TAKES PLACE IN CHAPTER 14 (STARTS ON PAGE 192)
IN CATCHING FIRE. I OWN NOTHING.
Lost in my thoughts about the other victor tributes, Peeta's voice startles me. 'Why don't you get some sleep?" he says. Because I can't handle the nightmares. Not without you, I think. They are sure to be dreadful tonight. But I can hardly ask Peeta to come sleep with me. We've barely touched since that night Gale was whipped. "What are you going to do?" I ask.
"Just review my notes a while," he says as he holds up his note book on the remaining living victors, "Get a clear picture of what we're up against. Go to bed Katniss." He finishes, turning his head from me to his notes. There was once a time when he would have watched me leave until I was out of sight, but now my departure is ignored.
Of course, I'm being selfish again. How can I be upset with the way his feelings for me have changed when I never even requited them? He has every right to be as distant and cold to me as he wants off camera. He has that right on camera, too, but he's so decent he plays along like we're in love when it's so obvious to me that I have hurt him.
My thoughts of Peeta take me straight to my bed, where I change out of my clothes and, for the first time, into a silky night gown. The silk is a shimmery golden color; smooth and light like Prim's hair when I brush it out. This comparison gives me a small bit of comfort as I shut of my lights with a shaky hand and climb into my bed in the foreboding darkness.
Though I have no desire to sleep, my eyelids become heavy the moment my head hits the pillow. I force my eyes to track the slow rotation of the ceiling fan about me and my thoughts shift from Prim, the sister I have released, to Gale, the boy I can't seem to let go of. The boy I love.
But how do I love him? The same way he claims to love me? I don't know, but it doesn't matter because I'll never see him again. One day he will move on, marry one of the girls that squeal whenever he walks past them, and forget all about me. This thought hurts for reasons I don't fully understand, but it's for the best. I fall asleep picturing Gales wedding to Liena Phovos, a girl who was in my school year back at the district who used to doodle hearts with Gale's name o\in them on every assignment.
The first day of the games has come and gone and I search for Peeta, my only ally, in the arena. I walk along a river bed, quietly calling my fiancés name. I strategically place my feet as to not make any unnecessary noise and smile to myself as I recall that Peeta is incapable of walking without announcing his presence to everything in a twenty-yard radius. I step lightly around a small puddle and my foot comes down on something a bit more solid than the slippery mud I've been walking on. Whatever it is I have stepped on grunts softly in response to my foot's contact, and I jump back, immediately training an arrow on the spot.
A pair of grey eyes, much like my own, peer up at me from the mud and a familiar smiling mouth tells me to lower my weapon.
"Gale?" I ask, shock overwhelming my thoughts. It's unmistakable now, that his muddy blob before me is my friend from District Twelve. Somehow I know this makes no sense. Gale shouldn't be here in the games, but somehow he is. Why is he here I ask my self. Before I can verbalize the question, his mouth opens again to speak.
"Catnip?" he says weakly. His is expertly camouflaged in the river bed, as if he is part of it, a strange Mud-man Muttation. I drop my bow and arrow beside him and reach down to help him up. He wavers unsteadily as he stands, taking a pained leap forward rather than simply taking a step.
"What's happened to you?" I ask.
"One of the Careers happened to me. Cato, I think." He says, wincing as he takes another leap forward. I stoop down to examine his favored leg, and he places his hands on my back for balance. His leg shows a large cut, dried blood crawling down the sides from a multi-colored, bulging wound. The severe leg wound, the river bed, the camouflage…this all seems familiar, like dejavu, but I can't seem to concentrate hard enough to figure out why. I give up and straighten.
"We need to get this cleaned right away, but first we need to find a safe place to treat it, out of the open." I say. Just as I am about to stumble into the woods with Gale, the welcoming scent of fresh bread and oil paints, the scent that so often lingers on Peeta, fills my nostrils, and I am not startled when a firm arm rests gently around my shoulders. I lean my head against his strong chest. Finally, I think, something that makes sense. Together, Peeta and I help Gale across the river to a patch of berry bushes. I inspect the berries closely, hoping they are safe enough for us to eat, and find that they are. I extend some, first to Gale, and then to Peeta.
