Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

I wake up, seeing the first beams of sunlight entering through the window. From another room, I hear my father's snores, slowly but surely, breaking the silence of the early morning. For a moment, I wonder what he is still doing in bed and asleep, normally he is up before the sun, preparing the bakery for the day. Then I remember. It's reaping day, and he won't be opening the bakery today.

The reaping, the cause of fear for every child in Panem. "Will I have to go to the hunger games this year?" is the question on the mind of everyone in Panem between the ages of 12 and 18, and the fear for every parent is that they will have to watch their children fight to the death on screen.

"What if it's me this year?" I think.

I quickly shake the thought from my head. That is no way to be thinking. Besides, I only have my name in five times, whereas I know there are boys, who live in the Seam, who's names are in the reaping ball more than forty times. The chances of me being picked are so slim…

"But not impossible," I whisper.

That does it. I can't sleep so I go down to the bakery, I always feel my best when I am baking, I enjoy it. This is something I can control, how much flower, water, yeast, etc. goes into the breads and other things. Baking is how I get my stress out, and on a day like today when I have no control over the odds, I like being able to de-stress and do something I have control over. I have a craving for cookies, so I get out the ingredients to make them. My mom won't be too pleased. She doesn't like it when I bake without permission; she wants us to follow orders, to be obedient robots. I try to please her, I really do, but sometimes there are extenuating circumstances…

It was a rainy April day. I heard my mom yelling at someone in our back yard. I looked over her shoulder to see who was infuriating my mother so. I recognized her immediately; I'd had a crush on her since I was five. Her name is Katniss Everdeen. She's beautiful, with her long dark hair and grey eyes. But that's not why I love her. On the first day of school, I heard her sing, and I melted. Everyday I tell myself that I'm going to talk to her, tell her how I feel. Yet, everyday, my nerves get the best of me, and I end up walking home, beating myself up for being a wuss. On that cold April day, she was looking for food. I knew her dad had been killed recently, and I guess they were having a hard time making ends meet. She clearly looked like she was starving to death, and if she looked that bad, I can only imagine how her seven year old sister was fairing. My mom walked back in the house, out the window, I saw her fall against a tree and just sit. I couldn't do nothing, and just let her, and very likely her family, die. There was some bread in the oven, my mom asked me to take it out. I remember making a rash decision, I burned both loaves, knowing what would happen.

My mom struck me across the face, but I was prepared. I took her blow, then, as instructed, took the bread outside to feed to the pig. But that's not what I did with it. I threw both loaves to Katniss, hoping that it would help her and her family. I put all the love that I couldn't say into that throw. It was worth the beating, saving her life.

I haven't told my parents about Katniss yet. My dad likes her and her sister, even buy's the squirrels Katniss hunts, but my mom is a different story. She despises those "Seam brats" as she calls them. I don't really care, but part of me will always seek my mother's approval. But, Katniss is worth facing my mother's disappointment, and possibly wrath.

I smile, thinking about her. Then I go back to making my cookies. I think chocolate chip sound good, and my dad can sell the leftovers in the bakery. As the smell of warm chocolate chip cookies fills the house, I hear stirring upstairs. It will be my dad, my mom and brothers don't get up until they absolutely have to. That's how my dad and I are different from the rest of the family; we like to be awake, and to help people. My mom and brothers are out for themselves, and I guess, with District 12's economy, you have to be. I just can't do that; I don't like to see people suffer.

I see my dad walk down the stairs to the bakery. He looks worn. I know he did not really want to marry my mother, but it was the best arrangement he could get. I don't think he's ever really been happy. I can't say I blame him, she treats him so horribly.

"Morning, son," he smiles at me. I love my dad, often times I feel like he is the only one in my life who understands me. Well, him and Delly Cartwright.

"Hi, dad," I say. "Sorry, for the mess, I'll clean it up. I just had such a craving for chocolate chip cookies."

"It's fine, we can probably sell these in the bakery tomorrow."

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

A little while later, after I've had my cookies, I take a bath to get clean and wash all the flour off of me. My mom lays out my reaping clothes, and nice shirt and pants. I put them on, knowing that both my brothers, Rye and Barly, wore these at my age. Rye is 20, and Barly is 18. They are nice, I guess, but I don't think they like me very much. I'm not the same kind of person, I'm more quiet than they are.

I put on the outfit, and steel myself. This is going to be hard no matter which way you look at it. There aren't very many of us in Twelve, so even if I don't get picked, odds are, I will know the kids who do. But I guess this is the debt we have to repay. The districts started a war, and this is how they keep us from starting another one. What would happen if we did?

I walk out the door, and go stand in line with the others my age. I get my finger pricked, and the Peacekeepers tell me where to go. I settle into a spot between two other boys in my class; one tall with a lanky build, and dark hair and the other, thin and wiry who looked as if a slight breeze would knock him over. I immediately scan the crowd of girls for Katniss. It is an automatic thing for me…to always look for her wherever I go. I guess it comes with the deal. When you are that crazy about another person, isn't it normal to want to know where they are all the time?

"Even if you can't be with them?" I think bitterly. I spot her…her beautiful grey eyes looking strong and determined when someone taps on the microphone, sending a truly repulsive sound echoing through the square. I cringe along with everyone else at the sudden assault of our eardrums, and look up to see Effie Trinket, the overly perky escort from the Capitol, at the podium. Her unnaturally pink hair stands up on her head like an obnoxious mound of cotton candy. She smiles to us all, and, with an annoyingly high-pitched voice, she introduces the event, and then a video about the Dark Days is played. We have to watch this video about the Dark Days, or the rebellion that took place seventy-five years ago, every year. The same one, over and over again, it's tedious at this point. The rest of the rituals of the reaping take place, then, awkwardly, the only living District 12 victor, Haymitch Abernathy, tries to hug Effie and she gets the look of extreme discomfort on her face. It's funny, but I'm not laughing, too nervous, I guess.

After all the ceremonial hoopla, Effie says, "Ladies first," and goes to pull a name.

I really don't want it to be Katniss. So what she doesn't know I exist? She's so beautiful, and if she's picked, there's no way her mom and sister will survive without her. I wait for the name, saying in my head, "Please don't be Katniss, please don't be Katniss."

And it's not. It's her sister. Primrose Everdeen.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

My heart breaks for Katniss. I may have been too shy to talk to her all my life, but I know enough about her to know that she loves Prim more than life itself, and that she must be dying inside.

I look over to the little blond, her blue eyes swimming with fear, as she starts to walk towards the stage. I wish there was something I could do; the poor thing looks so terrified…

"Prim!" I hear. I turn to look over and see Katniss shoving her way through the crowd, all while yelling frantically, "Prim! Prim!"

She manages to get in front of her sister, and then says the unthinkable, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

My heart dropped into my stomach. How could Katniss do that? Doesn't she know that entering the arena will likely mean her death? Complete and utter silence takes over the crowd, as the realization of Katniss has just said sinks in.

A puzzled look spreads across Effie's face. It has been forever since we have had a volunteer in Twelve, and no one really knows how to deal with this. Effie says some nonsense about introducing the tribute and then asking for volunteers, but the mayor steps in before she can complete her thoughts.

"What does it matter? Let her come forward."

Katniss tries to walk on the stage, but Prim has gripped onto her tightly. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"

Katniss gets an aggravated look on her face, "Prim, let go." When Prim refuses, I see Gale Hawthorne pry her away form her sister and take her to Mrs. Everdeen. I've always been jealous of Gale. He is one of the main reasons I can't talk to Katniss. They are always together, hunting in the woods, or trading their kills at the Hob (the black market of District 12), or around town. It's extremely rare to see one without the other. Everyone knows they have a thing, even if they don't know it themselves. Plus, everyone figures that they are going to get married one day. What chance do I have?

Katniss finally makes it to the stage, and Effie asks her what her name is.

"Katniss Everdeen," she states in a monotone. Effie goes through the realization that Prim is her sister. "Congratulations, your small brain can actually recognize names!" I think to myself. Then, Effie tries to get everyone to applaud, but no one does. Instead, we all kiss the three middle fingers of their left hand and hold them up to Katniss. It's our last goodbye to her, although, if anyone from District 12 can win, it's her.

Haymitch says something, and then begins pointing around. I'm too lost in my own thoughts of "poor Katniss," to pay much attention. The only thing that pulls me out of my own world is Haymitch falling off the stage and being carried off on a stretcher. After he has been taken away, Effie says something stupid about today being exciting. "It is not exciting you idiot, in a matter of days, twenty-three children will be dead," I think to myself. Effie's next line, however, pulls me out of my mind.

"It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

I brace myself as she reaches her hand in the giant crystal ball with the names. This is the part of every reaping where, in my mind, I'm chanting, "Don't let it be me. Don't let it be me." I take a deep breath, but don't let it out as Effie reads the name.

"Peeta Mellark."

I feel the blood drain from my face, as the fact that I will be the male District 12 tribute sinks in. There is one thing I know for certain; I'm as good as dead. I am not ready for this. The only good thing is that, since I'm going to die anyway, there is no reason for me to be afraid to talk to Katniss, especially since she is my fellow tribute. She has to come home; I have to make sure she comes home.

I exhale as I slowly make my way to the stage. I walk up the steps, towards Katniss and towards death. The climb seems to take forever, but maybe I'm just savoring every moment my heart is left beating, knowing that each one is precious. Effie asks for volunteers and it's all I can do to keep myself from laughing. No one is going to volunteer for me. Rye is too old, and Barly would never do that for me in a million years. Familial love only goes so far in Panem. That's why I admire Katniss and her bravery. Most people would have just let their twelve-year-old sister go into the arena to die.

At this point it is time for the mayor to read the Treaty of Treason. We hear it every year, so most of the district has it committed to memory. I just stand there, too full of shock to register a word of it. I will finally have to talk to Katniss, we will be spending at least the next week together, and there is nothing either of us can do about it. "At least she finally knows I exist," I think.

After the mayor finishes, Effie instructs us to shake hands. I take her hand and squeeze it. I will do everything I can to make sure she gets home. She volunteered to save her sister, and now she needs someone to save her. "You will make it home," I think, "I promise you." If only she could read my thoughts.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

I release her hand. Quickly, Katniss and I are rushed into the Justice Building. As we are whisked down the hall, I see the pictures of President Snow and other leaders, which litter the walls. They are supposed to be extravagant, but really, they look old, dingy, and are covered in a thick layer of dust. No one here cares enough to actually take care of anything; everyone just minds their own business and tries not to starve to death. There are those that care for each other, the people who frequent the Hob for instance, tend to be fonder of one another, but even that fondness only goes so far. In Twelve, if you don't make yourself a priority, you're essentially committing suicide.

Suddenly, I am put into a room by myself, as Katniss is taken to another. I have to say, even under the dust, it is one of the most exquisite rooms I have ever seen. Bright red wallpaper, gold throw pillows, and a couch that looks like it would feel similar to sitting on a cloud. I might be tempted to sit on it, if I weren't too nervous to sit, and if it weren't covered in the grey dust that has been assaulting my sinuses since I entered.

I pace back and forth as I wait. This is the part of the Hunger Games when the tributes are allowed a few minutes to say goodbye to their loved ones. I don't know who will visit me, other than my dad. I'm not sure I matter enough to the rest of my family to warrant a goodbye, so I'm in complete and utter shock when all four of them come in.

"Oh, Peeta," my dad says, pulling me into a hug.

"How are you holding up, little brother?" Barly looks at me.

"Oh, just wonderfully," I think to myself in a sarcastic tone as I sheepishly laugh. Then, aloud, I say, "I'm hanging in there."

Rye says, "Peeta, what are we going to do without you? We're not going to have anyone to pick on."

I laugh. I can't help it, the alternative is too terrifying.

"Well," my mom looks up. "District 12 might finally have a winner this year. "

I smile at her, she may be harsh, but maybe she really does care about me. "You think?" I ask.

"Sure," she says. "She's a survivor, that one."

My heart sinks. She's not talking about me. She's already written me off as dead. She thinks Katniss has a chance. I tell myself that this is a good thing; I've already promised to get Katniss home. It's better that my mom thinks I don't have a chance. It will make it easier for her when I die. But part of me breaks when she says this. I know I'm not my mother's favorite person, but how can she be so emotionless about my imminent demise? Doesn't she care about me at all?

A Peacekeeper walks in, telling my family it's time to leave. They all hug me, including my mother. There are several "I love yous" said, from both me, and my family, although I can't tell who's saying them. They are herded out of the room and the door is closed. I will never again see my family's faces.

I go back to pacing. No one else is going to visit me, but they don't take us to the train station until both tributes have gotten in their goodbyes, and Katniss probably has a crowd waiting to bid her farewell, and tell her that she can win.

Not expecting anyone else, I am stunned to silence when a Peacekeeper comes in, leading behind him, none other than Gale Hawthorne.

If I was shocked when my name was drawn at the reaping, that is nothing compared to how I feel now. I am stunned; there is no other word for it. Gale is the last person I expected to come and say goodbye to me, yet, here he is.

The surprise of Gale entering the room has literally shocked me into silence. I just stare at him, unable to express my surprise. "Gale?" is all I manage to say before the astonishment overwhelms me again, and I just end up staring at him with the bewilderment clearly displayed on my face.

Gale looks equally as uncomfortable as I feel. I don't know why he came to see me, and he just stares at his shoes the whole time. However, just before the Peacekeeper interrupts, he looks up at me. "Please take care of her in there," is all he's able to get out before the door opens and he is ordered to leave. He extends a hand, and I shake it.

"I will," I say, and Gale walks out. He must really care for Katniss.

The pacing resumes as I wait to be taken to the train station. I wonder how long I will have to stay in here. I just want to get this over with. This day is too depressing. I just want to board the damn train to the Capitol, so I can learn how to keep Katniss alive.

I kick the leg of the couch. Don't they know how excruciating this is? Having to wait here until you are allowed to board a train that will take you to your doom? I throw a pillow. Sure, you might have a few days of luxury in between, but at the end of the day, the train takes you to your death. I just want to be done with this godforsaken day! Let me save the girl I love already! At this, I hurl a lamp at the wall; it shatters into a thousand ceramic shards.

"Does someone need to take anger management classes?" a familiar voice asks behind me.

I know who it is before I turn around. "Delly," I smile back. I pull her in for a hug (she is about a head shorter than I am) and begin to cry.

"Oh, Peeta," she pulls back, tears streaming down her face, "I am so sorry. I wish I could say I understand, but I can't imagine having this happen to me."

I just nod; hugging her again, sobs escaping my throat as my tears fall into her yellow blond hair. Delly and I grew up together. We used to play in the town, or make dough dolls with scraps from the bakery. There has never been anything romantic between us, but she's my best friend. It's familiar, comfortable.

We stand there, hugging like that, for what feels like an eternity, until the Peacekeeper comes in and tells us that it's time for Delly to leave. She releases me, and begins to walk towards the door. Just before she is about to leave, however, she turns back. "You're a great man, Peeta Mellark. Don't ever change" She smiles as she says this.

"I won't," I assure her. In that arena, I will make sure I stay myself. I'll have to if I want to get Katniss out.

Mere moments after Delly leaves, I am taken from the room and led to a car. Katniss is brought down a few seconds later, looking rather unfazed by everything that has happened today. I wonder what is racing through her mind, as that disinterested look stays etched on her face. Surely she isn't bored? We are about to go into the Hunger Games, the reaction of any normal person would be a look of extreme fear, or sadness, or both. I'm sure that those are the emotions I am displaying right now. But, Katniss is not normal. She is incredibly strong, and if she looks uninterested, it must be part of her plan.

Effie enters the car, and soon the driver turns the engine on. It roars to life as we begin to make our way to the train station. The driver expertly weaves through the streets, dodging the media that has taken over the route to the station, hoping to get a glimpse of us. I start to tear up again as we drive through the district. I can't help it. This is the last time I will see my home, and I want to say goodbye to it.

Once we arrive at the train station, we are rushed onto the train. We stand in the doorway of one entrance, and allow the cameras to photograph us. I swear I'm going to have a seizure with all the flashes going off.

Finally, we are allowed to fully enter the train. No sooner have the doors closed, then the train begins to move at an extremely rapid pace. If I thought the car was fast, this is like a bullet being shot from a gun.

Effie informs us that we each get our own room, and that, essentially, for the next twelve or so hours, the only rule is that we have to show up to meals. Supper is in an hour, and we have the next fifty-nine minutes to do whatever we want. Haymitch mumbles something about a nap, and I have to say, that sounds wonderful right now. Having woken up so early, and with the events of the day finally taking their toll, I'm understandably exhausted. I set the alarm on the small clock next to my bed for forty-five minutes later, crawl into the lavish covers, and drift off.

After what feels like only a few minutes, I am awoken by the ringing of the alarm clock. I quickly shut it off, willing that annoyingly loud noise to stop. I guess that's the purpose of the alarm, though, to make sure you can't sleep through it. I quickly turn my head towards the clock to check the time. I have ten minutes before dinner. Since I slept in my reaping clothes, they are irreparably wrinkled. There is no way I can wear these to supper. I open the drawers in the dresser to see if there is anything in my size. I'm in luck; there is an array of shirts, pants, and undergarments for me to choose from. I settle on a basic white shirt, and comfortable, sturdy black pants.

Hoping that I'm not too early, I make my way to the dining area. No one is in sight, but the table is set, so I sit down. A minute later, Effie walks in, with Katniss following her. My heart skips a beat as my eye catches her beautiful grey ones.

Effie is sporting an incredibly fake smile on her face. "Where's Haymitch?" she inquires.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," I respond.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," Effie sits down. I just smile to myself. It would have been fun to see the two of them try and have a meal together. Between his drunken personality, and her obnoxious one, they would probably be quite comical to watch on a regular basis; not just the one day a year when everyone is to scared to register anything that is really going on.

Throughout supper, I keep stealing small glances at Katniss. She seems to be enjoying the meal, and I have to say, I am too. It's been forever since I've had anything that did not involve stale bread, or a squirrel Katniss shot. Not that I'm complaining, really. I know my family is better off than almost everyone in District 12, and certainly everyone living in the Seam. But, this food is just so delicious, that I can't help but savor every bite.

