Chapter Text
"As soon as men decide that all means are permitted to fight an evil, then their good becomes indistinguishable from the evil that they set out to destroy."
- Christopher Dawson
Ten minutes was all Peeta Mellark was allowed with each visitor. Ten minutes to say goodbye to everyone he loved. Ten minutes to leave his life behind him. Ten minutes to confess anything he felt the need to confess.
Katniss was the first to enter the room the Peacekeepers had placed him in, shaking, trying so hard not to cry. She clung to him as though her life depended on it, and all Peeta could do was apologize for how things had turned out.
"You can't go," Katniss whispered, his shirt now wet with tears. She must have started to cry. "I need you."
"I need you, too," he whispered remorsefully. Peeta tried to calm her down, rub her back like he always did, but it only caused her shoulders to shake as more tears came.
Katniss wiped her tear stained face, still clinging at his waist with her right hand. Her face was blotchy now from rubbing it into his shirt, and her eyes as red as Junni's had been when they were on stage for the world to see. He wonders how she's doing, how she's holding up in her room across the hall. Is part of her breaking, too?
It doesn't matter, though.
Soon they will be dead.
Soon they will be forgotten, like all the other tributes before them.
He clings to his sister tighter, afraid of letting her go, not wanting to let her got. Afraid of forgetting.
"What about our plan?" she reminded him, her voice strained with emotions. Peeta pulled back a strand of hair that had fallen out of place from her braid, remembering their childhood plans to run. It all seemed so far away now, so long ago. "You and me," she said. "We'd hide in the woods and never return!"
"Think we could make it out the window?" It's hard to keep his tone light, joking, but he succeeds in making her crack a smile.
"Only if you aren't afraid of jumping from the third story," she laughed. It's a small, humorless laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Her expression grew serious, somber, as she caressed his check, her eyes focusing on all the small details of his face. "You have to win, Peeta," his sister whispered at last, so matter-of-factly.
The suggestion is laughable at best. Win? Him? He couldn't survive an hour in that arena let alone win the thing. He wanted to argue with her, ask if she was joking, but the determination in her slate gray eyes tells him that she is one hundred percent serious on him winning the games. "You know I⎯"
"You have to win, Peeta," Katniss stated, pressing her index finger to his lips. "I need you to win."
It wasn't fair for her to ask this of him. No one has ever made it past day one from their District, not since Haymitch Abernathy's win almost twenty-five years ago. It didn't matter if he promised her or not. They both knew it would never be fulfilled.
The words that have been stuck in his throat start to pour out in a rush. This was his last moment with her, his last moment to tell her everything he needed her to know. The clock was ticking.
"Katniss," he said in a rush, "remember that no matter what anyone says, you're strong and beautiful, okay? Strongest person I know." She shook her head, starting to cry again. "Listen, please," he begged. "Help Dad out. You know he loves you so much. Take care of each other."
"Peeta..."
"And you can always talk to me, in that picture I drew, remember?" She nodded, remembering. "And just remember that you're the most important person in my life." Running his hand over her tearstained cheek, he ruefully smiled. "I love you, Nissy. So much, and⎯" She placed her hand over his mouth again, stopping him.
"Stop talking this way." Her voice carried more strength in it than she appeared to have, and why should he be so surprised? Katniss had always been the strong one out of the two. She refused to see him give up like this. "You will come back," she stressed, straightening the crease in his shirt. If it were on anything but his life Peeta would have found it funny how their roles had reversed. Normally he was the optimist. "You'll come back to me because I demand it. You've never broken a promise to me, Peeta Mellark, and I don't expect you to start now." She gave him a soft kiss on the lips to remind him that he was hers.
"But⎯"
Katniss covered his mouth with her hand once more, now annoyed he wasn't listening to her. "You're mine, Peeta. Not the Capital's." And he can't argue with that. There's not a moment in her life where he didn't belong to her. Peeta can't even remember how it feels to not have her in his life, can't remember those days before she was born. All his memories are with her.
Who was going to comfort her at night, hold her after nightmares?
He may not remember a time without her, but Katniss has never known any different.
"Mine," Katniss stressed when she noticed his demeanor start to sadden again. Her hand is calloused from the years of hunting and he gave it small pecks, causing her to give him the gentle smile she reserved only for him and dropped her hand, having it graze his fingers.
