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Chapter 3- Falling

Effie Trinket is delusional.

When we were reaped, or more accurately when we volunteered as tributes, Effie assured us the life of a tribute was one of grandeur. She told us we would be exposed to fine dining and dress, and that people would fawn over us and we would be treated like royalty.

I'm beginning to think that Effie Trinket is full of shit.

Since the Reaping, we have done nothing in the Tribute Center but spend time with Haymitch, who is incredibly surly when he's sober, go to stupid prerecorded TV interviews with Ceasar Flickerman, and train relentlessly with the other 22 tributes. Since we were instructed to show off as much as we could to the others, it's been a little exhausting. Peeta has been showcasing his strength each day, progressively throwing heavier and heavier objects. I have been showing off my archery skills.

But Peeta has not spoken to me since that night on the train. I have gone over that night again and again, and I cannot figure out what I did wrong.

It's starting to wear on me.

"You look like shit," Haymitch remarks casually at breakfast as he takes a swig of his flask. "The Games are only a week away, you should be getting enough sleep while you can."

My lack of sleep is wearing on temper and I grumble a few choice obscenities under my breath.

"Katniss!" Effie swats my arm. I guess she heard me.

I rub my forehead with my hand, "Sorry. I'm just exhausted."

For the first time since the train, Peeta addresses me, "Katniss, why don't you go lie down? You can just say you aren't feeling well enough for training today."

I am too in shock that he actually spoke to me to even respond. I simply stare at him.

Haymitch grunts in agreement, "I can tell the trainers you're sick. Just go get some sleep so maybe you can be in a better mood for your live interview tomorrow. Though I doubt sleep can affect your surly personality that much."

If looks could kill, Haymitch would be on the ground. But I do admit he's right. Tomorrow is the first and only live interview for each of the tributes and I have to be in a better mood for that if I want any chance at getting any sponsors for the Games. I push away from the table and trudge down the long hallway to my room. I'm not hungry anyway.

Once in my room, I collapse onto the bed. I have enough energy to grab the remote off my bedside table and push the button to turn the window to the night view of the Capitol, but that's it. The remote then drops out of my hand and onto the carpet somewhere. I am lying face down in the now dark room when I hear a gentle knock on my door.

I groan into the blankets, "Go away, Effie. I am not apologizing to Haymitch for what I called him. He deserved it."

I hear my door slide open and then shut quietly. Then the lock clicks.

I turn my head slowly, a bit perturbed about someone locking themselves in my room, and exhale with relief when I see that it's Peeta. "Jesus, Peeta. You scared the hell out of me. What are doing in here?"

He sits on the end of my bed with a concerned expression on his face, "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I just got in here three minutes before you did. I haven't had a chance yet," I know I am a little more snappy than usual, but I'm just so tired.

Peeta smiles a little, a single dimple appearing on his left cheek, "No, I mean why aren't you sleeping at night? What's wrong?"

I let out a long sigh as I roll over onto my back, "It's embarrassing."

"Try me," he smiles his perfect smile again.

Damn it. I can't resist that smile and I don't know why. "I'm used to sleeping with my sister. When I sleep alone…" I hesitate, wondering if he will laugh at me. "When I sleep alone, I have nightmares."

Peeta does not laugh at me. Instead, he takes one of my hands into his. I almost groan with how pleasant it feels; I didn't realize just how much I missed actual human contact. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have come in here with you. Or you could have come to sleep with me."

I prop myself up on my elbows but let him keep his hold on my hand. I can feel my anger bubbling up again, "You weren't exactly speaking to me, though I have no idea why."

His eyes grow soft, "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have reacted that way when you touched me."

The sting of his staunch rejection still lingers and I am still hurt by it. It annoys me because I am not a girl who cares if she gets rejected by a boy she only met once, "It's fine. I shouldn't have."

"No, Katniss, don't do that. Don't shut down. Listen to me, please," his voice is almost desperate and for some reason, I don't like it. I look up at his beautiful crystalline eyes and instantly feel lost in them.

Damn it! What the hell?

I look away and chew my bottom lip a little, "Okay, I'm listening."

"Did you feel it, Katniss?" He asks, his voice full of some emotion I don't recognize.

I'm confused, "Feel what?"

Peeta intertwines our fingers and my eyes widen. He pulls our clasped hands up to his face and presses his lips to the back of my hand and I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head. "When you touched me that day on the train, did you feel what I felt? It was like there was…"

"Electricity," I whisper. I did feel it that day and it knocked me to my knees. Never once, in all the years that I had been around Gale, did I ever feel anything of that magnitude with him. Not even close.

