen leaving the medical facility and not here in the little solitude I have. I glance at the clock not wanting to leave now that I have the boy with the bread back but to keep us all safe I better play to their tune. I look back to Peeta and put on a half smile as he touches my braid running it through his fingers.

"I'll be back tonight. Stay here and rest."

"I'm a mentor too. I'll do my job too, see if we can get anyone to buy these two." He kisses my cheek gently. I return with a kiss on his lips, realising I could have lost him when he fell has made me want to show him I can't survive without him. Going back to our closeness slowly makes little sense when time can be stolen from you.

"Go slow." I almost threaten.

"You too." He gives me a playful grin of mischief and crouches down before me pulling my uniform zip down as he goes. He swats my hands away when I try to stop him and slides his gentle hands into the snug fitting fabric to hold my hips. Thumbs running over my tingling skin making my insides quiver. He brings his lips just under my navel and I'm forced into a giddy grin.

"Play nice with mummy won't you? I love you." He whispers to my stomach, his lips close enough to feel his warm breath.

I gently slap his hands away and zip up my training gear and hastily make for the door.

"Make sure you eat!" Peeta calls. I roll my eyes walking the hallways to the elevator and pressing the button down to the training arena.

* * *

Knowing Peeta is awake and able to be close by is enough to make the morning session crawl along. Each fumbled shot is physically painful to watch with one young boy stepping on my foot when I tried to correct his stance. Another girl with chocolate brown eyes wasn't interested in training instead opting to try and get the facts straight on the latest gossip surrounding me. When I proceeded to press her to complete the exercise she fired a range of shots while performing a perfectly executed dive and roll. Seeing I had nothing to benefit her I answered a few questions that appeared harmless and still maintained my innocence.

The locked door prevents me from leaving for a brief lunch respite with a silent uniformed staff member brings me food that reminds me of what I ate back at district 13. A gravy like substance doesn't pass my lips before I run to the toilet at the back of my training room. The only way I can stomach it is to distract my thoughts to what the future holds for the Mockingjay and the boy with the bread. Going through possible names for our new addition gets me through as much as my protesting stomach will allow in time for the sessions to continue. My mind frequently wanders to Peeta. What he's doing and how he's feeling. I absent mindedly smile recalling his joyous look when he found out about the little hijacker. Any other mother would be horrified using such a term but I find it endearing from its frequent use when my thoughts drift in that direction. The skill level increases as the sessions progress. Haymitch's tribute showing exceptional promise with a ranged weapon and clever enough to know to listen carefully. At 11 o'clock I'm exhausted and sore in places I didn't remember having when Aelia enters the room. Cornelia has not had a session with me, whether that's by her own volition or not remains to be seen.

Aelia looks to be in good spirits and still enough energy for her private session tonight. Her hair has been piled on top of her head in a full bun making her imposing and classically elegant.

"Have you ever shot a bow?" I ask her trying to muster the energy to smile.

"As a hobby yes. It's survival training I need."

"I can't do that now Peeta is your mentor."

"I'm glad he's better." She tries to mask her disappointment looking intensely at her bow to avoid my eye.

"Take a few shots." I keep my voice low.

I turn on targets jolting them into random sequences of movement like a bizarre dance. The grinding and swooshing sounds more than adequate to drown out any conversation that might be carried over to the grey uniforms manning the doors. I stand by Aelia as if showing her improvements to her stance and aim.

"Keep the Games as a show in your mind. If you give them something good to watch they will be less inclined to introduce twists or restrictions to force you closer together and make you kill each other. Play to the audience when you're not fighting." I keep my voice low speaking fast in her ear.

"Keep to the trees and sleep out of sight." I add thinking of anything Peeta may not know.

I grab my bow off the rack and fire a few shots next to Aelia, she is trained more sophisticatedly than my crude experience led teaching and able to hit the moving targets without much difficulty.

"What about my interview?"

"Peeta will tell you. He's much better at it than I am. Focus on your private session coming up. Make them remember you." I stress my last words.

The targets come to a halt and disappear into the floor indicating the sessions have concluded for the last time. Aelia keeps her gaze low and releases her bow back in its place from her large hands. I put my own bow away whispering "goodnight". I turn to Aelia, for the first time since her arrival she looks nervous and frightened. I gently touch her shoulder.

"May the odds be in your favour." Is the best I can offer.

She smiles, nods and follows her guards to prepare for the last time she'll touch a weapon until she's killing someone with it. I watch her walk away the doors sliding open and closed behind her. A pang of guilt lingers in the echo of the doors bolting shut. I put the last of the quivers in their place when a slight cracks echoes around the room followed by Plutarch's voice.

"All mentors report to the conference room in 10 minutes."

_What could she have done now?_ I sigh with the resigned thought.

* * *

Peeta sits in a chair at the conference table by the door leaning on the chair closest to him. His expression and blank eyes describe the flashback he's experiencing, as does his untidy shirt and hair a stark contrast to Peeta's usual neat appearance. His colour is still pale making him look drawn in fatigue. His lips a hard line in the pain he's experiencing. I resolve to find my mother and convince her to ensure he goes back to medical care until he's able to move around without wincing. Beetee brings him a glass of crystal when I sit beside him feeling more at ease. Paylor's seat is expectedly empty but Plutarch is seated with Gale who looks like he could curl up and fall asleep in his chair with his currently red cloak wrapped around his shoulders like a blanket. Annie comes past me looking beautiful in an indigo dress holding her son in her arms wrapped in a matching blanket.

"I'm glad to see you're well Peeta. Very quick recovery." She smiles warmly to us.

"Nothing but the best for us mentors." Peeta smirks.

"He's not completely recovered." I narrow my eyes.

"Good as."

Annie giggles bouncing her son gently while he sleeps. I look at Peeta unimpressed. What kind of parents will we make if we can't even look after ourselves? My stomach churns painfully followed by a dull ache in my abdomen. Before I can argue with him further Annie's comment is echoed by the other mentors taking their seats even Enobaria manages a nod towards Peeta. The conference table has been washed and smells vaguely of pine. Fresh flowers have been arranged along the table in bold colours and give off a sweet fragrance. Every mentor has gathered at this meeting even those who were in the medical facility. Still in gowns with grey jackets draped over them. Johanna looks back at me from a few seats in front with a disapproving look. The conference room is brightly lit considering the time. The windows set to display a picturesque bright Capitol day conflicting with my exhausted body that tells me it's time for rest not the beginning of the day. Screens displaying the new Capitol symbol shine brightly on each side of Paylor's seat. Numerous bowls of fruit line the table, as Plutarch stands to address the confused group I snack on a few cherries and feel Peeta smiling behind me taking my hand under the table. I grasp his fingers tightly but keep my gaze set on Plutarch.

Beetee leans over from behind Peeta.

"Do you have an estimation in regards as to what this is about?" He pushes his glasses up his face.

"Obviously _her _tribute has killed someone else. I say we off her now get some other brat for the games." Enobaria glares.

"They're children Johanna." Peeta says testily.

"So was I when they through me in the pit while their mummies and daddies bet on my life." Johanna glares.

Plutarch clears his throat interrupting the fiery exchange.

"I realise we all have things to do so I will keep this brief. The game makers and communications team have decided that with these final games that you approved, as a thank you for your services rendered you, the mentors, will contribute possible ideas to incorporate into the arena."

"What do you mean contribute?" Enobaria arches her fingers gracefully flashing her gold tipped fangs in her smile. Beetee shifts uncomfortably behind Peeta.

"A personal touch to reflect you or your district in the games." Gale says standing.

There's a rabble of sound as six mentors react at once. Most with contributions but a few in outrage. Gale raises his hands for quiet.

"It's your choice to contribute. You have until tomorrow morning, 0900, to consider and then I will ask each of you to contribute your idea in writing into this bowl." Gale simply says gesturing to an empty glass bowl on an end table. Plutarch walks around handing out slips of paper. Some of the uniforms refuse a piece of paper, they mustn't feel it's their place or perhaps are against the games like Peeta who also refuses the paper stone faced.

"That is all." Gale stifles a yawn.

Enobaria scrawls on her piece of paper frantically and places it in the bowl with a satisfied grin. Surprisingly Annie also juggles paper and child in her arms and places her contribution in the bowl. She looks at no one when she leaves but I notice the tears streaming down her face. Beetee stores his piece after folding it very precisely between his fingers and walks out of the conference room mid conversation with a fellow uniformed mentor. Johanna writes a few words down using the end table the bowl is resting on to write on and drops the paper in unphased.