"You always were the possessive type, sis." Peeta gives her a fierce hug again, not really knowing what else to say that would make this any better, and she whispers how he is hers over and over again. Hers. Not the Capital's. He had to remember that. Nothing can change that.
She gently pushed him away after a few moments and clasped her left hand over her right. "I want to give this to you," Katniss whispered at last, pulling off their mother's blue beaded bracelet she wore every year on Reaping for luck, and let it dangle from her fingers in front of them. "I want you to take this. For luck. It'll keep you alive in the arena."
Peeta was at a loss for words.
"Take it," she insisted.
No, he can't. He can't take it from her, one of her most valued possessions. "Nissy..." He can't. "That's Mama's."
"No," she corrected, putting it in his hands and closing his fist around it. "It's mine. It's been mine for years and I want you to take it."
The beads are warm in his hands, smooth like he'd remembered when he had given the bracelet to her all those years ago. Peeta was at a loss for words.
"It's meant to protect you, Nissy." Her hands fist up stubbornly, refusing to accept the return. "The mockingjay is meant to protect you; I can't take it."
Katniss traced the vein in his hand that held her bracelet. "Bring it back to me and it will."
A Peacekeeper opened the door, signaling time was up. They clung to each other one last time and he stupidly promised her he would win the games. For her. It was always for her.
Her eyes filled with tears, but she smiled, knowing the urge to please his little sister would make him fight harder. He would do anything to please Katniss Mellark. Even if it meant killing twenty-three other children to do it.
His father was his next visitor, and when he opened his arms up to his son, Peeta felt as though he was a little boy again, needing his father's protection.
"You need to make sure she doesn't do anything stupid," he instructed, his voice finally cracking and tears starting to fall. Crying. Peeta could cry here. He didn't have to act the part of the big brother in front of Bara, and it was comforting to be the scared teenager that he was.
"I know," Bara whispered. He patted his son's head comfortingly. "I will."
"She thinks I'm coming home, but I'm not!" Taking a chance, he looked up into his father's crystal blue eyes, scared to death. "I don't want to die, Dad. I'm not ready."
"Shh," Bara comforted, holding his son tighter. "No one is ever ready for death, Peeta, but just remember who you are. Death will be a blessing if you stay who you are."
The fears Peeta has ever had since the day he'd turned twelve started to bubble up. He wasn't strong enough. He didn't know how to work weapons like the children in the other Districts. He wasn't smart enough to win these games. He was going to die.
"I promised her," he whispered to his father. "I promised her I'd try to win, Dad. I don't want to kill anyone. I can't."
They hold onto each other, Bara comforting and Peeta crying, until a Peacekeeper comes in and announced that time is up.
"Use your brains," Bara told him urgently before the Peacekeeper ushered him out. "That's the only thing you can do!" The door closed.
Peeta stood alone in the center of the room, waiting for more people to come and wish their farewells to him. When the hour was up and it was time to go he felt different, more empty. Unclenching his fist he held out Katniss' mockingjay bracelet and let the sun shine on the pretty blue beads.
Promise me, she had begged.
His fist clenched around it again when Effie politely knocked on the door, telling him they were going.
He knew what to do.
~~~~
Katniss couldn't sleep that night, or the next night after that. Her bed was too big, too empty. Her pillows didn't keep a steady rhythm to lull her to sleep, and it smelled entirely of Peeta, making her miss her brother more than ever.
She was all alone now.
Her mother had left her.
The father she knew didn't understand.
And the one person who understood the guilt and the heartache she felt was going to die.
It rained the first night Peeta was gone. Her brother wasn't fond of thunderstorms, and each time he'd grow restless in his sleep, tossing and turning. Katniss would wrap his body in her arms, shushing him to quiet down, that it was only a storm, and sing a sweet melody about a bird finding freedom in the sky. It was his favorite melody, and she would sing it whenever it rained, but there was no Peeta to have to calm down.
Instead, Katniss was alone in her too big room, crying into her pillow until she went into a fitful sleep. Her nightmares were vivid, all involving her mother and Peeta mocking her, blaming her for making them want to leave.
"You're worthless," her mother screeched, holding a sweet and perfect child in her arms. "I don't love you as much as I do your sister. You were the mistake."
Katniss weeped, begging her mother to give her a chance, she could do better, be better, but Cary Mellark laughed and cooed at the infant, showing the child to a tall man Katniss didn't recognize. They both cooed at the infant, saying how happy they were to have a perfect daughter.