That was the spark my mother and father told me about so many years ago.

"But why did you… why were you so upset? If you felt the same thing?" I ask, afraid of being on the receiving end of his rejection again. I never cared about boys before, after all Gale was the only male in my life at all. But with Peeta, things feel different. And it is terrifying.

"Katniss," Peeta closes his eyes and kisses my hand again, "do you think it's wise for us to feel these things for each other in this situation? There is only ever one victor for the Games. One. Why make it hurt any more than it has to? I never want you to hurt, ever. That's why I volunteered for Gale. I only ever want you to be happy."

I can feel my hand beginning to sweat. His words, these emotions, are foreign to me and I don't know how to handle them, "How long have you felt this way?"

He opens his mesmerizing eyes and they lock onto mine, "Since before the bread."

Before the bread? But I had never met him before then. Before then, I was just a girl scavenging for food so her family wouldn't starve. I hardly even went to school in the days after Daddy died. I spent all my time taking care of them. How could he have felt this way about me for so long?

Seeming to sense my thoughts, Peeta answers against my hand, "I am very observant."

"I…" I am at a loss. I knew, since the day he gave me the bread, that I was intrigued by him. Maybe a little obsessed with him, even. I just could never figure out why he helped me that day. Now it made more sense.

"It's okay," he assures me, letting my hand go. "You don't have to say anything and you certainly don't have to pretend to reciprocate my feelings. I just wanted you to understand why I acted that way. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Katniss. I'm sorry."

I straighten my back defiantly, "You didn't hurt my feelings. I'm fine."

He laughs a little, the sound enveloping me, "Of course not. My mistake."

"But I appreciate the explanation," I add, a little sheepishly. I would never admit to him that he bruised my ego, but he definitely did.

Peeta stands up, "Well I should let you get some rest. Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

No. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

He stares at me for a moment, clearly not believing me. "Are you sure?"

No. I want you to stay so I can sleep. "Yes, Peeta. I'm sure."

Peeta gets to the door before he turns back to me, a smile spread across his lovely face, "You're a terrible liar, do you know that?"

I cross my arms over my chest, "I… may have been told that once or twice in my life."

"You could ask me to stay."

"You could offer."

"Do you have a problem with asking?"

"Do you have a problem with offering?"

He looks at me incredulously for a moment before he breaks into laughter. This is the first time I have ever heard Peeta laugh a real laugh, out loud, and oh Lord is it a glorious sound. "You are something, you know that?" He leans against the door, still smiling. "Katniss, I would be more than happy to stay with you so you can sleep."

I narrow my eyes, suddenly angry at his mocking, "You're laughing at me. I'm not a little kid, Peeta. Get out."

Peeta walks back over to me and, like on the train, he kneels in front of me. This time, he takes my right hand in his and he places his other hand on my face. His thumb traces the dark circles under my eye and all traces of laughter are gone from his face. "Katniss, you look exhausted. We only have a week left until the Games and we have live interviews tomorrow. You need to get some rest. Let me stay with you so you can sleep. Just for now. If you want to be alone tonight, that's fine. Just let me do this for you."

The utter sincerity in his voice would have knocked me off my feet if I had been standing. His light sapphire eyes were burning into mine and I felt my anger melt away. I really do need sleep, I can feel my body sagging under the weight of my exhaustion. I give a small nod, fighting the urge to deny any help offered to me, "Okay."

Peeta pulls back the sheets on the bed so I can climb in. He pulls them around me but stops when he sees that I'm not lying down. "What's wrong?"

A blush spreads across my cheeks, "I don't usually sleep in a bed by myself."

He smiles in understanding and goes to the opposite side of the large bed. Peeta then hesitates and clears his throat, "Above the covers or…?"

This time, I laugh. I pull back the blankets for him and he slides onto the bed with me. Once the blankets are wrapped around us, I burrow into Peeta's side and wrap my arm around his waist, resting my head against his chest. He wraps his left arm around my shoulders and I feel him relax. Almost instantly, I can feel sleep dragging me under. Just as my eyelids are getting too heavy to keep open, I feel Peeta press a kiss to the top of my head.

Daddy kisses my forehead and then kisses Prim's. Momma gets a kiss last, but she gets one right on the lips. Gross!

"You girls be good for your mom, get to school on time, and have a good day. I'll see you when I get home from the mines and you can tell me all about what you did today!" Daddy says as he open the door. "I love you girls."

