Chapter 12

The original work belongs to Suzanne Collins and her publishers or any other co-owner. I'm merely borrowing her epic work to make my own spin; the idea of a time-travel simply refusing to leave me alone, so I had to write it.

I'm making no profits from this and the story isn't that good, if you haven't read Collins magnificent work I suggest you do. My messy fanfic is but a gnat in her shadow. If anyone is offended I'm very sorry.

...

Early daylight is leaking through the curtains, blinding me as I wake groggy and confused. Strong arms is wrapped around my waist, bringing back the memory of Peeta comforting me after my nightmare.

I lift my head from the satin pillow and take in our position. We are wrapped around one another, like two snakes twined together, his head is nestle in the crock of my neck and upper chest. It feels like coming home and I soon find myself snuggling down and falling asleep again.

Next time I wake it's from Peeta moving around. I tighten my grip on him and he shuckles quietly.

"I need to use the bathroom. Let go." He mumbled, his voice sleepy and hoarse from sleep.

"Hold it, just five more minutes." I reply grumply and scoot closer. Irritated by his movements.

"Can't. Come on, let go cattail." He says lightly and pulls on my braid. I loose my grip on him in shock, surprised by the nickname, it's one never used before. I almost like it. As Peeta crawls out of the bed I open my tired eyes, trying to get used to the shallow light in the room. I lay there for several moment, refusing to move, but without Peetsa the bed's too cold and I get up after he's locked the bathroom-door.

I decide to air out the room, it feels to stale and thick for my taste. I walk over to the side wall, push away the curtains and crack open one of the small oval windows. Not too much, since the air-pressure from the trains speed can suck me out and squash me like a bug.

The wind that hits my face is hard, cold and refreshing. I stand before the small opening and let it sweep over me, enjoying the energy it gives; like a roaring storm caressing my body, untamed and wild. For a few seconds I'm swept away from it all and lose myself in the moment.

"I'm done." Peeta says, awkwardly standing in the doorway to the bedroom. His words brings me crashing back into reality. He's just stands there, looking at me and I wonder how long he has been there. "I probably should head over to my room before Effie comes. Uh… is that ok?" he asks. It's clear he feels like an intruder now, in the daylight, with no darkness for protection.

I nod, feeling exposed and raw as he stares at me. I find myself wanting him to leave. He starts walking to the exit after seeing the answer in my eyes, but with his back turned to me the feeling of abandonment hits me hard.

"Peeta!" He turns around. "Thank you." I say, my voice gruff from the diffrent emotions trying to come out at once. The two words having more meaning behind them than he will ever know.

He smiles back at me and it feels like a sunrise, I almost want to touch it to see if I get burned. But I won't, I can't. My hands are shaking, I can't make them stop. I'm losing control and I don't know why.

"Thanks yourself. I actually got a few hours' sleep this way."

"Yeah. I know what you mean." I say as the world flimmer before my eyes.

He leaves and as the door close behind him I fall onto the bed, landing wrong and ending up in a heap on the floor. I feel an overload of emotion bombarding me as I lay on the mint-green rug, unable to think or move. I'm sweating heavily as my body's shaking.

I'm having an anxiety attack of sorts and the realization scares me shitless. I can only lay there and feel utterly helpless while my mind and body tries to deal. When I've got control over my body again I use what little strength I have to get off the floor.

For a long time I just sit on the bed and stare into space, trying to gather more strength for the day to come. Much later I use the bathroom to get ready for the day and when I finally step out of the shower I almost feel human again. My body is tired but relaxed and I can think normally once again.

As I'm about to get dressed Effie's voice pierce the silence around me. I go on edge immediately as Effie storms into the room and starts shouting at me in an excited voice, calling for me to rise. "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!"

As Effie starts going over what I'm to wear for the day I wonder how she can stand being so cheerful. I can barely tolerate her as she starts throwing different outfits on the bed and happily shattering about the many messages she has received since the reaping. All her friends are apparently jealous that she's gotten such cute kids this year.

Her words sickens me to the core and I'm desperate for her to leave; afraid of another anxiety attack do to the stress I feel. I soon use Peeta as an escape, indicating that he got no dress-sense and could use her expertise, before he went to Haymitch. She's out the door in seconds.

The moment she's gone I look to the many different costumes she has thrown on my bed. I try to remember as I sort through them that she's just being Effie; a colorful tornado that is my friend, and not an enemy out to destroy me. It's several minutes before I have composed myself enough to get dressed in one of the less extravagant pieces on the bed.

I chose a long-sleeved shirt in white with a loose short-sleeved dress in yellow cotton-dress to go with, completing the outfit with soft-grey leggings: going for a childish look instead of Effie's more exotic taste. Mostly since I want Snow and others to see me as an innocent child and not a threat. Snow won't let me live long if I can't soften the image already implanted in people.

I forgo shoes and socks again and go barefoot to the dining room. The pin firmly attached to the dress, shining dully as the red-white light in the hallway hits it. My mother braid still holds strong even if it is a bit looser today than yesterday so I chose to let it be, it brings me a small comfort having something of home.