I look at the small rectangular piece of paper Plutarch had placed on the table next to me. I chew my lip running through possibilities. Peeta would be angry if I contribute but I owe it to Prim to see this through. If I supported these games in her name I should see it through for her. I stare blankly at the paper, memories of Prim play out like a movie on a white screen. My hand moves to my heart deftly to try and close the hole that's aching in my chest. My breathing gets deeper as I struggle to fight off the ache emerging from the images flashing by my eyes. I feel a distant tug at my arm, it feels worlds away but I allow Peeta to lift me to my feet and lead me from the conference room. Somewhere far away Plutarch and Gale can be heard conversing over implementation strategies and meetings. Slowly I return to the world, seeing Peeta grasping my paper in his hand, he holds me close to him by my waist his lips on my head in a gentle kiss and the elevator doors close in front of us. I'm stunned at my reflection. I do not recognise the pale, tired, miserable woman before me standing in Peeta's arms. Together we look shades of ourselves, imperfect shadows of who we were when we arrived even when that was not so long ago.

Silence is our companion as we walk back through the apartment on floor 12. Walking a familiar route I find myself heading out to the roof with Peeta leading me gently, carefully as if I were glass. I stand numbly looking out at the shimmering city. I cannot stop my lips from moving when Peeta comes to rest limping beside me.

"I'm sorry Peeta." The tears flow immediately. When did I become so emotional?

"Don't say that you don't need to."

"I have to do this for Prim." I choke.

"I know." He's unconvinced but his tone is not demeaning. "I know." He pulls me to his chest. Before I can think clearly I'm overcome with hunger for him. A desperation to feel his warmth around me. A need to drown all the troubles with his fiery flesh pressed to mine.

My lips taste his along with the saltiness of my tears. I throw my arms around his neck my only intention, my only need is to get closer. I feel his lips and hands answer my plead. His grip firms and slides down my back, searching until he finds the end of my shirt. My hands head north to find and explore his thick hair. Our chests rising and falling together I hear him gasp and it spurs me into action. I kiss along his jaw, my lips able to feel its shape in a more sensual way than my hands could. I press myself against him as the fabric from my top rises over my stomach the air on my skin cool from the night wind but I don't want cool air. I want his skin to mine. I release his hair with this goal in mind and grasp his shirt where it hangs open from the buttons he undid himself. I hold it tight and pull the each side in an opposite direction hearing a tearing sound and buttons hit the floor. I hear him growl in his throat and my body tightens. Peeta backs into a wall and presses on something behind him causing a clicking sound to occur locking the door to the roof. Not that anyone else would come up here for hours yet with the private sessions being held. That and the guards following our tributes around would have a dim view of our tributes wanting to go anywhere they could harm themselves or others.

Impulsively I leap onto him wrapping my legs around him and moments later I quiver at the cool roof pressing against my back behind me sandwiching me between the cold tiles and his searing desire, Peeta learning to take his cue. He tugs off my shirt and feasts on the exposed flesh. My breath coming in short pants I shiver when his finger slip beneath my undergarment. His hands easily cover my chest entirely but it's the gentle massage that brings out my moans. I whisper his name to him and the undergarment is gone leaving me exposed. I can't stop my cheeks from flushing as he hungrily takes in my form.

Then he does something unexpected. He leans down and kisses my stomach tenderly smiling, no beaming at it. As if he can see the person inside. My blood heats dangerously in arousal and I feel moisture covering me. There is a firmness against my thigh and I know he is feeling the intense hunger too. He kisses my skin just below my navel not noticing my scars I hold his cheek as he whispers.

"You're safe. I'm going to keep you safe." He looks up at me. "Both of you."

The promise in his voice fills me with hope and desperate longing to share myself with him.

"Roll on your back." I pant to him. He looks at me puzzled.

I use my legs to grip him and pull him over so I can pin him down.

"On. Your. Back." I giggle smiling to him. More giggling. Perhaps there is a chance I can be one of those happy, adoring wives yet with all these giggles.

Peeta looks confused but he's enjoying being lost. I nervously kneel on top of him adjusting and sitting back, straddling carefully I look down flushing still to make sure I don't miss my mark. I release a loud moan arching back my neck feeling us melt into one person. It was a perfect shot. Peeta's large hands grip my waist, one hand touches my braid and he smiles, trailing his hand down my body over my breast and to my waist to hold me steady as I follow my body's commands to move myself back and forth. I start to build something resembling rhythm when the world flips and Peeta's weight is once again on top of me writhing with my untwined body until I'm screaming to celebrate the vibrant fireworks going off from a forbidden place. My lungs scream for air as I cry out searching for something to hold onto but there's nothing but him and I'm satisfied with that being my only option. I seize his hair and kiss him fiercely when he shudders and his weight collapses onto me constricting me. Both gasping for air I stroke his skin gently kissing his head as he gasps for air resting on my chest. The sweat covering us caught by the cool evening air making us shiver in harmony. I cough needing air causing Peeta to rise onto his elbows in alarm. I touch his face gently giving him a genuine smile to calm him.

"I'm glad your feeling better." I muse.

"I feel great now." He chuckles breathlessly.

"How long until the sessions finish you think?" He sighs touching my braid smiling.

"A few hours they have 12 to get through. Results should be broadcast in the morning I guess."

_When I hand in my idea to murder children_. I cringe at the realisation. Sensing my change in mood Peeta plants a kiss on my neck strategically so I can lose myself in him. His sweet scent still the same as at home. I marvel at how well he reads my mood and needs. Like two trees after a fire, we have flourished together returning to some greenery promising future hope. Promising new life.

My fingers discover the soft thickness of Peeta's blonde hair and lock around his curls. My body reacts to his lust, his own desperation to feel nothing but me like I lose myself in him. I push myself closer to him and he responds in kind the floor warm from our bodies presses into my flesh and my hips ache from his weight. But I crave him more tasting his skin as I drag my lips along him as we roll onto our sides and begin wrapping around each other, moving against the other to create glorious friction and incinerating heat smouldering with intensity. I allow my last walls to fall and let him in whispering his name to him in his ear as he begs me for more that I eagerly give. When the tides of rippling wanton pleasure come crashing in, I willingly get swept away in them. Hours are lost in his perfect embrace fading to black when my body is completely wasted in exhaustion and I welcome a sleep devoid of terrors. At some point I feel like I'm floating, coming to land on my familiar bed but this time my warm springtime holds me close in my sleep.

Until a broadcast wakes us both from its light and volume. A screen has lowered itself from the ceiling facing the bed. Judging by its mere existence it must be an important and probably compulsory program to be viewed. I'm disoriented by theappeance of my room and bed, my last waking memory being surrounded by Peeta with the open air above us and the roof underneath us. My eyes focus to the blinding morning light of sunrise to look at my sleeping companion. His bandages indicating the stress he placed on almost healed wounds by carrying me to bed. His chavalry has cost him. I shake his shoulder angrily to wake him and alert him to this fact but I'm drowned out by Claudius' voice before I get the chance.

"Good morning Panem to an exciting day! On this beautiful morning we can exclusively reveal the tributes' scores and bring you an all access sneak peek into the games. Later on we'll also bring you the latest scandal surrounding the mentors!"

"Oh Claudius we have quite the scoop today!" The peacock woman resembles more a hen today with an orange dress and bright red headpiece sticking up on angles.

"Indeed we do Io indeed we do! But first the tributes' scores from last night's private sessions." Claudius shuffles some papers.

One by one each name is read in alphabetical order. Enobaria's tribute is the first to score a high score of ten affirming them as a threat. Felix has rustled up an eight using his inventive genius and the inquisitive girl manages an eleven leaving me to think Cornelia may be labelled with a twelve just to put her further on the radar. If these tributes have managed decent scores without a murderous rampage it must have been easy for Cornelia to either flatter or terrify her way to a high score. Peeta kisses my shoulder only to have me shrug him off, there is still the matter of his wounds to discuss. He settles for a hold of my waist and a not so subtle touch of my stomach.

"And our last two tributes for this broadcast; Cornelia Snow and Aelia Templesmith." Claudius reads. Peeta squeezes me gently but I'm fixated on Claudius.

"Cornelia Snow with a score of five."