"At least, you two have decent manners," states Effie, pulling me out of my mental food heaven. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

I watch Katniss' eyes narrow at Effie's words. I understand why. The two kids from last year battled starvation every day of their lives. When presented with so much food, they probably stuffed their faces, thinking they would never see anything like it again. As the meal continues, Katniss, being Katniss, uses her hands instead of her silverware, and even goes so far as to use the tablecloth as a napkin. I watch Effie's reaction to this. She is clearly upset, but she tries her best not to show it, and to her credit, keeps her mouth shut. That's probably in her best interest. I don't think Katniss would take a manners lecture very well.

As the meal draws to a close, my dinner is threatening to make reappearance. Katniss looks rather queasy too. I wonder what's in this that is making us like that. Effie certainly seems to be feeling fine. But, maybe her stomach is used to it, while Katniss and I normally have the fresh meat and things from around the district.

After dinner, Katniss, Effie and I go to watch the recap of the reapings of the day, to see who our competition will be. All I can think as I watch is that all of them must die, if Katniss is going to be the winner. I am so focused on that, that I don't really register the faces of the people I will see in a matter of hours, much less their names. I don't want to know, since it's likely I will have to kill at least a few of them, to help Katniss make it back. I hide my face as the District 12 reaping comes on. I don't want to relive that nightmare.

I hear the anthem play, and release my face from the pillow in which I buried it. I turn towards Effie, a look of great annoyance on her face.

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" I think to myself. I laugh at her. "He was drunk," I say aloud. "He's drunk every year."

"Every day," Katniss backs me up.

I mean, come on. Effie's been around long enough to know that Haymitch is an extreme alcoholic, and that, no matter what, he will chose liquor over everything. He has a serious substance abuse problem, and he'll probably never get over it, not that he tries.

Effie gives the two of us a dirty look. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

This slaps me in the face. I hadn't thought about that. I forgot that it's not just his job to coach us through training, but to help us in the arena as well. I probably won't be getting anything, but I'm going to need his help to make sure Katniss comes home alive. And to do that, I will need him to get her sponsors. I am trying to think of a plan to go about this when Haymitch enters the room.

"I miss supper?" he asks in a drunken slur. The words have barely escaped when vomit, which smells strongly of alcohol, erupts from his mouth, spilling all over the floor. Before any of us can react, Haymitch collapses into the pool of bile.

"So laugh away!" Effie sneers, as she attempts to make her way around Haymitch and his mass of sputum, hurrying away from us as fast has her outrageously high heels can carry her.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

I stare at the door Effie just walked out of. Deep down, I know she's right. Haymitch needs to get his act together if he's going to help Katniss. I look down at my mentor, covered in his own vomit, and think for a moment about how pathetic he looks. Maybe if I can get him to sober up long enough, he can help Katniss. The question is, how am I going to do that? I don't want to try and force him to stop drinking, so, I guess, my best bet will be to convince him that Katniss and I are worth saving. I'm going to have to convince him that we have what it takes.

I grab one of Haymitch's arms, and it's a lot easier to get him to his feet than I would have thought. That's when I look across Haymitch to see that Katniss has grabbed his other arm, alleviating some of the weight.

Suddenly, Haymitch begins to stir. "I tripped? Smells bad."

He is covered in vomit, and I think he should get cleaned up, stat. "Let's get you back to your room," I offer. "Clean you up a bit."

Katniss and I drag him to his room. Once we arrive, we set him in the tub, and put the water on full blast, allowing it to wash the puke off of Haymitch, and into the drain. Haymitch must be really hammered, since he doesn't even seem to notice the icy water that initially assaults him.

Haymitch is clearly going to need a lot of help, and I don't want Katniss to deal with that. Plus, if I get the chance, I want to talk to him about saving her. Hopefully I can convince him to sober up enough to do that. I have to say, the odds aren't looking good at this point. But, I have to try.

I look at Katniss. "It's okay, I'll take it from here."

A look of relief washes over her face. I was right in deciding not to let her handle giving Haymitch a bath.

"All right," she smiles at me. "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."

"No. I don't want them." And I really don't. The way those pretentious people are there to serve us, fatten us up, try and make us comfortable, as we are prepared for slaughter. It's sick. I hate it, and I don't want to have to look at them, if I can avoid it. Besides, it will be a lot harder to discuss strategy with Haymitch when another person is looming over us.

Once Katniss leaves the room, I begin working Haymitch out of his clothes. He is disgusting! How can he live like this, filthy and covered in puke? It's revolting, vial. Once he is undressed, with the exception of his underwear, I take the showerhead off its holder and begin to spray him down with the warm water. As I run the water up and down, Haymitch just sits there, in a drunken daze. It's only when I bring the water to his face that he says something.

"Ah, boy! You trying to kill me?" he asks.

"No," I retort. "I'm merely trying to get the vomit off your face. Doesn't make for an attractive beard."

Haymitch, apparently, has no response, and continues to lie, unmoving, in the tub, as I bathe him.

It takes a good twenty minutes to rid his body of the vomit, it's everywhere, in his hair, on his arms, legs, you name it, there's puke on it. As soon as I'm satisfied that his body is rid of the bile, I grab a washcloth, and some soap, and begin to scrub. To his credit, Haymitch doesn't protest as I gently exfoliate his skin. I try to rid him of the pungent odor he brings with him to every room, so that the rest of us, hopefully, no longer have to be nauseated by the smells of sweat and alcohol. Sometime during the washing, Haymitch comes out of his trance, but he lets me continue bathing him.

As soon as I'm confident that Haymitch no longer reeks, I shut the water off, and throw a towel at him. He takes it, gratefully, and envelops himself in it.

"When was the last time you bathed?" I ask.

Instead of answering me, Haymitch bends over the toilet and vomits, again. I thought he had rid himself of the alcohol when he threw up in the television room, but apparently, he held on to enough that continues to affect him. As soon as he's done, I gently lead him to his bedroom. He falls down on the bed face first, and immediately begins snoring.

As much as I want to talk to him about helping me get Katniss home, I don't think I'm going to get a chance tonight. Haymitch is passed out, and I'm exhausted. This has been the longest day of my life, and despite the nap that I took earlier, I feel like I'm going to fall asleep at any moment. Instead of sitting and waiting in the hope that Haymitch wakes up, I decide to go back to my room and get some rest. I can talk to him in the morning. One thing is for sure, though. Haymitch is in no state to help Katniss, or me, when he is that drunk. I think I'm going to need to talk to him about his drinking habits.

Just before I leave Haymitch, I drape a blanket over him. He is still wrapped in the towel, but I don't want him to catch a chill. Once I'm done, I walk out of Haymitch's room and head towards mine. To my surprise, my bed has been made, and my reaping clothes folded and placed on top of it. This makes me uncomfortable. I don't like the idea of people invading my space and looking through me stuff, especially when I'm not there. Not that this room belongs to me, or anything. It belongs to the Capitol, just like everything else on this train, including me. Still, I don't want people handling my things. I guess I don't have a choice, though. It's not the end of the world; they are probably just doing their jobs, and think they are pampering me.

Despite the fact that I'm exhausted, and really just want to get to bed, I decide to take a shower. Bathing Haymitch left me with a feeling of being filthy myself. I turn on the water and let it heat up as I undress. When it reaches a satisfying temperature, I step in, letting the warm spray wash away my troubles for a moment. As I rid myself of the dirt that made its way onto my skin, I think about the events of the day. This morning, I woke up in my own bed, with my whole life ahead of me. Now, I am on a train to the Capitol where I will be a tribute in the Hunger Games. I have a week to prepare, and make sure Katniss prepares. One week to get Haymitch to reduce, if not eliminate, his drinking, and convince him that we can save Katniss. One week until I am thrown into an arena where I will most certainly die. But, I will have saved Katniss, meaning I will have saved her family. The lives of the three of them are worth more than my one life. I will do good before I go.

Soon, I am done in the shower, and enter my bedroom to go to sleep. The day has really taken its toll on me, and I'm fighting to keep my eyes open as I crawl under the covers. In mere seconds, I'm fall into unconsciousness.

Too soon. Effie raps on my door too soon. I feel like I just went to sleep, although the clock next to my bed tells me it has been several hours. As slowly as I possibly can, I make myself get out of bed. Since I didn't get a chance to talk to Haymitch last night, I think I might be able to talk to him this morning. At least, I hope I will. I put on different clothes from the dresser (a blue shirt and black pants) and head to breakfast, hoping that it will be there when I arrive.

As I walk down the hall, I try and think of what fresh torture will be in store for me today. Tonight is the opening ceremonies. Once I arrive in the Capitol, I will be at the mercy of my stylist, wearing anything, and everything, that he or she so chooses. Then, Katniss, I, and the other tributes will be paraded around like show dogs. As much as this annoys me, I know that I will have to look strong tonight, if I want to attract sponsors, for myself, and for Katniss.

I enter the dining room, and see Effie running around like a lunatic, drinking coffee as if it's the key to longevity. I turn to the dining table and find that I am not disappointed, as it's lousy with food. I sit down, and am instantly given more food than I have ever seen. Practically every breakfast food imaginable sits in front of me; along with a few that I have never even seen. Everything looks delicious, and it's all I can do to keep myself from stuffing my face. But, after how sick I felt after dinner last night, I decide to keep it simple, and avoid most of it, at least until my stomach gets used to this Capitol food. I grab a couple of sweet rolls from the basket on the table, and begin to eat one. It's better than any rolls I've ever had from the bakery, although, if we are eating bakery bread, it's going to be stale. My mom made sure that, if it could be sold, it was in the bakery for customers, and the only things we ate from there were so stale, that even the pigs couldn't eat them.

As soon as I finish my first roll, I notice a cup of a thick, brown liquid. I pick up the mug, and take a whiff of the steam coming off the cup. It smells sweet and delicious, and my mouth begins to water at the aroma. I take a sip, and it is, by far, the best thing I have ever tasted. It is creamy, and sweet, and there's this other flavor that I can't identify, but is delightful.

As I'm trying to figure out the scrumptious flavor, Haymitch enters the room, and sits down. I figure, now is a good time to broach the Katniss subject, but I decide to start a casual conversation.

"What's this?" I ask, pointing at my cup.

"It's called hot chocolate," Haymitch grunts, clearly nursing a hangover. Chocolate. That must be the flavor I couldn't identify before. We would have never had anything like that in District 12.

I decide to eat some eggs. As Haymitch sits down he grabs a glass of this weird red juice, which appears to be from cranberries. He adds some liquid (judging by the smell, it has to be alcohol) from a flask to it, and takes a small sip. As I'm eating my eggs, I decide now is the time to bring up his drinking habits.

"Haymitch," I start. "Maybe you should cut down on the drinking…"

Haymitch just laughs. My face goes red; he does not take me seriously. I thought that I might be able to be rational with him, to get him to understand that if he doesn't sober up, there is no way that Katniss can make it home. How stupid I am. You can't reason with an alcoholic about his drinking. I still feel the heat on my face as I try and come up with another way to get Haymitch to at least reduce the amount of booze he is putting into his body on a daily basis.

As I'm trying to think of a plan, I hear the door open, and look up to see Katniss entering. Haymitch is still snickering from my drinking comment, and this only makes me more humiliated. Here I am, trying to protect the girl I love, and he thinks it's a big joke. I know I should be angry, but all I feel is embarrassment that Katniss and I matter less to Haymitch than a bottle of liquor, and I was too blind to see it.

"Sit down! Sit down!" I hear Haymitch tell Katniss. I see her take her seat, and her eyes widen at the amount of food placed in front of her. As she begins to take in the sight feast that lies before her, her eyes move to the hot chocolate. She wears the same look of confusion that I'm sure I had when I first tasted it.

"They call it hot chocolate," I smile at her. "It's good."

She nods as she lifts the cup to her lips. A look of pure joy emerges on her face, as she tastes the delicious, creamy liquid. She sits there, sipping her hot chocolate until it's gone, before tucking into the rest of her breakfast.

How can someone reach that level of beauty? The way she is so thin, yet strong. Those grey eyes are just soft enough that you want to spend hours looking into them, finding out about the person that lies underneath. And when she smiles, the way they light up with happiness. I wish she would smile more; it brings out her beauty in a way that is indescribable. If only she knew how I felt.

As the meal continues, I decide it's probably best if I add a few more calories to my body. So, I take my second roll and break off pieces, dipping them into my hot chocolate before eating them. They complement each other; the warm liquid seeping its way into the light and fluffy bread. It adds to the sweetness, without being overly sugary.

I continue to watch Katniss, hopefully, without being too obvious about it. I see her observing Haymitch. A look of anger spreads across her face, as I see him thinning his cranberry juice with liquor again. I completely understand why she is mad. With Haymitch's filth and awful drinking habits, sponsors aren't exactly lined up to shell out their money for the District 12 tributes. No one wants to deal with him, and I can't say I blame them. I know I wanted to carefully approach the subject of cutting down on the alcohol, but I tried that. And he laughed at me. No, it's time for a different tactic. I'm not going to be nice anymore.

Right as I'm about to yell at Haymitch, Katniss speaks up.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice?" she asks.

In a rather bored tone, Haymitch replies, "here's some advice. Stay alive," before he falls into a fit of laughter. I chance a glance at Katniss, the anger at Haymitch overwhelming me. I know I have to get to him, and soon, before he condemns us both to death.

"That's very funny," I start. Then, before I can think about the consequences of my actions, I smack Haymitch's hand, causing him to release his juice, if you can even call it that anymore, and watch the glass explode on the wooden floor. "Only not to us," I finish, and I mean it. I mean business.

Haymitch just stares at me, then, suddenly, as if he only now realized what had happened, pulls his arm back, and punches me in the face, hitting me squarely in the jaw. I slowly lift my head, and as the stars leave my vision, I see Haymitch reaching for the liquor. With a look of determination on her face, Katniss slams her knife into the table, between his fingers and the alcohol, missing Haymitch by millimeters. For a moment, I'm afraid he's going to beat her too, but I see a different look in his eyes. He no longer looks angry, he looks impressed.

"Well, what's this?" he inquires. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Confident he's not going to hit me again, I climb back into my chair and grab some ice for my face, as it really hurts.

"No," Haymitch stops me. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."

This confuses me, "that's against the rules." This is something we've heard each year during the Hunger Games. Tributes aren't allowed to fight with one another, at least not physically, before entering the arena. I think it's to prevent premature casualties. The training isn't broadcast, and one of the great joys of the Hunger Games, for the Capitol audience, anyway, is watching the tributes battle it out in the arena.

"Only if they catch you," replies Haymitch. "That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better."

Interesting. I wonder if any tribute has ever tried to look banged up before the games, to make it appear that they were good at getting out of fights. It would be an interesting strategy. But, to me, it doesn't matter much. My focus is on Katniss. I need to get Haymitch to help her.

Haymitch refocuses his attention on Katniss. "Good," I think. "If he knows what she is capable of, there is no way he won't want to help her."

"Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?" he asks her.

I watch her take the knife out of the table, and hurl it at the wall. It lands in the dead center of a ridge between two panels. It is all I can do not to applaud. I knew she could hunt, but that's with a bow and arrow. I had no idea that she was skilled with knives as well. Haymitch can't give up on her, not after what he has seen, and certainly not after what he will learn about her in the days to come.

Haymitch seems to understand that we haven't given up, and maybe, that's all he needs to see to get him to help us. This is our only chance. If what has happened at breakfast doesn't get him on our side, nothing else will.

"Stand over here. Both of you," he says, gesturing to the middle of the room. I immediately rise, but I worry about Katniss. She is not good at taking orders, especially from people who irritate her. However, I am relieved to see that she obeyed him too. We stand shoulder to shoulder as Haymitch walks around us, sizing us up, and I guess, determining if we are really worth fighting for. Finally, he stops.

"Well, you're not entirely hopeless," he says.

"Gee, thanks," I think to myself, as I nod, letting him continue.

"Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

I let out a sigh of relief. While the Hunger Games may not be a beauty pageant, there is absolutely no question that the tributes deemed "more attractive," by Capitol standards, end up with the most sponsors, and ultimately, more gifts.

Haymitch looks us both straight in the eyes as he says, "All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say."

I return his gaze as he finishes his speech. His eyes don't look annoyed, they look excited. Like he feels there is a chance that one of us can come home. And while the idea of him still drinking is not ideal, it is probably the best we are going to get, so Katniss and I agree without hesitation.

"Fine," I can barely keep a smile off my face.

Katniss seems to want to get deeper into our guidance. "So help us. When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cournucopia for someone-"

Haymitch looks at her, the annoyance starting to creep back onto his face. He clearly has a different idea in mind. "One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist."

"But-" Katniss clearly wants to know more about survival in the arena.

"No buts. Don't resist." At this, Haymitch grabs a bottle of liquor, gets up, and departs, leaving the two of us alone.

As much as I want to talk to Katniss, I don't get the impression that she wants to talk to me. I guess I can live with this. After all, she doesn't know that I'm planning on saving her life.

The train goes dark as we enter a tunnel, signaling that we are extremely close to the Capitol. I just stand there, not knowing what to do. I want to tell Katniss of my plan, but I don't think she'll take it very well. Besides, it's better that she doesn't know. If she's going to love me, I want it to be for me, not because she thinks she owes me anything.

The train emerges from the tunnel, and, before I can stop myself, I run to the window to finally see the Capitol. I'm am pleased to see that I am not the only one who has given in to the childish urge, and that Katniss is standing at the window next to me. It's extraordinary, really, the way all the colors interact with each other.

As the train rolls into the station, we can see the people of the Capitol waiting for us, hoping to get a glimpse of this year's tributes. If the colors of the buildings were something, they don't even compare to the colors of the people. People have died their skin and hair every color imaginable, as well as added jewels, cat's whiskers, and other ornate accessories that appear freakish. Katniss wears a look of disgust on her face, as she leaves the window. I understand why she would want to do that, but, to me, it's not the smartest idea. This is really the first chance for sponsors to see us, and if she wants any, scowling at them is probably not her best option. So, instead of copying her, I decide to smile and wave, hoping to attract someone to me. Maybe they'll remember me when I'm in the arena, and want to help. It's worth a shot.

I feel Katniss' eyes on my back, so I decide to clue her in, "Who knows? One of them may be rich."

She gives me a look of surprise. I don't know what she's thinking; she's so hard to read. But she clearly thinks I'm crazy, or determined, or something.

