Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they belong to Suzanne Collins and whoever else has publishing rights.

Citations (ish): This is an alternate version of Catching Fire. Some dialogue from the original Catching Fire will be utilized.

This was originally written for a prompt on nightlock, but several thousand words later, it was just completely out of hand.

Here's the prompt: She heard the music, first. It was the music that made her realise she was truly home.

Convince Me

"This has to stop. Right now. This – this – game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I'm too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them."

"It's not like that, Peeta –" I begin.

"It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. "I have people I care about, too, Katniss! Family and friends back in District Twelve who will be just as dead as yours if we don't pull this thing off. So, after all we went through in the arena, don't I even rate the truth from you?"

"You're always so reliably good, Peeta," says Haymitch. "So smart about how your present yourself before the cameras. I didn't want to disrupt that."

"Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today. What do you think is going to happen to Rue's and Thresh's families? Do you think they'll get their share of our winnings? Do you think I gave them a bright future? Because I think they'll be lucky if they survive the day!" Peeta sends something else flying, a statute. I've never seen him like this.

"He's right, Haymitch," I say. "We were wrong not to tell him. Even back in the Capitol."

- Catching Fire, Chapter 5

A man is dead because of me. Thresh and Rue's families might be dead because of me. I think of Rue and how she helped me through the games – and I failed her utterly. I haven't just gotten her killed, I've gotten her whole family in trouble too.

Will this never end? Every day there is a new fear, a new impossible task. At first in District 12, it was survive. Hope the odds are in your favor. The Hunger Games are over but Haymitch's words come back to haunt me. It's not just this trip. I will never be out of the Games. I will never stop being the Capitol's pawn.

I push the food around on my plate, unable to actually lift it to my mouth. The Justice Building Hall is bright and festive. The food is an interesting mix of greens, which I expected from the agricultural district. The salad even has flowers in it. The mood at the dinner seems a little forced but lighter, probably because only the District's better-off citizens are in attendance. It does nothing to help my mood.

I watch the dancers – they are all so skinny, much like the people in the Seam. District 11 and 12 are the poorest districts in Panem. Is it any wonder they would take any chance to end the never ending hardship. They wouldn't last though. For all their numbers here, the Peacekeepers have weapons. What chance do a bunch of farmers have against trained soldiers with guns? It is so easy to see what will happen. They attack. The Peacekeepers fight back. Lives are lost. Best case they take down the Peacekeepers. The Capitol will just send in more Peacekeepers. If they still won't submit, the Capitol will send in hovercrafts to burn the place to the ground, just like District 13. Sure there'll be less fruits and vegetables for a while, but the Capitol will get by on the fish from District 4, grain from District 9, and livestock from District 10. But District 11? Gone.

Peeta's hand on mine breaks me out of my reverie. "Try this," he says. He lifts a fork with a strawberry and bit of cream on it. "The strawberries are so much bigger than the ones we have back home."

I mentally kick myself. We are supposed to be in love and I've spent too much time staring. My lips close over the strawberry. It's divine, but it is like swallowing a rock. I put on the most adoring smile I can manage. "Thank you for taking care of me," I say, running my fingers through his blonde hair. It's obscenely soft now – his prep team has had his hair swimming in conditioner, likely.

"I can think of five different pastries to make with this stuff," Peeta notes. "Wish I could bring some home."

"You like cooking, Peeta?" the mayor asks kindly.

"Not so much, I like baking a lot more. Baker's boy," Peeta replies charmingly.

"You are very lucky then, Katniss," the mayor says. "You'll be in cakes and pastries the rest of your life!"

"Even now he keeps trying to feed me. I'd probably spend all my time trying not to put on a hundred pounds."

They laugh. Well Haymitch gives a sort of snort, but I think he is pleased. I am on the right track.

"Well when children enter the picture, you'll have nothing to worry about! With two athletic creatures like you as parents! Why you'll spend all your time running," the mayor's wife says.

Children were never going to happen. The marriage might, but children, never.

"Oh yes, just remember Seeder's children!" someone else comments.

"Seeder?" I ask.

"One of the District 11 victors," Haymitch explains. "How is the old nag?" he asks the mayor. "And Chaff, too."

"Seeder had some business to attend to and Chaff – well, Chaff's probably drunk and passed out somewhere," the mayor replies. People laugh. I remember Chaff – a District 11 victor who was a friend of Haymitch's. There is a lot of footage of them passing a bottle every year. District 11 doesn't have a lot of victors; I suppose that's how Haymitch got to know these two well.

I can't help but wonder why their victors weren't here though. Surely they are important people in District 11 society.

We make our way back to the train after the ceremonies in District 11. Effie reminds us of our schedule for the next day before sending us to bed. "It's a bit of travel until 10, so we'll be able to sleep late. Octavia, Flavius, Venia – you can use the day to work on Katniss!"

"What?" I ask. "What kind of work?" I've already been put through a full body polish and I've been waxed, tweezed, and threaded. Saving surgery, which Haymitch thankfully protested, I don't know what more they can do with me.

