Hunger Strikes

By: Princess Ashley

AN: I own nothing.

I'm sorry this took so long, but I was having conflicting ideas for what should happen in this chapter, and I spent the weekend without my beloved laptop. And then I get back to school to find that I have a plethora of French homework, Persuasion test, a documentary that I have to film entirely in Japanese (yes, I take both French and Japanese, not fun, don't do it), and Anthropology project due Friday. How did I manage to put another chapter through? I have no idea.

On another note, I'm very happy with the influx of reviews for the last chapter. Wonderful feedback. I really appreciate it.

Btw, Trina Mason: Thank you so much for your review. I didn't get to read it until Monday with all the work I had to do, but thank you. Like I said before, I'm editing the stories myself. I'm terribly sorry you had to read through that. I know I get horribly distracted when I read typos in other people's work. But such is the life of a writer.

As for your specific comments, I have faith that they'll be remedied soon. After all, District 12 isn't exactly known for its fashion. Where would Katniss wear all those wonderful clothes? *hint*

As always, thanks to Lost in Believing, flyaway6, twilight fan, Miss Bliss03, Mandi, Kaley, LaughSpazm, and Leachlover36. Got some interesting names in there. Haha.

I'm really glad that everyone likes Gale. I really want him to be a likeable character and not the 'guy who's stealing Katniss from Peeta.' I'm pretty font of him, so I hope that I can draw him in a favorable light. Katniss must like him for a reason, right?

This one is shorter, but it's definitely up to quota, and hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. =)

Four: Rules of Manipulation

I sit in my room in front of my dresser, brushing my hair. I found an excess of utilities in my bathroom, including the painful looking equipment that Cinna had used to style my hair to his liking during the Games. I have a feeling that my mother will know how to use them, but I'm much too embarrassed by our previous conversation to ask her at this moment.

Dinner had been awkward, and though I'm getting a better grip on my own feelings towards Peeta, I'm still shaky over what the relationship is. We're definitely not boyfriend and girlfriend. We definitely left the lovers façade in the arena. We're too close to be acquaintances. The only one I know to compare him to is Gale, but I've never kissed Gale. I've never slept beside him, and I've never been in complete survival mode around Gale. Gale had a sense of self-preservation that Peeta didn't have. Gale had to live for something. Peeta only wanted to live for me.

It occurs to me that at the Reaping, when Peeta squeezed my hand that he meant to tell me something. He meant to tell me that he wouldn't be the one to kill me; he would do everything in his power to help me win. I don't think Gale would do that. He wouldn't want to kill me. I wouldn't want to kill Gale. But we know too much about the world to let ourselves die. We would have stayed away from each other, and prayed that someone else killed us first.

I meet my own eyes in my reflection. They're narrowed in concentration.

I stare at Peeta in disbelief as the truth sinks in. They never intended to let us both live.

I remember the terror I felt. I had been so sure that Peeta would never try to kill me. I had let the doubt creep into me when I saw him pull the knife from his belt. I was quick to protect myself.

Death would be easier….

Death would have been easier than killing Peeta.

I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then, I fill my own.

I'd been ready to die in the arena. I remember never wanting anything more in that moment than for Peeta to live. I wouldn't have lived with myself if I had killed him, but at the same time, I knew that he felt the same way. I would have been able to carry on, but he wouldn't have. He would have killed himself. I'm sure of it.

I'd rather die myself than let Peeta die, and he feels the same about me. We are alike, him and I. Maybe not in the way that we've had to live our lives. But we both know that we would give our lives for someone else. I would have given mine for Prim. He would have given his for me.

I'd been ready to die with him. I'd hoped that we wouldn't have to. Since he didn't swallow his right away, he must have been thinking the same.

We are the same.

The question is, would I give my life for Peeta?

Sure I'd told him to kill me so that he could live, but had that been for him? Or was it because I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I had?

I don't know.

Before I try to figure anything else out, I have to know what my answer is.

I have to see Peeta.

But before I can even get up, the doorbell rings.

I fly to my door, opening it and begin to race down the stairs, but my mother is already there.

"Why, Haymitch! What a surprise!"

I want to groan. The fondness I'd developed for him during and after the Games was beginning to fade as I finally remember why I had disliked him in the first place. Drunk, always drunk.

"And Peeta! How wonderful! Come in, please!"

Peeta? Peeta!

For some reason, I really want the brush on my dresser right now. I settle for running my fingers through my hair a few times, and making sure that it's not ruffled at all and is sitting neatly on my shoulders. Why am I doing this?

I've paused on the stairs. I can't see Haymitch or Peeta yet, but I can hear Haymitch and my mother coming towards me. In a few seconds, they'll see me on the winding stairs. I check my clothes. I'm in a pair of baggy black pants and a blue tunic. Hell, I look like….me.

Well, Peeta's never complained before.

"Katniss Everdeen!"

I look up, and Haymitch is grinning hugely at me. I scowl back. My mother gives me a stern look behind his back, but I don't care. What does he want?