As the train comes to a stop, I continue to smile and wave. I really hope that my kindness gets District 12 some sponsors, and that Haymitch uses all of the money on Katniss.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

As soon as the train stops, Effie practically shoves us, forcing us to disembark. Once on the platform, we are quickly rushed away from the chanting crowds to a car. Katniss, Haymitch, Effie, and I all pile into it, and, seconds later, drive away from the train station and to the Remake Center.

As we drive through the streets of the Capitol, I am shocked to discover that it is not as exquisite as I first thought. The more I look at it, the more I realize just how fake it is. The glow that the different colors gave from a distance, now look splattered haphazardly all across the city. They contradict each other in a way that is almost criminal. Despite the fact that it is run down, in a lot of ways, Twelve is more aesthetically pleasing.

As we pull up to the Remake Center, I brace myself. There is no doubt that this will be unpleasant. But, because of my deal with Haymitch, I will suck it up and let them do their job. I look over to see my mentor staring out the window. I honestly believe that he wants to try and help us. Despite the fact that he is vial, I think he is really going to do his best to bring one of us home. And it has to be Katniss. I still need to talk to Haymitch about saving her. It's going to be hard since we hardly get any time alone with him. Yet, if I can get just enough time, I think that I can convince him that she is the stronger competitor, and needs to be the one to live.

When we enter the remake center, Katniss and I are immediately thrown into separate rooms. I sit on the table, by myself, and wait for my prep team, and stylist. As I wait, I try and think about how I will convince Haymitch that Katniss is the stronger competitor. She's resilient, good with weapons, knows how to feed herself. These will be my main points when I talk to Haymitch. Whether or not he believes that she is stronger than me, I hope Haymitch picks Katniss to save. I am going to be trying my hardest to get her home, and, if I'm willing to sacrifice my life for her, the least Haymitch can do is help me.

Just then, my stylist enters the room, followed by three abnormally colored people, who, I assume, are my prep team.

"Good morning, Peeta," the woman in front says. "I am Portia, your stylist."

Portia is naturally tall (I see that she is wearing flats, instead of those ridiculous heels Effie runs around in), with dark skin, and hair dyed such a light orange, that it's practically white. Her make-up isn't as outrageous as some of what I've seen today, but it is still applied with a heavy hand, and doesn't really do much to help her looks. Still, the way she greets me so warmly, I can't help but be nice to her.

"It's nice to meet you," I smile.

Portia gives a nervous laugh. "I wish we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances, but, I'm glad that I get the opportunity to meet you."

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow."

At this, Portia laughs, this one, much stronger than her last. "Please, Peeta, don't insult me. Just because I'm from the Capitol doesn't mean I don't have an idea of what you're thinking. You're terrified that you're going to die, and figure the odds are more than likely. Right about now, you probably hate the world."

"She's wrong," I think to myself. "Since I'm going to sacrifice myself for the woman I love, I know I'm going to die. There are no odds to calculate. And I don't hate the world, just the people who brought about the Games." Instead of telling her any of this, I just nod my head.

Portia begins to walk around me, not saying another word. After a few circles, she stands in front of me, looking me directly in the eye. "All right, I think you'll do just fine. The suit needs to be let out just a little bit. I tried to do my best based of what I saw at the reaping, and the fact that I heard Twelve kids are usually on the smaller side."

I get a little annoyed at this. The reason they are usually so small is because they are starving to death. But I just smile. It's not her fault she's aggravating me. And, all in all, she's not that bad. In fact, she's pretty nice. She does seem to understand that the tributes, at least most of us, aren't excited to be here. Being a tribute isn't an honor where I am from. She just doesn't understand what Twelve is like, and how can she. I can't really hate her because she was raised here in the Capitol, can I?

"Now, before I go, I want to introduce you to your new prep team," Portia tells me.

I turn my attention to the three people. There are two men, and one woman, all of who look thrilled to be working with me. The woman is tall and lean, with sunset colored skin, and bright, neon green hair. On her right stands a man with both average height and build, sporting both sapphire skin and hair, so that he looks like one big blue mass. Finally, to the left of the orange lady is the third and final person of my prep team. He is shorter than I am, but not so little that I would call him short, with purple skin, and what appears to be naturally brown hair.

"This is Ambrosia," Portia points at the woman. "This is Julius," she informs me, pointing at the blue man. "And, finally, we have Antony," she concludes, with a finger aimed at the purple man. "I'll leave you guys alone. You know what to do?" She asks the prep team. They nod. "Excellent." Portia leaves, closing the door behind her.

My prep team approaches me nervously. I think they can tell that I'm uncomfortable, and are doing their best not to add to that. Finally, after a moment, Ambrosia speaks up.

"Peeta," she starts. "I'm really sorry, but we're going to need you to undress. So we can take a better look at you."

Of course. I should have expected this sooner. "Yeah. No problem," I say as I begin to unbutton my shirt.

"We can wait outside until you're finished, " Ambrosia offers. "If that will make things easier on you."

I contemplate this for a moment. I would be less uncomfortable for a second, but then they would come back in and I would be just as uncomfortable as if they had never left. "No," I tell her. "It's okay, you can stay."

They all nod, and make an effort to avert their eyes as I finish taking my clothes off.

The preps begin to circle me, just as Portia had done, as if deciding where to start.

Julius looks into my eyes. "Lovely," he states. "They are so blue, and beautiful. That will be an advantage."

They have me lie down on the table, and begin scrubbing me down with some sort of soap that smells strange, like something masculine, yet, pleasant at the same time (I didn't realize before now that the table doubled as a tub).

Ambrosia gets to work on shaving my face. She tries to smile at me while doing so, keeping up a light conversation. "You have it much easier than the girls, you know."

That surprises me. "I do?"

"Oh, yes. They have to have their entire bodies waxed, to remove the hair."

"Why do they have to do that?"

"Female body hair is not considered attractive, and we want you all to be as attractive as possible. You only need your face shaven."

I just sit after this, letting them finish my prep, not really paying much attention. The one thing I do notice, however, is, after she is done shaving it, Ambrosia rubs some sort of salve on my face. She lets it sit there for five or so minutes. There is a light burning sensation, but it is not unbearable.

When she finally rinses it away, I decide to ask her what it does.

"It's so you don't grow a beard while in the arena," she informs me. "It will actually last about a year, if not more. You won't need to shave for a long time."

"That would be convenient," I think to myself. "If I were planning on making it out of this arena alive."

Eventually, I am deemed prepped enough for Portia to see me. The preps leave, and I am only alone for a moment before Portia enters the room.

"Well, Peeta," she says. "Let's have a look at you."

I stand up, and she circles me again.

"Alright, Peeta. You look good. Why don't you put your robe on and have a seat so we can chat."

I nod, and obey. Portia orders lunch, but I am too nervous to register most of what we are eating, other than rolls and roast beef.

Finally, I can't stand the silence any longer. "What do you want to chat about?"

"So eager," she laughs. However, when she sees the look on my face, she gets right to it. "Katniss' stylist, Cinna, and I, well, we're partners. We've always worked well together, and when they asked us to be stylists in this year's games, we agreed, so long as we got the same district. Cinna really wanted District 12, and I agreed, so, here we are."

I nod, "here we are."

Portia smiles, "Peeta, are you familiar with the normal costumes the District Twelve tributes usually sport?"

"Of course," I answer. "We're always coal miners." Who hasn't seen the tributes, practically nude with miners' hats? It's kind of a joke, really.

"Well, Cinna and I decided to think outside the mine this year."

This catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you are not going to be dressed in a miner's outfit. I'm telling you this because I care about you; you seem like a good guy who got thrown into this. District Twelve is so often overlooked, and Cinna and I are trying to change that. We want the District Twelve tributes to be memorable. We want you to light up the ceremony."

Now I'm really confused. "I'm not sure I follow."

"I'm going to be one-hundred percent honest with you, okay?"

Great, now I'm nervous again. "Okay."

"Cinna and I have developed a synthetic fire, that couples with this fabric that we also developed. You will be dressed in a suit made of this fabric, and there will be a cape. A cape that we will light with the synthetic fire. I promise it won't hurt, and you won't be in any danger. I assure you I wouldn't have you wearing it if you were. But, the effect it will have will be dazzling. If all goes right, you will be the stars of the opening ceremonies."

"And if it doesn't go right?"

"Then you'll be standing on the chariot dressed in a simple all black outfit, no worse off than the tributes who got out there in slutty miners' costumes."

I nod. Assuming she's right, and there really is no danger, it does seem better than the miners' outfit.

"Let's do it," is all I say.

A long time later (hours, really. I had to be sewn into the black unitard), I walk out into the District 12 communal area of the Remake Center with Portia and my preps. I enter the room and see Katniss and some man, who I assume must be Cinna. The two stylist and two teams talk, while Katniss and I just kind of stand there awkwardly, looking nervous. Despite the fact that the stylists insist we'll be perfectly safe, I'm still a little unsure about the whole, "being lit on fire" thing.

We board an elevator to go to the bottom of the Remake Center, where our chariot awaits to take us through the city to the Training Center. As I head towards the back with everyone, waiting for the ceremony to start. We reach our chariot, pulled by four horses black as midnight. Cinna and Portia help us up, making sure we look just how they want us to.

All of the sudden, I see Katniss lock eyes with me. "What do you think?" She asks in a whisper that is only audible to me. "About the fire?"

I clench my jaw at the reminder that, in a matter of moments, we will be ablaze. "I'll rip off your cape if you rip off mine."

Katniss laughs. "Deal. I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle."

That's when I notice that our mentor is nowhere to be found. "Where is Haymitch?" I ask, even though I'm pretty sure of the answer. "Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?"

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame."

We both fall into a fit of laughter. It's not fair. The more I talk to Katniss, the more I like her. I really wish I could just spend the rest of my life with her, talking to her. And maybe I can, but she is so guarded that would take years to bust down the walls she uses to protect herself, and I have days. "At least I will save her," I think. "I will do my best to save her."

All of the sudden music floods through the Remake Center, letting us know that the Opening Ceremonies have started. Slowly, we make our way towards the door, as the chariots begin to emerge into the city. Being District 12, we go last, and I really wish we didn't. I have time to get nervous all over again about this fake flame. District 11 is just leaving the building when I feel Cinna light me.

All I hear behind me is a sigh of relief and the words "it works."

"Wait?" I think. "I thought there wasn't a question about this working."

Cinna says something to Katniss that I can't hear, and hops down from the chariot. Just before we begin rolling, he mouths "hold hands," while clasping his two hands together just below his chin.

Katniss seems to have seen Cinna, but missed what he wants. "What's he saying?" she asks.

"I think he's said for us to hold hands." I grab hers, and turn towards Cinna, who nods and gives us a thumbs-up signal. Then, before I have a chance to do or say anything else, our chariot begins to roll and we are whisked into the center of the Capitol.

I smile and wave from the beginning, knowing that showing that kind of excitement wins sponsors. Katniss is tense, but as we continue to ride, she relaxes, even smiling and waving herself. The crowd loves her, calling her name, throwing their flowers. It's wonderful really.

"Maybe this will be easier than I thought," I think. No, I shouldn't think that. It will be just as difficult. I can't convince myself that I can slack off, not now, not ever. I have to make sure Katniss wins the Hunger Games, and that will take my complete focus.

Suddenly, I feel Katniss loosen her grip on me, and I get scared. "No, don't let go of me. Please. I might fall out of this thing."

"Okay," she smiles at me.

Finally, we make it to the City Circle, in front of the President's Mansion. President Snow, tall, with white hair and a beard to match, welcomes us all to the 74th annual Hunger Games. I sit there, trying to be respectful, but I hate this. I see the little girl from District 11, and she has got to be twelve. That's the same age that Prim is. It's sick; no child should have to go through this. And I feel bad, because she must die if Katniss is to make it home, alive.

Not soon enough, we are taken into the Training Center, where we will spend the rest of our time here in the Capitol. Our prep teams tell us how wonderful we are, but I'm not paying attention. I see the other tributes, particularly Districts 1 and 2, the Career tributes, shooting us hateful looks. I understand why. They have trained their whole lives for this, only to be shown up in the first event by a couple of people from District 12 of all places. Oh no, I hope this doesn't put a target on Katniss' back. As I'm watching the Careers glare at us, I feel my cape be tugged from my body, and someone extinguishes the fire; but I am too preoccupied to pay much attention to what is happening around me.

The only thing that pulls me out of my trance is Katniss letting go of me. I feel the blood rush back into my hand, and rub it with my other one, willing the blood to move faster.

"Thanks for keeping hold of me," I tell her. "I was getting a little shaky there."

Katniss smiles, "it didn't show. I'm sure no one noticed."

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you," I reassure her with a smile. "You should wear flames more often. They suit you." I put as much love as I dare into that compliment. I don't want her to think that I hate her; that I'm out for blood or anything.

Instead of saying anything back, Katniss just kisses my cheek, on the spot where Haymitch hit me. The bruise is already formed, and the kiss stings a little bit, but it doesn't bother me. "She kissed me," I think. Katniss and I, well, we might just become friends after all.

Chapter Text

A/N: A giant thank you to everyone who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed. I'm glad you guys like the story, it really means a lot to me. A huge thank you as well to Artemis Rose, who is doing an amazing job as my editor. Please review, I would love to hear from more of you guys. And finally, the usual disclaimer. I don't own the Hunger Games, or any of the dialogue spoken when Katniss is present. Originally posted on fanfiction.net

Chapter 6

After the Opening Ceremonies, our teams, Effie, Katniss, and I ride the elegant crystal elevator to the twelfth floor of the Training Center, where we will spend our time whenever we are not in training. All meals (except lunch on training days), coaching sessions with Haymitch and Effie, and the bulk of our future prep will be done in this penthouse.

As soon as we exit the elevator, I look around the living room for Haymitch. He has been mysteriously absent since before Katniss and I got prepped. This greatly irritates me. How am I supposed to talk to him if I can't even find him?

"You two were the hit of the Opening Ceremonies," Effie declares, pulling me out of my thoughts of aggravation towards Haymitch. "So engaging. All the smiling and waving, you two were just darling! Everyone absolutely loved you!"

I smile at her. "I hope everyone loved us," I smile at her. Then, to myself, I think, "at least, I hope everyone loved Katniss."

"Now," Effie continues. "You needn't worry, I know everyone here, and I have been bragging about you all day. Hopefully, between the way you two conducted yourselves tonight, and my endorsement, I can win you a couple of sponsors. The only problem is, people want to know your strengths."

This pulls me up short. I don't really have any strengths. It's not like I can bake or frost someone to death, and those are pretty much my only two skills. Katniss on the other hand, she has an abundance of skills. I know from my years of watching her (continuing to make sure she was all right) that she is good with a bow and arrow, and a skilled trapper. I learned yesterday that she is talented with a knife as well. Those coupled with the fact that she can feed herself; there is no reason that a sponsor shouldn't be willing to take her on. And she should get a good training score to boot.

"I've been very mysterious, though," Effie continues the conversation about our tactics. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district."

I have my eye on Katniss as Effie says this, and see her nostrils flare in anger. I know she is trying to keep a calm composure, as she should, but Effie is pressing her buttons. I watch Katniss take deep breaths to cool off. "It's not Effie's fault," I think. "She was raised here. She doesn't know any better." It's not the first time I wish Katniss could read my thoughts. Still, despite the fact that I'm alone in my own head, I see Katniss resist her urge to explode, and Effie continues.

"Everyone has their reservations, naturally," Effie informs us. "You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns into pearls!'" The smile on Effie's face tells us even she is amazed at her own stroke of genius. But she's dead wrong.

There is an old rumor that coal turns into diamonds, but the stuff we mine in Twelve certainly doesn't. Supposedly, in District One, there is a mechanism that can turn graphite into diamonds, but we don't mine that. Still, the grin Effie is sporting makes me feel so badly for her, that I force myself to beam at her ignorant mistake.

"Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you," Effie goes on, after being satisfied with our responses. "Only Haymitch can do that. But don't worry. I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary."

I feel elated. At least that relieves some of the pressure, knowing Effie will be nagging Haymitch to help us. She will make sure he does his job, I know it. Now, I only need to have that conversation with him about Katniss.

I go to my room and take a shower, washing the makeup, and the day, off of me. While yesterday was the longest day of my life, today is giving it a run for its money. Between being remade, being sewn into that unitard, and the tribute parade, I'm drained. I finish bathing quickly, and as soon as I'm dry, I climb into the enormous bed, allowing the soft blankets to envelop me, and drift off to sleep.

It feels as though my eyes had just closed when I hear Effie knocking on my door, telling me dinner is in twenty minutes.

"Shoot!" I think. I only put on underwear before taking my nap.

I quickly run over to the closet, and find that I have to select an outfit from this little touch screen. They have an assortment of shirts, and pants to choose from. I try to scan through quickly, but not so quickly that I end up in a ridiculously mismatched outfit. I settle on tan pants and a dark blue button down shirt. Simple, yet nice.

I walk to the dining area so fast I'm practically jogging, only to discover that I didn't need to move so quickly, as Katniss isn't even here yet. I see Portia and Cinna heading up some stairs, and I walk out to join them. I don't realize until I arrive, that the stairs lead to the roof.

"So, Peeta, how are you feeling?" Cinna asks, having to raise his voice a bit, to be heard over the wind.

"I'm okay," I respond, just as loudly. "Those costumes were amazing."

He smiles, "thank you. We worked very hard on them."

"Why do they let us up here?" I ask, suddenly. "Won't some tributes try and jump?"

Portia lets out a small chuckle. "You can't." At this she takes her watch off, and throws it towards the ground. There is a buzzing noise, as it stops suddenly, before shooting back into her hand. "Force field," she says simply.

Just then, Effie lets us know that dinner is served, and that Haymitch will be joining us to talk strategy. We all sit, and are offered wine by a man in white. I refuse, but I'm surprised when Katniss doesn't. That seems out of character for her, but, she has always been full of surprises.

As soon as we all have drinks, whether wine or water, people dressed in uniform white outfits begin to serve us our soup. Haymitch walks in and sits down moments after soup has been served at his place at the table. He sits down and eats it, taking a glass of wine to accompany it. I want to say something to him, but I know it's too risky. He already agreed to help us, and I'm not going to jeopardize it by nagging him about his drinking, so long as he keeps up his end of the bargain.