_Five? Five! _The number flaws me. My job as a mentor increases its difficulty ten fold. Perhaps despite the insistence that there was little more they could do to punish Cornelia apart from sending her to certain death, someone has gotten creative. Her fate is almost completely sealed unless I can talk my way into helping her survive a bit longer. It looks like I'll have to settle for her death at the hands of another which will please Peeta. It will have to be enough.

"And last but not least Aelia Templesmith." The pause from Claudius is excruciatingly long.

"With a score of four."


	14. The Rose

Peeta leaps out of bed grabbing his pants jumping into them. As much as the scores trouble me and float around in my head I find my gaze lingering on the light making patterns on his back while he jumps around to fit his glorious flesh in his pants. Faint traces of old bruises and scars are highlighted in the golden light, different shades of yellow and purple blooming across his skin. He moves slower than usual as he pulls a simple shirt over his head. I wince with him as the fabric passes over his sides, both marred with black and purple blooms of bruising flesh. The ribs now in place without any unusual lumps or oddly angled abrasions, the bruises still look painful. How had he managed our exertions last night and carried me to bed? His pain threshold could possibly be higher than mine.

Now dressed he holds his side with laboured breathing. I jump up to support him ignoring his feeble attempts to fend me off. His eyes empty and he's back in a memory lost to me. I linger close and carefully ease him down to sit back on the bed.

"You're pushing yourself too hard." I say firmly.

I inspect his other wounds via their dressings not daring to look beneath with my fragile stomach. As it churns I look down to my bare stomach and get a spontaneous idea that I dare to hope will ease Peeta back to the real world. I gently take his hand in mine and press it to my abdomen and look into his eyes. I breathe slowly and deliberately so he can feel the air passing through my lungs and diaphragm. He wavers as if struck by a tide and a smile etches across his handsome face.

"Real or not real?" He whispers. I lean in close to his ear but my voice betrays my fear.

"Real."

"This is a good thing Katniss." He says gently stroking my skin with a thumb.

"You're not the one being hijacked."

Before I can realise my mistake he's gone back to a memory, eyes glazing over and looking past me into the distance. His hand on my back twitches as he relives one horror after another.

"Peeta, Peeta I'm sorry." I whisper meekly.

His eyes return to look at me shaking his head.

"Nothing to be sorry for." He kisses below my navel.

"Peeta you need rest." I reiterate.

"Later, we need to reassure the girls and talk to sponsors today especially with the interviews tonight. We need to prepare them for what's ahead and how to approach this."

He has a point but I don't like the blatant disregard for his welfare he's showing. I feel every wince as he shuffles into the bathroom. Resigning to his stubbornness I quickly dress myself in a brilliant yellow top that bellows out under the bust to hang loosely down my torso to my hips, bubbling at the elastic holding it in place. Seizing simple black pants I throw my messy braid back up and pin it hastily in place. A wave of nausea strikes like a fist and I'm sent running to the sink while Peeta is still in there looking stunned at my appearance. At some point during my vomiting I feel his reassuring hands rub my back and keep my face clear of any stray hair. When I pause between bouts of bile Peeta wets a washcloth and presses it to my brow. The relief of the cool moisture is nothing but wonderful. I sigh in relief before gripping the sink and shuddering as I bring up bile burning my throat. The remaining taste makes me gag before I can rinse my mouth out.

"How do you know what to do to help?" I grumble.

"I've overheard conversations at the bakery. Bread helps keep the stomach settled." Peeta gives mine a rub to prove his point. Electricity tingles my skin at his sensuous touch.

"And I always wanted kids of my own." He shrugs

"Always?"

"Since I saw you with your braids." He winks. His happiness at my battle against bile is irritating. Hot flames of frustration lick at my insides.

Feeling refreshed from the cool cloth I slap it on the sink and stalk out of the bathroom indignant with a puzzled Peeta behind me. I thought I saw a smirk on his lips but I'm not completely sure. Lucky for him. I glimpse the screen still alight in our quarters displaying a table of the tributes and their scores. Cornelia and Aelia sit at the bottom with their scores of five and four. My stomach sinks. When both Peeta and I reach the open dining area we are met by our tributes already half through breakfast. Cornelia wipes her mouth with a square white napkin resembling the paper I was given last night.

My contribution. It was due in the morning at 0900 I look up for a clock. Finding one in a lounge area I'm horrified to see 0845 displayed.

"Peeta where is the paper from the conference?" I ask scanning the table for it.

"Here." He pulls it out of his pocket. Before he can object I snatch it out of his hand and run to the elevator.

I slam the button to the conference room trying to source an idea to contribute to the games, I need inspiration and fast. I need quick and efficient revenge. For Prim. A flurry if memories of Prim helping others comes unbeckoned into my mind's eye. I rub my chest frowning trying to push past the images for a useful thought. What would Prim put in? That was simple enough. Nothing. Like Peeta she would be appalled to be required to do this. My resolve to contribute for her is undermined, leaving me on shaky ground. This must be done so I can rid myself of this once and for all. Her blood being spilt will not go unpunished. Something that the tributes and all Panem will recognise from me. I briefly go through my recollections of the worst elements of the games I had experienced. The fog, ravenous meat eating monkeys, lack of water and bloody rain all enter my mind. The physical elements didn't leave much if a mark once we figured out how to avoid them. I require something enduring. Something that will stay with the victor should Cornelia pull this off. Something to remind her not to cross me again.

I review what I do know of Cornelia as I stride through the foyer of the conference room. 0851. Such little time to think. _She must have a weakness. _I locate a pen and slink into the chair closest to the glass bowl. The conference room is empty but fresh arrangements of the table suggest this was not always the case today. I tap the pen incessantly on the table racking my brain for a muse. I grit my teeth thinking hard, envying Beetee and the others that had been part of the Mockingjay propaganda team. A smile creeps across my features. That's it, mockingjays. The perfect envoy to remind Cornelia her beloved grandfather was brought to his knees by a Mockingjay. A game maker could teach the birds the screams the victors had to endure during the Quarter Quell. The same birds Rue taught me to use. The same bird featured on the pin from Madge that began the rebellion. But nothing of Prim is related to the bird and this is for her, there's only one thing that enters my mind reminding me of Prim. I take a breath and write two words on the piece of paper sperated by an 'and' sign. I stand and will my feet into taking the few step closer to the bowl. Each step causes new heartache as the hole that Prim had filled gapes ever wider. My ice cold fingers release the crumpled paper into the glass abyss. I rub my chest against the space in my heart to ease the ache.

Minutes drain away until Gale walks in to collect thbowl, his eyes somber he gently moves my hand away. I hadn't realised I was grasping it after the paper had been put inside.

"Come on Katniss, I'll take you back to your quarters." His arm gently holds my shoulders.

I nod with a tight throat a tear slipping when I think of how Prim would react at her memory being used as a weapon. I feel less human. Needing the comfort and contact I wrap my arms around his muscular form. The scars on his back still raised where they have healed over time can be felt through his silk shirt. He clings to me just as desperately breathing apologies I barely register. Apologies from him are lost on me I see no use or reason for them. Until I'm suddenly pushed away from his warmth to face shocked looking camera crews. Gale clears his throat and mutters some rushed orders to the crew to follow him out. When the door closes behind them I numbly stand still at a loss of where to go. The interviews. Peeta will need my help handling the viper. My stomach clenches uncomfortably hoping the impromptu hug from Gale wasn't captured on camera.

Peeta looks up at me from the lounge he's resting on across from Aelia. I force my lips into a smile as I sit next to Peeta keeping close. He slips his hand into mine continuing to outline to Aelia the approach he has designed for her to take during her interview. Charm comes easily to Peeta but as I listen it seems Aelia has similar capability. I sit and listen keeping my mind empty of thoughts and memories alike as Peeta asks Aelia an array of possible interview questions from previous years and some completely thought up on the spot. He frequently glances at my face and my slumped shoulders. His concern visibly increasing in his expression. When his brow furrows impossibly in worry he hands Aelia the paper in his hands when she has answered his last question.

"Aelia, look these over, see if we missed anything. I'll be in with you in a moment." Peeta says dismissively.

Without complaint Aelia rises taking the questions with her to her quarters.

"Peeta you need to give her all your attention." I say flatly.

"You're my future wife." His voice lowers further adding, "and the mother of my child. Of course I'm making you my priority."

"I just need to sit a moment. It's probably..." I look down. "Their fault."

"How did the contribution go? Did you put something in?"

"Yes." I whisper looking away to keep the tears in.

