A/N: Second one-shot, in the arena. Exploring the thought of how conflicted one would feel to be in love, but at the same time trying to figure out a way to let go.
I own nothing related to THG. All credit to SC.
Conflicted
When I woke up this morning, we shared a long hug a quick kiss and then we were directed to our respective areas to be prepped for the arena.
The déjà vu of this morning is unnerving. I can't believe I was here just a year ago. My mentality is much the same though. I am on a mission and focused. What is different is the target of that focus.
I am not trying to survive. Not until the end anyway. I am on a mission to send the one person I can't live without back home – to live without me.
He has to live. There is no other option. My life is a wreck. From the moment I was brought to the Capitol last year, I feel like I have had a target on my head.
It is funny to think that such a simple girl from such a simple district could cause the powerful Capitol so much headache, and without even really trying.
I was playing their game last year. I wasn't trying to start a rebellion. I may have been rebelling on my own a little, but it was my personal endeavor, not the call for everyone to take up arms.
However, for whatever reason, I am the target that must be destroyed and I have convinced myself that when I am gone, those that I love can have a life. However oppressed it may be, it will still be a life.
Part of me knows that I will be battling Peeta again in this arena. Not for survival but for the chance to sacrifice a life. Haymitch made it perfectly clear that Peeta was going to do all he could to keep me alive.
That is what Peeta does. He protects me at all costs, usually at his cost, but he never waivers. So the battle will be to see who can succeed in their mission of sending the other one home.
As I walk down the corridor to the launch room, I am almost hardening my heart toward him. The last thing I need to do is become soft and vulnerable. Peeta responds when I am fierce and commanding.
That emotional approach will be my best weapon to keep the edge and succeed.
Inside the launch room, I see Cinna and immediately I am happy that he is here, and I am also scared for him. He really went out on a limb with the dress at the interview. A move that will surely bring on a fiery response from Snow.
"Be careful out there Katniss. Oh, Haymitch wanted me to remind you to remember who you are fighting…whatever that means," he said.
I was puzzled earlier today when Haymitch gave me those parting words. Nothing like a drunken mentor to send you into the most dangerous situation of your life with a cryptic message. Idiot, I had thought to myself when we parted ways.
Later…
A/N: Skipping through the launch tube, and initial blood bath. No point in rewriting what is already there.
Our newly formed, yet uncomfortable alliance group heads up the hills through the jungle landscape. We need water.
This is harder than I thought. Not the games, they have almost become second nature, which is its own right, is really sad. No, what has become hard, almost instantly, is distancing myself from my feelings for Peeta.
He had a very confused look on his face when I was short and commanding with him earlier. Maybe he was expecting a hug, but instead got marching orders and we set off as a group.
What I wanted to do was hug him and kiss him and tell him how glad I was that he was still with me.
But I am on a mission and I am busy trying to figure out this weird alliance that happened without my trying. I am leery of Finick and still trying to figure out his angle.
It is a good thing I have decided to go with the cold-shoulder approach to Peeta, because I certainly don't want to give Finick ammunition with which to hold over my head.
Instead, I want him to focus on me as his greatest threat to victory and forget Peeta even exists.
When we reach the top of the hill I am a little disappointed. I was half expecting a lush lake to be just on the other side. Maybe that was just my thirst talking.
In exasperation, I look upward and it catches my eye - that little shimmering square that signals danger.
My glance falls back to the group just in time to see Peeta reaching out with his knife. The scream catches in my throat as the loud zap resonates through the air.
Peeta falls backwards and is lifeless.
I am waiting for the cannon. I am unable to move, to breathe. It's over. I failed.
While I am having my internal pitty party, Finick has dropped to Peeta's side and is kissing him. No, he is breathing air into Peeta's lungs. I just stare with tears streaming down my face.
After what seems like hours, Peeta coughs, inhales a large breath of air and looks around wildly.
Unnatural sounds escape my throat and my arm are around his neck. I am sobbing, uncontrollably, to the point that Peeta has become the comforter.
All that resolve I had before is gone. In a matter of seconds I have let Peeta back into the place in my mind, my heart and my soul.
I am so torn with emotion at how I am going to be able to leave this person. How am I going to be able to lay down my life for him when my heart and mind are telling me what I am losing?
The look on Finick's face tells me that my deception is over, and he is fully aware that there are deep feelings between Peeta and I. But I am not worried. For whatever reason he brought Peeta back. That must have been a first for the games. In a contest where you are trying to eliminate all competition, CPR is probably not the most useful skill.
After a couple days of new horrors from the game makers, new additions to our alliance, painful deaths and general fatigue, we have made camp on the beach.
I am going to have the first watch, and Peeta joins me. We really haven't spoken much since the force field episode. I chalked it up to both of us being so bent on keeping the other alive.
But here in the quiet of the night, my mind starts to reel with the thoughts of being apart again. Apparently the same thoughts are plaguing Peeta as he breaks the silence.
"Katniss, I need to tell you something," he says.
"I am not stupid. I know that you are trying to keep me alive, and want to sacrifice yourself to send me home. I won't even lie and tell you that I didn't have the same thought process," he said.
Well this isn't really earth shattering news, but I listen anyway.
"I guess we are at the mercy of whoever Haymitch picked to help this time," he continued.
"But you have so much more to live for than I do. You can have a life beyond all of this. You already have a family that adores you and I know that you would have affection and love without me,"
Instanly, I know he talking about Gale. After all that we have shared and all that we have been through, he is still thinking of that .
"I have nothing waiting for me. My family won't grieve me for long, and I have only loved you, and no one else, so there is nothing else for me beyond this arena. I am begging you to let me leave this world with the satisfaction of never failing to give you everything," he finished.
Tears are streaming. I hate how he does this. Not the mushy speeches, but the obvious love that is oozing from his soul and how it cuts to the core of my heart.
"Peeta, when are you going to realize what you mean to people – what you mean to me" I said.
"Could I have a life with Gale, or someone else? Sure, I guess so. But do I want that? Do you really think that I want anyone else? No, I don't."
I was becoming mad to an extent. I went on, "what I want Peeta is for all those I love to be safe from harm. I want my sister to grow up and my mother to live, and I want you to have a life that isn't tainted by being close to the rebel girl that seems to set the Capitol on fire with all that she does. Me sending you home as the victor is the best chance for everyone to live a peaceful life."
"Peeta, my wish is that you can go on and live. I want you to remember me and to love me no matter what, but I want you to live your life. In you, I will go on," I said through silent tears.
His lips are crushed against mine. I don't know if he is savoring one last kiss, or if he just wants me to quit talking. It doesn't matter.
I immediately go from mad and frustrated to warm and open. I love this man. I will always love him. I feel a fire burning deep in my core and channel it all into this moment of passion.
I decide I will allow myself one more moment of pure joy and happiness and will treasure the feeling and thought. It is this hope for his life and the love I feel spilling from my heart that will help me in the final moments.
When the moment has passed, I don't feel so conflicted anymore. I only feel a resolve to ensure his survival.
I silently pray that he will be able to hold on and draw strength from the knowledge that I loved him so completely.