As we eat our soup, Effie begins the conversation, "Cinna, Portia, those outfits. They were spectacular!"

Portia smiles, "thank you Effie."

"They really were something," Haymitch says. "It's been a long time since District Twelve made any sort of impression at that Opening Ceremonies."

The conversation continues, mostly consisting of how wonderful our costumes were, and comparing them to those of the past District Twelve tributes, as well as this year's crop. Everyone agrees that we were by far, the most intriguing and dazzling.

Soon, another girl in a white outfit comes and sets this huge cake on the table. I barely have time to admire the frosting work, before it goes up in an inferno.

Katniss looks a little sick, as the cake slowly returns to its former glory. "What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?" she asks turning towards the serving girl. "That's the last thing I wa- oh! I know you!"

Fright. That is the expression that appears on the girl's face when Katniss speaks. Clearly, Katniss said something wrong, or at least, not right. I have no idea how I'm going to get her out of this one.

Effie finally breaks the silence. "Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox? The very thought."

Katniss looks confused. "What's an Avox?"

To my surprise, it's Haymitch, and not any of the Capitol residents, who answers. "Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak. She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order," Effie tells Katniss, a very stern look on her heavily made-up face. "Of course, you don't really know her."

Katniss nods, but a very sad look has swept over her beautiful face. "No, I guess not, I just-" She's trying to come up with a good lie, I can see it. Just then, I get an idea.

"Delly Cartwright!" I practically shout. "That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly. " I know Katniss knows I'm lying for her. The Avox girl with the red hair bares absolutely no resemblance to my best friend. But, it was the first name that popped into my head. I just hope Haymitch doesn't know Delly well enough to question anything.

"Of course," Katniss says, playing along. "That's who I was thinking of. Must be the hair."

"Something about the eyes too," I respond, looking around the table. Everyone seems to be much calmer than they were moments ago.

"Oh well. If that's all it is," Cinna lets out a sigh of relief. "And yes," he turns to Katniss. "The cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut," he tells her, answering her original question.

As soon as we finish dessert, we head towards the television room to watch the recap of the Opening Ceremonies. I notice the Careers look particularly nice, trying to show off their strength and beauty. They probably already have sponsors lined up for blocks. But, Katniss and I look amazing, in our costumes of flame. Hopefully, Effie stays true to her promise to force Haymitch to make sponsor deals.

Haymitch turns to us, as we continue to burn on the screen, "Whose idea was the hand holding?" he asks.

"Cinna's," Portia replies, simply.

Haymitch smiles, "Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice."

I chuckle a little bit. Of course. More often than not, the tributes act like they want nothing to do with each other, where as we went into the ceremonies presented as a team. Maybe I can use that to our advantage. I'm getting an idea; I just hope Haymitch thinks it's a good one.

Just as I begin to formulate my plan in my head, Haymitch pulls me out of my thoughts. "Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it. Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk"

Katniss and I stand up and go. I'm a little annoyed about being treated like children. But, I want to find out more about the girl Katniss recognized, and the best time to do that is when we are not surrounded by adults. As we approach her room, I casually lean against the frame, and look her straight in the eyes.

"So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here."

Katniss looks a little nervous, like she's worried about being overheard. Then, I remember how isolated it was on the roof earlier. "Have you been on the roof yet?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud though."

She ponders the idea for a moment. "Can we just go up?"

"Sure, come on." I lead her towards the stairs I went up earlier.

It's really a beautiful night. It's clear, but you can't see the stars. Too much street light, I guess. But the temperature is practically perfect. And, I get to spend time with Katniss, who looks gorgeous basked in the moonlight.

I lead her to the edge, so we can be as close to the city, and far away from the rest of the Training Center as possible. Plus, there is more artificial light out here, and I can see just how amazing Katniss looks without only the only source of light being the moon.

I want her to start talking about the girl, but as silence carries on, I think that it would be best to start with a casual conversation. "I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?"

"What'd he say?"

"You can't," I tell her. I don't have anything to throw, so I put my hand out. I feel a heat, as the force field pushes my hand back. "Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof."

"Always worried about our safety," Katniss shakes her head. "Do you think they're watching us now?"

I ponder this for a split second. "Maybe," I tell her. "Come and see the garden."

I lead her into the garden. It is beautiful, with flowers of every color, and little wind chimes that sing in the breeze. But it's the trees I see Katniss paying attention to. I wonder if they remind her of her woods back home. I smile at the thought, my eyes watching her every move. When her eyes finally lock on mine, I change my expression, and wait for the story.

Katniss takes a deep breath, and then, in a hushed tone that is barely audible, begins. "We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game."

"You and your father?"

"No, my friend Gale." I stiffen at the mention of his name. Katniss doesn't seem to notice. "Suddenly all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it."

At this Katniss pauses, as if thinking about something. I want to know more, but I don't want to push her. Having to relive this story is clearly affecting her, and I don't think it is a good idea to try and force her to talk.

After a moment, Katniss goes on. "The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere. I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast like the elevator. They shot some sort of spear through the boy. It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We heard the girl scream once. The boy's name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened."

I nod, but I have one question. "Did they see you?"

Katniss looks at her feet, "I don't know. We were under a shelf of rock."

I nod at her, but she is still staring at her shoes. All of the sudden, I realize she's trembling. I want so badly to comfort her. And, really, there is no harm in trying.

"You're shivering," I tell her as I remove my jacket and put it on her. She twitches away, as if to protest, but I think the warmth of the jacket causes her to change her mind. I carefully secure her into it, watching the light come back into her eyes, at least a little bit.

"They were from here?" I ask about the boy and girl.

She nods, but does not say any more, so I do.

"Where do you think they were going?" There isn't really anything past District Twelve. Nothing worth going to, anyway.

"I don't know that," she responds. "Or why they would leave here," she says, gesturing towards the city that seems to glow with all the light it radiates.

"I'd leave here," I tell her. And it's true. I don't want to be slaughtered on television for entertainment. It's disgusting. "I'd go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime." I laugh, and, if I'm not mistaken, I see a small smile trying to force its way onto Katniss' face.

As I turn to look at the city once again, I realize, it's getting late, and we should probably be getting some rest. Not to mention the fact that we don't want anyone to come looking for us.

"It's getting chilly. We better go in," I nod my head in the direction of the Training Center, and we head in. Once there, I decide to ask her another question, "Your friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?" I know the answer, but I want to get to another subject.

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"Not really," and it's true. I don't know Gale, at least not personally. "I head the girls talk about him a lot." Also true. Most of the girls his age and younger have huge crushes on him. I think he knows it too, because he's often walking down the halls of school with an air of superiority. I also think he uses his looks, and the fact that most of the girls are attracted to him, because, more often than not, there is one girl who tells all her friends about how she kissed Gale Hawthorne the day before. Although, recently, I haven't heard anything like that. I wonder why?

Continuing the conversation about Gale, I tell my first lie to Katniss. "I thought he was your cousin or something. You favor each other."

"No, we're not related."

"Did he come and say good-bye to you?" I ask, beginning to get to the heart of what I want to know.

"Yes," she tells me. Just as I'm about to ask her another question, she says something that pulls me up short. "So did your father. He brought me cookies."

I look at her in confusion. I don't know if she wants to get off the Gale subject, or if she really wanted me to know. But, one thing is for sure; I love my dad now more than ever. He is such a good man, and I won't ever get to see him again.

"Really?" I say, trying not to get choked up. "Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys. He knew your mother when they were kids," I decide to tell her.

Katniss nods, "oh, yes. She grew up in town."

Too soon we arrive at her door. "See you in the morning then," she says, handing me back my jacket.

"See you," and I walk towards my own room.

I wanted to ask her if she and Gale were together yet, and now it looks like I won't get the chance. I'm forming a plan in my head, a plan to help save her. But, if she and Gale are a couple, I don't know if it will work.

"Oh, well," I think. "I guess I'll just have to take the risk." And with that, I crawl into bed and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

A/N: Alright, here is Chapter 7 of The Boy with the Bread. I giant thank you to everyone who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. I know I say that every chapter, but it really means a lot to me that you guys are reading this, and liking it. When I get those notifications, I get a huge smile across my face. Another huge thank you to my editor/best friend Artemis Rose, without whom, this story would not be possible. She is absolutely amazing. Finally, any and all reviews are welcomed, I love hearing from you all. As usual, I do not own the Hunger Games, and any dialogue that takes place when Katniss is present is quoted from the book. Happy reading. Originally posted on fanfiction.net

Chapter 7

I wake up the next morning before the sun. The anticipation of the next several days must have gotten to me. I doze in and out of sleep for the next couple of hours, dying to get more rest. While I can function on little to no sleep, I am much more alert and capable when I've had a good night's rest. And I will need to be as concentrated as possible if I want to keep Katniss alive.

After about two hours of attempting to sleep again, I finally give up and get out of bed. The sun is well up now, and I can hear the hustle and bustle of the city, stories below me. Trying to kill time before breakfast, I decide to take a shower. I take my time, allowing the warm water to wash away my troubles for a moment. I try and think about something happy, but all those memories are in District Twelve: Playing with Delly, baking with my father, even some of Barly and Rye's teasing, the teasing that showed brotherly affection.

The tears come before I am aware of them, mixing with the tap water on my face. I miss my family. I will never get to see them again. My dad is probably in the bakery right now, getting started for the morning. My brothers may or may not be helping. My mom is still in bed. I wonder who is frosting the cakes now? I miss that. That was my favorite part of my job. Each one was its own work of art. Rye and Barly never had the patience for it, or the careful eye that I did. I was the only one dad ever trusted with it. Is he teaching one of them, or frosting all by himself?

I can't bear to think about it anymore, so I wash my face, hopefully removing all traces of tears, and turn off the shower. As soon as I'm dried and dressed in the training outfit (black pants and a red-purple shirt), I decide to head down the hall to breakfast. Just as I'm leaving the room, I meet Haymitch in the hall.

"Haymitch…" I start.

He just looks at me, "no talking 'til I have some food. Plus, there are some things I need to go over with the both of you before we move forward."

We walk down the hall in silence. When we arrive in the dining room, I see Katniss is already there, and eating. She looks so beautiful, dressed in an outfit exactly like mine, but she wears it in a way that I can't. I head over to the buffet, and get what food looks appetizing. We eat in silence for a while, Haymitch stuffing himself. "Good," I think. "That way there will be something in is stomach other than alcohol." Not a moment too soon, he moves his plate out of his way, takes a long swig (of what I can only assume is booze) from his pocket flask, and finally begins talking.

"So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

We have five days until our interviews, which will take place on the evening of the fifth day. Haymitch will mentor us through everything, how he wants us to act, what he wants us to do, etc. The first three days will be spent training, learning survival skills, combat, and, on the last day, presenting a chosen skill for the Gamemakers. They will then score us based on our presentation of this skill. The fourth day is interview prep. The evening of the fifth day is the interview. I already know what I want to talk about; I just have to get it approved by Haymitch.

I'm torn. I want the chance to talk to Haymitch, but at the same time, I want to be around Katniss as much as possible. Maybe, if I'm with her, I can help her. And, I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to talk to Haymitch. I decide to choose Katniss.

"Why would you coach us separately?" I hear Katniss asking, adding to my decision to stay with her.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," Haymitch answers, and I resist the urge to laugh. I have no secret skills. The only things I can do are bake and frost cakes, and neither of those are going to be much help in the arena.

I look Katniss directly in the eyes, "I don't have any secret skills," I tell her. Then, before I can think about it, I add, "and I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels."

She raises her eyebrows. Apparently, this is news to her. She's traded with my father for years. What did she think he did with them?

Katniss turns towards Haymitch, "you can coach us together."

Haymitch nods, a serious look on his face. "All right, so give me some idea of what you can do."

I snort. "I can't do anything," I tell him, meaning every word. "Unless you count baking bread."

Haymitch looks saddened, "Sorry, I don't," he says, before turning his attention to the goddess at my side. "Katniss. I already know you're handy with a knife."

"Not really," she corrects him. "But I can't hunt. With a bow and arrow."

This gets Haymitch's attention, "and you're good?"

Katniss looks petrified. Finally, she practically whispers, "I'm all right."

I can't take this. She needs to understand that Haymitch needs to know how good she is. This can help her win sponsors. If she can get her hands on a bow, she'll be unstoppable. Why won't she just admit how skilled she is? Why is she determined to underrate herself? Before she can say anything else, I interject.

"She's excellent," I tell Haymitch, noticing Katniss' jaw drop as I speak. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer."

"What are you doing?" Katniss practically shouts at me.

I am determined to stand up for my actions. "What are you doing? If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself."

I don't know why she's upset. Maybe she thinks it's some ploy to get her to trust me, before I will stab her in the back. I look at her, hoping that my eyes convey just how much I care about her, and, if not, that I don't mean to offend her, only help.

She doesn't notice. Instead, she narrows her eyes at me. "What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flower. Tell him that. That's not nothing." There is acid in her voice. But I don't notice it much. How did she know this? I didn't think she knew I existed, or at least, didn't pay attention to me enough to know anything about me.

But, I can't help thinking that she is overestimating how much hurling things will help. "Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people," I roll my eyes at her. "It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't."

"He can wrestle," Katniss says, turning to Haymitch. "He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother." There is a determined fire in her voice, as she continues to defend me. I can't help but feel ecstatic as she talks about me. I obviously made some sort of impression on her. I wonder how this will affect my plan. Still, I need her to know that I don't expect to come home, so she doesn't feel guilty when she does.

"What use is that?" I ask her. "How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?"

Katniss is clearly getting angry, "There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" She really doesn't think she stands a chance. But she does. She has to go home. I have to give her confidence in herself. If she believes she will survive, I have no doubt in my mind that she will.

"But you won't!" I tell her, referring to her comment about getting jumped. "You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows." Then, I decide to tell her something I haven't told anyone, because it hurts too much. But she needs to know. "You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn't mean me, she meant you!" I hold her gaze as I say this, but as I look in her eyes, I can tell she is not convinced.

"Oh, she meant you," Katniss rolls her eyes.

"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," I try really hard to keep the pain out of my voice, but a little bit seeps in.

The shock registers on Katniss' face as I say this. The hurt won't leave my expression, and, as I she locks eyes with me, I think I see a flash of pity cross her face.

"But only because someone helped me," she mumbles.

I look at my hands. Why would she bring that up? I let that go a long time ago. I wanted to help her; I loved her, even then. She looked so desperate; I couldn't just let her die. I decide to bypass what would surely be an awkward conversation.

"People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you."

"No more than you," she says with a snort.

I can hardly believe this. She really thinks I have the same chance as her? I turn to Haymitch, avoiding Katniss' gaze. "She has no idea. The effect she can have."

Katniss gets an angry look on her face. I don't know why. I meant to compliment her. She is so beautiful, and skilled. And in the last couple of days, I've learned she has a great personality. If she can just get that to shine through during her interview, I know she'll do fine. Better than fine, she'll be spectacular.

Haymitch lets us sit in silence for a minute. While Katniss stews in anger, I slump down in embarrassment. After realizing neither of us are going to say anything, he breaks it and continues with our strategy conversation. "Well, then. Well, well, well. Katniss, there's no grantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares," she tells him, quietly. The aggression in her voice is still palpable.

Haymitch nods, "that may be significant in terms of food." He turns to me, "and Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?"

Katniss and I both nod, still avoiding each other's eyes.

"One last thing," Haymitch says. Katniss and I give him our undivided attention. "In public, I want you by each other's side every minute."

I almost stand up, and Katniss looks like she's about to start throwing things. Why is he doing this to me? The last thing I need is to spend more time with Katniss, to fall even more in love with her. But, Haymitch doesn't know that. And he doesn't know my plan. I want to wait to talk to him about it until before the interview, that way it's fresh in both of our minds. But, maybe that's not the best decision. No, that's what I have to do. I don't have time before. Between training, and trying to rest, plus, with Haymitch being drunk half of the time, I think interview prep would be the best time.

Haymitch bangs his fist on the table, bringing me back to reality. "Every minute!" he shouts. "It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

As soon as Haymitch is done, Katniss storms off to her room. As I'm walking towards mine, I hear a crash, as she slams her door. I enter my room, and begin to let the events of breakfast sink in. I wasn't as invisible to Katniss as I thought. She apparently paid attention to me. I can't think of why, but she did. I like the thought that I made some kind of impression on her. And I revealed a little too much about my attention to her, but that wasn't too bad. Things only got ugly when I hinted at my crush. I just wish she hadn't brought up that bread.

I have no idea what to do for the next hour until we are supposed to meet Effie. I wind up just sitting on my bed, and wondering if I will have the courage to talk to Katniss at all during training. After our little spat this morning, I wonder if she'll be willing to talk to me at all. But, with Haymitch's rules, it sounds like we'll have to talk to each other.

Just before ten, I head out of my room and go to the elevator. Effie is there, but Katniss is nowhere to be seen. I'm nervous. This is the first chance I will have to scope out the competition. I need to find out who will be the biggest risk to Katniss.

Moments after I arrive, Katniss does. She looks petrified, and I can't blame her. In a matter of days, we will be thrown into an arena where there will be twenty-two other teenagers trying to kill us. It's enough to terrify anybody.

We enter the elevator and Effie pushes the button to take us down to the actual training rooms. They are underground, but completely updated. As we enter, I get to see just how state of the art they really are. There are weapons, courses, and different stations where we can learn each skill. Perhaps the most frightening thing I notice is the twenty-two other tributes staring daggers at us.

As soon as Katniss and I have been pinned with our district number, we join the other tributes in a circle around Atala, who explains our schedule. Basically, we can choose which skills to learn, and what weapons to practice with at our own discretion. The other big rule, don't fight with other tributes.

I look around at the different tributes, while we are waiting to be dismissed to go learn. A lot of them, particularly the tributes from One, Two, and Four, look strong and capable. I begin to get nervous for Katniss. Without sponsors, or a bow, she doesn't stand a chance. And I'm even worse off. Now I really need to talk to Haymitch about saving Katniss, my plan to win her sponsors, and how to keep her alive in the arena.

Atala finishes listing the different stations, and I turn to Katniss to see where she wants to go first. However, when I look at her, I notice that she is in her own little world. I tap her arm, "where would you like to start?" I ask her.

