Katniss POV
The automated doors slide open and Peeta and I are met with the sight of our quietest district visit yet. It seems as though the entire population of District Two is present. Everyone is organized in tightly formed lines, all of them exercising basic uniform position. Peacekeepers with menacing-looking weapons line the peripheral of the clearing as Peeta and I follow Effie, shielding our eyes against the intensity of the sun. We shuffle blindly toward the Justice Building where we are formally greeted by the mayor.
My throat begins to tickle again and I resist the temptation to cough. I am only too aware of the blinking red light hovering like an insect just inches from our faces. The mayor, a rather thickset man in his early forties with a rather unattractive pencil-thin mustache shakes our hands.
"Welcome, Katniss and Peeta, Victors of the 74th annual Hunger Games," he says, his voice booming loudly; he has obviously worked with the Peacekeeper training corps at some point in his life to develop such a well-defined, authoritative call. "I am Mayor Kona Freeman and I would like to extend my hand as a formal greeting from the wonderful things that District Two has to offer."
As if someone had given the order, every single individual in the clearing adopts a very insincere, almost desperate round of applause. This is all very standard protocol. Mayor Freeman goes on to say other introductory bullshit that I don't care to listen to and then we are ushered into the Justice Building, safe within the spacious cavern of the marble interior, leaving the cameras lingering behind the tightly shut doors. I immediately satisfy the demanding sensation of my throat, my harsh coughs reverberating through the linoleum palace.
"Feeling under the weather, Miss Everdeen?" asks Mayor Freeman, glancing over his shoulder at me in a casual manner.
Now that we are alone, I am reminded by something Haymitch had warned me at breakfast. District Two is more closely tied to the Capitol than any of the districts in Panem. Therefore, Mayor Freeman was closely affiliated to President Snow, which means I would have to treat the situation very carefully.
"Just allergies," Effie waves away my ailment with a white-gloved hand. "Nothing that our little star-crossed lovers can't handle." She pinches our cheeks with a smile.
Though I feel annoyed by Effie's actions, I can't help but wonder if I should be appreciative of her emphasizing the 'star-crossed lovers' trend. Perhaps she could have just saved our lives, even if she doesn't know it.
Mayor Freeman just nods and continues to lead us through his 'humble abode'. I try not to sniffle as we follow along, though Effie is kind enough to slip a couple of cherry-flavored cough drops into my hand. I take them gratefully.
Soon, we are standing behind the closed doors of the entrance of the Justice Building, two attendants adjusting the microphones on our lapels and dabbing makeup on our faces. The powdery substance threatens to make me sneeze again, but I somehow manage to waft it away.
"Alright, you know what to do. Just read the cards Effie gave you and we'll be on our way," Haymitch preps us, though there is a hint of exasperation in his voice. "This should be easy, since none of the people here are sure to give you any trouble."
I stare at him blankly, too engrossed with the premeditating state of self-consciousness before performing before a large crowd, let alone an entire country. I sniffle, struggling to get a gist of my mentor's words when Haymitch kindly passes along his handkerchief in my hands.
"Go," he instructs, waving me away.
I offer him a thankful glance as I round the corner and quickly blow my nose. I feel guilty using Haymitch's handkerchief, as this is something he will necessarily want back in his possession, but he owes me one for assisting him in his drunken state so frequently. At least, this is what I tell myself when I abandon the used strip of cloth in a large potted plant. I emerge, coughing, and go to stand beside Peeta once more, who is now alone.
"You okay?" he whispers, peering closely at my face.
I clear my throat and manage a rather convincing nod. "Yeah," I say, pleased to notice that my voice sounds much better than it did earlier this morning.
Peeta looks as though he doesn't believe me, but he doesn't say anything as our fingers embrace. As the doors begin to open, we emerge into the sunlight, waving enthusiastically at the applauding crowd.
The presentation blows over quicker than I expected. Mayor Freeman presents us with our awards and our speeches are so redundant from all of the rehearsing that it feels as though the words are coming from someone else's lips. Other than the occasional break of my voice, on the whole, I sound relatively normal, even if I don't necessarily feel that way. It's when I catch a glimpse of Cato's face on the large television above his family gathered on the platform that I start to break out in a cold sweat.
I squeeze Peeta's hand as the uproar of the crowd is replaced with the howls and snarls of the mutts, tearing Cato apart as he implores us to end his life. I dab perspiration from my lip as the heavy scent of blood triggers my gag reflex and suddenly I'm afraid I'm going to puke on national television in front of a live audience.