"Please, Mama!" Katniss pleaded, crawling on her hands and knees until she could grasp her mother's apron. "Why can't you love me?" Her mother ignored her, her eyes lighting up to someone behind Katniss, and she turned to see Peeta, smiling and holding his arms open for her.
Relief flooded through her and she stumbled to the one person who could make this all better, who understood, but Peeta pushed past her, smiling like he always did to her, and went to their mother's side. The two hugged, telling each other how much they love each other, missed each other, and jealousy and confusion raged through Katniss at the sight.
"Look at your little sister," Cary sing-songed, holding out the pink bundle.
"She's stunning!" Peeta gasped. Cary placed the bundle in his arms and he laughed with joy. "She'll fit in perfectly with all the Merchants."
Katniss stumbled over to her brother, crying harder now. "Peeta," she begged. "Please, Peeta..." She wanted him to admire her like he was the infant. She wanted him to hold her, to comfort her. To notice her.
No one in the room bothered to glance up. All their focus was on the pink bundle in Peeta's arms. She screamed as loud as she could.
"LOOK AT ME!"
No one did. They all admired the perfect child her parents had always wanted, and the mysterious man behind her mother morphed into Bara. He placed his big, sturdy hand on his wife's shoulder, and the image of the perfect family made her want to vomit.
"Look how happy they are," a voice from behind mocked. She turned to see Francis Brinx standing in her beige skirt and white polo, clutching a rolling pin in her hand. "They are so happy. The perfect family." She noticed Katniss and pulls her along, telling her it's rude to spy and that Seam trash must be punished for spying.
Her voice was strained when she shot up in her bed, gasping for air. The room is pitch black, and Katniss feels around her bed for Peeta. Where is Peeta?
For a millisecond she thinks he must be in the bathroom, but the memory of the Reaping reminds her that her brother is on his way to the Capital to be slaughtered. Fresh tears prick at her eyes until she is curled up in a ball, praying for the night to be over.
Peeta was gone.
And she was alone.
~~~~
Bara was concerned about his daughter's reaction to Peeta's departure, and the words of her teacher from years ago start to resurface in his mind. His children couldn't handle being separated, the signs had always been there ever since they were little, but he had thought they were doing better⎯ that they were branching out from the other.
It turns out he had been terribly wrong, and now his daughter was suffering.
He had to coax her out of her room to watch the opening ceremonies, reminding her how Peeta wouldn't want them to be acting his way, and so Katniss sat on their small sofa, watching her father set up the small machine that was mandatory in every District 12 home.
"I hope they don't make him look silly," she whispered in passing when he got the machine going. "Last year's outfits looked ridiculous."
Bara chuckled, pleased that his daughter was speaking again, and went to the kitchen to get some tea. The airing wouldn't start for another thirty minutes. "Peeta could be in his birthday suit and he'd still manage to charm the pants off the Capitolites." Her lips perked at his joke and curled herself into her part of the couch, waiting for the ceremonies to begin.
It turned out Bara wasn't too off on his joke. When District 12 rode through on the chariots, Katniss blushed when she saw her handsome brother in nothing but soot.
"He's naked!" she proclaimed, angry because that was her brother and the stupid Capital was already making him look like a fool! Bara had to take her tea away, afraid his daughter would throw it at the wall and ruin the machine.
The days to follow the opening ceremony contained nothing too important. The airings kept tabs on score predictions, what tribute had the highest bets so far, and commentaries on previous games and what this year could hold for these lucky tributes.
Katniss was pleased to see Peeta's scores and predictions weren't terribly low compared to how District 12's tributes scores normally ranged, but these weren't the official scores, the ones that would matter to Sponsors. So Katniss held her excitement in until she saw his final score.
On the night of the Gamemakers' final score, both her and Bara danced around their living room, celebrating, because Peeta had earned himself an 8.
"He has a chance," she whispered to herself that night. "He has a chance."
~~~~
"How've you been holding up?" Gale asked when she made it to their meeting spot the morning after the Games predictions.
Sighing, Katniss plopped herself on a rock and looked out at the horizon. "I'm managing." She doesn't bother telling Gale about the sleepless nights or the nightmares. His father didn't abandon his family on purpose like her mother had. He wouldn't understand.
"I think he'll do fine," Gale admitted, keeping his attention on the stick he was sharpening.
Her heart lifted a little. "You think?"