Peeta nods but instead of pulling me close he squeezes my hand, his disapproval of my involvement is almost tangible. I keep my eyes fixed on our entwined fingers trying to discern which are mine and which are his.

"We're almost there Katniss. We can go home soon." Is all he says.

I gently touch Peeta's shoulder when I stand again realising I need to prepare Cornelia for her interview. I ponder the best way to present a crazed former Capitol elite mass murderer to Panem. With a sigh I feel Peeta kiss the back of my hand releasing me when I turn and head towards the two muscular uniforms outside Cornelia's door.

Cornelia had it all worked out.

I nod to the soldier on the right when I enter so he can close the door behind me. The room is identical to mine, complete with furnishings. Cornelia sits on the bed with her eyes fixed unblinking in me. Her ankles crossed making her slender form ever more like a snake. Her blonde hair set in an elaborate braid, upon closer inspection I can make out multitude of smaller braids forming the bigger one. Her lips curve in an unsettling smile painted blood red against her white skin. If her deeds weren't reason enough to fear her, her malevolent beauty would be enough to unnerve the strongest of victors. I let my features fall into my mask of indifference and sit beside her slightly out of arms reach.

"Hello Katniss." My skin tingles with gooseflesh at her icy voice, crisply enunciating each word.

"Cornelia."

"How fares the President?" Her eyes fill with mirth causing all my instincts to scream for a weapon.

"Alive."

"I see you are still keeping honest."

"What?" The hairs on the back of my neck stand up but my muscles tense ready for use.

"You made a promise to my grandfather to be honest with him. I'm glad that you are treating me with the same arrangement."

"I have nothing to hide."

"Not from me, no you don't." Her smile widens to display perfect teeth.

"Why are you doing this? You're just giving Panem more reason to want you dead." I say bluntly needing to change the subject to somehow gain ground over the eerie beauty.

"Because we have strayed from perfection Katniss Everdeen. You upset the perfect balance that has taken decades to implement. I simply seek to restore the last Golden Era before it is left to the rabble. My life has been severely upheaved Katniss, perfection is something worth dedicating your life to. These formalities provide the perfect means for me to once again attain perfection."

I look at her looking for some hint that her explanation is a ruse or some sort of joke. Her eyes peer at me unblinking. She believes what she's saying. She's just as obsessively crazed for what she perceives is perfection. What her grandfather saw as perfection. Unable to respond to her madness I press forward hoping to get the preparation done so I can leave the confined space sooner.

"What did you do in your private session?" I keep my voice steady.

"My private session was precisely that, private."

"I'm your mentor if you want to live you better talk." I fold my arms.

"It makes no difference now."

"Whatever you did they didn't like it."

"Sponsors are no concern Katniss, I have plenty of friends still in the Captiol. As for the interview, I doubt you could possibly tell me anything I don't already know, I was born in the spotlight."

"Then I have no reason to stay here. I could be helping Aelia or someone who wants my help." I stand and knock on the door to let the guards know I'm ready to leave.

"Careful Katniss." The concern in her voice makes me pause.

"Of what? If you wanted to kill me this was your chance."

"As it was yours yet we are both still here."

"I'm not a monster like you." I hiss.

"But I'm not the only monster here." The room seems colder as I look into her hypnotic stare.

"What do you mean?"

"I came here to destroy you Katniss Everdeen. That is my sole purpose before I win these games. A stepping stone to reinstating nirvana." Her voice adopts a dream like quality.

"And you haven't been too successful." I snap.

"With that objective in mind, it would be... Counterproductive for me to attack your president." He voice keeps casual.

"You said you wanted the old Capitol back."

"Indeed but I could not do that from a jail cell waiting for my death now could I? Nor does it help my cause to rally support if I'm disposed enough to warrant a low score in the games, also bringing about my demise according to those fools now running Panem. Monsters know monsters Katniss. " She says as if talking to a child.

Confused and unnerved I knock at the door again to escape the opaque fog of madness Cornelia dwells in. I slip through the door as soon as the space allows me to fit through. The last moments of the encounter linger in my head. Cornelia may be mad but like Snow she's calculating and intelligent enough to know the best way to get what she wants and how not to get caught. If I indeed allow myself to believe what Medusa said then that can mean only one thing.

There is more than one murderer at the games. It may not be a tribute either. My mind races with possibilities from a third uprising to an insane supporter of Cornelia's. Cornelia has made herself into the perfect scapegoat and an attack on the nation's leader is no small matter. I step into my room to splash water on my face to bring me back to a lucid state. The whole idea was preposterous. With no more work I hide under my covers and close my eyes hoping to wake up when I could finally go home. A wedding will be an easy feat after this is all over and I can go home with my fiancé.

* * *

"Make sure you are memorable." Peeta repeats yet again.

"Got it." Aelia does her best to stay respectful.

"Peeta she's got it."

I had woken to a setting sun and Peeta's gently lips easing me back into consciousness. Being mentors, attendance at the interviews was mandatory if I was to keep up my image as a supporter of the new order and the games. In mere moments the familiar faces of my prep team entered the room to strap me into my current gown and war paint, prepared for all live appearances and interviews of my own for the variety of programs now available to watch during these last games. According to Flavius, the new freedoms of expression and speech even in the public arena have been received well by the public.

I adjust the tight bodice around my bust and roll my shoulders. The silky transparent fabric was beautiful, imported directly from District 4, it felt like cool air over my skin painted in vibrant blues, yellows, purples and black in an intricate pattern that astounds the eye. I try to loosen the tie around my neck that holds the neckline in place. Thanks to my condition, the bust is the only fitted area of the dress. The rest flows freely cinched in at my waist with a gentle elastic like fixture. From here the fabric is free to cascade down to the floor in varying lengths. Sleeves are formed by excess fabric around my waist tied up at the top of my arms allowing for free movement. The dress is beautiful but looking at it makes me realise that it is not the same quality as one of Cinna's.

With Cornelia already escorted to the interviews arena it had been an anxious wait for Effie to return for Aelia. Effie, looking flustered in her bright green get up, ushers Aelia from us to the elevator disappearing from view.

"Remember your transport will be here in five minutes. Do not be late. Haymitch will show you where we are seated." She calls back to us. Peeta nods and gives a deft wave of understanding before turning to face me. The apartment seems cold and unfeeling with only two people left in it.

"You look beautiful." Peeta smiles to me holding me at arms length to drink me in.

"So do you." I smile slyly.

Peeta did indeed look good. The fabric of his suit shifts colour when he moves making it look alive. It shifts colour to colour depending how close he is to my dress to constantly compliment it.

"It's not too tight is it?" His blonde brow frowns.

"It's fine."

"They are fine you mean."

I sigh exasperated.

"No I mean it, as in the dress."

"Your mother is getting cross with me." Peeta bends to coo at my stomach. I slap the back of his head.

"Cut that out."

"See how she treats me?" He gives me a wide eyed look still cooing. To my own dismay I smile, Peeta gifts me with one in return straightening to take my hand and kiss the back of it.

"I know you're stressed. Try and enjoy tonight Katniss, it's just you and me. Forget everyone else." He tucks my hand in his arm.

* * *

I wring my hands in my lap. This is going too smoothly. We had arrived and had been seated without incident which, instead of putting me at ease like Peeta, sets me on edge. I play with my nails while various conversations play out around me.

"Yes I heard that the tributes are all recovered and will be here tonight!"

"What do you think Cornelia will be wearing? I can't believe they let her in!"

"I heard that the President is even making an appearance tonight."

The chatter grates on my nerves causing me to chew my lip in irritation. Peeta fawns over Annie's son next to me, naturally causing the small child to giggle and squeal in complete delight. I overhear Annie make several observations regarding how naturally Peeta's parenting skills are developing. Peeta tried to have me hold the baby but I had refused feeling too vulnerable if something should happen. That, and there are too many cameras around. Several times a minute my brightly coloured dress appears on screen next to Peeta holding the little boy. My insides fill with dread wondering what the commentators and gossips are prattling on about it.

