Note: So, here we go. I think it's time for Katniss to spill the beans! This Chapter might have some slightly corny parts, but hey, if I wouldn't have missed those in the books, I wouldn't be writing this Fic. Hope you enjoy! Feel free to leave a review (even if you didn't enjoy!).

Chapter Four

The interview is torture. It is much worse than any of the acting I have ever had to do with Peeta. I feel like being rasped between the fear of having waited too long to tell Peeta how I feel for him and the anticipation to finally catch a moment alone with him while keeping up the façade of a perfectly happy relationship of two young people just delighted that they have done the impossible and survived the Hunger Games together a second time. As Peeta answers a question about how our lives will go on after the past few days, I wonder vaguely if the odds will be in my favor a third time or if he has already slipped too far away from me. Has he stopped loving me? Was he maybe just too kind to leave me alone in the hospital? Often have I wondered to what part Peetas actions were really motivated by his feelings for me and to what part it was just his incredible, almost boundless kindness. I am rudely pulled from my thoughts when I hear a reporter shout a question in my face. Just in time, I remember to keep my smile in perfect check.

"Miss Everdeen! Katniss! One more question, please. After everything you've been through in the Games, with losing the baby and after the fall of the Capitol: Can we still hope to see the fairy tale wedding of the star-crossed lovers of District 12?"

For a moment I am lost for words as I stare into the expectant faces of what feel like a million of reporters. Fucking good question. Will there ever be a wedding ahead for the two of us or is that future lost forever? I open my mouth but instead of words, a horrible choking sound escapes my lips. It is all I can do not to clasp my hand in front of my face, hiding the tears I feel welling up. What is happening to me? I didn't use to be like this. Is it really lov that can make you feel this miserable?

As always, Peeta is by my side to rescue me from the wolves.

"The past weeks have been a tensile test. As much as we want to be together, we have to adjust to the new living conditions in our district and deal with the changes that have taken place during our time in the hospital before we can think about specific points in our future." To my ears it sounds like a lame excuse to stall people because he doesn't want to admit what he implied to me earlier. That this is the last time the cameras will be able to catch a few moments of this happy-couple act. It feels like a blow to my stomach that subsides a little when I hear him adding charmingly to the cameras:

"But just between you guys and me: There is no way I am letting her out of this engagement that easily." He winks conspiratorially to the crowd and pulls me even closer into his arms with a gesture of possessive protectiveness. There are a lot of "awwws" and "ohhhs" form the people.

And finally, it is over. Since there is no Capitol official, no Effie, no Haymitch here to officially end the interview and escort us to the train, we have to struggle a little to make our way from the hospital to the train station. But after the last reporter is finally gotten rid of, we find that a small party of people has gathered to see us off. I spot Gale, standing a little apart from the others, and Finnick who is talking to Effie. It surprises me a little how happy I am that she has come to say good bye. Now that I think of it, I don't think she is someone I will ever see again. I exchange a few words about staying in contact with Finnick and get pulled into an emotional hug from Effie before she throws herself into Peetas arms and I can say goodbye to Gale. He tells me he will stay a few more weeks, maybe even months, because he feels he can really help make a change here. I make an unhappy face at this, but he only laughs.

"Oh, come on, Catnip. I think you'll be just fine. You've got your baker boy looking after you. After all I think, he was always the healthier choice." He gives me an amicable thump in the shoulder, though he looks a little glum. I laugh nervously.

"Well, I don't know anything about "having him", really."

Gale seems to sense my doubts and despair and leans in closer.

"Are you kidding?" He whispers incredulously. "He was madly in love with you already during the first Games. He got over his pride and hurt feelings and was there for you in the Games a second time. Believe me, I have seen the way he looks at you whenever you're not noticing. I have seen the way he looked at you in the hospital, when you were knocked out." His voice goes from insistent to hollow. "Whatever I feel for you, he's got it way worse."

I give Gale a long, thankful hug and tell him to thank you and take care just as the announcer on the train station asks everybody with a ticket to get on board. As I climb the train, I hear Effie whispering lowly to Peeta:

"I've asked them to book just one for sleeping cabin for the two of you. I thought you might need some privacy after the long days in the hospital."

This comment makes me feel slightly uncomfortable and I feel my cheeks turning hot. Also I am surprised to hear this from Effie, the very same woman who addressed our slumber parties on the train during our Victory Tour with the stern request to be a little more "discreet". When the doors close behind us and Peeta steps up next to me, I can tell from the prominent color of his ears that he is equally embarrassed but he doesn't say anything, probably hoping I haven't heard.