She sweeps her gaze around the room, noticing where the different tributes are. "Suppose we tie some knots," she finally proposes.

"Right you are," I agree, and we head to that station. We spend about an hour learning how to tie various knots, including one that will leave and enemy dangling from a tree by one leg.

After we have both mastered several knots, we head to the camouflage station. This is the station I wanted to visit most. It reminds me of frosting at the bakery. I love mixing and painting the different colors to form leaves, and plants. I see Katniss going back and forth between watching me, and the other tributes, a curious look on her face.

"I do the cakes," I reveal.

"The cakes?" her eyebrows furrow, and she doesn't appear to be paying much attention. "What cakes?"

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery," I tell her.

I see Katniss nod, observing what I am painting on my arm. She looks interested at first, but then a look of slight irritation.

"It's lovely," a smile has replaced the aggravation. "If only you could frost someone to death."

"Don't be so superior," I joke. "You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake-"

"Say we move on," she interjects.

And that is what the next three days look like. We go from station to station, learning different skills and fighting techniques. The Gamemakers watch us through the whole thing, observing our training.

The tributes eat lunch together in a room off the training rooms. Staying true to our deal with Haymitch, Katniss and I eat together, and we try to talk, but it's hard. Katniss is very closed off, and it's hard to find a safe subject. We talk about everything from bread to bears. But we keep up the appearance of getting along, not that I'm pretending.

During the second day of training, I notice Rue, the female tribute from District Eleven, watching Katniss. "I think we have a shadow," I tell her.

Katniss glances over, and sadness washes over her face. "I think her name is Rue," I continue.

The look of sorrow deepens on Katniss' face. I don't know what she is thinking about, but Rue is clearly having some sort of effect on her. "What can we do about it?" she finally asks, an edge of bitterness in her voice.

"Nothing to do," I respond. "Just making conversation."

Everyday after training, Katniss and I endure a rigorous third degree. Haymitch and Effie want to know everything. What we did, who we talked to, how much we talked to each other. If it happened in that room, we had better tell them. I'm fairly patient, Effie and Haymitch aren't fighting, and I know they just want to help. Katniss on the other hand, gets irritated at meals and doesn't like to answer when she can avoid it.

As we walk to our rooms that second night, I can't help myself, and murmur, "someone ought to get Haymitch a drink."

Katniss kind of laughs, but stops short. She looks at me with a pleading expression, "don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around."

I sigh, "all right, Katniss." She clearly wants as little to do with me as possible.

The next day, after lunch, we have our private evaluations. Being the tributes from District Twelve, Katniss and I will be going last, as usual. Some of the tributes are eating, laughing and joking with each other. I'm too nervous to eat, and Katniss merely picks at her food. We both try and keep up a small conversation, until just the two of us are left sitting in the dining room, awkwardly, and in silence.

When my name is called, I rise to go. Before I've even moved a step, I hear Katniss blurt out, "remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw the weights."

"Thanks. I will," I nod at her. And, before I can stop myself, I add, "You… shoot straight."

Then I walk into the training room to present my skill. I know I will have to throw the weights. That's my best skill, and my best chance to get a higher score. If I want to help get Katniss sponsors, I need to do well. No one likes to help the low scoring tributes. We are all scored on a scale from one to twelve, with most averaging around a six or seven, depending on the year. The Careers usually get in the eight to ten range.

As I enter, I can see the Gamemakers are not exactly sober. "Oh great," I think. "Just what I need, drunk people trying to score me. This ought to be fun."

I walk over to the weights, and grab one that's about twenty-five pounds in my right hand. I walk over to the crash mat area, and stand at the edge. I muster up all the strength I have, and hurl it across the room. It lands on the other side of the crash mats. I have to say, I'm fairly pleased with myself. Although this isn't the most exciting skill, I clearly have potential. Right? If those stupid Gamemakers would just pay attention to me, instead of drinking and singing some stupid song about a sailor.

I walk back over to the weights, and select a fifty pound one. Using both hands this time, I chuck it across the room. And so it keeps going. I grab weights, throw them, look up to see if the Gamemakers noticed, and do it again. It's like déjà vu after a while. I wish I could somehow get their attention, but I have no idea what to do. The only time I am grateful they aren't really looking at me is when I grab the one hundred and fifty pounder, and almost drop it on my own foot.

I wonder if this is what past District Twelve tributes had to deal with. That's completely unfair, we deserve the same chances that the Careers get. We deserve the same attention. I hate that I'm being shown up by alcohol. At least Haymitch had the decency to stay coherent enough to help Katniss and I, to pay attention to us. But the Gamemakers seem to be milking the open bar, and are too drunk to care about their jobs anymore. It's utterly ridiculous.

After what seems like an eternity, the Gamemakers finally tell me I can go. I walk out of the room with the feeling of weight on my shoulders. I hope that I did well enough to help get some sponsors for Katniss. I know that if the Gamemakers were sober, she'd be fine in there, with her experience using a bow and arrow. But they are so drunk, I'm not sure they will remember either of us. Hopefully, our scores will at least be decent, and with a little help from Effie and Haymitch, maybe we can get some sponsors. Still, if our training scores aren't good enough, there is no way that we will get enough money to bring Katniss home. I hold onto the hope that Katniss will be extraordinary, and the Gamemakers will notice, since I'll be lucky if I scrape a four.

Chapter Text

A/N: Firstly, thanks to everyone who has ever read, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. I really appreciate every single one of you. I know you're probably tired of hearing that by now, but I want you all to know how much I love you. Secondly, many thank yous to Artemis Rose who is my amazing editor! She helps me be a better writer. Thirdly, I got a job (yay!) and between work and school, I don't quite know what my schedule is going to be yet, so I probably won't be able to update every Sunday like usual. I will still try my absolute hardest to update once a week, but I can't make any promises about what day that is going to be. Sorry. Next, please, please, please review. Any and all are welcomed and encouraged. I love hearing from my readers, and I would love to know what you think of my story. Finally, as usual, I do not own the Hunger Games, any of the characters, or any of the dialogue spoken when Katniss is present. All of that is the property of Suzanne Collins and that brilliant brain of hers. Enjoy! Originally posted on fanfiction.net

Chapter 8

After my assessment, I head back to the penthouse. Neither Effie nor Haymitch are in the living areas, and the stylists are off getting our outfits ready for the interviews tomorrow night. Since there is no one around to talk about my evaluation, I decide I might as well shower before dinner.

As the warm water rushes over me, I think back on my assessment. I don't think I was that bad. I mean, sure, I wasn't fantastic, but there had to have been people worse than me, right? I just wish I knew what they thought. I'm not even entirely sure they noticed me at all.

Before long, I have used up as much time in the shower as I probably should. I take a deep breath and step out into the air-conditioned bathroom, the cold air making the hair on my body stand up. As I towel off, I allow myself to continue thinking about my score. Even if I get a four, that does not mean I am done for. I can still be smart in the arena. Sure, it might hurt me with sponsors, but if Katniss' score is good enough, maybe that won't matter. I just hope the Gamemakers were better to her than to me. They need to see how amazing she is, because if anyone is prepared for these games, outside of the Careers, it's Katniss.

Exhausted from the day I've had, I decide to try and doze off before dinner. I still need to talk to Haymitch, but I have no idea where I would begin looking for him. Besides, I think I should prepare for my interview tomorrow without Katniss. I have a plan to save her, but it's one I don't think she will go along with, especially what I am going to say in the interview. I smile at the thought of her coming home. My mind is still on Katniss when I drift off.

Effie knocks on my door, waking me up from my dreams of Katniss. The way she smiles when she looks at Prim, or how beautiful she looked during the Tribute Parade, all aglow. I quickly shake those thoughts from my head. If this is going to work, I can't have Katniss suspect anything. She needs to be completely surprised by what I say tomorrow night. I quickly put on clothes, since I had climbed into bed in just my shorts, and head to dinner.

Everyone is there already (including Cinna and Portia), except Katniss. Effie must have woken me up first. I take a seat, and wait for food, and for Katniss. She shows up right at the soup is being served. It's some sort of fish broth, which is extra salty. I'm not sure I like it; the saltiness seems to suck all the moisture from my mouth.

As I eat my soup, I keep my eyes on the girl who I have loved for so long. She has clearly been crying, and I don't know why. Her assessment couldn't have gone that bad, right? She's got such a great shot; it would be hard for the Gamemakers not to see how talented she is.

As the adults begin a conversation about the weather (weather? Really? Out of all the topics to choose from, they pick weather?), Katniss' eyes finally catch mine, the sadness running deep in her grey irises. I raise my eyebrows at her, trying to ask why she is upset, but she just shakes her head and looks down at her soup.

Soon, the Avoxes begin bringing out the main course, and Haymitch decides it's time to assess the damage.

"Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?"

I begin talking before Katniss can, hoping that my experience will ease some of her depression. "I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go."

As Haymitch nods, I see Katniss perk up a bit. "And you, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks, his attention on the beauty at the table.

Her eyes narrow, "I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers," she says nonchalantly.

This pulls me up short. What is she thinking? That's a good way to get herself killed.

"You what?" Effie asks, a look of shock and utter embarrassment splattered all over her face.

"I shot an arrow at them," Katniss repeats, with an angry tone, although, I'm not sure the anger is aimed at anyone sitting at the table. "Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just…I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!"

I stifle a laugh. They were clearly treating her no better than they treated me. But instead of getting whiny like I did, she demanded to be noticed. The thought makes me smile.

Cinna takes a deep breath, "and what did they say?"

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that," Katniss replies.

"Without being dismissed?" Effie practically shouts, the astonishment clear in her voice.

Katniss shrugs, "I dismissed myself." As she says this, I notice her demeanor become sad for a moment, before she quickly recovers.

"Well, that's that," Haymitch just shakes his head, before grabbing some more food.

"Do you think they'll arrest me?" Katniss asks, the fear creeping into her voice.

"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage," Haymitch answers, simply.

"What about my family? Will they punish them?" Katniss asks, and I know what she's thinking about, or rather, who. Prim.

Haymitch shakes his head again. "Don't think so. Wouldn't make sense. See, they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can't since it's secret, so it'd be a waste of effort. More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena."

"Well, they've already promised to do that to us anyway," I chuckle.

Haymitch raises his glass to me, "very true," he says, before starting on his dinner. As soon as he has some pork chop in his stomach, he asks Katniss, "what were their faces like?"

A smile creeps on her face, "shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch."

We all bust up laughing at that, and even Effie is trying hard not to smile.

"Well it serves them right," our escort begins. "It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you," she finishes, as her eyes look around for someone to arrest her. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think," she mumbles.

I am in shock. The unthinkable has happened; Effie criticized the Gamemakers, something none of us thought she would ever do. But I have to admire her. She's right, and it makes me like her more, knowing that she believes in us enough to stand up for Katniss and myself, even if it is to people on our own team.

"I'll get a very bad score," Katniss says, calling my attention back to the conversation.

Portia smiles at her, "scores only matter if they're very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy."

"I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get," I join in. "If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards. One almost landed on my foot."

Katniss smiles, trying to suppress a laugh, and begins eating.

As soon as the meal ends, we head to the television room to watch the announcement of the scores. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for what's to come. Since Katniss and I are from District Twelve, as usual, we will be the last ones announced. The show begins, a picture of each tribute comes up, their score appears below, and on to the next tribute. The Careers, predictably, get the highest scores, none of them achieving below an eight, while the others tend to get around a five.

"That's not bad," I think. I knew Katniss is going to have a tough time with the Careers, there was never any question about that. She can easily take on the others. I just need to figure out how to help her with the Careers.

Finally we get to District Twelve. I sharply intake air as my photo comes up, and then my score of…eight! I actually got an eight! That is so much higher than I thought I was going to get, I'm thrilled.

Quickly, Katniss' picture replaces mine, and I hold my gaze on the screen, as if willing her to do amazing. And it works. She's scored an eleven. Not even the Careers scored that high. We all congratulate her, since no one has ever done that well.

"There must be a mistake," I hear Katniss say. "How…how could that happen?"

"Guess they liked your temper," Haymitch shrugs. "They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat."

"Katniss, the girl who was on fire," Cinna cries, proudly. "Oh, wait until you see your interview dress."

"More flames?" Katniss raises her eyebrows.

"Of a sort."

As soon as the excitement calms down, Katniss and I turn to each other.

"Congratulations," I say, hoping that my eyes convey just how truly I mean that. I am genuinely happy that she did so well. I want her to win.

"Thanks, congrats to you too," she responds, but it seems a little awkward, like she doesn't believe I mean it. Or doesn't believe she means it. She quickly dismisses herself and heads to bed.

I decide to get some sleep myself. Despite my nap earlier, I'm exhausted. And I have to get up extra early to make sure that I get a chance to talk to Haymitch tomorrow before Katniss wakes up. I am going to ask to train separately and, hopefully he will agree so I can tell him of my plan to, hopefully, save Katniss.

I quickly undress and crawl into bed, allowing the exhaustion to take over my body and quickly drag me into sleep.

As soon as I see the sun coming in through my window, I climb out of bed and jump in the shower, hoping that I'm not too late. As I rush out into the dining room, I see that I am right on time, Effie and Haymitch are both there, but Katniss is no where to be found.

"I'm going to go wake Katniss," Effie says, her annoyingly high voice piercing through me as what she says sinks in. Our escort hurries down the hall.

"No!" I think, before blurting out to Haymitch, "I want to be trained separately."

Haymitch looks at me with a mixture of shock, and expectancy. "Should've figured," he says gruffly.

Just then, Effie comes back. "Katniss will be here in a few minutes."

"Effie," Haymitch starts, quietly, pulling the two of us into a huddle. "Peeta has been asked to be trained separately from Katniss."

Effie nods. "All right. Haymitch, why don't you take Katniss first-"

"No!" I cut her off, "I want to go to Haymitch first."

"Very well," she says. "You can go to Haymitch first."

All of the sudden, we hear footsteps, and in a matter of moments, Katniss has entered the room. She notices us, but goes to the food table and begins to fill her plate.

"You'd better have a good reason for doing this, boy," Haymitch locks eyes with me before breaking the huddle. We all lean back, and wait for Katniss to join us.

Katniss sits down and eats for a few moments, before looking up, an expression of curiosity clearly displayed on her face. "So, what's going on? You're coaching up on interviews today, right?"

"That's right," Haymitch nods.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done," she shakes her head. "I can listen and eat at the same time."

Haymitch takes a deep breath, "Well, there's been a change of plans. About our current approach."

"What's that?" Katniss asks, the confusion spreading across her face.

"Peeta has asked to be coached separately," Haymitch responds casually.

Chapter Text

A/N: Hi, everyone! I had some time off and was able to get this up today! I want to thank Artemis Rose again, for editing this chapter as well. I won't be able to get a chapter up next Sunday, but I'm hoping to have one up earlier. This chapter may contain one of my favorite conversations in the entire fanfic so far, and, fair warning, there is some swearing in this chapter. So, please review, I need to know if I'm doing okay with this story. And, finally, as per usual, I do not own the Hunger Games and any dialogue spoken with Katniss present is quoted from the book and belongs to the brilliant Suzanne Collins. Originally posted on fanfiction.net

Chapter 9

Katniss's face conveys shock and hurt as what Haymitch has just said sinks in. It breaks my heart. I don't know if she thought we were in this together until the gong sounded, or what. One thing is clear, though, whatever she was expecting me to do, it wasn't this.

After a moment of contemplation, Katniss nods. "Good. So what's the schedule?"

Haymitch begins running through what is on the agenda for the day. "You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four with me for content. You start with Effie, Katniss."

She lets out a groan so quietly, I am positive that I am the only one that heard it. Still, Katniss gets up and follows Effie to her room without another word.

As soon as they are gone, Haymitch turns his attention towards me. "You ready, boy?" he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," and I get up to follow him.

My mentor leads me to the sitting room, and takes a seat in one of the chairs, as I plant myself on the couch. "Here we go," I think.

"So," Haymitch starts. "Do you have any idea what you want to talk about in your interview tomorrow night?'

I take a deep breath. "Yeah, I have some idea."

"Would you care to enlighten me as to what sort of thoughts occupy that pretty little brain of yours when it comes to tomorrow night?" Haymitch asks, mockery dripping through his voice.

"Well, it's complicated," I don't know how to explain this to him.

"Try me," the annoyance is becoming more and more prominent on Haymtich's face as this conversation continues.

"Haymitch—"

"Look, boy," Haymitch cuts me off. "We had a deal. You swore to do whatever I said, and, in exchange, I would stay sober enough to help you. Now, as I am currently not falling-off-my-ass drunk, you sure as hell had better start talking, God dammit, because I need to know what I'm working with!"

The only time I had ever seen Haymitch angry was on the train, when I had tried to stop him from drinking. That moment didn't even compare to this one. Haymitch was livid, as he should be. I take another deep breath, and begin what is sure to be a long and uncomfortable conversation.

"Well, you know Katniss?"

Haymitch scoffs, "of course. But what's sweetheart got to do with you and your interview?"

"Well," I once again fill my lungs with air. This is so hard to talk about. "You see, the thing is, I want her to come home."

"What?" Haymitch doesn't look surprised, he looks stunned. I doubt this has ever happened before. One Tribute saying they want to sacrifice themself for their district partner has to be unprecedented.

"I'm not planning to come home. I want Katniss to. And I need your help to ensure that she does."

"Is this some sort of joke? Because I don't find it funny." Oh, great. He doesn't believe me.

"I am absolutely serious."

"Why?" Haymitch asks. It's a fair question, but one I'm not sure I can answer. I decide to give him an equally true reason for Katniss' survival, but not the real reason why I want her to live.

"I don't really have much going for me back home. My family will be fine, and that's all that matters. Katniss is everything to her family. Without her, there is no way they will survive, and that's just not right," I finish, hoping Haymitch buys it.

"Why do you care so much?" he inquires.

Shoot! How am I supposed to answer that? Then I realize, with what I want to say at the interview, he's going to find out anyway. I made that decision days ago. At this point, I am just delaying the inevitable. It's almost funny, what I had in mind was so much easier in theory than in practice. But, it's my plan and I'm sticking to it.

My eyes meet Haymitch's, his still with a look of expectancy. I quickly cast my gaze at my shoes and mumble, "I'm in love with her."