The crowd roars with the thousands of different voices and cheers as the banners light up displaying each tribute in turn dressed in their parade garb. When Cornelia appears the roar is almost deafening catching me off guard. The public have thrived on the controversy around her despite her low score. Her name floats through the air as gentry nearby discuss her low score and all the rumours currently circulating about her interview tonight. Peeta holds my hand handing Annie her son. The lights dim indicating the main event is about the start heralded by the booming introduction for Claudius Templesmith. Dressed in a bizarre tuxedo of powder blue he sweeps onto the stage greeting his audience with a charismatic smile. Distaste boils up inside as I watch him work the crowd looking like he has had the role for years instead of inheriting it from his wrongly accused colleague. He plays the crowd like a skilled puppeteer, drawing attention to Paylor who sits grim faced on a secluded balcony surrounded by officials and heavily armed guards. Despite her makeup covering a probable pale complexion, she sits awkwardly betraying her fragility. She's alive, but in pain.

Before the crowd can grasp this the camera sweeps over to where all the mentors are sitting and predictably focus in on Peeta and I. I drag up my showmance smile and wave graciously. Peeta adding to our display by giving me a passionate kiss when Claudius sends us public congratulations. All my strength is exhausted to keep my expression stable and as glamorous as possible as to not show my innate desire to strangle Claudius for spreading the news ever further. At least this attention will work in Aelia and Peeta's favour. The crowd's frenzy multiplies tenfold at our kiss sounding more like a wild animal.

Thankfully we aren't shown long before the tributes are brought out to sit behind Claudius who introduces them all one by one. Aelia looks resplendent in a gown that resembles her father's famous starlight suit. Her hair has been arranged to sparkle like her gown and her make up reminscent of Caesar's white face and partially painted lips. She easily smiles and waves as she is introduced before her spotlight is stolen by Cornelia. My stomach lurches at the sudden scent of roses assaulting my senses. The murmurs from the crowd indicate that everyone can smell the sickly sweet scent. Peeta clutches my hand keeping his eyes on her his face serious. Cornelia graciously waves and blows kisses to the crowd, smiling a dazzling smile she has practiced for years, her white gown glows on the banners each layer of fabric just as brilliant as the last. The gown wraps around her frame forming a bell shape from her hips. Fabric scarcely covering her cleavage at the bodice creating a mesmerising alluring image but the symbolic nature of the dress is unmistakable.

She's a rose. A white rose.


	15. The Other Side

Cornelia sits with her ankles delicately crossed, glistening in the white petals that form her rose dress. Her hair piled up on top of her head making her look taller and even more slender than she already is. Her skin glistens with glitter giving her the look of a terrifying snowy queen. She smiles with eerie confidence and looks out to the crowd acknowledging her scores of admirers. They scream and clap in response. Eating out of the palm of her hand. She batts her eyelashes at the crowd and Claudius as he introduces her over the deafening noise.

"Oh stop." The serpent giggles and flaps a hand at the adoring crowd.

"It's well deserved adulation Cornelia, you look stunning much like your costume for the Parade." Claudius eases back into his chair.

"It's a welcome sight given what has happened Claudius, it keeps me going to know I have friends."

The crowd goes mad.

"Of course you do, tell me Cornelia, are you popular amoung the tributes?"

"Unfortunately not Claudius. I'm far too busy honing my skills for the upcoming event and..." She deliberately looks down, when she looks up again she has managed to summon tears.

"And I could never hurt a friend. It's for my own protection it needs to be that way."

The crowd create sympathetic sounds and I turn to Peeta. He half smiles nodding slowly he knows what she's doing. In a simple sentence she has won over the emotions of the crowd and explained her solidarity over the last few weeks.

"Your mentor is of course the well known Katniss Everdeen, how prepared do you feel under her guidance?" Claudius leans in.

"There is nothing I'm unprepared for Claudius. Katniss has proved very valuable." Her snake like eyes lock onto me from the stage followed by my image appearing on screens around the venue. Unsure of how to respond I put on my default public smile and nod. The crowd applaud wildly seeing the Mockingjay a few even declare undying loyalty as fans, Peeta squeezes my hand slightly.

Claudius exaggerates feeling touched, a hand on his chest.

"Now we remember the famous interview from Peeta Mallark a few years ago, is your lovely scent a tribute to his recovery?"

Cornelia laughs a haughty, musical laugh.

"Oh I hadn't thought of that Claudius, no it's a scent that reminds me of home of a rare rose much like my outfit!" The audience laughs but I miss the joke. I glance to Peeta, his face a mask of indifference.

The faint scent of roses sickens me making my head swim. I waver slightly.

"On a serious note Cornelia, given your surprisingly low score from the training sessions, what makes you this year's winner?" Claudius leans in.

"My actions prove that I have what it takes, I will end anyone who gets in my way. I will fight for Panem's golden age." She looks up at me, our gaze locked.

"What would you say makes you confident in your skills to win these games?" Claudius presses on.

"Because I have something worth living for. I will not go quietly like the others. If a sponsor has sense they will know I'm the optimal choice given my history. If it is change being sought, I am the means to bring it." Her tone is kept cool.

I scrunch my dress in a fist furious. She's practically admitted she's caused all the rebellious, murderous, criminal acts. No sensible sponsor will want to back that. It's too dangerous given the power of the new system. The only way to 'sell' my tribute is to sell her as a catalyst to bring back the old ways which means old money. Appeal to the nostalgia in sponsors, something the government is fighting so hard to change and forget.

Flames of fury lick at my insides making me grit my teeth. She's practically declared herself an ambassador for the old Capitol. As a mentor I'm in a precarious position, if I play my role too well whispers of insubordination and a third rebellion will spread like wildfire. I keep my stare even but my mind wanders elsewhere momentarily wondering how I will keep my family safe. Cornelia prattles about her prowess, she giggles and laughs seductively. I glance around to find men salivating toward her, she's worked the sexy angle well. I manage a half smile remembering Haymitch trying to have me attempt seduction only to fall short. The sound of th bell indicating the interview is over brings me back to reality. The crowd roars in response in ferverent admiration, Cornelia stands graciously as she does so her gown comes into full bloom, the petals glow and shimmer casting off a glistening mist around the stage, the scent of roses assaulting the senses. The layers of her dress shift around Cornelia, some floating away to reveal even more skin and silvery tatoos of thorns and vines covering her translucent skin. Her spiked boots clack loudly on the stage as Claudius holds her hand to help her take a seat.

"Katniss." I jump at Peeta's whisper in my ear.

He looks at our hands entwined, my fingernails are digging into his skin. I immediately release him flushing slightly. The interviews draw to a close and I follow Peeta back to our quarters saying nothing, my focus solely on controlling my shaking hands. Peeta stays silent letting me seethe until he locks the door behind me.

"Katniss calm down it was a memorable interview."

"Peeta she almost started another rebellion."

"Katniss she said nothing of the sort."

"Why are you defending her?"

"Because you aren't."

"I can't she's a criminal."

"If we want to go home and be left alone with our child then we have to do our job. It's not pleasant Katniss but that's how it is. She may have said some controversial things but we can work it into our favour!"

I throw my hands in the air exasperated by his logic. Faint noises outside indicate our tributes have returned, expecting their mentors to provide feedback on their interviews. I give Peeta a dangerous look as he grasps the door handle. He pauses a moment and turns the handle. My temper flares further, the last thing I feel like doing is fawning over my tribute, I glance at the bed wanting to crawl under the covers and find comfort in the warm dark underneath. I let my shoulders droop slightly and walk out after Peeta.

Still in their gowns from the interviews surrounded by their prep teams who are chattering praises to them. I don't bother smiling or pretending to be enjoying myself I simply stand there listening to the different voices only really listening to Peeta.

"Good job both of you. We can work with this."

"I doubt anyone will remember me." Aelia grumbles looking down rubbing her forehead.

"Yes they will, you leave it to me. Concentrate on staying alive. There's no room for doubt now it's a distraction." Peeta grips her shoulders.

"We know who's going to win this."

Cornelia looks at Aelia but hardly flinches.

"Peeta's right, focus on tomorrow. You both need rest." I add curtly, I look over to Cornelia shimmering in white and stinking of roses.

Sensing the tension Peeta leads Aelia toward her room still talking to her in hushed tones. Leaving me standing facing Cornelia when the prep teams also flee to the elevator. We simply stare at each other, made up like angels yet smouldering like demons.

"Did I make you proud mentor?" Cornelia's accent hisses, sarcasm dripping off each word.

"No. You did the opposite of what I told you."

"I was memorable was I not? Your... Husband... Seemed pleased." The way her lips mouthed husband make me want to wrap my hands around her neck.

"He doesn't know you like I do."

"Indeed not. Tell me Katniss, do you really think my interview was so different from yours? Even you must see the similarities. The dress, the scandal, the gossip. We're the same Katniss."

