Chapter Text
I know the audience is going crazy, but I don’t hear anything over the sound of my own heartbeat, don’t see anything but Katniss standing a few yards away from me. She’s beautiful, yes, wearing a dress of the same fabric as my shirt, gossamer and delicate, looking surprisingly young as she runs toward me full speed. I barely catch her as she slams into my arms. We both almost go down, but I hold onto her, needing the feel of her safe and whole. Then she’s up on tiptoe, and our lips meet, and she’s so sweet and perfect with the taste of strawberries, so different from in the cave, but beneath Cinna’s clothes and makeup, she’s the same girl.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Our lips meet again and again. My free hand comes up to cup her cheek, tilting her chin back to kiss her more deeply. There’s an urgency in her touch that hadn’t been there before. Caesar Flickerman is talking, tapping my shoulder, but I ignore him and the crowd. In fact, I wish they weren’t here, that I could have her to myself, just for a little while. Haven’t they gotten enough from us?
After I don’t know how much longer, Haymitch breaks us up, pulling me away from Katniss. I almost react before I remember where we are, that we are no longer in the arena, and Haymitch isn’t our enemy. I take a breath and Haymitch gives me another friendly push toward the victor’s chair. Instead of the single throne-like chair they usually have, we have a deep red plush love seat.
I sit down and Katniss scoots as close as possible to me, leaning her head against my shoulder, just like she did in the cave. She takes off her sandals and tucks her bare feet beneath her. I put my arm around her, anchoring her to my side.
Caesar Flickerman’s out in front of the crowd again telling jokes, really bringing the crowd back from the mania of our reunion kiss, and then they’re dimming the lights to start the show.
I hadn’t thought much about what we would be doing, I was so focused on seeing Katniss again, but this is the recap of the Games. Three hours of required viewing where they show the highlights from the arena.
Where we have to relive the nightmare we just escaped.
Katniss is taking quick, panicky breaths beside me. She reaches out and gathers my other hand in both of hers. A flood of warmth goes through me and I tighten my arm around her. It’s just one more thing we have to get through together. This and then we’re home.
They start with the reaping, breezing over the dead tributes and focusing on me and Katniss, moving chronologically through our preparations for the arena. I try hard to focus on the girl beside me, her warmth, the reality of her instead of what’s on the screen. They end the first hour with our interviews, playing mine in full as I confess my feelings for Katniss.
The next hour is what happens during the first days of the Games. They show the bloodbath at the Cornucopia in detail even though neither of us participated much in it. They do show my fight with Pelles.
For the first time, I see how Katniss fared in the arena, how Clove almost killed her minutes after the gong sounded, her search for water, crying out for it in desperation. My eyes slide to Haymitch in the darkened auditorium. He trusted that she would find water soon, so he didn’t send her any. How did he know?
The video moves on, showing Katniss’ dash through the fireballs. She’d stumbled into the more active cell of the same Gamemaker attack that had me and the Careers wandering through the smoke. Then her up the tree and the tracker-jacker attack. My fight with Cato.
It is torture watching her suffer, and it’s not exactly pleasant watching myself almost die. For most of this part, I was out of my mind with fever, so they focus more on Katniss, her teaming up with Rue and her death. They show Katniss singing to Rue as the young girl dies, and it’s so tragic even this audience is moved to tears. There’s a constant undertone of sniffles coming from the crowd.
They get to the announcement that two tributes can win and Katniss surprises me, shouting my name so loud it echoes in the arena, before clapping her hands over her mouth and looking around stunned. It’s the first bright spot in the whole presentation. I look at Katniss in the dim light, but I can’t make out her expression. I give her hand a light squeeze, but she doesn’t return the pressure, maybe she doesn’t feel it. As hard as she’s grasping my hand, hers must be numb.
They spend the last hour going through Katniss’s search for me, her drugging me, and going to the feast. They alternate between romance and gore, showing us in the cave and the fight between Cato and Thresh. The mutts and Cato’s death are next.