"Well, so long as he's smart enough to stay away from the Cornucopia, yeah, I think so."
Katniss mulled this over while he continued to finish sharpening the sticks he'd collected. Peeta was smart, she knew that. He was also strong. Maybe that's what he had used to impress the Gamemakers? "He promised he'd come home," she confessed.
"I'm sure a lot of kids promise that, Mellarkable." She ignored the annoying nickname, kind of happy he used it because it reminded her of Peeta and that made her want to smile.
"He promised me, though," Katniss stressed, taking a look at one of the sticks Gale had finished sharpening. "There's a difference."
He snorted. "How? Are you one of those dumb wood fairies Posy's always going on about?"
"Well, no," she frowned. "But for fifteen years Peeta's always kept his promises." She sucked on her finger where the stick had snagged at. "Why break one now?"
They didn't find much that day, as though the forest knew the Hunger Games was going on and retaliating in its own way, and by the end, all they had accomplished was bettering their aim at throwing knives.
It was getting darker out as the two made their way back to town, and Katniss threw out the offer of staying at her place for the interviews.
"I don't know," he hesitated. She understood. Though he traded with many of the Merchants, Gale had a strong bias of dislike toward them all. Except for her, and that had taken months to erase.
"You don't have to stay long," Katniss amended. "Just until after the interviews. It would really be nice to have someone besides my dad there."
He reluctantly agreed, and she dragged him through the bakery and up the stairs to her home. Bara seemed surprised to see him, but gave Gale a welcoming smile and offered some tea.
"They better have Peeta look stunning," Katniss commented when the tributes started going up on stage for their interviews. Gale didn't say anything, and that was fine with her. Katniss didn't want him to. She just wanted someone to hold her hand, to not feel so alone for a few hours.
This year's tributes weren't too impressive. Boring, Katniss thought, compared to other years, but that was good. If no one liked those tributes and they loved Peeta he would surely come home. By the time it was her brother's turn, all three in the room were growing antsy.
"Peeta's always looked handsome in a suit, right Papa?"
Bara nodded and told her to be quiet. No one wanted to say how this could be the last time they ever heard Peeta speak.
The host of the show, Caesar Flickerman, joked with Peeta, and it pleased Katniss that the audience seemed to eat it up. She smiled for the first time that day because her brother was being his charming self and she missed him. It was like he was sitting in their living room, but he wasn't and she told herself to focus.
"It's hard to take these idiots seriously when they're shades of pink and purple," Gale said, his first comment of the night. Katniss shushed him and bit her thumbnail, a replacement habit she had taken up after the thumb sucking.
"So, Peeta," Caesar started after they laughed about roses and showers, "tell us about your Reaping. It was rather heartbreaking."
Peeta's eyes casted down to his lap. "Yeah," he breathed, his voice shaking a bit with emotion. "My sister probably took my Reaping harder than I did." It made her sick when the audience laughed at that.
"I can only imagine." Caesar patted Peeta's hand affectionately with his fuchsia pink hand that made his violet powdered hair look more ridiculous. "And what did you say to her before leaving?"
"I told her I would try to win, and she told me I better." Katniss didn't enjoy the Capitalists' reaction to whatever he said. This wasn't funny. Didn't they think of how his family must feel, watching him discuss his possible death so lightly?
The buzzer soon went off, and their country's national anthem started to play.
She didn't realize traitorous tears had started to fall until she felt Gale's arm wrap around her. "They loved him," he whispered in her hair. "He'll be fine."
They did love him. Yes, that's what was important. So long as the silly Capitalists loved him Peeta had a chance of winning.
Bara excused himself shortly after the machine had turned off, heading downstairs for bed, and leaving Katniss and Gale alone.
He still held her, and she was grateful for that because seeing her brother made her realize how much she missed him, needed him. She had never needed someone so much as she needed Peeta.
"We've always been this close," she said after sitting for an hour in silence, the small brass clock ticking on the bookshelf. "Ever since our mother left our family." Gale nodded, probably knowing where her mother lived in the Seam, if she was even alive still. Katniss didn't know why, but she felt it important to tell him about her relationship with Peeta, about her mother. "I don't remember her much before she left," she confessed, "but I do remember how sad I was when she did. I think I cried for weeks, and every time, Peeta would hold me, told me he would never hurt me like she had, and it felt like he could protect me from anything, you know?"
