"We're on in ten… nine… eight…" The main cameraman counts down, and I nervously shuffle in my position next to Peeta. My legs are in front of me, crossed at the ankles, but both of my hands rest on Peeta's leg, my fingers intertwined with his.

It's not a set position. No one told us to sit like this. It's natural for us to be physical in front of cameras. So when we sat down, this was what we ended up with. The director said it looked cute enough, and it's comfortable, so I'm not complaining.

"Four… Three…"

"You'll do fine." Peeta's whisper sends shivers down my spine, and rather than being calmed, I'm even more jittery than before.

"Live." The camera man calls, and the cameras zoom in on Caesar's face, a close-up for the welcome.

"Good afternoon Panem, this is Caesar Flickerman speaking. You all were asking, and we finally got you an interview with Ms. Katniss Everdeen, and Mr. Peeta Mellark!"

"Afternoon, Mr. Flickerman." Peeta gives one of his award-winning smiles. I can almost hear the roar of the Capitol, raving over his charm like love-struck school girls. I feel a small, misplaced pang of jealousy.

"Hello, Peeta. How have you been?" Caesar asks, keeping a smile on his face.

"I've been doing pretty well. Keeping busy with the bakery and art and all that. Really keeps your mind off of things."

"Things like what?" Paylor leans in, intrigued.

"Well…" Peeta scrunches his eyebrows together in thought, "Let's just say that if you've ever been in the arena… You never really come out of it."

"I'm sure many of our past victors will understand what you mean. But for the rest of us, we'll just have to imagine." Caesar gives his best look of sympathy to Peeta, and he turns towards me.

Here we go…

"Katniss! You're awfully quiet over there!"

I clear my throat, "I was quite enjoying the conversation you two were having, actually." I give my best dazzling smile. I know I don't have to act for the cameras anymore, what with the rebels overthrowing the government, but it's natural now.

"Is that so? Would you like to add your opinion to what Peeta said?"

"Well… Peeta's really good at summing things up. I honestly couldn't add anything to what he said."

Caesar laughs, and Peeta and I join in.

"So. Katniss and Peeta. I've been getting one certain question from millions of people. They all want to know… Are you two officially together?"

The question catches me off guard, and I'm sure I turn bright red as my mouth pops open. Thank goodness for Peeta's collective composure.

"Actually Caesar, Katniss and I are not quite a couple." Peeta says. I don't know why, but I feel my heart droop a bit when he says this.

"Aw, that's too bad. Then tell me, Peeta, what inspired your new masterpiece?" Caesar motions to a canvas splayed behind us, the picture covered with a sheet.

"Well, Caesar, the best way most people forget about their nightmares is by keeping a journal next to them at night, and writing down whatever terrifies them. Right?"

"I've heard that, yes."

"Okay. Well, I have one of those. Only in mine, I write down every dream, both good and bad, and transfer them onto canvas. So every single one of my paintings is a scene from a dream I've had at one time or another. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, of course it does. It's quite fascinating, actually. Shall we take a look at the newest addition to your collection?" Caesar repositions himself to be facing the sheet-covered painting, and the covering is pulled off.

I find myself staring at… myself. And Peeta.

As usual, his work is amazing. I can see the tightness of the muscle's in Peeta's arms as he grips my waist, the mussed up curls on his head where my fingers are knotted. I can see the shine of the yoke of the splattered egg on the floor next to us. I can see the passion in our kiss.

Peeta has recreated yesterday, and put it onto canvas.

"Wow. You are quite the artist." Caesar gapes at the artwork, as I do.

"Thank you, Caesar. This certain painting is actually unique compared to the others."

"And how is that?"

Peeta smiles down at me, "This one wasn't a dream." He gives my hand a squeeze, but I barely feel it. I'm numb. I'm pretty sure my mouth is still hanging open. I'm probably even be drooling a little bit.

"Katniss, have you seen this before?" Caesar asks.

Peeta answers for me, "No, Caesar. This was completely private until now."

"When did you paint this?" Caesar's eyes don't leave the painting.

"Last night." Peeta answers.

"You painted this whole thing in one night?" Caesar finally rips his gaze from the art to gape at Peeta.

"I did."

"Peeta…" I haven't looked away from the picture yet.

Both Caesar and Peeta look at me, waiting for a full sentence.

"I…" No words come to my mouth. I'm angry at him for sharing our private lives, touched that he would spend the whole night on this, and annoyed with his perfection. But most of all, I'm confused. Why would he show this to everyone?

"It seems your work has left Katniss breathless." Caesar chuckles, "Well, Panem, I believe that is all the time we're going to steal from Katniss and Peeta, today." Caesar gives a brief goodbye, President Paylor shakes our hands, and then the cameras shut off.

Peeta takes my hand and leads me over to his painting once more. "What are you thinking?" his voice is a soft mutter, barely above a whisper.

"I think you are an amazing artist." I say.

"Not about the quality. What are you thinking about what just happened?"

"I don't know, Peeta. I'm confused. Can you explain this to me?"

"Wait until we get home." Peeta whispers close to my ear.

I nod in response.

About fifteen minutes later we arrive back at the Victor's Village, and it takes another fifteen to change my clothes and wash off the make-up.

Peeta doesn't show up, and I begin to worry. I walk down my steps, and hear shouting outside. Peeking through my window, I suck in a sharp breath.

Peeta's on the ground and propped up on his elbows. His left eye looks swollen already, and a man is standing over him, fists clenched.

Even from the back, I can immediately pin a name on Peeta's attacker.

After all, he is my best friend.

"Gale!"