"Thank you." Gale says, and when I turn my head to nod at him, he's gone. Once again, I find it hard to concentrate on how this is impossible. Instead, I cram the remaining berries into my mouth and rise. Peeta follows my lead, taking my hand. I start to trudge along, but Peeta stops me, placing both hands on either side of my face. My eyes and heart flutter momentarily as I anticipate Peeta's lips on mine, and the wait is quickly over.
This kiss is more passionate, more natural than many of our others, and as so rarely happens, something stirs in my stomach; something indescribable. It feels right and I kiss him back, meeting his passion. The moment is ruined as a violent pain courses throughout my body, its origin inches from where my stomach had been stirring pleasantly. I whimper abruptly and pull away from Peeta, staggering backwards. I'm finished, I have been found and now I must fall to hands of the other tributes. I only hope that Peeta can run; that he can make it. I look up into his eyes and let out a blood curdling scream as he falls to the ground, a hole stabbed right through his stomach. As he falls, he reveals our attacker behind him. Gale stands before me, cleaning blood—Peeta's and my blood—off of a spear head. Gale is the one who stabbed me. Gale is the one who stabbed me through Peeta like a skewer. His head snaps up at my scream and he drops his weapon—a spear that brings my thoughts, however fleetingly, to Rue--as I fall to forest floor, unable to hold myself up any longer.
"No!" Gale cries. He kneels down and flicks his hands over my wound, unsure of what do to. I kick out violently at him, catching him in the chest and sending him backwards. I crawl desperately towards Peeta, and pull him into my lap, cradling his head.
"No! Katniss, no! I'm so sorry! I only meant to eliminate my competition! I didn't mean to hurt you!" Gale snivels behind me.
"Peeta!" I scream, ignoring the other boy. No response. I shake him gently, calling his name several more times, completely consumed with the fear that he is already gone. I don't even keep track of where my former friend Gale is, unconcerned for my safety as I watch Peeta slowly slip away from me. My gray eyes, so much like those of a traitor; a killer, find Peeta's angelic blue ones, but they don't see me. I quickly realize that Peeta sees nothing. That I am the last thing he ever saw, and when I finally comprehend this, I screech once more in agony.
I startle awake, my right hand clutches my stomach where the hole was, my left searches my bed for Peeta. My hand finds him and I am quickly caught up in his embrace.
"It's okay! It was just a bad dream." He shushes me. I push away from him and inspect what little of his body I can make out in the darkness. He's wearing a simple yet comfortable looking pair of linen pants and little more. I grab his hand and drag him out of the bed, then fumble with the light switch. Blinding light sends bursts of color across my vision as my eyes adjust to the brightness, but the moment I can see I walk frantic circles around Peeta. I don't dare look at his face because I know I must seem crazy, but I can't help myself. I find myself gently probing his stomach and back where the spear would have gone through every few rotations. After about a solid minute of this, Peeta takes my hand and pulls me around to face him.
"What did you dream that has you so…shaken? You've never been this way before." He says gently as he massages my hand in his. I take a deep breath, prepared to explain it all to him calmly, but at the last moment I burst into pained sobs as I remember his blank stare from my nightmare.
"We were in the arena and…someone…speared me through you. You died in my arms, Peeta. I held you as you bled to death. Your eyes! Oh! Your eyes were so empty! They just stared! You were peaceful but eerie and stiff and in so much pain and I couldn't do anything and nothing made sense except for when I was with you and then, just like that, you were gone!" I know I'm not making much sense, but I couldn't hold it in. It's as if something has taken over in me, some insecure force that drives me to tell him all my fears and feelings. I look up to see he is staring at me with eyes that are so alive I almost forget what they looked like dead.