Gale didn't know, but he let her continue.
"We had to rely on each other, and that's all we've ever known." She wiped her eyes again, sick of crying, determined to never cry in front of Gale ever again. "I'm so afraid of being alone, Gale. He could die tomorrow, and I'll be all by myself." Her voice cracked by the end.
"You have people here," he reminded her gruffly, awkwardly. "Lots of people."
Katniss's head started to shake in disagreement the moment he opened his mouth to speak. "It's not the same."
Gale gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her. "Go to bed, Katniss."
She wanted to ask if perhaps he'd stay with her for the night, the thought of going to her empty bed by herself daunting, but it felt like a betrayal to Peeta and really, it was only because she didn't want to sleep alone. How pathetic.
"Goodnight, Gale," she whispered, leading him to the door. "Thanks for, uh, well... Sorry about that." He shrugged and told her he'd see her later, giving her his blessing for tomorrow morning.
Before leaving, though, he leaned down and gave her a little kiss on the lips. It caused her to blush because she had never been kissed by a boy before, at least not anyone besides her brother, and she tells him goodnight again before shutting the door.
~~~~
The games started and it took all of the Mellarks' might to keep their eyes open during the blood bath. Fourteen children were killed in the first hour, and Katniss was horrified when she witnessed a twelve year old boy from 8 get beheaded by an eighteen-year-old girl from 7 with an axe.
At least Peeta made it safely to one of the taller buildings in the ruined city, avoiding the bloodbath all together.
The commentators were amazed at her brother's ability to run, and it made her wonder if he had let her win their little races for all these years.
By nightfall, a total of fifteen children were killed. One from 1, both from 3 and 5, one from 4, 6, and 7, both from 8 and 9, one from 10, 11, and Junni from 12. Her death was the last one counted for the day.
"Poor Junni," Bara whispered while they watched two Careers from 1 and 4 push her off the ledge of one of the buildings after spearing her in the heart.
"At least it was fast," Katniss said, her throat getting tight because it was only a few months ago the girl was sitting in this very room talking their heads off.
The third day of the games arrived, and alliances had been made between the existing eight tributes, the boy from 10 was crushed by one of the Gamemakers' crumbling buildings while running from the Careers. When Katniss started to watch the games that day, she shouted for her father to come see what was happening.
"Peeta's with the Careers!" she screamed in disbelief. "Peeta's with the Careers!" No person from 12 besides their one living Victor had managed to live this long in the arena let alone join the pack of vicious Careers, but sure enough, she watched as her brother woke next to District 2's sixteen year old female tribute.
What the hell did her brother think he was doing?
Bara asked his daughter if she would want to join him for breakfast, but Katniss brushed him off, saying she was trying to figure out Peeta's strategy. It soon became clear, after hours of watching and studying the games that day, that he was this Career's little pet, following her around, holding her hand, kissing her on her freckled cheek, and the feeling of resentment lingered in Katniss' stomach well past the airing time.
What was he up to?
~~~~
Soon cameramen were knocking on their bakery door, asking for interviews from the lovable Peeta Mellark's family. Katniss was waxed and scrubbed until she could barely recognize herself in the mirror. Her hair was curly, her eyebrows were plucked, and she touched her lips to see how they had managed to make them that pink.
She felt ridiculous.
Her father was dressed in his Reaping's best, and she wore the same green dress she had worn for Peeta's Reaping. She wondered if anyone would notice.
They did.
The reporter asking her the questions commented how pretty she looked, and how they remembered wanting to cry when she called out for her older brother. The woman looked more ridiculous than Effie Trinket with her tattoos shining across her creamy white face, and Katniss wondered how much they had to have hurt putting on.
She had never seen a camera up this close, and it was intimidating seeing it point directly on her while the reporter asked what her thoughts were on her brother's progress.
"I'm, um, I'm really proud of how far he's gotten." Did that little red light mean they were recording?
"Now, your brother said he better win so he could come right on home to you, any thoughts on that?"
A bit of saliva got stuck in her throat and she has to cough, ignoring the frown the reporter gives. "I told him he had to give back my mockingjay bracelet when he comes home."
The woman nodded, smiling. "Yes, Peeta's District token! It's becoming quite the fashion statement in the Capital, did you know that?" No, how would she know that? Why would she care? The silly reporter asked a few more questions on who Peeta is as a person, and what she thought of the budding romance between District 2's Hollis Bunker and District 12's Peeta Mellark.