Peeta takes one glance at the ashen pallor of my face and immediately launches into a very rushed goodbye as we depart from the stage. I can hear Mayor Freeman's brief moment of confusion, before he turns to the crowd and begins to formally close the ceremony. Peeta has his left arm around my waist for support and leads me away to a marble bench, not stopping until the telltale clank of the shutting doors informs us that we are safe from prying eyes for now.
"Katniss," he says quietly, squatting in front of me so that he can see my face. "Katniss, are you going to throw up?"
I certainly would like to, but unfortunately I'm just left with the bitterness of nausea as I sit caressing my head with my hand, sniffling.
"No," I laugh rather shakily. "I'm okay now," I take a couple of deep breaths, then frown at him. "Sorry." I say for no particular reason.
"Hey, it's okay," Peeta assures me, offering me one of his sweetest smiles; my stomach flutters with pleasure. "We made it through. Now all we have to do is make it through lunch and then we're back on the train in no time at all, alright?"
Lunch. I swallow back the bile that has proceeded to rise in my throat. Peeta must have read my expression, because he flashes me a rather crooked smile.
"Leave it to me. Just slip me the extra portions you don't want and I'll take care of it for you. No worries."
He strokes my face gently and I manage a grateful smile. The loud clacking of Effie's high heels against the marble floor echoes through the room.
"Katniss, are you okay?" she trills, her voice distressed as she approaches us.
"She's alright," Peeta assures them, his eyes still trained on me, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "We just needed a moment to collect ourselves."
We. It's the little things that Peeta says that make one feel so special. He really implements that we're a team. And we are. We're partners in this deal, trying to navigate our way through dangerous waters. Do I love him? Of course. But do I love him in the way he loves me? Never. I don't think anyone can match Peeta's passion and devotion. But maybe someday I will certainly try.
"You were looking a little shaky towards the end there," said Haymitch. "But I don't think anybody else really noticed. We just happened to know what we were looking for."
I nod. That's good. I honestly don't care what happens to me as long as everyone else perceives it as normal. 'Convince me,' Snow had said, his voice echoing in my mind. Part of me wants the districts to view me as strong for the revolution. Hell, I don't want to be the face of the rebellion, but if there was even the slightest opportunity for change, I sort of want to utilize my influence over the nation.
"Well, good," Effie chirps. "Then let's treat ourselves to a little District Two cuisine and then maybe after a hearty meal Katniss will be feeling much better."
Food is the last thing I want right now, but Effie is being so sincere and I'm just too tired to argue. Biting back a retort, I nod and Peeta helps me get to my feet. I sway slightly, feeling my stomach give a dangerous lurch, but the momentary dizziness passes. Haymitch and Peeta glance at me curiously.
"I'm okay," I assure them, frustrated by the attention as I follow Effie through the large double doors that lead to the extravagant dining hall.
When we emerge into the spacious room, I stand and blink in surprise. In the center of the room, surrounded by various large white tables is a small fountain with a statue of President Snow standing on a pedestal. The sight of the chiseled white rose tucked in his breast pocket nearly sends me over the edge again, but I take a deep breath and follow Effie to our table. Peeta holds the chair back for me and I sit down, Peeta on my left, Haymitch on my right, staring directly into the eyes of Mayor Freeman.
The chatter is very casual and conversational, though I cannot help but notice that the mayor's eyes are trained on me more often than not. I'm seriously wondering if I'm just being paranoid, when all of a sudden he directs a question at me and the entire atmosphere of the meal immediately changes.
"So tell me, Katniss," he says, shifting in his seat. "In those final moments in the arena, when you pulled out those berries, what was going through your head?" Already I can tell that Snow is watching me. I don't know exactly what his methods consist of, perhaps the statue contains a voice recording system or something, but I know for a fact that Snow is watching me right now. And he's carefully weighing my response.
The room falls silent. Suddenly I'm wondering if Peeta and I are being publicly filmed. I have a faint notion that the nation is watching me at this moment. I set down my fork, clearing my throat as I carefully think about how to word this. I feel Peeta tense beside me.
"When I found Peeta by the riverbed," I begin slowly. "I realized that we had a chance," I'm looking at Peeta now, lost in the cobalt depths of his eyes. "I was so afraid that if I let myself fall for this boy, that nothing good would come of it. One of us would have to die. But when Claudius Templesmith made the announcement about letting two victors from the same district win," My voice cracks badly. The cough drops Effie slipped me earlier are starting to wear off. But somehow I manage to make it into an emotional thing. "That's when I realized how much Peeta meant to me," I swallow hard, my inflamed throat closing up a little as I feel the heat of tears welling up in my eyes. "And how much he means to me now."
Peeta's eyes are trained on me, taking in every word. Because he knows I'm not lying. What I say now is entirely truthful and I watch as he is gauging my words.