We find our seats and get comfortable, preparing for a long day on the train. Since we are no longer on our way in the role of Tributes or Victors or in any way part of the Capitols propaganda, we don't have the luxury of a whole train just to ourselves. They have booked us into the first class of a regular train, shuttling between the Capitol and the upper districts. It's a first time in years that the train will actually be going farther out than District 5, but our privileges still go far enough that they will make this exception. Although there are people sitting nearby in our wagon, we still have enough privacy to talk without being overheard. So after a bit of chit chat about the train and the coziness of the seats, Peeta falls silent. Just as I am about to muster all the courage I have, he shifts in his seat nervously and looks at me with a half-smile.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about? You said something about "realizing things" earlier."

And with a sudden pang all my inhibitions, worries and fears are back, releasing a swarm of butterflies in my stomach that flutter around so excitedly, I'm afraid one of them might just pop out of my mouth any second.

"Well, um." I mutter lamely. Better start with honesty, I think. "You know, I'm no good with words so you should know that this is really hard for me."

He nods, his face is serious. Until now I have wrecked my brain to pieces about how Peeta might react, what I should do if he rejects me. I hate myself for the fact that not once before I have thought about what to say to him. I can't do this. This is not right. This should be easier, I keep thinking. It should just happen in a romantic moment. We shouldn't just talke about everything this soberly. I'm doing it all wrong.

Peeta seems to pick up my mayor fit of utter distress and scoots over to the seat next to mine. His warm presence and his sweet smell (Since when does his scent have such an effect on me?) surround me and strangely enough, it calms me and makes me even more jittery at the same time. I bury ma face in his chest, thinking about something to say.

"You know, you're not half as bad with words as you think. Like back in the arena on the beach when you told me you needed me. It was just what I needed to hear that moment. Surely not what I wanted to hear, but what I needed. I know that now."

My grip on him tightens as I can't shake the feeling that he knows that I'm about to say something really important to him and despite the fact that we both know I should just have spit it out ages ago, he is patient, trying to help me get there. It is as if he is throwing me a lifebelt that I can cling to to get back on board.

"I really meant that!" I manange to say. "Honestly. There are so many things I should have said earlier, but I never knew I should have said them, because I never knew I wanted to say them myself." I feel stupid. Peeta looks at me a little nonplussed.

"What I'm trying to say is – and I was going to say this earlier, in the hospital – I don't want to pretend anything anymore. Not to the people, but also not to you. And most importantly not to myself. When we first met and went into the arena together, it was all too much. Of course I remembered you from the incident with the bread and I was so ashamed that I had never paid you back, never even thanked you. And then things went so quickly. I had promised my sister to survive. In the beginning I didn't know what kind of person you are. I didn't know if I would have to kill you sooner or later rather than be killed by you. And then in the cave, when we kissed, I felt something. But with I had left Gale at home and never sorted out what he meant to me, so I told myself I didn't feel anything at all for any of the two of you. Except for friendship. And the day we came home, when you realized…."

I have to stop there for a moment, because the words seem to catch in my throat, never wanting to escape my mouth. I look at Peeta, who is listening intently, obviously displeased by my sudden hesitation. The eager and hopeful look on his face makes me feel even guiltier about that day. Could it be that even after all this time, he still wants to be with me? This very expression also helps me overcome my embarrassment.

"… well, when you found out." I just say. "I wanted to tell you then, that it was not all a lie, that I was just too busy coping to think about what our kisses had meant to me. But you didn't want to talk to me and I felt so ashamed and horrible. But I missed you, especially at night. So when you proposed to just go back to being friends when cameras were off, I was so happy to have you back. It was selfish of me to ask you to stay with me at night, knowing there might still be more than friendship between us but never admitting to it myself. I couldn't then. But now…" I feel this terrible abashment and fear of refusal again. This time, I am determined to get over it by myself. I owe it to him.

"But now, everything is different. At first I told myself that this terrible fear of losing you in the arena was so strong because we were friends. But then, when your heart stopped from the force field, I knew I could never go on without you. I should have told you how I feel the night on the beach, but I hadn't admitted it to myself, not even then. It wasn't until I woke up in the hospital and you weren't there, that I noticed what it would mean to me if you weren't in my life."

By now, I am way past the point of caring whether my words come out kitschy or gooey. I know I can't voice them more elegant or eloquent. What I feel, I have to express with the means at my disposal and I pray to whomever might hear me that it is good enough to make him understand. My eyes are stinging from the tears I am desperately trying to blink back. His continuous silence stretches my nerves to the point of breaking.

"What I am saying is: No more pretending. When I kissed you earlier it wasn't for the crowd. It was because I wanted to."

I don't know. Does he look angry? Doubtful? Pitiful? Disgusted? His pretty face is unreadable to me as the silence stretches.