Her last words infuriate me further and without thinking I grasp her throat and shove her against the closest wall behind her. Her limp limbs flap loosely, she's not even atteming to fight back instead smiles down at me as if we were children playing chase. My arms shake with adrenaline making my heart thud in my chest, blood rushes through me almost defeaning in my ears. I bring my face millimetres from hers.

"We are nothing alike. You murder and destroy without cause." My voice trembles.

"Yes we are. You murdered thousands through your actions, you destroyed all I had simply because you and your kind didn't like the way things were spinning. I'm cleaning up your mess."

I release her throat hearing the insanity in her voice... And the footsteps behind me. The soldiers stare at us intensely preparing to intervene. One firmly suggests we retire to our quarters, I consider my options. I could snap her spine under my fingers and end this now and Peeta would be safe however I would be imprisoned or worse. But all the trouble would end and no one would get hurt... Until tomorrow. I look down and sigh, our child is relying on me to keep us both safe even if the thought of them coming terrifies me. I release Cornelia slowly not taking my eyes from her still in her white dress stinking of roses.

"All yours." I hiss and turn to the soldiers and stalk past to Peeta's room.

Peeta jumps awake startled from under the dark sheets struggling to sit up when I close the door roughly behind me, but I don't say a word. I stay silent pulling open the drawers to rummage around for one of his long shirts furiously tugging at my ridiculous get up. Cornelia's words comparing me to her echo in my head distracting me to the point I'm surprised when I feel Peeta's gentle, large hands helping me undo my dress. I still my flustering to let his gentle caressing fingers still the barrage of voices in my head. I feel his breath on my skin and his body heat radiating behind me. His fingers grasp and pull at the fabric so it slips off my skin. I tremble slightly the last conversation with Cornelia still replaying in my head when I realise she has a point. My interview was extremely scandalous at the time, the references to the flames and the stirrings of rebellion were already beginning. The Mockingjay pin gave me my notorious title and by the Quarter Quell the body count from my actions had certainly added up. I had destroyed her life. The truth of her vile words makes me tremble under Peeta's touch. As if hearing my fear his large hands carries my back and press up my spine in a gentle repetition. His strong arms wrap around me and his lips brush against my neck and shoulder. He pauses his kiss to squeeze me close to his soft springtime warmth. Wet, salty tears drip over my lips and my hands reflexively cover my face.

"She said we're the same." I whisper.

Peeta shakes his head.

"You're nothing like her!" He instantly protests.

"Peeta she has a point. She wants her life to change, she wants to live. Isn't that what we wanted?" I rub my temple, closing my eyes.

"She's not sane Katniss. She said she wanted to kill you. Tomorrow she will be away from us, we'll finish it fast and go home to our wedding." Seeing Peeta smile mentioning our ceremony puts me a little more at ease.

"Come to bed, you both need rest." He adds.

My stomach twists with anxiety remembering what's ahead after the games end. Fear clutches at my throat as familiar thoughts about how my life and body are about to change.

Peeta suddenly bends slightly and my knees are swept from under me.

"Put me down!" I squeal unexpectedly.

"Nope."

"Peeta!"

The soft mattress appears under me, cool silken sheets make my skin tingle. I seize th fabric in my grasp hearing the whispers of movement under my bare body. Peeta follows me crawling over me looking down at me with a look of reassurance. I let my body lead and I wrap my knees around him pulling him down, hungering for his lips. His hands slip under my back when his hot lips meet mine, his tongue slightly parting my lips. A moan escapes my lips when a sensation at my core alerts me to Peeta's exploring touch. I seize his hand startled, my eyes snapping open and my cheeks flushing. Panic grips at my chest as I watch him drink me in waiting for the disappointment to creep into his features. But it never happens. Instead Peeta shifts his weight to pull me close, still in my undergarments, from behind. His understanding hands rub my upper thigh but I'm too exhausted to respond and darkness swallows me all too quickly.

* * *

A sharp beeping sound breaks the now familiar horrific sight of my sister as a human torch and snaps me back into reality. My thoughts reach for some familiarity from my surroundings momentarily finding none. The warmth beneath me and the rhythmic intake and exhale of breath reminds me of where I am. Peeta grumbles something my brain doesn't translate to have any meaning and abruptly rolls over stirred by the noise. I listen to his sigh and slight snore as he tries to settle in back to sleep. Tentatively, I reach for his soft skin of his pale back, tracing my gentle fingers across his shoulder blades and trace his muscles. My fingertips trail across the valleys and contours, I press gently in attempt to wake him. His brow twitches slightly but his breathing continues its steady rhythm. I gently rock him with my hand to no avail, I'll need a different tactic. The dark skin under his eyes explain his exhaustion tugging at something inside my chest, making me want to hold him close and protect him from anything that could hurt him. I look down at my stomach, these stirrings no doubt related to my state. Clearing my head I lean in and kiss his neck just under his jaw. Feeling pangs of hunger deep inside I slide my lips up his rough neck, he needs to clean up. My heart leaps as I take in his scent and my blood heats rapidly. Peeta stirs and cringes slightly waking slowly. I jump back, his wince means I've injured him somehow, it's easy to forget how fragile he still is seeing his muscular form and strong hands pushing himself up off the bed. He stretches his jaw, opening and closing his mouth. I hear his teeth grinding together as he rubs his face. Looking over to me with a smile I look into my lap, suddenly bashful at staring at him.

"Morning." He whispers his lips meeting mine. I seize his face gently stroking the rough surface of his jaw.

He answers seizing my entirety in his arms leaning his weight towards me and I fall back on the bed beneath him frantically wrapping my arms around him. His lips to my skin making me gasp for breath, my lungs burning needing oxygen, but this isn't suffocating, this is excitement. My chest rubs against him as I gulp in air between kisses. My back arches to push myself against him as he pushes his knee gently separating my thighs. His lips slide down my skin and my thoughts melt into feelings. Becoming a mass of non coherent feelings and hungers. I grasp his arms to pull him onto me, wanting to feel his weight pressing on me.

The beeping of the communicator on the near by table causes us both to jump. I let out a sigh as reality hits. It begins this morning. Peeta kisses my lips, a feeble attempt to sustain the heat. He reaches over to answer the urgent noise emitting from the communicator, sighing himself when I slip out of bed to dress.

"Yeah?" Peeta says less than impressed.

"Your tribute will be waiting for you in 30 minutes. You are to escourt them to their transport. From there you may proceed back to the Captiol to begin your mentoring duties. You will want to dress warmly." The voice keeps to the point, I don't recognise it but then again, why would I? Gale would be too busy for such mundane tasks today.

"Understood." Peeta sighs putting the communicator back down to dress.

We dress in silence each lost in our own thoughts. I hardly. Notice Peeta's movements as I think over what could be ahead now that I'm back observing the games rather than participating. Thankful to not be on show this morning, I dress simply finding the white coat I once wore from Cinna stashed in a drawer I shrug it on wanting something from him close. I neaten my braid and head towards the door only pausing when I feel Peeta touch my elbow.

"Katniss, be careful." His lips touch my cheek.

"I will."

I look at him suddenly uncertain, his lips on my cheek feel different. I shudder internally seeing the same concern on his face. He takes my hand holding it tightly, squeezing when we walk into the elevator together. I don't dare risk looking at his blue eyes but I feel his glances towards me to try and read what I'm thinking. Peeta hits a button and the elevator moves too quickly to our destinations. Fleeting images of Prim dance across my vision making my eyes sting with threatening tears, the hole in my chest widens as it aches. I resist the urge to rub my chest for Peeta's sake, waiting until he gives me a kiss on the forehead and steps out of the lift first. He doesn't look back at me until he's half in his transport.

"I love you." I hear his voice call to me.

"I love you too."

He looks at me to say something but I get my answer in first.

"Real." I smile as he disappears from my view, his smile lifting my spirits slightly.

The trip is brief I say nothing for its entirety, ignoring the guards leading me down numerous grey corridors with nondescript doors. The halls are flooded with artificial light. I attempt to shrug off the feeling of unease in the cramped space, I had spent plenty of time underground in similar circumstances, perhaps the thought of seeing Cornelia in a confined space has upset my being. I flash a glance down, or perhaps the little hijacker has a problem with it, I resist the urge to glare at my own stomach irritated by the confusion if my emotions are mine or not. Before I can become any more irritated with my body a bolted metal door slides into the ceiling revealing a familiar cell like room.