My prep team are all nodding at Effie knowingly. "Don't you worry honey, we've got you," Venia says, putting an arm around me. "Maybe botox?" she looks at Cinna and Haymitch hopefully. I don't know what that is, but I know I don't want it.

"Oh that would be lovely," Octavia agrees. "It'll bring back some fullness into your face!" My prep team prattles on with some input from Peeta's prep team. I notice Peeta and Haymitch use the distraction to sneak away to the dining car. In a few minutes, their soft conversation is drowned out by the sound of a whirring blender. I'm sure it was Haymitch's idea. Smart way not to be overheard. I wonder what they're talking about.

"But what about the rest of her?" Venia's hands suddenly measuring my waist jolt me back into the conversation. "We may have to take her dresses in a little. They're already hanging lose. Do stop dieting, Katniss. You must maintain your measurements. Think of all your lovely clothes, they'll be falling off you!"

"Do we have Botox here?" Flavius asks. "We can put it in by tonight and her face'll be able to move by the time we reach District 10."

My prep team turns to Cinna for the final decision.

"I think a good night's sleep will do," he says calmly.

Fat chance. I haven't had a full night's sleep since the games. "That's a little difficult to get these days," I say.

"I have something that will help you with that, Katniss," Effie says kindly. She puts a bottle of pills into my hand. "Just one, mind you. It'll put you right to sleep."

Octavia goes to my room long enough to help me unhook the back of my dress and leaves. I'm tired. I am so tired. This day has stretched on for what seems like an eternity. Starting the tour and heading to the Capitol – even though this time the train isn't leading me to a violent battle to the death, my traitorous brain keeps making the connection. The littlest things set my heart racing. Seeing Rue and Thresh's families, seeing the old man murdered – nothing good comes from getting off this train. I try to remind myself this is a Victory Tour not an extension of the games. It's silly to be afraid of being in a train. My Hunger Games are over. I survived.

Of course my darker thoughts may be justified in the end. Who knows if I'll get out of this Victory Tour alive? I notice the guards policing the halls more now. I am sure it is because Peeta, Haymitch and I sneaked off to talk earlier. I finish getting ready for bed, scrubbing out every inch of the Capitol until I finally see the District 12 girl in the mirror. I brush and braid my hair to keep my fingers occupied. There's something therapeutic about the motion. Divide it into three, over, under, over, under.

A knock on my door interrupts. It's Peeta. He's barefoot, wearing pajamas with a robe haphazardly thrown on over.

"Can I come in?" The light from outside catches his hair that has finally escaped the styling and gels that Portia and the rest of his prep team use. He looks impossibly young, every inch of sixteen. Handsome, I decide. Not in the same way Gale is, but handsome.

"Yeah." I scoot over to make room for him on the bed.

"I wanted to apologize for yelling at you," he starts. I put out a hand to stop him.

"You already did," I say. "Forget about it. You don't have to apologize again."

Peeta is staring down. "I've been thinking about what you said. Haven't been able to stop thinking."

"You and me both."

"Being in love isn't going to work," He says slowly. "The berries showed the districts you could go against the Capitol. It was a trigger, not a cause."

I jump up in alarm. "Come here," I tell him thinking fast. I'm fairly sure this place is bugged.

Peeta looks at me questioningly, but follows.

"Want to do something fun?" I push his robe off, take his hand and pull him towards the bathroom.

"Now?" He trails after me looking confused.

I smile at him. "Close your eyes."

He obeys but still looks lost. "Katniss, what's going on?"

I close the bathroom door behind me and quickly strip out of my nightgown. "Take your shirt off. But keep your eyes closed."

"What?" Peeta chokes out, but mercifully keeps his eyes closed.

"Trust me." I'm uncomfortable enough as it is. Hurry up Peeta, I try to tell him mentally. Let's get this over with. We can't get off the train and I'm pretty sure everything's bugged. I step into the shower, turn it on and pull a now shirtless Peeta in behind me.

"Okay, open your eyes." Peeta's eyes snap open. He goggles at me.

"Katniss-"

"It's the best way we can talk freely," I tell him hurriedly. "Eyes on my face!" I snap. "This isn't... this isn't… well you know!" I stammer out.

He seems to be barely containing laughter. Ugh. "Sometimes I forget how… pure you are."

"Pure? I am not!" I say.

"You couldn't look at me naked in the arena, even though I was half-dead," he reminds me. "And now you drag me to a secret shower meeting – with underwear on. Who is this convincing?"

My eyes narrow at him. "Are you trying to get me out of my underwear?"

Peeta bursts out laughing. I feel my cheeks burning. Why did I save this boy again? Of all the insufferable, immature things to do.

"Oh shut up, Peeta," I say impatiently. "Shut up!"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, getting himself under control. "You know I think you're perfect, Katniss."

Just like that my annoyance fades to be replaced by an all too familiar guilt. Peeta keeps saying things like this. Things that remind me of his feelings for me but with no expectation that the love will be returned, not pressing me for anything. If anyone is pure, it's Peeta. Not in the way he meant earlier, but a very real soul level kind of purity. I push the thought aside. There were more important things to think of. "What were you saying before?"