Jealousy reared its ugly head as Katniss tried to be as truthful and as kind as possible. She had never been a good liar, a trait Peeta would often tease her about since he and their father were excellent liars. This had to appear believable. "I was really shocked when I saw it," she admitted. That part was true. "But...But I just can't believe my brother would run after a girl so soon after the death of his girlfriend, Junni." That seemed close enough to the truth. She tried to remain still, motionless⎯ "You need to stop fidgeting whenever you tell a lie!" Peeta would joke. "You're so obvious because you can't stay still, or just do these weird movements no normal person would do." Katniss had scoffed at him when he had revealed her lack of lying abilities, but Peeta was right. Her hands and arms gained minds of their own when she lied.
Her body remained frozen in place.
The reporter gasped in shock. "Your poor brother! How dreadful!"
Katniss had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Yes, how dreadful to have romance bloom during the games where children are forced to fight to the death. That's what was wrong with this picture. "I'm just looking out for my brother," she lamented, seeing if maybe this could earn Peeta some more favor. "He's such an amazing person, but he always seems to find love in the worst places." She clasped her hands behind her back, sensing the urge to play with them while she talked.
"Are you afraid one of them is going to be forced to kill the other?"
"Yes." Her voice cracked at the perfect moment.
"Well hang in there, Katniss Mellark, and may the odds be ever in your brother's favor!" The cameraman motioned they were done filming, and the reporter smiled, told her she did a good job, and shooed Katniss out of the room, getting ready for the next interview.
When Katniss reached her room, she slammed the door, and threw her shoes at the wall in rage. The thought of that terrible Career killing her brother, holding his heart out for the country to see before squeezing it dry angered her so much she wished she had her knives. Peeta's heart was hers⎯not Hollis Bunker's. Katniss wished she could ask her brother what he was doing, what his strategy was, because it hurt to see Peeta kiss Hollis. It killed her when the airing would stop on the two teenagers sleeping together⎯ just how Katniss and Peeta had been sleeping together every night since before she could remember. But most of all she hated Hollis Bunker because she had protected her brother multiple times in the arena, she was the reason Peeta was still alive.
And Katniss hated being in anyone's debt.
~~~~
It was the sixth night of the games; only five tributes remained.
Katniss' spirits were rising each day as she sat in front of the screen, eyes glued for when they would mention her brother. He was actually doing it, she thought. He was actually succeeding in the games, and soon, Peeta would be coming home to her. She just knew it.
That is until the boy from 6 stabbed him in the arm.
Tears started streaming down both Bara and Katniss' faces when they heard Peeta cry out in pain and shock⎯ the boy had surprised him in one of the dark alleyways. The commentators were pretending to act concerned, but it was obvious they were pleased by this attack. Nothing too startling had happened in the past day and a half after all.
It was only expected, Katniss thought grimly. Peeta was one of the few non-Career District tributes alive at this point and was considered the weak-link.
"What about his Sponsors?" Katniss cried out when Peeta was left to die on the dirty pavement. "Someone needs to do something!"
Bara pulled his daughter into his arms and held her there. He told her that he was sure Haymitch was running around trying to get more Sponsors, and that a lot of people loved Peeta. They were always talking about him and his puppy love with District 2's Hollis Bunker after all. The Capital loved Peeta.
But no one was going to save him it seemed.
His cries of pain were heartbreaking for his family, and Katniss had never seen her brother in this light before. It was terrifying.
Pressing his grimy hand over the gash mark that was protruding blood, Peeta tried desperately to stop the bleeding. It wasn't working, and he took his shirt off, wrapping it gingerly around his arm.
"I hate the Capital," Katniss spat at last, watching her brother die. "How can they do something like this to children? And enjoy it?"
"You know why," Bara whispered, not being able to grasp how his son was dying in front of him. He knew it would happen eventually. Peeta was strong, but not as strong as those children from the richer Districts. His son's death was inevitable.
She got up and turned the machine off, not even caring at this point if they arrested her for disobeying their mandatory watch law. Let them arrest her, Katniss thought bitterly, heading toward her room. Let them kill her if they wanted. They killed her brother, and she'd be damned if she had to live in this bitter world without him.
~~~~
When Peeta was discovered being nursed by Hollis Bunker for the next few days, Katniss didn't know how to react. She was thrilled he was alive, but this romance angle was becoming ridiculous. Did they really think the Capital would pity them so much as to allow two Victors?