"Love you Daddy!" I coo, giving him one last hug before he leaves.

"Love you Daddy!" Prim echoes, throwing her arms around Daddy and me.

"I love you, sweetheart," momma smiles, kissing Daddy's cheek and handing him a bag with his lunch in it. "See you tonight."

And Daddy leaves for work.

We did all the things we usually do; help momma with breakfast, scrub ourselves clean in the washtub, put on our best dresses and head to school. School is boring, like always. I just can't wait to get home and see Daddy!

There are a lot of people standing outside when school is over. A lot of my friends are with their mommas on the road, crying into their skirts. I can smell smoke somewhere. Was there a fire? Is that why everyone is sad? Did someone get hurt?

Prim sings a song on the way home, but I can't sing with her today. I feel scared. Too many people are crying today.

When we get home from school, Momma is sitting outside in front of the house. She's all curled up, wrapped in a blanket that Daddy always uses with no shoes on even though it's cold outside. Her hair looks like someone has been pulling it and she has deep red scratches on her cheeks that are still bleeding. She has been crying too.

"Momma?" I shake her, barely holding back tears. "Momma, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Her eyes don't see me or Prim. I don't know what she's looking at, but it must be very far away. She doesn't answer me, she just keeps staring into the air.

Whatever is wrong with Momma, I have to be strong for my sister. I fight back my tears. "Stay here with Momma, Prim. I'll be right back."

Prim nods and sits at Momma's feet, putting her head on Momma's lap.

I go inside to get some shoes for Momma but when I get inside, the smell almost makes me sick. I recognize it from when Momma burned her arm on the kettle last year. It's the smell of burnt skin. I see a large man sitting at the table, hunched over and covered in black soot. His skin is black and red, with large pieces falling off and onto the floor with a slick slapping sound. Some of the bones in the man's back are showing through the missing chunks of skin. He isn't bleeding though, he's been burned too much. I remember Momma telling me that if fire is hot enough, you can get burned and not bleed. The man has been burned so much I don't even know where his skin begins.

"Katniss," the person at the table moans with a cracked voice. "Katniss, baby, Daddy's home."

I'm too scared to move. This can't be my Daddy! Daddy never gets hurt at work. He works in a safe part of the mine, he told me that. He told me no accidents happen where he works.

But I know it's him. I know why everyone was crying.

"D-daddy?" I feel a few tears drip down my cheeks.

The man who is falling apart stands up, leaving pieces of burnt skin stuck to the chair, and turns to me. I see what used to be Daddy's face, only now a lot of it is either missing or on the floor and what's left is burned so bad I can hardly tell it's him. He smiles and most of his teeth are broken. Both of his eyes are red like blood. As he moves towards me and another chunk of his face falls off.

"Give Daddy a hug, Katniss," he says through black lips, holding his ruined arms out to me.

I run out of the house screaming.

"Katniss?! Katniss?!"

Somewhere in the distance, I can hear a familiar voice. He's calling my name but I can't reach him. I'm trapped in the dark, my arms wrapped around my chest to hold myself together. I can feel how hard I'm sobbing, but I can't stop. Daddy is gone. He's dead. I will never see him again.

Someone is shaking me. Hard. "Katniss, wake up. Please, baby, wake up. It's only a dream! You're having a dream!"

A dream? Daddy isn't dead? No… he is dead. But he isn't falling apart? No, that's not how it happened. He didn't die that way. It happened very fast. Painless. Daddy is in a better place than the mines of District 12 now.

"Katniss, please."

He sounds so sad, but I don't want him to be. He didn't have to see the things I saw.

Somehow, I pry my eyes open but I can only see white, "Am I dead?"

I feel him exhale with relief and something brush against my hair. His mouth? "No, Katniss. You were just having a nightmare. I'm still right here."

I look up from the shirt my face is plastered against and see Peeta's seraphic face looking down at me. His eyes are wide now and full of concern. "Katniss? Are you alright?"

Of course I am. I feel fine now that I'm awake. Why is he asking me this?

He wipe something from my cheeks, "You're still crying."

Now I realize that the shaking I can still feel is the fierce sobs wracking through me. I pull myself closer to him and try my best to draw in a few deep breaths. It was just a dream, nothing more. It was just a dream, the same one I've had a million times. It was just a dream.

Peeta rests his cheek on the top of my head, "Do you want to talk about it?" He asks.

I shake my head vigorously, the tears and terror finally fading, "Not this time."