Then Peeta appears at the foot of the staircase. His grin is soft, shy almost. I like his smiles. I grin back at him, and continue my decent. He's dressed nicely again, in dress pants and a button up.

"Hey there, love birds! Hate to interrupt the moment you seem to be having, but we've got important matters to discuss."

Haymitch's voice is very annoying…come to think of it, so is his foot tapping on my hardwood floors.

My scowl appears again as I turn my head to stare him down, but he's having none of it. His hands are gesturing to the kitchen table. Don't even ask me if it's okay for you to barge into my house and demand an audience; it's fine.

Peeta's grin widens a bit, and he glances at Haymitch and then rolls his eyes towards me.

I stalk towards the kitchen and plop myself down at the head of the table. I figure this will make Haymitch realize the caste system in this house. I glare as he takes the other head of the table. My mother and Peeta sit on either side between us. My mother is appraising Peeta across the table. I know he notices, because he starts to blush.

"Well, now…" Haymitch's eyes dart around the kitchen, and his eyes fall on the brown bag that he gifted us with almost three days ago.

"I assume you two have done your thinking about our next big adventure coming up soon?" He glances at me. I take that to mean that he and Peeta have already spoken about this, whatever 'this' is.

I shrug.

"'Next big adventure' being your tour of the Districts?"

Oh. That big adventure. I hadn't even thought about it. Haymitch better not be coming. It'll be hard to keep up my star-struck façade when I'm busy grinding my teeth.

"I'll have you know, Katniss, that your tour will begin in two days time, and despite what you think, you're still under heavy scrutiny. You're going to have to pull something out of a hat to make the Capitol believe that your stunt in the arena wasn't an attack." Haymitch says in a very accusing tone.

I'm almost taken aback by how serious he sounds. Over the past few days he's been doing nothing but drinking. But then again, it might help him with all the stress I seem to be instigating lately. But still, I thought I'd been home free. Apparently not, according to Haymitch.

"Lighten up, Haymitch. We put up a good front that last day with Caesar. What more are they looking for?" Peeta intervenes, frowning at him.

"We've been over this. Your lover has an unfortunate habit of unconsciously making jabs at the Capitol. They had to overlook it before. There was not a lot they could do in the arena, and even if they had done something, the audience would have protested." Haymitch explains. He has a way of amazing me when he's sober. Maybe it wasn't a fluke that he won the Games after all. Not so unconscious, I think. But if Haymitch knew that, I'm willing to bet all my lines from now on will be written on note cards for me to read from. I didn't miss the lover comment either, but from the look on his face, Peeta did.

"I'm telling you this because, believe it or not, I don't want Katniss to die." There's news. "I've worked this hard to get you two out of that arena alive, and I intend to keep you that way." How thrilling. "Having said this, I refuse to do this on my own. You are going to have to have an attitude makeover, Katniss."

I don't like the sound of that.

"You're a smart girl, but you're also stupid." He says, and I narrow my eyes. I think….I resent that remark. "You're going to have to try to overlook the fact that you despise the Capitol for the next month or so, because right now, they hold your life in their hands. If they want to, they can kill you. It won't be hard to work in an accident for the wayward love-stricken Hunger Games winner. It could be as easy as you spotting Peeta on the other side of the road and get hit by a hovercraft."

That is easy…

Peeta is looking at me worriedly, as is my mother. I know that as soon as Haymitch and Peeta leave, she'll be giving me a thorough talking to on how to play the damsel in distress. I'm not in distress; I'm stronger than that. I can take care of myself.

But taking on the Capitol was entirely different than taking on a bunch of bloodthirsty tributes in the Hunger Games.

I remember President Snow's cold eyes boring into me as he placed the broken crown on my head. I shiver unconsciously.

Peeta catches my eyes on my right. I see the concern in his eyes, and I try to reassure him, even though I'm not sure myself if I'm going to be okay. Once again, I'm fighting for my life. I start to concoct scenarios in my mind of all the things the Captiol can do to me if they find a reason to.

They could make me disappear…that seems cliché, but something tells me that they'd done that before. No one would think the Capitol would do that to their Golden Girl. I make a note to stay away from dark corners or wandering around by myself. They could hire a hit man, or just do it themselves. Maybe make an excuse that I was conspiring against them, and turn me into a 'District 13' case.

I feel a hand holding my own, and I look up to see Peeta leaning towards me. He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand, and it makes me feel better. He makes everything bad disappear when he looks at me like that.

"Ahem, again, sorry to interrupt the moment, but we have a crisis to attend to."

"Haymitch, I think we've got this." Peeta says, still looking at me.

"As much as I know you'd like to, you can't stay in a permanent lip-lock to keep her from blowing her cover—."

"We'll think of something other than that, Haymitch. Give us a day to think things through, come up with a strategy, and get back to you." Peeta's voice is authoritative and decisive.

"Peeta—."

"We know where to find you." Peeta ends the conversation, and Haymitch looks like he needs a drink. I hope Peeta has a good idea. He hasn't stopped looking at me since he butted into the conversation. I hear the chair scratching the floor as Haymitch makes to leave.