"I bet he has something up his sleeves," she commented while eating her breakfast down in the bakery. "He's not stupid enough to fall in love with a girl in the arena." Bara didn't reply, not much for speaking this early. "He's not in love with her," she insisted.
"Katniss, we should be thankful that girl saved his life."
"I am thankful!" The man shook his head and continued pounding the dough for the bread. "I am thankful," Katniss confessed begrudgingly. "It's just that... Well, one of them is going to have to die, and Peeta promised me." She took another bite out of her stale biscuit. "He'd never kill someone he loves; so he must be thinking of a way to kill her."
"You're starting to sound like one of them."
The accusation astounded her. What? Sound like a Capital citizen? "No I'm not!" she whined, but even hearing herself confirmed her father was right. Katniss was acting like one of those whiny Capital citizen who got interviewed if they had put heavy amounts of money into Sponsoring a tribute who had recently been killed. "Sorry," she apologized at last.
Bara nodded, accepting the apology and ordered her to go work the ovens. "We're so behind on orders," he commented, pounding the dough. She nodded, tying her apron on, and heading in the hot back room where they kept the Capital made ovens.
They worked in silence, both lost in their own worlds of worry, and that was fine with Katniss. She was caught up in memories of when her and Peeta were children and they would take turns making the treats for their family's bakery. Cookies had always been her favorite thing to bake because they were sweet, small, and when rolling them, the dough would stick to her hands, tempting her to lick them under the counter whenever Papa wasn't looking. Peeta would always cover for her when she went missing under the counter, and she would cover for him when he was tempted with eating the yummy cherries they would have to smash up for pastries.
It all felt like a lifetime ago.
When the heat became unbearable, Katniss asked for a small lunch break, seeing if she could go out for a bit. "To clear my mind," she told her father. He nodded, telling her she could pick up a few items they needed.
"A half-hour," he warned.
It was another hot day in District 12, and her clothes were damp with sweat from the ovens, but Katniss knew nobody would care today. Everyone sensed the games would be ending tonight. They always did when it came down to four tributes. The Gamemakers would find ways of killing two of them off in terrible ways that would still entertain the Capital's citizens, and then create a climatic ending with the last two tributes. It was a formula, really.
The stores were practically empty with everyone sitting around their viewing sets, or out in the town's square to watch the games on the big screens. She got what her father had asked for with fifteen minutes to spare, and Katniss decided to see what was going on in the games. Surely someone would have told her family if Peeta had died, right?
She hated how her father had refused to move the stupid viewing set to the bakery. What if Peeta had already died?
"Katniss!" Turning around at the call of her name, she saw Madge Undersee, the mayor's daughter, running toward her. "I haven't seen you in awhile," the blonde smiled, a bit breathless from her short distance run.
"My dad's been keeping me close," she lied, glad the basket in her arms kept her from fidgeting.
"He's still alive," Madge breathed out, laughing with joy. "He's still alive, Katniss."
Relief broke out onto Katniss' face. Her brother was still alive, was still fighting. "How's his arm?" The last thing she remembered was seeing his red, inflamed arm before leaving the room to vomit.
"It doesn't look good," Madge admitted, "but Hollis is protecting him. They're making do with his bad arm." Stupid Hollis, Katniss thought bitterly, clutching the wicker basket for dear life. She hated owing people, especially those who she had no chance in ever meeting. Not if she wanted Peeta to win.
"Has he..." She took a gulp of air, trying to gain the courage to ask. "Has Peeta killed anyone else? My dad refuses to watch it, saying we need to work today."
The blonde looked down at her feet and regretfully nods. "Two total so far," she admitted, looking into Katniss' grey eyes. "The boy from 11 and the girl from 7."
"He killed the girl with the axe?" Katniss had to admit she was surprised. The boy from 11 was easy enough, but the girl from 7 seemed so skilled when she had beheaded that twelve year old boy. "How?"
"They crushed her with a dumpster of bricks," Madge explained, twirling a piece of her long hair. "Hollis was on the roof with the dumpster, and Peeta was on the ground, waiting for any tribute to come. When the girl came, Peeta shouted, and all the bricks came tumbling down. Poor girl didn't even get the chance to look up before being buried alive with bricks. It was really fascinating seeing them kill that way, though."
