Prim's POV on Katniss' situation with Peeta. Set during the Victory Tour during Catching Fire.


She's my sister. I know her better than anyone else - some parts of her, anyway. I do know - better than anyone - what Katniss Everdeen wants and needs, even though she tries to hide the harsh realities of her life from me. I can see in her eyes how she's feeling - because, despite their different colors, mine show the same thing. Her silver eyes, which she got from our father, show the exact same things as my blue ones, which I got from our mother. It was plain to see. I, Primrose Everdeen, could read my sister, Katniss Everdeen, better than anyone in Panem.

Today was no exception. My mother and I were watching the Victory Tour on television. Everyone was. It was an obligation to all inhabitants of Panem to watch these stupid things. Every year, the winner - or, in this case, winners - of the Hunger Games went from district to district, pretending to be overjoyed and honored when, I now knew, they were horrified, exhausted and suffering. Every year, the victor - or victors - would go and give a quick speech to the people of Panem, specifically to each district. They'd give homage to the fallen tributes of the district, as if the people who lived there didn't hate them for surviving when the people they had been forced to send away had been killed. It was the same thing every year. The same general idea. The only difference: this year there were two people going from district to district. And the people of Panem were still forced to watch.

Right then, I was watching my beautiful as always sister and the local baker's son in district nine. I didn't actually remember the tributes from district nine, but I was positive they both did. I could see the sadness lurking in my sister's grey eyes, even though she was just a face on a screen. Peeta was talking about how sorry he was for the families of the tributes' losses as Katniss simply stood there holding his hand. The Capitol zoomed in on their hands. I could only imagine how bored the Capitol was getting hearing the same speech over and over again, every district, every year. They didn't care about the tributes. If they did, these games would no longer exist. That's probably why the camera zoomed in on their hands in the first place. The Capitol people were only watching this for the love story.

That love story. I had heard Katniss deny it once. She was in her new bedroom, right after her return. I was on my way to the bathroom, to take a shower, when I overheard her through the door. She was talking to herself.

"What was that? In the arena? With Peeta? It was all an act. All an act to keep myself alive. To keep him alive. To get his medicine. But why was I so desperate to get his medicine? Just because it was better to have two victors than one. Two survivors is better than one. That's why? Right? I don't have feeling for Peeta" she had said before I felt like I was invading her privacy and quickly walked off.

I've known Katniss forever. That wasn't her stating a fact. That was her convincing someone. But no one was there to hear her, except me. But she didn't know I was there. She only knew of one person that would hear her. Herself. She was trying to convince herself. I had no actual proof, and I certainly wasn't going to ask, since that would be admitting to eavesdropping on her conversations with her own mind. That's definitely what it sounded like to me though. Like she was trying to convince herself there were no feelings for the baker's son, Peeta Mellark, her fellow victor of the 74th Hunger Games.

Then, I had remembered their closest moments during the games. From her being cuddle up against his chest, holding him in her arms or with her lips pressed to his. I had remembered her eyes in those moments, at least what they looked like when they were open. I remembered the fear obvious is her silver eyes. I also remembered something else. Joy. And one last thing, something I only ever saw when she was looking at me. Love. But a different kind. It was a sparkle I had never seen in her eyes, but I liked seeing shining in the orbs I had become accustom to.

Now, as I watched her upon the television screen, I saw the faint sparkle of that again. The camera zoomed in on their hands again, just as Peeta was talking about how horrible it was that the tributes from nine had both suffered such tragic deaths. All of Panem got to witness her squeeze his hand for support. This Victory Tour was wearing on her. Every district had been hard of her. That was obvious, to me at least. The fear that had been apparent in her eyes during tha games had only diminished slightly, but that tiny sparkle remained.

The camera panned up their bodies to hold a close up of their faces. Peeta was finishing his speech for the people of district nine, and the rest of Panem. Like they had done in district ten - not eleven because of the issue with the elderly man - she leaned over and pecked his lips softly. This time, the kiss was longer than the split second one he had gotten in ten, though, and I wondered why. Maybe she was starting to admit it to herself. She had feelings for Peeta. When they pulled away, the sparkle in her eye was more obvious and I realized just how new it was to see the emotion she had forbidden shining through her eyes.

Everyone in town thought she was in love with Gale. Going to marry Gale. Going to have kids with Gale. Going to spend the rest of her life with Gale. But, I for one had seen her and Gale interact for years - for over five years - and never once did her eyes shine like that. Gale was her friend, her best friend. She cared about him deeply - everyone knew that - but not the way she cared about Peeta. She loved Gale, as a friend. She loved Peeta more, differently, as a lover.

I watched as the screen went blue, lost of signal, waiting for someone to turn it off. My mother reached over and turned it off before walking away. I just stared at the now black screen, burning that look in my sister's eyes to memory. Remembering seeing that same look in Peeta's eyes, only amplified, before the games, and even more during it, and even now, when he was on my television screen holding my sister's hand tightly. I wanted to remember that sparkle in her eyes, fearful of the possibility of never seeing it again. Looking away from the black screen, I silently made a wish. I wished my sister would allow herself to be happy, would admit her feelings for Peeta before she lost the boy who loved her unconditionally. I wished she'd let Peeta feel her love, know her love. I knew what my sister's love felt like, and if I had to choose, Peeta Mellark, the baker's son, was the one boy who deserved to feel Katniss, my sister's love.


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