"I'm sorry, didn't quite catch that."

"Great, now I have to say it again," I think before looking up and blurting, "I'm in love with her!"

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me," Haymitch looks at me in disbelief.

"It's true," I tell him, my eyes returning to me feet.

As I continue to stare at the floor, I hear Haymitch get up and walk around the room. After about five minutes of pacing, he stops right in front of me. I feel his eyes locked on my back, and look up to meet his gaze.

"You do realize that for her to come home, you're going to die, right?" Haymitch asks me.

I nod my head, "yes."

"While in the arena, what are you willing to do to save her? Before you snuff it, that is?" Haymitch's eyes are locked on mine.

"I'll do anything," I respond, and I mean it.

"Then we're going to have to use your feelings as best as we can," he smiles at me.

I can't help but smile back, "that's exactly what I was thinking."

Haymitch nods, "let's get down to business. First off, the interview. You need to talk about your crush."

"It's more than a crush," I correct him.

"Not important," Haymitch continues. "Now, you're attractive enough, and since you're not one of the Careers, Caesar might bring up girls and romance" he snorts as he says this, "during your interview. If he doesn't, you need to, understand?"

"Yeah, I think I can do that. Like if he asks me about fighting tactics, I can say something like, 'fighting's a lot easier than flirting,' or something like that?"

Haymitch nods, "anything that brings the conversation to your love life. Then, you get to tell the whole world that you're in love with Katniss."

"Great," I think. Telling Haymitch was embarrassing enough, and now I get to tell the whole country. I just nod before asking, "won't that only make them like me? How will that help Katniss?"

Haymitch sighs, "yes, you will be liked, possibly even loved, by the people in the Capitol. Both of you. If we play this right, we can rake in the sponsor money…"

"You have to use it all on Katniss," I tell him. "No matter what."

Haymitch nods, "we need to get it first. But with her eleven, and your love declaration, we should at least get some. As long as sweetheart doesn't try to tackle you on the stage or something. Now, I got to ask, does Katniss know how you feel?" I shake my head. "All right. That actually works. I need you to continue whatever the hell you've been doing for the last however many years, so she can be surprised with the rest of the country. Got it?" I nod. "Good." He casts his eyes down as if in deep thought.

"Haymitch?" My mentor looks up. "What about once we're in the arena?"

"That plan is simple," Haymitch tells me. "You need to make allies with the Careers." He says it so matter-of-factly.

"And how do you suppose I do that?"

"Well," Haymitch begins. "Odds are, they've already decided who will be in the pack. After your declaration of love, you're going to have a target on your back just as much as she does. What you'll need to do is hide during the blood bath at the Cornucopia. After, as the Careers look at their spoils, you can approach, probably. I'm not really sure about this part. What I do know is you have a few options once you make contact. Option one is to tell them that you lied on television to Katniss and the whole country, and that you don't love her, but convinced her you did. You then tell them that you have plans to meet up in the arena, and that she'll be leaving you subtle clues to tell you where to find her. You will lead them away from where you think she might be. Got it?"

I nod.

"Good. Option two. You love her, she rejected you, and you want revenge. You again say that you know her really well, and know her behaviors, so finding her shouldn't be a problem, and lead them on a wild goose chase. We still clear?"

Again I nod.

"Excellent. Option three. You tell her that she would be a good asset to the team—"

"They'll never go for that," I cut in.

"That's the plan. So you are going to have to play dumb. And I mean really dumb. Tell them she would be a good asset to the team, and that you have an idea of where to find her. Again lead them around the arena, hopefully coming nowhere near Katniss. Do you see the pattern?"

"Yes, sir. Make friends with the careers, feed them some story, lead them away from Katniss."

"Perfect. How you do that will primarily be up to you in the arena. You're going to have to think on your feet."

"That's not a problem," I tell him.

"Great. Now, how about we get some practice in?"

We spend the next several hours talking arena strategy and conducting practice interviews, where I have to turn the most absurd conversations into talks about girls. By the end of it, I'm exhausted, and my brain hurts. I only hope Effie's time is much easier.

As Haymitch and I are about to head to the dining room for lunch, I stop him. "You're not going to say anything to Katniss about what we talked about are you?" I ask, desperately.

"Absolutely not," he assures me. "Now, laugh, like these last four hours were the best of your life."

"Okay," I say skeptically, before doing it. It seems like a strange request, but, he's agreed to help me get Katniss home, and is keeping my crush a secret from her. I owe him.

Lunch is fairly uneventful, with no interesting conversation taking place. As soon as the meal ends, Effie whisks me to my room to learn proper etiquette. Basically, I have to stand up straight, smile, and not be too obnoxious.

After about an hour, Effie stops the lesson. "You know, you are so much easier than Katniss was."

"Was she difficult?" I ask, hoping not to convey too much concern.

"Let's just say the interview isn't exactly her thing." And without another word, we continue the lesson.

After Effie is through tormenting me, we once again head to the dining room to eat. Katniss is nowhere to be found, and Haymitch tells Effie to leave her alone. They continue their small talk, as I eat without saying a word. I'm saddened by Katniss' absence. I was looking forward to talking to her during dinner, or at least hearing her talk. With so little joy left in my life, I really enjoy the banter between her and Haymitch, and when it's not there, the disappointment washes over me like a wave.

After dinner, I head back in my room and debate on whether or not to take a shower. I decide against it, since tomorrow I will be given over to Portia and my prep team before the interview, and they will probably make me take one in the morning anyway. Besides, even though it is early, the emotionally and physically draining day I had has once again taken a toll on me. Without a second thought, I climb into bed.

I'm just beginning to drift off when I think of the interview tomorrow night. In less than twenty-four hours I am going to have to confess my love for Katniss in front of the entire country. I had enough trouble just telling Haymitch, so how am I supposed to tell the scores of citizens across Panem? Before I can get myself too worked up, I get out of bed and order warm milk from this little box in my room. In minutes, the drink appears.

I grab the mug and climb back into bed, allowing the milk to soothe me. Almost instantly after I've drained my cup, I feel my lids start to get heavy and I drift off.

In the morning, I am once again awakened by the sun. I quickly head out to breakfast, only to find that no one else is there. Before anyone can arrive and try to start a conversation, I grab a plate of food and head back to my room to eat. I take my time, looking out at the concrete jungle that is the Capitol as I eat.

Ambrosia, Julius, and Antony enter just as I'm disposing of my trash from breakfast. This is the first time I've seen them since the Tribute Parade, and I can't help but smile at them as they tell me how wonderful they are going to make me look. Sure, they might be preparing me for slaughter, but they're so thrilled to be doing it. I get the feeling a lot of Capitol people are like them, not really understanding what the Hunger Games are, and what they do.

I spend a good portion of the day being prepped. I was right about the shower. Julius and Antony scrub me down hard, leaving my entire body raw. They have to make sure I am perfectly clean before the real prepping begins. My hair is cut, my nails are clipped, Ambrosia rubs some sort of lotion all over me that will, apparently, leave my skin soft for weeks. Finally, it is time for makeup. They lightly dust my face with powder, just so I don't get shiny on stage, before hurrying off to get Portia.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, as she enters with my outfit.

"Terrified," I tell her, truthfully.

Portia smiles, "I'd tell you that you were a moron if you weren't at least a little scared."

I chuckle, "glad to know I'm not a moron."

We continue to make small talk as Portia dresses me in my outfit. It's a black suit, accented with stitching flames. It's surprisingly quite attractive, and it certainly plays into the fire theme Cinna and Portia have been playing with.

I am able to dress relatively quickly, since I don't have to be sewn into this outfit, and we head towards the elevator. When it comes into view, I see Haymitch and Effie are there waiting for us.

"Oh, Peeta!" Effie cries. "You look marvelous!"

"Thanks," I smile at her.

"You ready, boy?" Haymitch asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Haymitch chuckles, "just stick to what we discussed, and I know you'll do fine."

Just then, Katniss and Cinna walk out of her room and I am once again struck by her beauty. She is dressed in a red dress, also with flame accents, and has flames stenciled all over her body, but not to the point where they are overwhelming. I have to hand it to Cinna and her preps. They took an already beautiful girl, and turned her into something so exquisite, every man in Panem will be falling for her.

"Katniss, you're gorgeous," Effie tells her.

"Thank you," she responds. Haymitch offers nothing to Katniss, and she seems perfectly happy with that, so we all pile into the elevator and head downstairs for the interview.

As we get ready to face the entire country, I take a few deep breaths, and notice Katniss doing the same. I am nervous beyond belief, and, based on her expression, so is she.

Just as we are about to walk out on stage, I hear Haymitch walk up behind us. "Remember, you're still a happy pair. So act like it," he reminds us. I nod, and so does Katniss, although hers is wary.

We emerge onto the stage, take our seats and wait. Caesar Flickerman, the host for the evening (and every previous Tribute interview since anyone can remember), introduces the event, before getting started with the interviews. Caesar is a bit eclectic, dying his hair, and eyelids a different color every year (this year it's powder blue. What on earth makes him think that looks good?), while sporting the same midnight blue suit. As much as the Hunger Games disgust me, I have to hand it to Caesar, he does his best. He does not seem like he is beyond caring, or that this is just a job, he really wants to make the tributes memorable, make them shine. That pure fact makes me like him, at least a little bit.

I sit politely through Districts One through Eleven, not really paying any attention to what anyone is saying. Sure, I might notice one or two things every once in a while, but for the most part, my nerves get the best of me, and I can't absorb very much of the dialogue. Finally, I hear the timer go off, and Thresh, the male District Eleven Tribute sits down.

"Shoot," I think. It's just Katniss and then I'm up.

I am finally able to calm myself down enough to pay attention to her. I need to keep my head on straight if I'm going to be ready for my interview in less than three minutes. My nerves still attempt to consume my body, but I am able to stifle them.

"Now Katniss," I hear Caesar speak. "When you came out in the Opening Ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"

I smile, thinking about how we joked about ripping off each others capes. "You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" I hear Katniss respond.

Caesar laughs, along with the audience. "Yes. Start then."

Katniss gushes about the costume, and Cinna takes a bow. I have to admit, they were magnificent. It was just the terror leading up to that chariot ride.

Caesar continues to talk to her about clothes, particularly the dress she is currently wearing, before moving on to her training score. I'm glad he brought that up; it should help her win sponsors.

As the interview goes on, I can see that the audience adores Katniss, which is outstanding, since I know she needs all the sponsors she can get. Although her training score is amazing, people tend to support those they like, and she is making the audience like her. And if they didn't already, the final topic that Caesar brings up had to make them love her. Prim.

"Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping," I hear Caesar start. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"

Katniss takes a deep breath. "Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything."

"And what did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesar continues.

"She asked me to try really hard to win," Katniss replies, clearly saddened.

"And what did you say?" Caesar seems determined to get every detail. I'm kind of happy he is because the audience is eating this up.

"I swore I would," Katniss finishes.

"I bet you did," off stage, the timer sounds, alerting us that Katniss' time is over. "Sorry we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve."

The audience applauds for her, as my nerves start to get the best of me. "Calm down, Mellark," I think. "You know what you need to say, now just say it."

As I walk to the stage, I remember something Delly told me once when we were kids.

I had just told some sort of joke, or given a witty response to something she said. As soon as Delly was done laughing, she looked at me. "Oh, Peeta, you're so funny. When you have your wits about you, people can't help but love you."

As I sit down, I think of Delly, and I know exactly how I need to be with Caesar. I need to be myself.

"So, Peeta," Caesar begins. "Have you noticed anything different between District Twelve and the Capitol?"

"Here we go," I think. "The showers here are weird," I tell him.

"Care to elaborate?" he asks, with a chuckle.

"There are so many buttons, I don't know what I'm pushing half the time," I respond before adding, "tell me, do I smell like roses?"

I lean my head towards Caesar, who raises his eyebrows with amusement, and takes a whiff. "Huh?" he contemplates before asking me to sniff him. By now the audience is practically falling out of their seats with laughter.

"You certainly smell better than I do," I conclude after a second, trying to figure out how to bring up Katniss.

"Well, I've lived here longer," he responds, continuing to entertain the crowd. As soon as the scent issue is finished, Caesar brings up the topic I've been waiting for.

"So, Peeta," he looks at me. "Is there a special girl back home?"

"No," I reply, shyly, shaking my head. "Not really."

Caesar raises his eyebrows. "Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"

"Now we're getting somewhere," I think, as I sigh, determined to use this for all it's worth. "Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping," I admit.

"She have another fellow?" Caesar asks, and it's all I can do to not smile. This is going perfectly.

"I don't know," I respond, even though everyone believes Katniss will end up with Gale. "But a lot of boys like her."

"So here's what you do," Caesar says. "You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?"

I shake my head. "I don't think it's going to work out. Winning…won't help in my case."

Caesar looks surprised, "why ever not?"

"This is it," I think before responding. "Because…because…she came here with me."

Chapter Text

Hi, everyone! I'm so sorry, I know it has been forever since I updated this story. A giant thank you to all who have read, followed, favorited, and reviewed. It really means a lot to me that you like this story. A huge thanks, as usual to Artemis Rose, who edited this chapter, as she has with all the others. She's awesome, I love her, and I don't know what I would do without her. The Games begin in next chapter, so hopefully you guys will like my take on what Peeta does while separated. Other than that, I think that's it. Except, please, please, please, review. I really like hearing from you guys. I want to make sure I'm doing Peeta and his thoughts justice, and I would love to know if you think I am. And then, of course, I do not own the Hunger Games, or any dialogue spoken while Katniss is present. Enjoy!

Chapter 10

Shock waves wash over the crowd as what I have just said sinks in. I see the cameras flash to Katniss' face, who is wearing a look of complete shock, before choosing to hide her expression.

"Oh, that is a peace of bad luck," I hear Caesar say, drawing my attention back to him.

"It's not good," I reply, shaking my head.

Caesar gives me a sad smile, "Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn't know?"

"Not until now," I shake my head again.

I chance a look at the screen, and see Katniss is blushing. I know how much I embarrassed her. I don't think she likes attention much, and now all of Panem will be talking about her.

Caesar addresses the audience, bringing the cameras back on us. "Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" There is a cheer from the crowd. "Sadly, rules are rules," Caesar continues. "And Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

The crowd lets out a cry of disappointment, as I murmur a thank you, and walk back to my seat. As the anthem plays, all the tributes stare out at the crowd. I just want it to end; I need to get back to the penthouse and asses the damage I did with Katniss. I know she is upset, but hopefully when I explain why I did it, she'll forgive me.

As soon as the anthem ends, Katniss takes off. I try to follow her, but the crowd of tributes, stylists, mentors, and escorts gets in my way. As I'm fighting through the people, I see her get onto an elevator, and go up to our floor. After minutes of struggling to get to the elevators, I finally manage to get onto one, with the tributes from Eight and Ten.

"Just talk to her," I think. "She wasn't expecting that. The surprise probably got to her. Just explain, and everything will be fine." That's all I can hope for. I know Katniss is angry, but I hope that she'll understand my reasoning. I'm trying to protect her, to get her home. Haymitch and I agreed that this was the best way to do that. Tug at the Capitol citizens' heartstrings, and make them want to help us.

As the elevator doors open, my eyes sweep the room for Katniss. There is no sign of her at first, but as I walk out into the penthouse, I feel a pair of hands collide with my torso. The force of her shove, combined with my surprise, sends me flying backwards into an urn. I feel the shards pierce my hands, and look down to see the thick, hot, red blood seeping from my new wounds.

"What was that for?" I ask, looking up at her, angry. I knew she was embarrassed, but this is way worse than I thought. She's more than embarrassed, she's pissed.

"You had no right!" Katniss screams. "No right to go saying those things about me!"

I'm about to respond when I see the elevator arrive again, and in come Haymitch, Effie, and both stylists.

They stop, taking in the scene. Effie's eyes widen as she sees the blood coming out of my hands.

"What's going on?" Effie asks, scared. "Did you fall?"

I snort, "after she shoved me."

Haymitch takes his attention off me, and directs it towards Katniss, "shoved him?"

"This was your idea, wasn't it?" Katniss asks, dodging his question. "Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?"

I can't let Haymitch take the fall for this one. This was my idea, and I'm going to be a man and own up to it. "It was my idea," I tell her, while removing shards of the urn from my hands. "Haymitch just helped me with it."

This seems to make Katniss even angrier. "Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!"

"You are a fool," Haymitch tells her, a tone of condescension in his voice. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."

"He made me look weak!" she screams, voice cutting through the air.

"He made you look desirable!" Haymitch retorts. "And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twleve!"

"But we're not star-crossed lovers," Katniss practically spits.

"Who cares?" Haymitch asks, grabbing her, demanding her attention. I'm fairly sure that Haymitch is trying very hard not to employ a few of his favorite swear words, to spare himself a lecture from Effie, but his patience is wearing very thin. "It's all a big show," he continues. "It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself was a small miracle. Now I can say you're a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?"

Katniss' nose wrinkles in disgust, as she loosens herself from Haymitch's grip. I see Cinna walk over, draping his arm across her shoulders.

"He's right, Katniss," he tells her. Hopefully she will listen to Cinna and calm down. I don't know how, but those two seem to have some sort of bond, and she obviously trusts him.

"I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid," Katniss says meekly, looking at her shoes.

"No, your reaction was perfect," Portia assures her, making me like my stylist even more. She seems determined to stand up for me. "If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real."

"She's just worried about her boyfriend," I let the jealousy color my voice. Now Katniss knows that I do know about Gale, and the bond that they share.

I see her blush, "I don't have a boyfriend."

I snort, "whatever. I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it." And even if he is, he might still believe my love declaration, considering it was real. "Besides," I go on, "you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?"

Katniss' look goes from angry to embarrassed, as she realizes we were all only trying to help her. I knew she'd be upset, but I never imagined she'd be this angry. I thought she would have been embarrassed, but once I explained everything, she would have been fine. However the girl didn't really give me a chance to explain why. Hopefully, now that she does understands, she won't be as distraught.

"After he said he loved me," Katniss looks at us. "Did you think I could be in love with him, too?"

"I did," Portia tells her. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush."

Everyone nods, and gives their assent.

"You're golden, sweetheart," Haymitch informs her. "You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block."