"It better be good, to. If you need me, I'll be at home, drinking." He announces. I can't see my mother, but I know she's looking between Peeta and I as we stare at each other.

"We need to talk." He says, and I nod. I break our contact to get out of my chair. I take his hand again to lead him to the stairs and up to my room. My mother's eyes must be bulging right now.

"DON'T DO ANYTHING I WOULDN'T DO!"

I grind my teeth again. "Goodbye, Haymitch!"

Peeta chuckles behind me, and I glare at him for encouraging Haymitch. He gives me a sly grin as I pull the door to my room open and close it behind us.

"I gotta tell you, Katniss. I think we're moving too fast."

I turn to him with an incredulous look on my face, but I can tell by the smile that, once again, he's joking. He and Prim might just be the end of me. I've had it with the innuendos.

"I'm joking. But you gotta admit that look is better than a scowl." He laughs, and I scowl for his benefit.

"I actually really wanted to talk to you though. We haven't talked since we moved in, and since we're gonna be spending about a month together anyhow, I thought we should get some things straight." Peeta announces. Once again, the similarities between us are starting to abound. "I think we should cool it off a bit, you know?"

My features go blank. What?

"We need to try to get them to focus on us personally. We'll tell them that the relationship isn't working, and we're taking a break. Then they focus on our lives individually."

No!

"It seems like the best idea right now. The Capitol needs to know that you weren't making a jab at them with the berries. You can draw up sympathy for yourself, and not just because of our 'tragic romance.'" Why does he sound so cynical when he says that? "You think?" He asks.

No, I don't think. Where is all this coming from? Peeta wants to…discontinue the relationship? I had a list of possible outcomes when we finally had this conversation, but….just ignoring it? Killing it? Doing nothing? That was definitely not on my list.

Peeta stared at me in earnest, waiting for my reply. It would make it easier if we just focused on our own lives, but is that I want? If we don't have a relationship, how am I ever going to know what I feel towards him? Damn it! Trust Peeta to mess everything up.

"Yeah, that sounds good." I regret it the moment I say the words. No! It does not sound good. What about me? Ever consider MY feelings, Peeta bread?

He smiles his easy smile. "Good. This way, I won't be getting the attention that should be on you. Turn their focus to you and Prim, or the fact that your father died in that mine incident. How you've been taking care of your family on your own. The crowd likes having something to sympathize with."

If you had any sympathy for me, you'd keep your mouth shut. It's true. With every word that comes out of his mouth, I'm being dragged lower and lower into depression. I thought he wanted me. I thought he cared about me.

He does care about me. He wants me to live. He wants the Capitol to leave me alone. He's doing this because he thinks this is what you want.

Is this what I want?

No, it's not.

"…..don't you think?"

"No."

"…..what?" I'm shaken when I hear Peeta's question. What's the question?

"…This way it won't be awkward for you. I know you were just pretending in the arena, I understand now. I thought that this would be easier on you and you can focus on what really matters, don't you think?"

"No." I say, decisively.

"….what?"

Peeta has a perplexed look on his face. I want to take it back, suddenly. This is too much too soon. I don't know what I feel towards Peeta, but it's strong, and it doesn't want to let him escape. Not this easily.

"No…." Why can't I talk? Fill in the blanks, Peeta! You've done it before. Fill in the blanks! My thoughts scream at him.

"No what Katniss?"

He's going to make me say it.

I take a deep breath. This is going to take more guts than I'm used to having, which is saying something.

"No, Peeta. I don't want to focus on something else."

He seems to realize what I'm hinting at, and his expression turns stunned.

"I don't want to do this on my own. You're right. There has to be more to me than you and your….l-love for me." I struggle to get the word out. "I can do that, but please…. don't make me do it without you." I finish with a whisper. There's so much more that I want to say, but I feel like it can wait until later. I want to make sure he's listening. I can't look at him anymore, so I direct my gaze to my bare feet.

A finger under my chin pulls me back up, and Peeta's bellflower blue eyes are boring into me. I stare right back. His eyes will never try to hurt me.

His lips move, but I can scarcely hear the words that they form. I want him to kiss me. I was never so impatient before.

"I'm sorry. I thought you wanted space." He says, his sweet breath blowing on my face. He's been eating strawberries…. sugary strawberries. "I'll never make you do something you don't want to." Then, his lips curl into a smirk. "I was hoping it would turn out this way anyway."

I'm shocked. How does he continue to shock me?

"W-what?" I stutter. What's he saying?

"You wonder how I manipulate the crowd?' He smiles like a minx, and I can see the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "I'm good at it. You think you know how good?" He leans his forehead against me. "I just did it to you." He chuckles. I want to slap him, and bring my hand up to do so, but he grabs it and presses his lips against my fist. He looks apologetic. "I'm sorry. I would have done it if that was what you wanted. I'm relieved you didn't though. Kind of like the berries?" He asks. He knows what I was trying to do. "Hoping for a reaction, but willing to go through with the threat anyway?"

We are alike. We are so alike, I could kill him in his sleep.