Now they’re showing the berries. It’s been edited as more of a lover’s double suicide than a bid against the Gamemakers, they’re playing this sweeping romantic soundtrack throughout, and the audience is loving it. I can understand why they would do it, they don’t want it to seem like we outsmarted the Gamemakers.
The presentation ends, not with us being named victors, but with what happened later in the hovercraft after I collapsed from blood loss. They show Katniss, screaming, banging against the glass partition as doctors work on my limp body. She’s distraught, saying my name over and over.
Any doubt I had about Katniss’s feelings for me are erased by that one act. I’ve seen her acting, it’s not that good.
They finish with another performance of the anthem, and I have to let go of Katniss to get my cane so that I can stand.
President Snow makes his way to us, a young girl trails behind him, holding the victor’s crown on a pillow. The president gives the crown a twist, and it separates into two. He places the first one on my head, then steps over to Katniss. The pleasant smile doesn’t waver, but the look in his black eyes changes grows colder when he places the crown on her head. A shiver goes through me, and I frown for a second, trying to figure it out, but then Caesar Flickerman is telling us to take a bow, and that takes a little more effort than it would have before my shiny new leg. We end up waving for what feels like hours.
Effie Trinket comes and herds us back to the president’s mansion for the Victory Banquet. We don’t have any time to eat or talk though, government officials and our sponsors continue coming up to us, each one wanting a picture with the victors.
As the night drags, our admirers become more intoxicated. And more aggressive. I have to extricate myself from more than one wandering hand or pinch of my rear. I keep Katniss at my side at all times, her hand locked in mine.
The sun is rising as we make it to the twelfth floor of the Training Center. When we get off the elevator, I’m about to walk Katniss to her room—it’s strange that we have to sleep in separate bedrooms after what we’ve been through—but Haymitch stops me.
“Portia needs you,” Haymitch says. “Something about a fitting for the interview tomorrow.”
I look over at Portia, who came up with us on the elevator. She’s almost asleep on her feet.
“I think it could wait,” I say.
Haymitch glares at Portia and she pushes herself off the wall where she’d been leaning.
“No, I can do it tonight,” says Portia. She looks out the window at the sunrise. “Or rather this morning, I should say.”
I have no choice but to follow Portia while Haymitch leads Katniss down the hall. Portia collects her measuring tape and notebook, then we go to my old room. Katniss’s door is already closed by the time we get there.
“I just want to double-check some of your measurements. The pants for tomorrow are slim cut, and I need to make sure they will fit right over your new leg. I stand still, leaning against the cane, as Portia measures my waist and legs.
“What’s going on, Portia?” I ask. “Why won’t Haymitch let me see Katniss?”
“Maybe Haymitch thinks you both need little space,” Portia says. “Don’t be so impatient, it’s only been a few hours. You’ll get to talk to her tomorrow.”
Maybe she’s right, but something is niggling in the back of my mind, like that day Katniss feed me the drugged berries as if I’m missing the obvious. Portia writes my measurement down, and we say goodnight. On her way out, she reminds me the interview is at two.
I consider going to find Katniss, but the sun rising higher in the sky tells me that I should probably let her sleep. I change into pajamas and slip between the sheets, all of a sudden glad that the sun is up, so I don’t have to sleep in the dark.
The swish of skirts and loud rapping on doors up and down the hallway alert me to the start of another “big, big, day.” I’m tempted to ignore Effie, staring at nothing for ten maybe, fifteen minutes, before I go ahead and get up. I shower and dress, not really paying attention to what I put on because I know Porta has a special outfit for the interview.
I open my door just in time to see Katniss’ close. I take a step in that direction, toward her room when Haymitch grabs my arm out of nowhere. He cups my elbow and pulls me toward the dining room.
“Her prep team just got here,” he says. “Come and get some breakfast.”
I pull out of his grasp but gently. I know I owe him my life. “What’s going on, Haymitch.”
I know I shouldn’t say anything here, some Capitol official might be listening, but what can they do to us now? They’ve already taken their best shot. Winning the Hunger Games means that you’re safe for the rest of your life, given special status, exempt from the reapings.
Haymitch looks at me for a moment before shaking his head like he’s come to some kind of decision. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he says.
