Chapter Text
The scoring went much better than expected, with Haymitch managing to pull through with a solid 8.
Peeta can see in his eyes that he’s proud of himself, and he should be. His body has aged much more than it ought to have, and he’s been fighting against it for weeks.
Katniss, always unexpected, receives a 12.
Effie cheers when the number appears, Katniss looks shocked.
“I thought they would hate me, try to punish me.”
There’s silence after that. They’re all thinking the same thing, They’re already punishing her.
Effie, per usual, is the first to speak.
“So, Peeta,” she says, turning to face him, “What are your plans for the interviews tomorrow?”
Katniss and Haymitch shift to look at him as well. Haymitch’s face expectant.
Katniss is smiling at him, Peeta knows he’s about to wipe that smile off her face.
“Well,” he mumbles, looking at the shiny floor, “We know the Capital loves drama.”
Noises of agreement come from the other three.
“So, Haymitch. Pull the friendship angle, be funny, act like it’s a reunion that just happens to be a fight to the death.”
Haymitch half-smiles at him. Peeta knows this idea isn’t great, but Haymitch’s interview is just a warm-up for Katniss.
“And Katniss…” he starts, forcing his gaze to meet hers, “There’s only one thing the Capitol loves more than drama.”
She raises an eyebrow, expectant.
“Tragedy.”
Peeta can feel Haymitch looking at him, but he stays locked on Katniss, whose expression is unreadable.
“The Capital also loves to pretend to care, pretend to get up in arms when really they’ve been watching bloodshed for years like it’s nothing. You’re a star-crossed lover from District 12, you’ve been forced to return to the games. You need their sympathy, but you have to reinvigorate it. You have to be so desperately tragic they can’t look away.”
Katniss’s eyes are wide, gray like stormy weather, she looks so young, but she can’t be a little girl anymore.
“You’re going to tell them..” he pauses, freezing this one moment, the moment before her face transforms in rage, “You’re going to tell them that you’re pregnant.”
The silence is devastating.
Everything moves in slow motion.
Effie slaps her hand to her mouth, her sharp cry muffled. Haymitch releases a deep shout of laughter, a hand coming up to slap Peeta’s shoulder. Katniss doesn’t move.
“Genius,” says Haymitch, standing up, a wide smile across his face, “Genius! They won’t know what hit them.”
“Well, I’d prefer you not lie. But I suppose…” says Effie, waving her hands like a bird’s wings.
Peeta ignores them both, he has eyes only for Katniss. He had been correct in his hypothesis, her smile had disappeared. But oddly, it had not been replaced with a look of rage. Instead, her face was perfectly blank. It was almost scary. Peeta knew Katniss’s face well, he had watched it for years. It was never still, her brow would furrow, her eyes would narrow, she would bite her lip, in classes, when she was with her friends, even when she was asleep, her face was never still. Her eyes, which had begun to drift slowly downwards, suddenly snapped up to meet his. Her lip twitched, and her eyes were bright.
“Caesar Flickerman is going to have a field day,” she said, a smile slowly shaping her face.
Haymitch’s bellowing laugh filled the room again, “I can’t wait to see his face! Kid, you’re unbeatable.”
Peeta felt his entire body slack. He had been terrified for days, his mind had conjured about a million ways that Katniss could have reacted, storming out, hitting him, hitting Haymitch, screaming, refusing. None of his predictions had been correct.
“I’m not a very good actor,” she says, the first hint of worry crossing her features.
Peeta silently disagrees, she had fooled everyone, including him, during the first Games.
“You don’t need to be,” said Haymitch, sitting down, “You just need to build it up, walk around it, make it clear you’re hiding something, and wait for Caesar to ask. Then, boom!”
“Well, you’ll certainly make an impact,” says Effie. Peeta can tell she disapproves, but she won’t say it, this is Peeta’s job, and he’s doing it the only way he knows how.
The interviews come much faster than Peeta would have liked, everything is going too fast, before long Peeta will have to hear the dreaded countdown, but he can’t run away this time.
It’s odd, watching the interviews from the audience. Caesar Flickerman almost looks normal from this perspective. Peeta can feel the eyes of the Capital audience around him, every time he smiles or claps their eyes flick to him.
The life of a victor, he thinks, Always being watched .
He mostly tunes out what’s happening on stage, he knows he should be paying attention, making notes in his head. But all he can think about is Katniss and what she has to do. He’s not worried, he knows she can act when she wants to. He’s worried about his role. He knows the moment she speaks, the camera will be on him. The doting fiance, the loving mentor, the heartbroken father.
Father. It’s an odd word for Peeta. It’s not one he’d ever associated with himself. His father was almost a ghost, and Peeta had never really planned to have children. He had fantasized, of course, a happy family, but in a different world.
Haymitch’s turn on stage goes remarkably well. His dry humor went over well with Caesar and the crowd, and his story about a drunken night with Chaff brings the house down with laughter. Peeta was impressed that Haymitch so easily appealed to the Capital audiences while somehow still appearing rebellious.
He gets loud applause as he leaves, and then it’s Katniss’s turn. Snow had requested she wear a wedding dress, and there had been discussion of outfitting it with her trademark fire, but Peeta hadn’t wanted anything to overtake her announcement. Snow can tell her what to wear, but he can’t control what she says.
The interview starts out like normal, with a few jokes and a moment of sadness when Caesar reflects on the loss of Katniss and Peeta’s wedding. He asks Katniss what it’s like to see the roles of Mentor and Tribute switched and if Haymitch is a good fighting partner. The interview is nearing its end, and Peeta is starting to sweat. What if it ends before Katniss can mention the baby?
“It’ll definitely be interesting,” she says, smiling at Caesar, “I knew it would be hard either way. Fiance versus Godfather is never an easy choice.”
Peeta smiles, she always comes through.
“Godfather?” says Caesar, on cue.
Katniss gasps and covers her mouth, looking to all the world like she accidentally revealed a secret.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” she stage-whispers to Caesar.
He raises an eyebrow at her, the perfect co-star.
“Care to elaborate?”
She blushes, Peeta’s impressed.
“Well…” she sighs, looking out to the audience, to Peeta, “I suppose it can’t hurt.”
Peeta keeps his face in check, half the cameras will surely be trained on him.
“Haymitch has been nothing but kind to me and Peeta. He’s been a father figure for me since we met.”
Caesar nods, a soft smile on his face.
“So it made sense. He’s the only other person I’d trust to do it.”
“To do what?” says Caesar, on the edge of his seat.
Peeta is frozen, not breathing. Katniss has the entire room under her spell.
“Make him the Godfather,” she pauses, looking out towards the audience, the tension is almost too much, “Of our baby.”
She places a gentle hand on her stomach.
The room explodes.
Everyone around Peeta leaps out of their seats, screaming and clapping. Caesar is frozen in shock. The audience is practically climbing on the stage.
Katniss runs up to meet the tributes standing on their pedestals, all their eyes on her.
The audience is not dying down, Peeta sees shock and horror on their faces. He expected a reaction, but not this much of one.
He swears he hears someone yell, “Cancel the games!”
Caesar looks scared. The citizens of the Capital aren’t supposed to act like this. Peeta scans the crowd. He sees peacekeepers on the sidelines, their bodies tensed. Suddenly, the sea of noise gets immeasurably louder, and Peeta’s eyes snap back to the stage.
His mouth drops open, the tributes, all twenty-four, are holding hands.
Their arms raise into the air, hands linked, their faces are hard, angry. The audience around him is practically a riot, shouting for Snow to cancel the games.
He catches a glimpse of Katniss’s face, bright and clear, the face of the Mockingjay.
Then everything goes black.