A/N A one-shot of the Hunger Games. Peeta's thoughts as he is walking down the train after Katniss has just confessed to him that she doesn't love him. Enjoy! Review, if you please!

Disclaimer: Not mine; Suzanne Collins, etc.

Inexplicable

"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

Peeta didn't even register the meaning of words. He only had to look at Katniss's face to realize what had happened. He swiftly unsheathed his knife and watched in surprise as Katniss jolted and strung her bow.

"You thought I was going to kill you," he whispered raggedly. This is what the Games did to people; turned them into things they weren't. He placed the knife in Katniss's hands. "Do it."

"No!" Katniss cried, trying to dispose of the knife. Peeta held fast to knife's handle. "There must be another way!"

"There isn't Katniss! If we just stand here, you know I'll die first anyway; just do it."

"No, I won't!" Katniss said, and the hysteria was not hard to pick out from her voice. "You don't understand; if I kill you, I swear, Peeta, I'll go insane."

Peeta knew what he had to do. He didn't want to do it, but really, what other choice did he have? It came down to this; he loved Katniss more than he loved himself. He smiled slightly as he thought about the unlikelihood of that one sentence. Yet it was true; he loved her more than anything. And if someone were to ask him, why do you love her?, he would only shake his head and tell the person that he did know. That perhaps he was under some sort of spell.

"At least give me a kiss. I'll toss the knife into the air; if it lands in the dirt blade first, I die, okay?"

Katniss nodded to Peeta's relief. He didn't know how much longer he could keep talking without passing out. He gathered her gently in his arms, wounded as he was. "No matter what happens, I love you," he said.

"I love you too," Katniss replied, and this time, Peeta couldn't tell if she was lying or not. He closed the distance between them and kissed her. He told her everything in that kiss, all his passion and love for her were conveyed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he grasped the knife in Katniss's hands, and ever so slowly, he pulled it towards his stomach. He barely felt it going it.

"I can't," he rasped. "I can't live knowing that you could've." He kept his eyes open for as long as he could, gazing at the most beautiful face in Panem, even if she was weeping and battered. "I love—" He was not able to complete his sentence.

That's how it should've been, Peeta thinks as he makes his way down the train. His footsteps are loud, unmistakable. She had been lying to him. The whole time, he had been lied to. And there he was; a naïve fool, pouring his heart out to her.

And yet, despite all of this, he still loves her. Still thinks she is beautiful. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help it. Perhaps this is why he couldn't tell he was being lied to. Perhaps he is too trusting. He closes the door to his compartment, and, temporarily, his heart.