I eat breakfast with the others, not Katniss or her team, but Effie, Haymitch, and my team. Effie is still glowing from her success, and it’s kind of amusing how much credit she takes for us.
“I knew right at the reaping that you two were something special,” Effie says. “And I told everyone you were pearls.” She gets a little misty and dabs at the corners of her eyes with a napkin.
“Then you knew more than me,” I say.
“Well, I have always been intuitive,” she says. “It’s one of my innate talents.”
“I could see that,” Portia offers, then turn to her team. “I think it’s time Vitus and Lucia get started with Peeta.”
The two of them swoop me up from the table and take me back to my room. There’s not much to do since yesterday, but they style my hair and apply a tinted cream to my face. After they finish, Portia comes in with the outfit I will be wearing; a white suit with a red tie and vest. My black cane is changed out for one of polished silver one.
We have the interview on our floor in the sitting room. They moved all the furniture out and set up the red love seat in its place and hauled in dozens of vases of red and pink rose. Three camera people are here to film us. When I walk in, Katniss is already there chatting with Caesar Flickerman. She’s dressed in a white dress with pink shoes. We’re not exactly matching today, but we do complement each other. And she looks young, innocent, even which is a feat considering we just survived the Games. The same was true yesterday. I don’t know what it means, but Cinna wouldn’t dress her like that without a reason.
I go over to them when there’s a lull in the conversation, saying a quick hello to Caesar and pulling her off to the side.
“I hardly get to see you,” I say. “Haymitch seems bent on keeping us apart.”
“Yes, he’s gotten very responsible lately,” Katniss says.
“Well, there’s just this and we go home. Then he can’t watch us all the time,” I say.
She gives a sharp intake of breath, and real blush creeps up under the blush Cinna gave her. But then they’re calling for us. We’re sitting on the love seat close, but not touching when Caesar says, “Oh, go ahead and curl up next to him if you want. It looked very sweet.” So Katniss spoons into me and I wrap my arm around her waist.
The camera crew gets into position and then we’re on. At first, the questions are lighthearted, easy. Caesar and I joke like old friends. He shows us various cards members of the Capitol audience made for us with cutesy sayings. He tries to draw Katniss into the conversation, but she mostly deflect attention back to me, so I end up doing most of the talking.
Caesar moves on to the topic of our relationship, which I find I want to discuss because, with the confusion of the Games, I don’t know where we stand. So when Caesar asks when she knew she was in love with me, I want to hear what she has to say.
“Oh, that’s a hard one…” she says faintly, giving out a little laugh. She’s stalling, looking down at her hand for a long moment and I don’t know if it’s because she’s not good at talking about things like that or because… it hasn’t happened.
“Well, I know when it hit me,” Caesar says. “The night when you shouted out his name from that tree.”
Katniss latches on to that idea like a lifeline. “Yes, I guess that was it,” she says. “I mean, until that point, I just tried not to think about what my feelings might be, honestly, because it was so confusing, and it only made things worse if I actually cared about him. But then in the tree, everything changed.”
“Why do you think that was?” Caesar pushes.
“Maybe…because for the first time…there was a chance I could keep him,” she says hesitantly.
Caesar is so moved by her pronouncement that he has to take out a handkerchief and wipe the tears from his eyes. I can’t say he’s the only one. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s had me since I was five. I press my forehead to her temple.
“So now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?” I ask.
She turns so that we are facing each other, foreheads pressed together. “Put you somewhere you can’t get hurt.”
I let out a soft laugh and then I’m kissing her because it’s purely her, no guile, no Capitol girl on fire, it is all Katniss because it’s what she does for people she loves, she protects them. It is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.
Caesar clears his throat, interrupting us. ”Well, Katniss, both of you certainly got hurt in the arena.” He goes on to talk about the various ways we were injured. When we get to the explosion at the Cornucopia, I learn that they were able to fix Katniss’s hearing.
Then Caesar spills the beans, asking about my new leg, and I stiffen. I hadn’t really wanted Katniss to know about that just yet. It’s not that I want to hide it from her, but I don’t want her to look at me like I’m some kind of freak. It’s the first time I feel ashamed of having it.