Wordlessly I walk in allowing the door to close behind me. My gaze set on the girl sitting facing me with her back to the wall, serpent gaze unmistakable. Cornelia sits stoicly with her legs crossed, her face a mask of indifference as if she sat in a cushioned parlour at a party. Her blonde hair pulled back in a long braid that rests on her shoulder, draping over the white leather of her uniform. The smooth leather of her corset over her torso is softened by the fur of the cape half draped over her other shoulder. She looks impossibly small even in the white ensemble.

"Have you got your token?" I ask stiffly.

She simply stares at me a moment as if choosing her words carefully. She produces a handkerchief silently, we both know where it's from.

"Good. It makes you unique."

"It's a symbol." She adds her voice as cold as her stare.

"Do you remember everything I told you?"

"I am prepared."

I nod, there is nothing I could say to possibly make the best of this situation. I feel a twinge of sympathy tug at my chest remembering a time when the positions would have been reversed, she the observer and I the tribute. Idle moments pass. A voice orders all tributes to their stations.

"Don't let me die out there." Cornelia's vulnerable, soft voice catches me completely off guard to the point the physical ground appears to shift underneath me. I splutter sounds but no words come, she keeps her back to me only turning when the pod is sealed and ready to rise into the arena.

"Stay away from the cornucopia! Run and find water and shelter!" I shout hoping she can hear.

Her eyes remain locked on mine as she us raised into the unknown. The ferocity back in her stare so malevolent and lacking in sanity I take a step back swimming in conflicting emotions. Her mood snapping back like an elastic band.

The platform begins to rise as an automated countdown begins to initiate the games. When she is almost out of view Cornelia spreads her lips into a smile that makes my stomach churn as I read the words their glossy fullness form.

"I'll see you soon Katniss."


	16. Let the Games Begin

"Cinna!"

Echoes of my shrill voice bounce off the empty walls of the cell like room. I clutch my sides shuddering when I feel my body crumple and smack the concrete floor. Colours blend and spin but the sight of Cinna being murdered before my eyes in clear and crisp in my memory. His face looks at me as I rise above him towards my next ordeal. I hear myself call out to him helplessly over and over, my palms recall touching the tube around me to reach him... I can save him...

"Katniss! Katnip it's alright. You aren't there wake up." A distance familiar voice calls.

My voice moans in reply.

"You're ok Katnip." Gale's voice is tender... Something I haven't heard in years. A small flicker in a forgotten place sparks inside me.

I groan another time before Gale's face shifts into focus above me. His eyes level with mine, he tightens his silken cloak around my shoulders pressing it against the intense heat and pain on my scalp. I feebly attempt to push myself away... There's something I need to do, it escapes my mental grasp but it feels urgent. The world tilts as I lift myself.

"Oh no you don't stay put. You knocked your head give it a moment."

"I've got to... Go..." My tone is pathetic.

"Stay." Gale says firmly.

His fingers stroke my head through the fabric, I keep my eyes on his wondering what he's searching for. I indulge in him a moment, the look in his face of concern sends a few more sparks to the embers of old familiar feelings. I close my eyes against the spinning world resting my head on his shoulder to rest, holding it up taking up energy I simply do not have. My stores spent on the emotional waves of the morning. Gale's grasp around me tightens. He's stronger than Peeta, his muscles tell of good meals and there's no trace of injury in his steady hold. His hand rubs my back, his breath warm on my forehead like his cheek gently resting on my head. I take a breath in, to breathe him in.

The scent is like cold water being thrown in my face, I frantically push him away.

"Gale we-" I'm cut off noticing his gaze is not at me but off to the right.

I look to what distracts him to see Peeta standing in the door left open, colour drained from his face, a combination of agony and fury in his blue eyes. A cramp stabs at my stomach instinctively.

"Peeta no, this isn't-" he walks away before I can finish.

I scramble against Gale to get to my feet to follow Peeta. He shouldn't think I would do such a thing, his reaction confuses and frightens me but Gale holds fast.

"Let go! Why didn't you tell him what happened? What have you done!?" I round on him forcing myself out of his hold stumbling to the door.

"Katniss you need medical attention."

"I'm fine leave us alone Gale. I knew you had become a government lackey but do feed their pathetic gossip now too? Give them something to chat over instead of the fact your precious New Order is just as thirsty for innocent blood as the last one was!" I explode.

"I was trying to help you Katniss. Why are you attacking me? I could have given you everything that he has and more." He says defensively.

I look at his helpless, lost look.

"Are you still holding on to that after all this time?" My tone is harsher than intended.

"No." He's less than convincing.

"Gale I'm...getting married... And..." I swallow each word trying not to choke.

"Look at you Katniss, you can barely say it without wanting to be sick I _know_ you. Better than he ever could. Pregnant or not."

"That's where you're wrong." I keep my voice quiet. I take a step towards him keeping my voice as even as possible when I continue. "He's the only one I could do this with. You're fire Gale. I just don't feel that way anymore. I've already been burnt."

The pain in his face tugs at me, but not like it used to. He stands close to me and turns toward the door pausing before stepping into the hall.

"Burns leave scars too, girl on fire."

Tears threaten and burn at my eyes but I keep them back biting my lip until I taste blood. The thought of Peeta spurs me into action and I dash out of the room, Gale turns down a corridor ahead of me muttering in his communicator about running promotional footage to make up for some delay. Before I can take a step towards finding Peeta I'm pushed back into the cell by my prep squad, I barely take in their jabber about what an important day it is, the dire need to make an impression with my look and their various complaints about the state of my hair and nails. All I think of is Peeta, his pained expression doesn't leave my thoughts for a second through dressing. I glimpse myself in the mirror I'm presented with, I'm shrouded in white. My skin takes on a golden quality against the arctic white silken fabric that glistens slightly. Cut off at my knees the dress has a drop waist to hug my hips with a simple beaded seam. Curves on my body have materialised thanks to the cut of the dress with light, soft lace overlaying me from the waist up to my shoulders and around my back, leaving the centre of my back to show skin allowing cool air to touch my spine. I huff at the uncomfortable shoes making a silent vow to kick them off at the first opportunity. I don't linger for my team's fawning and hurry out only to bump into Effie, completely clothed in navy and white stripes complete with over sized bows on her hair piece.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you. We're late! Follow quickly." Effie has returned to her cheery self, perhaps because she is in familiar waters.

I wordlessly follow her clacking heels fidgeting with my hands. My stomach flutters anxiously the closer we get the the defeaning roar of the citizens somewhere close by when we board yet another transport. I numbly allow myself to be ushered place to place, through halls and past cameras. I keep my expression blank in no mood to play to their tune. Waves of nausea wash over me as I move passing the crowds and large screens set up on almost every flat surface in front of eager audiences. I get lost the deeper into the Capitol we travel, the crowds thin as only the elite are allowed past certain points. Nothing has changed. The old world has made a reappearance with the Captiol sparkling at its show best. I follow Effie back into the arena where the interviews and parade had been held, the games centre, to an exclusively plush room inside a private terrace. A function building for the wealthy sponsors and mentors to oversee the beginning if the games. From here we will be on our own to gather sponsors for our charges from wherever we think we can find them.

The entire room is white, varying in texture and hue but still feels sterile despite its occupants appearing at ease. Conversation is jovial and several laughs can be heard around the room. The crowd a splash of vibrant colour as the elite sweep about the room to mingle and be seen or talk to cameras. Grey uniformed staff hurry around serving beverages and food, the scent sending another bout of nausea my way. I briefly glare at my abdomen before resuming my search of the crowd for the boy with the bread. White square lounges draped with dignitaries line the sides of the room, children race around dressed as gaudily as their parents. Crystal water resembles glass in its stillness contained in a thin rectangular pool that runs the centre of the room and around an interior garden in full bloom. Balconies and split levels lined with polished glass fences spiral at different levels and angles towards the glass ceiling. It all glistens and shimmers gently but I feel lost and maniscule in the suppressing room. It's harsh angles and sterility a cold reminder that we are guests hosted by a governing body who ruled with an iron fist.

I scan faces but to no avail. I brush past people with their made up faces they look almost comical. I ignore the faces of disdain at my rudeness, my tunnel vision searching for Peeta. My heart hammers as I try to find words to use when I see his face to explain what really happened, to demand why he wouldn't let me explain or why he could possibly think I would do that to him after all I have already done. What more does he need? I push past men and women alike and travel the walls. I try to recall what Peeta should be wearing to compliment my dress. Bile rises in my throat with realisation that Peeta may not be here. The Peeta I know would not run. But pain can change a person. I climb sets of stairs scanning the spiralling levels spotting Beetee and and Annie as I fly past. Annie holds her child to her chest who sleeps peacefully swaddled in beige to compliment his mother's cream assemble.