Finally, for the first time since the interview, Katniss' eyes meet mine. "I'm sorry I shoved you."

I shrug my shoulders, showing my indifference. "Doesn't matter. Although, it's technically illegal."

"Are your hands okay?" her voice has some concern in it, though not nearly as much as I wish it did.

"They'll be all right," I assure her.

"Come on, let's eat," Haymitch directs us to the dining room, seeing as a mouthwatering smell is coming out of there. As we begin to eat, my hands have still not stopped bleeding, so I go off with Portia to get them all fixed up. A medic puts an ointment on them that is supposed to help them heal quickly, before wrapping them in bandages. By the time Portia and I return, the rest of them have finished the soup.

As soon as dinner is over, we go and watch the recap of the interviews. Katniss is spectacular, between discussing her training score, and best of all, Prim; she is magnificent, and unforgettable. I, on the other hand, watch myself and feel that I come off as awkward. The only thing about me people will remember is the fact that I'm in love with Katniss, and the fact that we can never be together. But, that might just be significant and memorable enough to save her life.

As soon as it's over, Katniss and I know we have to go to bed. Haymitch and Effie won't be able to see us in the morning, since they will be getting us sponsors and attempting to figure out what to use the money on.

Effie grabs are hands, and I'm touched when I see the tears in her eyes, threatening to brim over.

"You two," Effie's voice cracks. "I just want you to know how proud I am to have been your escort. You did wonderfully. I wouldn't be at all surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!"

"Really?" I think. "That's how you want to say good-bye to us?" However, I am heartened when she kisses both of us on each cheek, before swiftly running from the room, trying to keep us from seeing the tears that are falling down her face.

I direct my attention to Haymitch, "any final words of advice?"

Haymitch locks eyes with both of us for a moment, before starting. "When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You're neither of you up to the blood bath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water. Got it?"

"And after that?" Katniss inquires, her tone serious.

"Stay alive," but unlike the train, his face is unsmiling. He really means it this time, and he's right. That is the next step, finding a way to survive.

Katniss heads to her room, but I decide to wait around for a few minutes. Portia is still here, so I walk over to her.

"Thanks for taking me to the medic," I say.

She smiles at me, "any time, Peeta."

I sigh, "Gosh, how am I going to sleep tonight?"

"I don't know. But you need to try. You're doomed if you're exhausted. You need your rest."

I hear Katniss' door close. "Yeah, you're right," I agree with her, before heading off into my own room.

I decide to take a quick shower, ridding my body of all the make-up. As soon as I'm dry, I climb into bed. As desperate as I am to fall asleep, I can't. I keep thinking about tomorrow, and what I'm going to have to do to stay alive, and more importantly, save Katniss. Chances are, I'm going to have to kill people, and the thought terrifies me. I don't want to do that; I'm not a murderer. Yet, if I want to save Katniss, most likely, that's what I will have to become. I just don't want to become one of those bloodthirsty psychopaths we see in the arena. I want to be myself, or at least as much of myself as I can be, while in there. I climb out of bed, suddenly feeling restrained by the sheets, and decide to go up to the roof. Hopefully some fresh air will help me.

I have been up there for about an hour, willing myself to get tired, while continuing to ponder how to achieve my goal in the arena, without allowing the Games to change me. All of the sudden, I hear someone speak behind me.

"You really should be getting some sleep," Katniss says.

I jolt, but continue to look out at the city. With her light hunter's tread, I didn't hear her come up, but am glad she did.

"I don't want to miss the party," I tell her. "It's for us, after all."

She stands next to me, looking at the Capitol, too. "Are they in costumes?"

I laugh. "Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here," I sigh. "Couldn't sleep either?"

"Couldn't turn my mind off," she shakes her head.

"Thinking about your family?" I ask, knowing how important they are to her.

Katniss looks like she just committed a crime. "No. All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course." I see her eyes go to my palms. "I really am sorry about your hands."

I give her a weak smile, "it doesn't matter, Katniss. I've never been a contender in these Games anyway."

"That's no way to be thinking."

"Why not? It's true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and…" I stop. I want to tell her about how I want to remain myself, but I don't know how she'll take it.

"And what?" she asks.

I decide to just tell her. It can't be that bad, no worse then telling the whole country that I'm in love with her. "I don't know how to say it exactly. Only…I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" I see her shake her head, no. "I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."

Katniss looks saddened. "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?"

I shake my head. "No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to… to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."

"But your not," she reminds me. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."

"Okay," I give her. "But within that framework, there's still you, there's still me. Do you see?"

"A little," she responds. "Only…no offense, but who cares, Peeta?"

"I do," I tell her. "I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" There is anger in my voice, as I try and make her see that I know I'm dead, and I just want to still be me.

Katniss looks startled. "Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive."

I snort, as my eyes roll. I'm not going to survive these Games, I wrote myself off a long time ago. She's the one who needs to win these Games. "Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart."

"Look," Katniss is annoyed now. "If you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve."

I smile at her. "Wouldn't surprise me if you do. Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?"

"Count on it," she assures me, before turning back towards the door, and descending the staircase back into the penthouse. I stay there for a few more minutes before realizing that I'm not going to get any sleep while standing up here, so I decide to head back down to my room.

Sleep comes about an hour or two after I return to my room. Despite the lack of rest, I'm, luckily, not feeling tired. All the extra sleep and naps since I've been here have made me fairly well rested, and I'm grateful.

Portia comes in, and throws simple pants and a shirt at me. I dress, and she takes me to the roof. Katniss is nowhere to be seen. Since the Games don't start until ten, I will have a few hours in my holding cell below the arena to eat breakfast, change into the tribute outfit, and mentally prepare myself for what's to come.

I climb on the ladder that will take me to the hovercraft. I am frozen in place as the ladder brings me to my transportation. On my way to the arena, a man comes by with a syringe, sticking it in my arm, and implanting what I assume to be my tracker. This way the Gamemakers will know where I am at all times, and, more importantly, when my heart stops beating so they can fire a cannon.

Not that long after boarding the hovercraft, we touch down, and I am taken to my holding cell. I eat some eggs and toast, before Portia brings out my tribute outfit.

It's a simple set of pants, with a black shirt and boots. It's not until she holds up the jacket that Portia gets excited. "This is really special. The material reflects body heat. It will be invaluable. Based on the rest of the outfits, I'd guess forest, but the jacket suggests cold nights."

I nod and put on the jacket.

Portia grabs my shoulders, and meets my eyes. "Do you have a District token?"

"No," I shake my head. "I don't have anything."

"Okay," she nods.

We sit, mostly silently, as I sip water, not knowing when I will see it again. Occasionally, I ask what time it is. Suddenly, a woman's voice rings through the room, telling me to get into the tube that will take me to my demise. I stand up and do as instructed.

Portia smiles at me, as I prepare to be lifted into the arena. "You're a great person, Peeta. It has been a pleasure being your stylist. I hope we meet again." She smiles weakly at the last part.

"Thank you," I say, as the tube encloses me. Then I am being lifted.

"Here we go," I think, as I am taken to my death. I know I will have sixty seconds to get my bearings, before the gong will sound and the tributes will be after each other.

As my plate stops, I hear Claudius Templesmith, the announcer say, "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

What did you guys think of this chapter?

Chapter Text

Hi everyone! I know it has been forever and a day since I last updated. Between school and work, I have just been so busy and tired that I haven't had time to write! Anyway, I am really sorry that you guys have been waiting for so long for Chapter 11. As usual, a huge thanks to Artemis Rose for editing my chapter. You rock, love! Anyway, I hope you enjoy. I don't know when I'll be able to update again, it just depends on my schedule. Please be patient with me, I will update as soon as I can. Anyway, here is Chapter 11. I hope you enjoy! :)

Chapter 11

As I look around the arena, I see the other tributes preparing to run towards the Cornucopia. We have one minute, only sixty seconds, to decide what we are going to do. Run into the bloodbath, or run away from it. Those are our options.

I take in the arena. There is a flat plain, with grains and grasses that are tall, almost as tall as me. Next to the Cornucopia there is a lake. I'm hoping that isn't the only source of water; that would be horrible. Finally, I turn my head, and in my peripheral vision I see a forest behind me.

"Yes!" I think. "Katniss has got this!"

Katniss, the forest has brought my mind back to her. I scan the circle for Katniss, praying that she isn't on the side of the Cornucopia that is obscured from my view. Finally I see her, a little ways to my right. But she's not looking at the forest, planning her escape. No, she's looking quizzically at the Cornucopia, as if deciding whether or not to run into the bloodbath.

"No!" I think. She can't do that. Why would she? Then I see it, right at the mouth of the golden horn, lies a bow. That's what she wants. But I know that she doesn't stand a chance. By the time she gets there and grabs it, the other tributes will be there, and ready to slaughter her. Yet, we both know the bow is her best chance of survival. Still, she would never make it out of the bloodbath, and then my whole plan is done. She won't come home, and I probably won't survive the day.

As Katniss stands on her circle, thinking, I try desperately to get her attention, without drawing notice to myself. That task proves extremely difficult. I can't jump and call out to her, but I also can't let her essentially commit suicide. Just when I'm thinking she won't notice me and is going to run to the Cornucopia, I see her eyes turn in my direction. I look at her, and shake my head, trying to tell her the bow isn't worth it. She could probably make one, or some other weapon, and would have a better chance of winning the Games than if she ran to the horn.

As I stand there shaking my head, I see the confusion spread across her face, like she doesn't know what I'm trying to tell her. Then the gong sounds. Katniss lunges forward but stops suddenly. As much as I want to see what happens to her, I have to get out of there myself. I run towards the forest.

As soon as I'm at the edge of the trees, I crouch behind a bush, and watch. I'm hoping I'm well hidden enough to not be spotted by those taking part in the gory scene happening before my eyes. I search the bloodbath for Katniss, and I can't find her. I continue looking, my hope dwindling with every second I don't see her. Finally, just as I'm about to accept defeat, I see a girl with a braid and an orange backpack running into the trees at my right. It's unmistakably Katniss. My heart lightens. My girl is still safe, and I am going to try my absolute hardest to save her.

The battle continues in front of me. Axes are hurled, spears are thrown, and swords are stabbed. The repeated cutting of flesh causing lethal injuries. Before long, the ground is soaked with the blood of fallen tributes. The bloodbath goes on for what seems like forever. Bodies litter the ground, cold and empty. Finally, as the afternoon sun bakes the arena, the canons go off, signaling the end of the fight.

Eleven booms blast through the arena. Each explosion represents a dead child. With all the murders during the initial battle, it can be hard to keep track of how many blasts are needed, so they always wait until the end.

Once the cannon finishes, I decide that I've wasted enough time in my hiding place. It's time to be a man, and put my plan into action.

I emerge from the bushes, and begin to walk over to the Career pack, as they are dividing up the loot. The remaining group consists of both from One and Two, the girl from Four, and, surprisingly, the boy from Three. I wonder why they let him live. It's abnormal for those outside of the select few who actually train for the Games to make it into the Career pack.

The huge, male tribute from District 2, Cato, I believe his name is, lunges at me with his massive sword.

"Crap!" I think, I'm going to have to think of what to say to him fast, or else I am a goner. I can't save Katniss if I die this early in the Games.

Just as the blond boy is about to reach me, I throw my hands up in a submissive maneuver. Hopefully this will work, and that they will take five minutes to listen to me. I know they believe that I'm a weak and helpless boy from District Twelve; so let them think their assumptions are correct. It could buy me some time.

"Wait!" I call, "you don't want to be killing me."

Cato pauses for a second, looking highly amused as he glances back at the other Careers. They meet his eyes before they all erupt in laughter.

"Well great," I think to myself. I'm done for. I had this whole plan. I was going to save Katniss. But at this rate I'm going to be returning to District Twelve a cold, dead body within the day.

"I think I do want to kill you," I hear Cato say, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head vigorously, "your loss."

At this, Cato frowns and to my semi-relief, lowers his sword. I see confusion etched on the other Careers' faces, and I think I might just be able to put my plan into action.

"What are you talking about, bakery boy?" Cato asks.

I give my best attempt at a wicked smile, allowing my natural charisma to take over. "I know you want her," I tell him, and pause for a moment to enjoy his dumbfounded expression. I can see he's clearly too moronic to understand, so I decide to help him out a little bit. "Katniss," I finish, trying to make her name sound bitter on my tongue, which is extremely difficult

Cato grins maniacally at her name, and I resist the urge to break his neck then and there. Chances are that if I attempted to do that, he'd kill me before I killed him.

"You offering something, Twelve?" the blond giant asks.

"You bet I am," I respond. "I can take you to her." Cato immediately raises his eyebrows with interest.

"This is going to work," I think. "It has to."

"You know where she is?" calls the blonde female Career from District One. Glimmer, I think her name is.

I nod, "we had a plan to meet up and form an alliance. Well," a smug grin spreads across my face. "That's what I let her believe." I hope my story is good enough for Haymitch.

I see Cato's eyes narrow. "I thought you said you loved her," he practically spits.

"As if," I try my best attempt at scoffing at the truth he just stated. "That's what I want her to think. It's all part of the plan."

"A plan to kill her?" Cato still looks suspicious. I know I'll have to do better to convince him I want Katniss dead.

"Yeah," I respond, immediately cursing myself for not coming up with a better response. "Yeah?" I think. "Really Peeta? You couldn't do better than 'yeah?'"

I look up at Cato, expecting him to laugh in my face before delivering my deathblow, only to see that he is grinning from ear to ear. I resist the urge to blink, as well as the one to laugh at him. Does he seriously buy it? Wow, that was easier than I thought it would be. He must be dumber than I initially believed.

However, my relief quickly becomes short lived, as the brown haired girl from Two speaks up. Clove, I remember Caesar calling her.

"Seriously?" she calls. "You're going to believe that?"

Cato looks back at her, a frown taking over his mouth. "Why not?" he asks. "What do we have to lose? If he's lying, we can always kill him. There's one of him and six of us. It couldn't hurt."

"Yeah," Glimmer speaks again. "But what if he's leading us into a trap?"

Cato shrugs, "so? We still outnumber them. I'm not afraid of the stupid 'Girl on Fire!'" Cato uses air quotes as he says Katniss' nickname.

"You should be," I think. But I remain silent; I can't give myself away yet.

Clove rolls her eyes. "Whatever. But don't say we didn't warn you."

Cato turns back to me then. "Alright, Twelve. You got a deal. Lead us to that bitch, and we won't kill you…yet."

I nod. "Understood," I tell him.

"Good," he responds, and leads me back to the others. "Well, since you're going to be around for a while, do you know everyone?" he asks.

"Two seconds ago, he was ready to kill me. Now he's making sure I know his buddies. What's up with that?" I think, before responding aloud. "I know most of their names. I'm blanking on the ones from Three and Four."

"I'm Nishell," the girl from Four pipes up.

"And I'm Newton," the boy from Three tells me.

I nod at both of them. "Peeta," I say.

"Yeah, we know," Nishell replies with an air of superiority.

"Great," I think. "Just what I want to deal with, spoiled, little brats."

"Sit down, Lover Boy," Cato instructs. "We were just going over the spoils."

As it turns out, most of the other surviving tributes didn't make it away with much. What the pack has left consists of a huge amount of weapons, everything from knives and swords, to axes and spears. They even have Katniss' bow. I hope I have the opportunity to get it to her before I am killed, so that she will stand a chance. Other than the weapons, there is a mountain of food. Dried fruit and meat, nuts, fresh produce, grain, oil. There are even bottles of water, in addition to the iodine we can use to purify the water we find in the arena.

"How are we going to protect this?" I ask. "We can't exactly just leave it out in the open."

Cato smiles, "that's why Newt is here, right, buddy boy?"

"Right," Newt says.

"So what's the plan?" the boy from District One, Marvel, asks.

Newt smiles, "I'm going to reset the mines."

"Excuse me?" Cato scoffs. "That's impossible. They're disabled after sixty seconds."

Newt smiles again. "Yes, they are. But I'm from Three, electricity, remember? I know how to reengage them."

"No way!" Marvel sounds impressed.

Cato lets out a laugh, "that's freaking awesome!"

"Glad you think so," Newt says.

Glimmer still looks skeptical. "You sure you can do this?"

"Absolutely," he responds. "First things first, though. We need to get all the supplies together in one location, so I can activate the mines around the provisions, without activating the ones that they rest on."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Clove asks, a snobby tone in her voice.

Newt looks at her, "I'm open to ideas. I can work with pretty much whatever you guys decide."

"There's not really anywhere to hide anything out here," Nishell points out.

"We shouldn't hide it in the Cornucopia," Cato decides. "The mines don't go that far, right?"

Newt thinks for a moment. "There are probably some. The whole arena is rigged. But that's really more so the Gamemakers can use them if they need to."

"Where do you think they will be safest?" I ask Newt, hoping that we can get this all sorted out sooner, rather than later.

Newt takes another moment to think. "My best bet is near the tribute entrances. Those are usually the most powerful mines."

"Okay," Cato nods. "Let's pile it all up near the discs."

There is a murmur of agreement from the rest of the pack, and we begin to move the massive amount of stuff. It takes hours to get it all situated. Not only do we have to get it all to the entrances, but we have to arrange it just so, to ensure that nothing will topple off the pyramid and set off the mines. The boys have to lift the girls, to get some of the lighter items on top. By the time we have finished, it is just after dusk, and the darkness is encasing the arena.

"Should that be okay?" Marvel asks, as soon as everything has been stacked.

"This is perfect," Newt replies. "Now I just need to activate the mines."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" I ask.

Cato laughs, "we're not going to help. We need to go hunt."

I look at him, "There are six of us. Not all of us need to go. If Newt needs help, shouldn't we make sure he gets it? This is going to benefit all of us."

"Look, Lover Boy," Cato starts. "Just because I let you live does not mean you can get smart with me. I can kill you any time I want."

I nod. I need to not let my temper get the best of me. I just need to protect Katniss, and picking a fight with Cato is no way to do that.

"Now," Cato begins. "While Newt sets up the mines, the rest of us are going to go hunting. So, everyone, grab what you need, and a couple of torches so we can get out of here."

As I go to the pile and grab a sword, I see Newt kneeling near one of the discs, digging. "You sure you're okay here, alone?" I ask, in a whisper.

He smiles at me. "I'll be fine. This is what I've been trained for in Three."