Katniss reaches over and lifts the leg of my pants, revealing the artificial limb.
“It’s my fault,” she says. “Because I used that tourniquet.”
“Yes, it’s your fault I’m alive,” I tell her.
“He’s right. “He’d have bled to death for sure without it,” Caesar says.
She doesn’t look convinced and latches on to me tighter, burying her head in my shirt. I pat her back, telling her it’s alright, but it still takes a few minutes for her to come back out, and even then, she’s shaken. Caesar backs off, retreating to the more relaxed questions for the rest of the interview.
“What are you looking forward to when you get home?” Caesar says.
“What aren’t I looking forward to when I get home,” I say.
Caesar laughs, “Yes, but seriously, Peeta.”
I know he’s expecting me to say something about Katniss or moving to Victor’s Village, but instead, I say, “The monthly food gifts to our district. After being in the Games, I’m a little more aware of what real hunger is.”
He does ask one last serious question at the very end, the only one he directs at Katniss. “Katniss, I know you’ve had a shock, but I’ve got to ask. The moment you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind…hmm?”
She takes a long time to answer. “I don’t know,” she finally says. “I just…couldn’t bear the thought of…being without him.”
That answer has no bearing on the truth of those final, frantic minutes in the arena. Yes, neither of us wanted to go home alone, but we wanted so much more than that. But, this isn’t the place to say it. The Capitol wants a love story and we’re here to deliver it.
So when Caesar asks me if I have anything to add, I say, “No, I think that goes for both of us.”
Then it’s all over. We’re done in the Capitol. Now they can pack us off to our district, where we can be safely forgotten.
Caesar bids the audience farewell and there’s nothing else to do but shake hands and sign off. Effie bustles everyone off to their rooms to pack and be ready for departure at four. I go to my room, before remembering nothing here is mine. The notepad and the drawings I made of the sparrows are there, but for some reason, I don’t want to take them.
I meet the others by the elevator, and we take a car with dark tinted windows to the train station where we have to say goodbye to Cinna and Portia, but not to Effie. She’s accompanying us back.
“It is the duty of the escort to see her charges home safely,” she says severely.
Of course, no one says that all the charges of the other escorts are dead. We climb aboard and then we’re off, speeding back to District Twelve. Home
We eat dinner in the dining car. They’ve prepared a feast, even by Capitol standards. Home. The word keeps bouncing around in my mind. I’m going to see my family in less than a day, my father, my brothers. Heck, I’ll even be glad to see my mother. But I don’t know if I’m the person I was when I left home, and the thought of trying to mold who I am back into the person I was is daunting. How can I be the same after this?
After dinner, we watch the replay of the interview. On screen, we appear a couple madly in love, but we’ve barely said a word to each other since. She disappears off to her compartment, and I head to mine, changing out of the white and red clothes from the interview into more casual slacks and a t-shirt.
I leave my compartment, my cane clicking against the tiled floor, my artificial leg still a second behind my natural one. I meet back up with Katniss, wrapping my free arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. No, I’m not the same and I don’t really want to be.
The train stops to refuel and we take the break to go outside. We’re finally free of the constant guard and locked door we’ve had since the reaping. We walk along the railroad tracks, Katniss balancing on top of the track and me walking beside her, still holding her hand. It almost makes us the same height. I don’t know what to say now that we’re alone. We’re not used to being normal together, not yet, but I’m looking forward to it.
I spot a patch of pretty white and pink wildflowers growing near one of the tracks. Most of them are withered, crushed by passing trains and the sterile environment, but a few have survived. They remind of the white dress and pink shoes she wore earlier. She’s changed since then, into a green shirt and black pants. It’s the first time we haven’t matched in weeks.
I let go of Katniss’s hand to pick some of the remaining blossoms. It’s what normal boyfriends do, right? They give their girlfriends flowers. I’ve never thought of us in those terms. The words seem too tame, too fragile to describe what we are, everything we’re gone through together. I give the flowers to her, and she smiles, but it’s clearly forced, and then it’s gone.
“What’s wrong,” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says.