"Okay," he agrees. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to bring you some food? You've been out for a few hours now."

I shake my head again, my eyes already heavy, "I'm still tired. Just don't let me go."

"Never," he promises softly.

"Stay with me," my words sound garbled by the exhaustion threatening to pull me into darkness.

Just before I fall asleep on his chest again, I hear Peeta's voice once more, "Always."

This time when I wake up, Peeta is sound asleep. I'm still lying on his chest and I have such a death grip on his waist that my arm muscles are screaming in protest. The clock on the bedside table reads 3:34am.

Reluctantly, I let go of Peeta to flex my arm and my fingers. At the loss of my grip, Peeta simply mumbles something unintelligible and unconsciously turns his head towards me. For the first time, I'm actually alone with him and he is completely asleep. I can finally do what I've been dying to since the day he became the boy with the bread.

I hesitate for a moment before I reach out to trace his face. I run my fingers across his forehead, brushing his silky blond curls to the side. My fingertips run down his nose, across his eyelids, and over his full lips. I want to memorize every line of his face; if I am the one to make it home from the Games, I want to remember this forever. And if I'm not, I at least want to have done this once.

Peeta's eyes snap open and he grabs my wrist, stilling my hand. When he finds my eyes, he looks… sad? "Katniss…" His voice is soft but chiding. "What are you doing?"

I don't really have an answer. We don't know each other; we have never really spoken until we were Reaped, unless you count the incident with the bread but even that was years ago. I don't know why I wanted to touch him, to remember his face. I know I want to repay him for saving my life, but we aren't in the arena yet. I don't owe him anything here.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. I have never felt this way about anyone or anything before, so I'm unsure of how to deal with it. Gale was just my friend, my brother in a way. But Peeta… he feels like something more.

His light sapphire eyes burned into mine, "Please, Katniss. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

I am usually a very practical person, always trying to choose the steadiest path in the life for myself and my family. Growing up poor and starving in the Seam will do that to you. All I wanted my entire life was stability. And yet here I am, a tribute for the Hunger Games. My future is now as unstable and uncertain as it could possibly get.

But if I have any say in Peeta's future, he will have a very long life back in District 12.

Peeta continues to watch me, his fingers around my wrist. My fingertips are still pressed against his cheek.

The wheels in my head begin to turn. I have an idea.

"Our live interviews are today, right?"

He nods, confused at the abrupt change in subject, "Yes. They go by district number, so we'll be last."

I take my hand back and braid my hair sloppily. I always think better when my hair is braided, "I think we should act like we're in love. Not a couple, but in love."

Peeta doesn't hide his shock, "What?"

The ideas are hitting me rapidly now. This is the way to save Peeta's life. "You will have your interview before me, so when Ceaser Flickerman inevitably asks you if you have a girlfriend back home, you should tell them that you're in love with someone. He'll probably dig for more details, so don't come right out and say it's me. Just dance around it and give hints until they can all figure it out for themselves. Then, if he asks if it's me, just go for it."

"I don't understand. Why?"

I feel almost giddy at the possibilities now, "Don't you see?! If we play up this angle, we can get more sponsors. And more sponsors almost always means winning!"

He smiles widely and cups my face with his large hands, his eyes sparkling, "Katniss, you're a genius!" Before I know what's happening, Peeta presses his lips softly against mine.

And I'm on fire.

It's as if I was living in a world of black and white and suddenly everything is bursting with color. Stars seem to be exploding behind my eyes. Every part of me is burning. My hands wind into Peeta's hair and my fingers entangle themselves into the silken curls. I weld myself to him, pressing my body desperately against his. I have to feel him, to know this is real. I've never felt like this before, certainly not when Gale kissed me outside the fence of 12. I can't breathe but that doesn't matter. My lips move against Peeta's, my tongue venturing out to taste his lips. His mouth tastes like mint and something else uniquely Peeta and I'm dizzy. I can feel his hands on me and I feel like I'm drowning. Drowning and burning at the same time, who knew?

Peeta pulls away from me, both of us panting, "Damn it, Katniss," he huffs, his breathing ragged. He rests his forehead against mine. "What the hell are we doing?"

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and smile, more to myself than anything, "If we're going to convince the Capitol that we're in love, we should have practice."

He looks at me for a long moment before shakes his head and sighs in resignation, "If the Games don't kill me, you certainly will."

I can't bring myself to smile or laugh this time.

Peeta can't know that I'm starting to feel things for him. He can never, ever know.

Because he will be going back to District 12 as a victor. Without me.