Peeta sobers quickly. "It isn't going to work. The berries sparked it, but people don't rise up and fight because of some berries. They fight because of years of oppression. Just look at District 12 – life's tough enough for the merchant families, I can only imagine what it's like in the Seam." He does not say it, but I know he is thinking of the day he saw me scavenging through their trash cans. The day he gave me bread. "Us acting like we're in love – yeah it might convince some people, but for the most part the damage has been done. Whether the berries were an act of love or an act of defiance – the relevant part was the effect, not motivation."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you could have been a lovestruck girl or a defiant protester and it wouldn't have made a difference. What matters is that you got the better of the Capitol."

"So we're screwed."

Peeta exhales and rubs the back of his neck. "Not necessarily. People are crazy angry. They want vengeance. We can't turn back the tide." I can see Peeta thinking hard. "I think our best bet is to change its course."

Peeta would make a good politician. If I wasn't leading him to an imminent death. "How?" I ask him.

"I was talking to Haymitch. Most districts are mad, but the worst ones are 8, 4, and 3."

"How does Haymitch know?"

Peeta shook his head. "He told me the less I knew, the better. He wants us to keep our heads down and do what President Snow wants, the whole star crossed lovers act. I told him I wanted to try something different."

"What do you have in mind?"

"If we can't tell the districts to let go of their anger, maybe at least we can get them to hold on to it. I'm working on a speech with Haymitch, now. Something along the lines of be smart, don't do anything that'll get you killed. People will get what's coming to them."

Steam is starting to get everywhere. I'm glad. If there are cameras, they'll get fogged up. Audio is definitely drowned out, but you couldn't take too many chances. "That'll get you killed, Peeta. It already sounds like you're planning some sort of rebellion-"

"Maybe not. Not if I make it about love."

I shake my head. "It's too dangerous-"

"It can't be any more dangerous than what's happening now," he argues. "I can do this, Katniss. Trust me."

Trust me. There aren't many people I'd trust my life with. I don't even trust my own mother. I trust her to love me of course, but not to take care of me. I trust Prim. I trust Haymitch. I know in this instant, I trust Peeta. "Okay."

"I'll need your help though," he says.

"Anything," I answer, looking up at him.

"We need to keep up the star crossed lovers charade," Peeta says. "I know you don't want to-"

"Don't worry about it."

Peeta looks a little sad. "What about Gale?"

Was he still fixated on that? Matters of life and death at stake. If I am totally honest with myself though, I am afraid of how Gale will react. But if I'm figuring my feelings about Gale, Peeta is the last person I'd want to talk to. "I'll handle it."

"Okay. It's because it's not just the districts we need to appease – we need to keep the Capitol happy too. If the Capitol becomes unhappy with us – well, we lose value. It makes it easier for us to disappear. If we're always front and center with the Capitol citizens, it keeps us alive. Bread and circuses."

"What?"

"It was in an old book I read. You keep citizens happy by keeping them fed and entertained. As long as we entertain the Capitol, Snow can't touch us."

"Whatever it takes to keep us all safe, I'll do it," I tell Peeta. But even as I say the words, I feel the Capitol closing in on me. I'll never be free again.

Peeta tentatively brushes my hair back. "Thank you." I reach back and turn the shower off.

We both step out, me into my robe. Peeta grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist. We both step out into my bedroom. "We should get to bed," I say, thinking of my prep team's earlier discussion.

Peeta picks up his robe. "Yeah. I'm going to work on that thing we talked about."

"You won't sleep on it?"

"Trouble sleeping. Nightmares. If I'm tired enough, I don't dream. I'm hoping the nightmares go away on their own though."

"I don't know if they ever will," I say, thinking of Haymitch. He never sleeps at night if he can help it. I make a mental note to find out what happened in his games to make him hate night time so much. As if on cue, we hear a crash and a string of creative expletives. Haymitch is still in the bar car.

"Good night, Katniss." Peeta bends to give me a kiss on the cheek.

I open the door. A startled looking attendant stands, poised to knock. "Effie Trinket sent a glass of water," she says. "For the pills she gave you."

Peeta – who is still shirtless - takes it from her with a bit of a devilish grin on his face. "Thanks. Here you go sweetheart," he says handing it to me. He winks at the attendant and walks to his room.

I follow the attendant's gaze into my bedroom – where my dress, nightgown and Peeta's shirt are strewn all over the floor and the bed sheets are rumpled. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have been mortified. All I can do is close the door and lean back on it – I cannot tell if I am laughing or sobbing. Maybe something in between.

The next day is less tense as there is only travelling. I try to distract myself, but there aren't many things to do. I visit my prep team and they are more than willing to show me how to use make-up and beauty creams. I make up a game – figuring out how each instrument can be used as a weapon.

As I step off the train at District 10, I grab Peeta's hand so hard my knuckles are white. It's show time.