My breaths become short as the feeling of unease grows. I fidget with my manicured nails as I climb another set of stairs. The screens at every lounge suite throughout the room spring to life. Including the enormous screen lining the entire back wall which previously displayed the odds of each tribute. The new anthem booms through the room demanding attention drowning out the crowd. Clapping faintly echoes underneath the overwhelming sound of the music, it overwhelms the senses to the point the rhythm and beat vibrates in my rib cage. Taking advantage of the distraction I search quickly until I cannot climb any more. The top tier of the immense venue is reserved for the very top dilettantes. A tug at my wrist by a large hand brings me to my knees and brings a plush cushion beneath me with a clear view of the screen. Familiar propo material is playing in a sequence of flashes. I turn, yanking my wrist away to rouse on whoever pulls me so roughly to look at Peeta's profile. My throat clenches, my mouth opens and closes several times.

"Peeta it's-"

"Not here Katniss. We play our parts and be civil."

"But it was nothing!"

"_Not here._" His tone slices through me, I physically sag a little my hand instantly over my heart.

We sit in silence, Peeta keeping his eyes on the screen as image after image of us plays on the screen. The lit of my stomach feels heavy distracting me from what's going on. I flinch watching scenes of Finnick and drive back tears when I glimpse Prim in some of the footage of the wounded. I don't reach for Peeta, he could be on the other side of the room and I'd feel closer to him. I chance a look at him. His eyes remain fixed on the screen despite my glances. The screens fade to black for a few seconds before clean white font fades back in.

_We paid the debt. Now it's their turn. _ The words fade to reveal new ones. _We paid with blood, we paid with sweat and we paid with tears. _More images flash of the despair from the last few years, it gradually shifts to footage of the previous games. _Now it's their turn. _The last words disappear slower than the others as a count down begins. The mood at the top tier is different from the excited buzz of the levels below. The Reaping targeted these people, a nervous, solemn mood hangs over the crowd, the eerie silence allowing the chatter and cheering below ring through the room. The screens show each tribute in turn, one woman weeps as a handsome faced boy is shown, his chiseled jaw clenched in concentration.

"Five, four, three," a deep voice counts down.

Cornelia comes into view, her eyes determined as she focuses on something before her. The cornucopia would be visible no doubt, the first lure for a blood bath. She didn't listen to my advice, it's evident in her expression. Perhaps that's a good thing given how skilled she's proven herself to be at hurting people.

"Two,"

Aelia rolls her shoulders in the white garments that glisten in the bright light. It's not clear what arena the game makers have designed but the tributes look rattled. Their cheeks all flushed with either heat or searing cold. In all the discontent and discomfort around her, Aelia looks at ease, which, by Cornelia's darting glances at towards Aelia, may not be a good thing for the others.

"One."

The screens suddenly flash white. A few of the tributes must have been blown sky high causing such a disruption so early in the broadcast. Indignant outrage can be heard at missing the initial bloodbath customary with the games. I look to Peeta who keeps his gaze fixed. His jaw clenched and knuckles white as he grips the seat rigidly. He makes no attempt to so much as look at me. I gingerly touch his hand but he withdraws as if bitten, causing a stabbing in my chest. Biting my lip I look back at the screen. A deafening roar comes from each screen ripping through the exclusive venue.

The view has switched to an aeril view displaying sheet upon sheet of white stained with small red dots and moving figures. The camea pans backwards to reveal the gaping hole in a monstrous mountain smothered in snow. Part of the mountain has come away with the start of the games. A tsunami of white crashes down the mountain wreaking distruction and bringing death with it. The cornucopia sitting on a mountain shelf before the scene of chaos. The view abruptly flicks to the cornucopia entrance shimmering in white, snow covers all surfaces and has smashed it's way through to the crates piled in the cornucopia. Pink stains through dirty snow with pieces of rock and tree limbs stick up out at angles. A few in the crowd jump when a young female tribute is suddenly pushed backwards and impaled on the branch her silent screams drowning in blood bubbling from her lips as she convulses with her last breaths. Aelia wastes no time releasing her first kill and reaches for a javelin, slinging it effortlessly in the strap of her cloak securing it. A frightening vision of lethal beauty her skin radiant against all the white around her and her dark hair, she strides taller than the tributes battling around her to collect a set of throwing knives to add to her equipment before she grabs a backpack still on a tribute backing away from a boy who's both tall and muscular making him look like a a large bear as he expertly flicks a knife in his hand. Without hesitation Aelia pulls the smaller boy backwards by his backpack and slices his exposed neck deftly. She pulls off the bag and looks at the larger tribute daring him to attack her. He thinks better of it and disappears from the screen.

Cornelia can't be seen as the cameras jump around as the tributes disperse. Aelia kills a further two more tributes establishing herself as the holder of the cornucopia. In the momentary silence Aelia sits on a near by crate and rests her foot on another near by, taking out her knife and sharpening it slowly. Before I can question why the cameras linger on her, just sitting there playing with her knife when there is no doubt more action elsewhere, she turns her beautiful face up to the camera.

"Don't think you can kill me in the shadows Cornelia." Her voice is even and calm.

Surprise echoes through the crowd, a few murmur that she's already lost her mind talking to someone who isn't visible to them.

I carefully examine the edges of the screen, she's there, Aelia is too driven to have gone crazy so soon.

Seconds tick by, long enough to allow me to glance at Peeta who's brow is severely furrowed. He's furious. His tribute has been defiant. When I glance back Cornelia is slithering fluidly out from behind the camera. Elegantly bending her body to ease out of the shadowy corner she had been hiding in. I sigh exasperated. All that training and advice only to have these girls hardheadedly bound in towards the violence I specifically told them to avoid. I scowl half in frustration but the other half realising I'm understanding Haymitch more and more. Cornelia perches on top of the highest crate available staring down at Aelia with a pleased smile on her face.

"May the odds be in your favour." Aelia manages a sarcastic laugh.

"I don't need odds." Cornelia's elegant voice wafts through the room, the watching crowds intensely interested, waiting for the first blood to be spilt between the favourites.

"Suit yourself."

"How does it feel knowing millions are watching your every move Aelia?" Cornelia's voice taking a sing song quality.

Aelia shrugs returning her attention to her knife. Cornelia's face darkens.

"Not going to take a swing at me? It's how Neanderthals fight isn't it?" Cornelia presses.

"I'm not going to attack you. You aren't going to attack me either. Stop being stupid."

Cornelia laughs a haughty laugh but Aelia continues, ignoring her still.

"You need me to ensure you live. You aren't strong. I'm the only one who will put up with you, only because I know how useful you are."

Cornelia slinks down a crate still meters off the ground. Her cloak trails behind her revealing a lethal arsenal of cold clean steel. She perches on her toes leaning in slightly, perfectly balanced on her haunches in her crouch.

"Get down, we have to find water and if there's any food around or we'll die tonight." Aelia says between clinks and scrapes from her knife sharpening.

Cornelia processes the other girl's words, agitation at being ignored still evident in her expression. I glance back to Peeta, my mood improving seeing him smirk.

More seconds drain away. Silence completely envelopes the crowd.

Gingerly Cornelia climbs down, it seems a process that lasts a life time, every limb carefully placed. She sits opposite Aelia peering at her in the quiet.

More seconds pass. Minutes pass. Long enough for the cameras to show different tributes trudging and climbing up the freezing mountain. The trail left by the avalanche has allowed some clever tributes to find an easy way to explore their arena and find a few caves. The camera cuts back to Peeta and my tributes. Cornelia glares at Aelia who now has progressed to sharpening a different knife. I glower at the screen, they need to be looking for water as I told them.

"Don't ignore me you plebeian ingrate!" Cornelia explodes suddenly.

Aelia pauses mid stroke, sets down the whetstone and sheaths her knife. She slowly raises her gaze. Cornelia is flushed with anger and confusion, her mental state more fragile than expected. Aelia's indifference to her has cracked her usual stoic exterior.

"Why are you doing this you know I'll kill you in the end." She snarls.

"I'm going to put up with you so you survive. Because if you survive, it guarantees that I'll be the one to end you."


End file.