So we lock hands again and keep walking, still not talking. Something is wrong. If there’s one thing the Games have done for me, they’ve honed my instinct for disaster. A feeling of dread tightens my stomach.
Haymitch’s voice behind us startles me. When he wants to be, he’s as quiet as Katniss, although he’s not quite sober anymore. “Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay.”
The words don’t make sense. Keep what up? I look at him, waiting for him to explain what he means, but he only looks at the ground before turning around and walking back towards the train.
“What’s he mean?” I ask Katniss.
“It’s the Capitol. They didn’t like our stunt with the berries,” she says in a rush.
“What? What are you talking about?” I say.
“It seemed too rebellious. So, Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn’t make it worse,” Katniss says.
“Coaching you? But not me,” I say.
“He knew you were smart enough to get it right,” she says.
“I didn’t know there was anything to get right. So, what you’re saying is these last few days, and then I guess…back in the arena…that was just some strategy you two worked out,” I say.
“No,” she says, almost yelling. “I mean, I couldn’t even talk to him in the arena, could I?”
“But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn’t you?” I say. It all makes sense, the questions, the oddly timed gifts. They had a system, and they’d been deceiving me together, just like with the syrup. I lock eyes with her, wanting her to deny it. “Katniss?” She just stands there, biting her lip, and I have to take a step away from her. I drop her hand.
“It was all for the Games,” I say. “How you acted.”
“Not all of it,” she whispers.
“Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” I ask.
“I don’t know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get.”
That’s all she says, all the explanation I get after everything that’s happened. I have to close my eyes against the pain in my chest. “Well, let me know when you work it out.”
I turn around and walk back to the train, every step painful. As I’m climbing the steps up to the platform, I look back and see Katniss still standing where I left her, clutching the flowers in both her hands.
Twenty minutes later, the train is taking off, speeding back toward District 12. I lie on the bed, looking at the ceiling, watching the shadows change. I want to cry, but the tears don’t come. I want to be angry, but I’m not. How could I be? I came up with the strategy in the first place. It saved both of us. But I can’t help but feel betrayed. And broken. Broken in a way the Games couldn’t touch.
It was for the Games, for the cameras. The way she kissed me, touched me…I would have sworn what she felt—what we both felt—was real, but I don’t know anymore. Maybe she’s a better liar than I guessed. Then there’s Gale, the guy every girl wants, waiting for her back home. Can’t forget about that.
And the Capitol…the message of the berries wasn’t lost on them. I wonder what that’ll mean for us when we get home. It seems far away now, the Capitol, their power over our lives. The hollowness inside my chest is the more real threat right now.
I stay in bed, fully dressed. I don’t get up for breakfast despite Effie’s demands. Around noon, Haymitch knocks on my door. I don’t open it. Him, I can be mad at. I cover my head with a pillow. It doesn’t work.
“She saved your life and you know it,” Haymitch calls through the door after banging on it for five solid minutes. He walks off.
I do know it, and it makes it worse because I should be grateful, but it hurts too much, and I can’t feel anything beyond the pain.
It is late afternoon when the train starts to slow down, and I know I’ve made it to District 12, but there’s no relief at the thought. I get out of bed and head out, not bothering to shower or put on new clothes, these are barely a day old anyway.
I find Katniss looking out as District 12’s dilapidated train station comes into view. She turns around as I walk up, and her eyes find my face. There’s guilt there and something else, but I can’t hold her gaze. The warmth that always floods my system when I see her is still there, and it mingles with the pain, cutting me worse than Cato’s sword ever did.
I nod and turn away. I’ve had years to pretend that I wasn’t hurt, and I can do it now, even if the ache is different. The station platform comes into view. There are people everywhere, craning to get a look at us. And there are cameras. What was it Haymitch said? Keep it up in the district until the cameras leave.
It’s showtime. I stretch my hand out to Katniss, not looking at her. “One more time?” I ask. “For the audience?”
She slips her hand into mine, and I’m struck again by how delicate it as I entwine our fingers. We wait to face the cameras together, to give them one last story of the star-crossed lovers who beat the odds, and all I can do is wish it was real.
THE END