"Katniss, it's okay. I'm right here, I'm safe. You're safe. It was just a dream." He places a welcomed hand on my face, whipping my tears away with his thumb. Before I can stop myself, I throw myself around him, hugging him far too tight. He hugs me back with equal force and impossibly, I feel like I'm home.
"Thank you." I mumble into his shoulder. I'm calming down and my tears fall more reverently, allowing me to form my words more normally. Peeta pulls his face from my hair and kisses my neck tenderly before pulling away to look at me.
"My pleasure." Is all he says.
"You came to me tonight."
"I came in to make sure you were getting some sleep and you were calling my name, so I stayed." He whispers. Only now do I realize how loud I've been when this is a train full of people who are trying to sleep.
"I'm sorry", I say, " you didn't have to stay."
"I wanted to."
"Oh, good, I…I missed this. And you." I say sheepishly, knowing full well how ridiculous that must sound to him. He probably thinks I'm lying again, but I'm not. Not this time.
"I missed you too. It's hard, for me, to be away from you." He says, and I feel like such a wretch. How can I take advantage of him like this? It's obvious now that his feelings for me never changed; I just hurt him so badly that he hid them from me. Am I that ruthless? Is this why I won the games, because I will do whatever it takes to get whatever it is I think I need? What do I say now? I don't have time to plan a safe response before my mouth volunteers it's own.
"It's hard for me too, sometimes." I say. 'Sometimes'? How awful! At least I was honest though. Peeta, however, seems to appreciate my honesty too, because he smiles at me.
"I know", he says, "and things have just been a little awkward since…"
"Gale." I finish simply, and the image of Gale cleaning Peeta's blood off of his spear makes me close the distance between Peeta and I again, hugging him for the millionth time tonight. I can't believe how safe I feel in his arms.
"How do you feel about him?" Peeta asks me as he strokes artful designs across my back with his strong fingers. Normally this question would be rude and inconsiderate, but Peeta deserves to know.
To be honest, I don't know. I know that I love him, but I don't know to what extent. We've been friends and nothing more for what seems like a life time. I have never sensed a romantic element to our relationship, but then it's also become obvious that I am incredibly ignorant. Gale is home and practically family, but there is something there, I just don't know what it is. Peeta looks down at his feet in a sad, disappointed way, and I know I must answer soon before I hurt him again.
"The truth is, I don't know. I don't know how I feel about him, or you. But I do know that sometimes, when we kiss, just sometimes, there is a—a spark is how I guess I'd describe it—in my stomach that feels good and right. I know I feel safe with you, in your arms. You make me smile and you know me so well and I'm so fortunate to know you, too. I know that it hurts me to hurt you and I miss you when we're not close. I know that I care for you, even if I don't know how much. I know that in some way… I love you…" I finish feebly, hoping that I have not just made things worse; that I have not just hurt him with my confusing explanation.
I look up at him and for a moment he holds my gaze, and then, before I know what's happening, his hand is around the back of my neck and his is kissing me as passionately as in my dream, and my body responds to match his. The spark in my stomach is stronger than ever and I can hardly breathe when we pull away.
"Spark?" he asks. I angle myself away from him, embarrassed. I nod. I barely glimpse a close-up of his smile before his lips are upon mine again. The spark in my stomach builds to a steady flame, as if we are feeding it. I lose my head and throw my arms around his neck, thinking of nothing but the moment. He pulls away before I do this time and my hands instinctively find my stomach and I unconsciously pluck at the silky fabric of my night gown.
"Spark this time?" he asks as a playful smile stretches across his face. He is enjoying this entirely too much. Or is he? How would I know, I've never felt like this before. I bring my hands from my night gown to his shoulders.
"More like a small fire." I say, shocked at my honesty, but hoping to be rewarded with another mind blowing kiss.
"How appropriate, Girl On Fire." He says as be pulls me into him, kissing me again and again and again…
END