"Being told that the previous rule had been revoked after letting ourselves become so involved with one another and fighting so hard to stay alive," I pause to sort my inconsistent thoughts. "It just. . .I couldn't. . ."
I'm having difficulty concentrating and suddenly I find myself completely incoherent. My lips are moving, forming words that will never be spoken and I have to stop and close my eyes. The room is literally dead quiet as they wait for me to elaborate.
"Living in a world without Peeta," I say slowly, my voice noticeably hoarse now, both from my cold and my emotional state. "Isn't worth living at all. I would rather have never met Peeta than to have one of us die after such a short-lived time together and just dwelling in the 'what if's'."
Silence follows my words.
I open my mouth to say more, but my throat rebels and my stifled cough comes out as a muffled croak, which Peeta and Haymitch manage to transform into my dissolving into tears. Peeta pulls me into a tight embrace and I bury my face into his neck, sniffling. I can hear Haymitch smoothly wrapping up the conversation, excusing my slight meltdown, but later as the train doors shut behind us, he gives me a big thumbs-up.
"You're golden, sweetheart," he says with a chuckle. "That was very well played."
"Nice job," Peeta says, eying me warily.
I can tell he's still registering the meaning behind my speech, trying to figure out how much of it was valid. I try to reassure him with a small, but sincere smile. "Meet me in the common room after we change?"
Peeta's face brightens. "I'm there,"
I'm sitting on the floor of my shower, curled upright in a tight ball, my arms wrapped around my legs. I'm having an intense relapse of flashbacks, the most gruesome scenes cutting into my consciousness. I can hear the lethal buzzing of the tracker jackers, the blood-chilling howls of the mutts, the sickening sound of the end of an arrow penetrating into the flesh of my enemies. . .
I gag, threatening to be sick right there in the shower, but nothing happens. I rest my face in my hands, attempting to grasp reality and stand my ground against the arena's influence over me. Eventually, the sound of the running water drowns out the scents of blood and death and I manage to peel myself up off the floor and shut the water off. After gently toweling myself off, I decide to just dress into my pajamas, even though it's only 3:00 in the afternoon.
Peeta is already waiting for me as I emerge into the common room. He's sitting on the loveseat sofa with his feet up on the coffee table, mindlessly watching some stupid movie from the Capitol. He glances up as I walk in.
"Hey," he says, turning his attention back to the TV.
"Hey," I breathe, my voice sounding a little rough.
I sit down beside him, close enough for us to be touching but not quite close enough to snuggle. I slouch down and cross my arms, trying to make sense of whatever the hell we're watching.
It appears to be some movie series about a woman who fakes her own death to escape her violent husband, but he somehow always discovers her whereabouts and follows her across the country, murdering her potential love interests as he goes. I can't help but wonder if the movies are just a metaphor of my own life, with Snow being the homicidal fiend and me being the woman who pretends to be someone she's not to try to save her own skin, but the people she loves always ending up dead anyway.
Dinner comes and goes and eventually Haymitch and Effie join us, staring mindlessly at the screen as night falls outside. We're on our third installment of the series when I start to feel rather uncomfortable. My head is swimming with unorganized thoughts and a sharp pain shoots up across my temple every time I sneeze or cough. I'm leaning against Peeta now, my head resting on his shoulder as I try to concentrate on the movie. Peeta's hand is gently stroking my shoulder and I can tell his mind is elsewhere, probably still thinking about my televised speech about him. How selfish of me.
I'm queasy and dizzy as we near the climax of the plot and fatigue weighs heavily upon my aching muscles. I glance at the clock on the mantel above the TV. 7:31 pm.
Way too early to be going to bed, but eventually I simply can't stand sitting in this room with other people. I sniffle once, and then lift my head to peer at Peeta's face.
"I'm going to go bed," I whisper to him, carefully detaching myself from his warm body that smells faintly of a pleasant, oaky cologne.
Peeta looks at me curiously, but only says, "Okay,"
I gracelessly get to my feet, then slowly cross the room toward the train doors, my head starting to pound and my flesh crawling with goosebumps.
"Going to bed, sweetheart?" Haymitch drawls from his chair.
"Aw, honey, are you not feeling well?" Effie murmurs, fixing me a sympathetic pout.
I merely shake my head and turn back to the doors as they slide open, too exhausted to argue.
"Okay, Katniss," Effie calls after me. "Well, if you need anything, we're just down the hall."
I don't make any notion that I've heard, I just simply shuffle toward my room, not even bothering to wash up or brush my teeth. I collapse on my bed with a satisfied huff, but almost immediately I'm wracked by shivering. I carefully wrap myself up into a cocoon of blankets, feeling feverish and achy. I close my eyes and almost immediately fall into a deep slumber.