I nod at him, "if you're sure."

"I'm completely sure."

"Lover Boy! Let's go!" Cato shouts.

"Now go," Newt tells me. "Before the giant vein in Cato's temple explodes."

I chuckle, and leave. I feel bad. I like Newt, but he is going to have to die if Katniss is going to make it home alive.

"You ready?" Cato asks. We all nod. "Great. Clove, Marvel, carry the torches. Now let's go get some tributes."

We head out into the forest. As we walk, I take in what weapons the other tributes selected. Cato, obviously picked a sword, as did Nishell, and Clove has quite a selection of knives in her jacket. Marvel grabbed some spears, and Glimmer…I'm shocked at what Glimmer picked. She grabbed Katniss' bow. I take a deep breath. They don't know that Katniss is good with a bow and arrow, and I have no desire to clue them into that information.

Right as we enter the tree line, Cato turns to me. "So, Lover Boy, when were you supposed to meet up with her?"

I meet his eyes, "Sometime between tomorrow night and day four. Don't worry, I remember our deal."

It's almost ironic how quickly the anthem begins to play. It seems that no sooner have the words left my lips than the faces of the eleven dead tributes light up the sky.

The dead include the girl from Three, the boy from Four, the boy from Five, both from Six and Seven, the boy from Eight, both from Nine, and the girl from Ten. Katniss is alive.

"Looks like you both made it through today," Glimmer says, her voice annoyingly superior.

I smile, "one of the few days that will be." I hope that my acting is good enough and they will buy it.

Cato chuckles, but his expression quickly turns serious. "How will you know where to find her?"

"She'll be leaving me clues," I tell him. "She's leading me to her. That's also how she's telling me when she's ready to meet me."

Cato nods, "Okay, we can stick to your original plan. I hope you know, Lover Boy, that if you're lying, or she lied to you, you're not going to live to see day three."

I nod, "I know."

"Oh, no," I think. I can't save her if they kill me. Maybe I should run for it at some point tomorrow? But that might defeat the whole purpose of teaming up with the Careers. I can only hope that my acting holds up, and I can convince them that Katniss is sending me signals to meet up later, or something.

We continue to trek through the forest, oddly enough not running into any tributes.

"Anyone know what happened to Thresh?" I ask.

"Went to the field," Marvel answers. "Only one who did, too."

"We'll deal with him later," Cato cuts in. "For now, let's just focus on the kids who are in here."

After we have been running around for an hour or so, Cato begins to get angry. We have seen nothing but animals, and I know his patience is wearing thin. He has a thirst for blood and needs it quenched. I'm worrying that he will choose to take his anger out on me when we see it. A fire.

"Yes," Cato says in a hushed tone, and begins to run towards the flames. We all take off after him, and soon, we are face to face with the girl from District Eight.

"Hi there," Cato smiles, mocking her.

"Please," she begs, her small voice tugging at my heartstrings. "Please, don't."

Cato smirks at her, "sorry, honey, but this is how the Hunger Games work." And he stabs her.

Her scream pierces the near silence of the night, causing me to become emotional. Here is this little girl who had her whole life ahead of her, and now she's lost it because the odds were not in her favor. But I can't do anything about it, I just have to stand and watch, because Katniss is the most important thing.

The rest of the group is laughing at the slaughter of the innocent girl, and high fiving Cato for murdering her.

"Twelve down, eleven to go," Cato shouts. "Let's look at the loot."

They quickly look around to see what she has, but it's only a water bottle and a pack of dried fruit.

"Oh, come on!" Marvel snorts in annoyance. "This is it?"

"Whatever," Cato says. "Let's keep going. Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking."

As we walk, Marvel realizes something. "Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?"

Glimmer looks puzzled, "I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately."

"Unless she isn't dead," Clove points out.

Cato looks irritated, "she's dead. I stuck her myself."

"Then where's the cannon?" Marvel asks.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," Clove suggests.

"Yeah," Glimmer agrees. "We don't want to have to track her down twice."

Cato is enraged now, "I said she's dead!"

The others try to reason with him, while he continues to insist that the girl is dead, despite the lack of cannon. Finally, I just can't take it anymore.

"We're wasting time!" I stop the argument. That poor little girl is out there suffering, and I can't bear to make her sit in agony anymore. "I'll go finish her and let's move on!"

I turn back towards where we came and jog off to put the little girl out of her misery.

Thanks for reading. I would really love to know what you think. Any and all reviews are welcomed, and I would love to hear from you all.

ray id: php-master

Chapter Text

A/N: Gah! Has it really been a year and a half since I last posted an update to this story? Yes, my lovelies, it in fact has. I am so sorry for the ridiculously long delay. School and work and my social life got the better of me and I neglected this story to the max. Luckily, I remembered that I had written Chapter 12, and had Artemis edit it a long way back, so I feel comfortable publishing it now, although I'm sure most of you forgot that this story even existed, which is my fault. So, once again, I am sorry that I made you wait so long. And if you are just joining us, welcome! I hope you find this story entertaining and true to Peeta's character, I'm really trying my best here, when I am actually able to write it, which is a rarity. As per usual, any and all dialogue when Katniss is present is taken from the books, and I do not own THG, that exclusively belongs to Suzanne Collins, this story is purely a twist of her world.

Chapter 12

As I make my way back to the girl, a guilty knot begins forming in the pit of my stomach. "I'm going to have to kill someone," I think.

In moments, I see her. She's small, twelve or thirteen at the most, her beautiful chestnut hair is spread out behind her. She is breathing very shallowly, and the expression on her face clearly shows her pain.

"What's you're name, sweetie?" I ask, as I approach her.

"Lynn," she breathes.

"I'm so sorry, Lynn," I hope my expression conveys that I mean it. I raise my sword to put the poor girl out of her misery.

"Wait," she exhales.

I raise my eyebrows at her, "yes?"

"Do you really love Katniss?"

I'm shocked for a moment. I can't believe that that's what she wants to know. This poor girl is on her deathbed, and all she wants is to know if I really love Katniss. Then it hits me. At her age she probably had dreams of growing up and falling in love, and that is all being ripped away from her. Of course the idea of Katniss' and my romance is appealing to her.

I smile at the girl who's life I'm about to take, her rapid breathing adding to my remorse. "Yes," I tell her. "I really do love her."

The girls smiles, and guides my sword-wielding hand to her neck. "Please," she begs me.

"I'm so sorry, Lynn," I tell her again, before I slit her throat.

I walk back to the Career pack, the guilty feeling overcoming me. "I just killed someone," I think.

It was so hard, to intentionally take someone's life. Even though it was a mercy killing, and I ended Lynn's pain, I still feel horribly. Before the Hunger Games, I never imagined I would kill anyone, let alone a child. Yet, I just became a murderer.

After a few minutes of walking, I see Cato and the others.

"Was she dead?" he asks.

"No. But she is now," I say as the cannon goes off, signaling that Lynn's gone. "Ready to move on?"

"Let's go," Cato says, and we take off again.

By this time, the sun is starting to rise in the sky. Cato is fairly disappointed. After all our hours of running around and hunting for tributes, we only have one kill. I know he was hoping to get Katniss last night, but he's willing to settle, considering he thinks I'm leading him to her.

We arrive back at camp, and find that Newt has fallen asleep, several yards away from the pile, next to a fire he apparently built while we were gone.

"Wake up!" Cato yells, kicking Newt in the leg.

"Gah," the boy from three, stirs. "What?" He's clearly tired, and slightly startled from being woken up so abruptly.

"You're supposed to be protecting the stuff," Cato says, visibly angry.

"It's fine," Newt breathes, finally coming out of his sleepy stupor. "I finished setting everything up. No one can touch it."

Cato scoffs, "I highly doubt that."

Newt looks at him. "You told me to do what I do best. And I did. Come one, let me show you."

He leads all of us over to the massive pile we had set up hours before. It's still sitting there, same as we left it.

"So," Glimmer begins. "The mines around the pile are activated again?"
"Yep," Newt responds.

Clove and I realize a flaw at the same time. "How are we supposed to get to the stuff?" she asks, literally speaking just as I was about to.

Newt smiles, "Easy. I only activated most of the mines. There is a pattern leading to the pile, so we can get there safely. But only we will know the arrangement."

Newt demonstrates how to get to the food, telling us what he's doing as he goes. He comes back afterward, holding a water bottle. "We can get our stuff, no one else can," he states proudly.

"That's freaking brilliant!" Cato punches the air triumphantly.

"Thank you," Newt smiles. I wonder if he is hoping that the rest of the Careers won't be able to remember the pattern, and wind up blowing themselves to smithereens. If so, he might have a shot at surviving. Although, it's not a very good one. Chances are they will either remember, or just make Newt get everything off the pile, killing him when they are no longer in need of his services.

"We should get some rest," Marvel suggests. "I'm exhausted."

"That sounds good," Cato states. "Since Newt seems well rested, he can take first watch."

"Actually," I pipe up. "I'm not really tired, I don't mind taking first watch."

Nishell looks at me skeptically, "what do you mean you're not tired? You've been out hunting with us half the night."

"Must be the pre-Games coffee I had," I shrug.

She still doesn't appear to believe me, but Cato speaks before she can. "Whatever, Lover Boy. Just wake Newt up when you get tired. And be ready to go in the morning."

"Okay," I nod, and watch the Careers get comfortable and quickly fall asleep.

As soon as I'm confident they are all asleep, I sit next to the fire and take a deep breath. I hope Katniss is doing all right, though at least I know she's alive. I wonder if we have any sponsors. I know my actions must seem confusing, but Haymitch was confident that this should be the plan.

"Oh, Katniss." I say, just loud enough so I know the cameras will hear it. "I love you so much, you have no idea. I will get you home."

Hopefully that can help Haymitch convince the sponsors that everything I'm doing is out of love for Katniss. Part of an elaborate scheme to get her home. It's not even a lie. Any sign of love on my part, though, that doesn't disrupt Haymitch's instructions, has to help, right?

After keeping watch for a couple of hours, my body can't take the feeling of fatigue any longer. I walk over to where Newt is sleeping, and gently shake his shoulder.

"Hey, Newt," I whisper, careful not to wake up the rest of the pack.

"Yeah," he breathes.

"Can you take over the watch?"

He nods, "sure."

"Oh, and Newt," I start before I can stop myself.

He looks at me expectantly.

"Never fall asleep alone," I tell him. "That's a good way to get yourself killed, and then where would we be?"

Newt smiles, "One step closer to home." He has a joking manner in his voice, like he understands that it's not really funny, but he is trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm serious," I tell him.

"I know," he nods. "Thanks for looking out for me."

I chuckle, "we add on Careers need to look out for each other."

I lay down, and quickly drift off to sleep.

The next few days are similar. We hunt some in the morning, before resting around midday. Then we hunt again at night, before heading back to camp early in the morning, before the sun rises, for some more sleep.

Though no one has officially declared it, Cato is clearly the leader. Whatever he says is what we do. We conform to his timetable; hunt when and where he says, etc. It is like living in a dictatorship. I wonder if this is some of what the other districts go through. In Twelve, our Peacekeepers generally let most things go. Take Katniss, for example. She could easily be punished for hunting, but she's not. It's only when someone does something incredibly illegal, something so abhorrent that it cannot be ignored, that the Peacekeepers actually inflict a punishment.

Cato is quickly getting impatient with me. I keep telling him Katniss is delaying me, telling me to meet her later. My story is starting to crack, and I know that I will be dead in a couple of days. I can't keep putting it off.

On the morning of the fourth day, during our morning hunt, we take off into the woods, looking for tributes, or in Cato's case, Katniss.

"Hey, Lover Boy," he spits at me. "We had better find her, or you aren't going to live to see tomorrow."

I nod, "I know."

"What the fuck is taking her so long?" Glimmer asks. This pulls me up short for a second. I'm really only used to hearing that sort of language from my mother or Haymitch. It's startling hearing that word come out of the mouth of someone who appears so dainty.

I quickly recover, though. "Not sure," I tell her. "She must have run into some problems finding a camp or something."

"Well she had better hurry her ass up," Cato tells me with disgust. "Bitch is going down."

I take a deep breath. I have to figure out how to leave, and fast. As much as I want to follow orders, I can't save Katniss if I'm dead. And it's not like we actually have plans to meet, so I wouldn't be leading them to her.

Just as I'm formulating a plan to make my escape, I see something orange out of the corner of my eye.

I turn my head to see a massive fire spreading through the forest, towards us, the smoke obstructing my vision.

"Run!" I scream.

ray id: php-master

Chapter Text

A/N: Well, it's official, I suck. I'm so so so so so sorry it has been like 100 years since I last updated. I have had Chapter 13 written for a while, and I thought I had published it, until Artemis Rose, my fantastic editor, pointed out that I only had 12 chapters up here, so there ya go. I'll be honest, I have no clue when I'll get around to writing Chapter 14, so please, be patient with me. As always, constructive criticism is welcomed. Hoping you are well. Oh, and if you recognize anything, it is the property of Suzanne Collins.

The rest of the Careers look at me, as if wondering why I am telling them to run.

"Fire!" I yell, pointing in the direction of the inferno that is threatening to engulf us. In the time it takes the rest of my group to register what is happening, the flames are mere feet from us.

"To the lake!" I hear Cato cry, and we turn in the direction we think the lake is and take off running.

I run as fast as my feet can carry me, but I know it is nowhere near fast enough. I feel the heat at my back, the flames threatening to engulf me with every second I dare to try and escape. All of the sudden, I hear a high-pitched cry from behind me.

I turn around to discover Nishell on her knees, clutching her arm. Her right arm has been caught by the fire, and is badly burned. I can see the damage through the hole in her jacket. I look away before it makes me sick, and all the smoke I've already inhaled is threatening to do that. Without thinking, I run to her, grabbing the hand of her uninjured arm and begin to pull her along before the blaze kills us both.

Nishell screams again, "I can't go on, Peeta!"

"Don't you give up on me!" I yell back at her. Again, without thinking, I bring both of us behind a rock, take off my jacket and my shirt, and tie the latter tightly around her badly burned arm.

"Come on!" I tell her, and we run after our counterparts. I'm just about to put my jacket back on, when a fireball comes out of nowhere and skims across my chest, burning me. As much as it hurts, I have no time to think about it. We have to catch up with the other Careers.

After a few minutes of running away from the inferno, allowing the flames to guide us towards the right, I'm convinced we are lost. But, suddenly, as if the Gamemakers decided that we are not worth killing yet, the fire starts to die down. If we can just make it to the lake, we can meet up with everyone later. As soon as I'm confident no more flames are going to attack us, we slow to a walk, and head towards the lake. We have barely begun the journey, when we hear wheezing coming from the right.

Nishell and I head towards the noise, weapons drawn. We enter a little clearing in the trees to discover that the asthmatic breathing we heard was from none other than the rest of our group.

"There you are," Glimmer speaks up. "We weren't sure what happened to you."

"Nishell got injured," I tell her. "Badly burned. We had to stop to wrap it up."

"Doesn't look like you escaped completely unscathed either," Clove reminds me, pointing at my chest.

"Here," Cato says, handing Nishell a bandage and a cream. "That should help yours. Why don't you take some of that too, Lover Boy."

I take the cream and rub some of it on my chest, instantly relieving some of the pain. I know I'm going to need more, but that will have to wait, as Cato seems determined to move on.

We begin to walk back towards the lake. As disappointed as Cato is that we haven't managed to kill anyone tonight, I think he understands that we are in no shape to continue hunting anyone, let alone Katniss.

"Okay," I think. As much as I hated the fire, it seems to have bought me at least a little more time.

As we continue to walk back towards the lake, we hear a splashing coming from our left.

"Oh, yeah!" Cato says quietly, clearly having gone over into hunting mode. He takes off in the direction of the sound and the rest of us have no choice but to follow him.

After a moment of running, Cato stops, a smug look spread all across his face. I follow his gaze, and then I see her. Katniss is up in the tree, a terrified expression on her face.

"Shit!" I think. I normally don't swear, but at this point, I don't see how Katniss can survive, and I can't imagine watching the love of my life die.

I see Katniss' scared look turn more confident, as a smile takes over her mouth. "How's everything with you?"

Cato appears startled, but inwardly, I'm happy. This is something the audience will eat up.

"Well enough," Cato replies to her question. "Yourself?"

"It's been a bit warm for my taste," she shrugs. So she experienced the fire too. I can only hope that she escaped unscathed. "The air's better up here," Katniss continues. "Why don't you come on up?"

"I think I will," Cato responds, and with that, he begins to walk towards the tree.

"Here," Glimmer stops him before he can reach the trunk. "Take this, Cato," she tells him, offering him the bow and arrows.

I don't look at Katniss. I'm sure she's angry with me for being with them, and probably even angrier since I let them have her precious weapons.

"No," Cato refuses the silver weapons. "I'll do better with my sword." Without another word, Cato makes his way back to the tree, and begins to climb. As he does, I notice that as Cato climbs, so does Katniss, and she is much more nimble. The branches Cato seems to be struggling with, Katniss manages with ease. After about a minute, the branch Cato is holding breaks, and he falls to the Earth.

"Fuck!" Cato cries, jumping up.

Glimmer rolls her eyes, and begins to walk towards the tree. She climbs the slender branches, getting higher than Cato did, but not nearly as high as Katniss. This doesn't seem to faze her. She takes the bow, and shoots, missing Katniss.

Katniss grabs the arrow, a smirk on her face as she waves it at us.

"How are we going to get her down?" Marvel asks. "We can't get up."

"I don't know," Cato replies with a snarl. "I just want that bitch dead."

"Maybe if we shoot at her enough, she'll think we've exhausted our weapons and come down?" Glimmer suggests the weakest plan I've ever heard.

"That's dumb," Nishell tells her, saying what we are all thinking.

Finally, I can't take it anymore. "Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning."

"Fine," Cato says, clearly disappointed. I know how badly he wants to kill her.

We gather wood and start a fire. While this is a stupid idea when you're all by yourself, we are six strong, so none of us are really worried about being attacked. I get assigned first watch, which I'm happy with. I can make sure everyone sticks to the plan, and doesn't hurt Katniss, and maybe, if I play it right, I can even warn her when everyone else is asleep. I have to figure out how to use this to my advantage. I will save her, I have to save her.

ray id: php-master