"That's a horrible thing to say, Madge!" But Katniss had to admit her friend was right. At this point of the games, alliances were gone. Nobody trusted anyone else to guard the other's back. "Why do you think she hasn't killed him yet?" It still made no sense why this brutal girl was protecting her brother.
"Peeta does have that magical charm." Katniss blushed at that, knowing all too well her brother's gift. "I think she's been using him for the Sponsors," Madge said at last. "You know how it's all political, and they get a lot of parachutes whenever they do something sweet together⎯ like that large basket of fruit they were sent after Hollis killed her own District partner to save him. All political gain."
The siren from the coal mines blared, telling the District it was two o'clock.
"I better go," Katniss said, pointing behind her. The girls said their goodbyes and went on their ways.
Tonight was going to be it, Katniss thought when ascending up the stairs to the bakery. Tonight was going to be the night the Seventy-Second Hunger Games was going to have its Victor.
~*~*~*~
The entire District was quiet the final night of the Seventy-Second Hunger Games. No one wanted to chance the possibility that they could have another Victor by the end of this.
The Mellarks watched with baited breath for what could happen. Would the Gamemakers leave Peeta and Hollis to their own devices, or would they interfere?
Katniss put her bets that the love angle was enough suffering for the Capital and that the Gamemakers would leave it at that.
She watched as her brother and Hollis walked through the deserted city, both holding hands. Both the last two living tributes.
"Are you thirsty?" Peeta asked when they reach a small watering hole by the city's boundary line. The girl nodded, weak from the lack of food, and he smiled, giving her a peck on the lips. "I'll go get us some."
"What are you doing?" Katniss screamed at the screen. "She has a knife, Peeta! She's going to kill you!" Hollis Bunker does take her knife out, stumbling over to where Peeta sat, refilling his water canteen, but she stopped, biding her time for the perfect attack. The audience needed the best finale after all.
The camera pans out, focusing its attention on Peeta. He sits at the edge of the water, running his hand through the water in some sort of pattern. His lips move, but nothing comes out, and Katniss wondered what he could possibly be doing. He should just attack the girl and get it over with. That's what she would do.
But Peeta isn't her, and he pulls out something that looks like seeds from his pockets. Caesar Flickerman commented on how odd Peeta was acting, suspecting the boy must have a plan of attack on his lover. Both Katniss and Bara lean in at the suspense. What was Peeta doing?
He got up, shoving the canteen in his bag, and trudged over to his lover. "Hey, Hol," he shouted with as much joy as his starved and injured body could summon, "look what they sent us!"
"What is he doing?" Katniss sneered in disgust at the screen. "Feeding her?"
Bara shushed her, and they watched as Peeta told Hollis how their mentors had sent them a thing of nuts to eat.
"They don't look like nuts," the girl commented, looking at the handful in his hand. "They look more like seeds to me."
"They're nuts, trust me," he insisted. "I work in a bakery and we handle these types of nuts all the time." He placed some in her hands and told her to eat them. "I'm not that hungry," Peeta smiled sweetly when she asked why he wasn't eating as well. The girl eyed him suspiciously before deciding hunger was her main priority.
Hollis ate the whole thing of nuts and downed all their water. Peeta encouraged her to keep eating, saying it was important to get nutrients. She followed his instructions, but in the hour complained how sick she felt.
"It's okay," Peeta soothed, telling her to lie down. "Not all nuts agree with us, especially since you haven't eaten a real meal in days."
"My heart's beating so fast," she muttered, curling in on Peeta. He wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. "I've never felt this sick after eating a bunch of stupid nuts."
He brushed her sweaty black hair off her forehead. "That's because they're not nuts," Peeta confessed at last, his voice barely above a whisper. The next thing the audience knew, Peeta was on top of her, pressing her own knife to her throat. She tried to struggle underneath him, caught off guard by his strength, but nothing availed. Hollis Bunker was trapped.
Peeta's weak puppy dog love was all a rouse.
"My sister made sure I knew my way around plants," he breathed, pressing the knife deeper into the girl's throat. "I need to get home to her because I promised, and I hope you understand." Tears were falling from his face, but the knife stayed at the base of her throat. "I'm really sorry, Hollis. You saved me so many times, but..." He sighed, his breath shaking. "My little sister needs me, and I promised." He took the knife and sliced open her throat.
The cannon went off shortly after.
Peeta Mellark was the Victor of the Seventy-Second Hunger Games.