I wonder what Prim is doing just know? Without me there she is probably already at school and studying hard. She loves school. I've never understood the appeal of it, it just a bunch of brainless nonsense and capitol propaganda.

My father used to say that it was more to school than just doing as the teacher wanted and said, but that the capitol didn't want smart worker since they were harder to control. That's why I loved my lessons with him, he let me experience learning as it should be; trial and error, with a touch of play. I would have much rather been at home with him, learning real knowledge.

But Capitol-school is mandatory until you are seventeen, after that you have one year to find other employment or be forced down into the mines. The bottomless mines that have been in use for hundreds of years. If I had managed to get out of volunteering I'd planned to ask Grease-Sae for a job and gone from there. I could do a mean stew and have, surprisingly enough, green thumbs.

I enter the dining room and find that the rest of our group already there; Haymitch and Effie are arguing whilst Peeta is sipping a cup of hot soup. I sit down next to Peeta, pushing the thought of home and Prim aside to focus on the now. Our handlers sits opposite of us, Effie is a bit frazzled but Haymitch looks better today although still drunk. Peeta must have manage to impress him if he is somewhat sober.

The argument between our handlers seem to be how to best present us upon entering the Capitol. Effie wants something big and flashy, whilst Haymitch wants more subtle. Saying it's better that we are hidden until our stylists get to us. I let them argue, too indifferent to get involved.

The table is once again filled with cuisines and soon my plate is filled with food. I start with some light bread with butter. My stomach growl from hunger and urge to stuff my face in all the dishes is strong, but I only take a small bite of my bread and chew slowly. Peeta put a mug of chocolate in front of me and I thank him.

I've loved chocolate from the first taste and I take my time draining the cup. That hot, sweet, creamy liquid feels like a blessing and I sink into the chair as I drink it. I must look like a bag of rice, but I'm too content to care.

Haymitch pretends to ignores us expertly but I know he studies us from the corner of his eye. He wants to see if we are worth effort keeping alive. There's a lot that he has to sacrifice in order to get us sponsor. Finnick's voice echoes in my head;

"We were sold for the amusement of others."

I decide to just plow right into it as I drain the last of my chocolate.

"What advice will you give us then?" I say to him. You can't be warm and soft with Haymitch. It will gain you shit.

"Stay alive." Is his dry reply.

"Thanks, will try. Anything else smart-ass." I drawl back.

Peeta is stiff beside me, not liking the nonchalance. It is his life on the line and he wants more than this clown-persona to deal with. I want to tell him to relax, but think better of it. Peeta is quite scary when he loses his temper and we need to impress the man. I bring my hand to my neck as I remember his choke-hold.

"That's very funny," says Peeta stiffly. Faster than I can follow he then lashes out at the glass in Haymitch's left hand. It shatters on the floor, painting it in red-gold liquid. "Only not so much for us."

I'm quick enough to see Haymitch start clenching his fist. I react instantly and drive the knife by my right hand into the table only a breath away from his long and ring finger. My quick action stops him in mid swing, leaving Peeta unhurt.

"Lay one finger on either of us and I will slit your throat. Mentor or no mentor." I say in a deadly voice as I let go of the knife handle. I slowly sit back into my chair, refusing to break eye contact with him. From the corner of my eye I see Peeta's right hand moving towards the fork next to him as the staring contest goes on.

Then Haymitch blinks a couple of times, moving his gaze from us to the knife and back again. He eventually leans back into his chair and takes us in properly. He then start laughing and he doesn't stop, but neither of us relaxes. You don't turn your back on a tiger. No matter how housebroken.

Haymitch sees this and he smirks back at us.

"Well, well." He drawls dryly and crosses his arms. "I seem to have actually gained a couple of fighters this year."

Effie ruins the moment by exclaiming over the table, our manners and everything else she can find a fault in. Her high pitch voice, with the silly emphasis on the s, breaks the tension and both Peeta and I finally relax. I still don't let my eyes wander away from Haymitch, He may be superior to me, but I'm not ready to admit defeat just yet. The smirk he gives me tells me he knows my thoughts, but that he will make me obey him soon enough.

No matter how much I hate it I know he's right. I will obey, because he know the rules of the Game in a way I never learned. I'm gonna need him in the lead, even if it is hard to trust him as he is now. He might disappear in a drunken stupor if you don't watch him… and I say that will utmost love.

...

After the knife incident Haymitch start questioning us, it is the same thing as last time: how good are you? Love interest? Smart? Strong? He takes his time studying us, pointing out our strong and our weak points: Peetas body build and sharp edges, both shortness. My pretty face and slimming body-lines, but obvious gauntness.

He says that we have potential, Peeta more than I, but both need a good scrub. He snarkily asks me if I know what a smile means whilst pointing on Peeta and demanding a sunny-kiss-smile. I stomp Peeta on the foot for that one when he happily comply.

Haymitch quickly realize that I am the survivalist and Peeta the socialist. At first he thought that my instinct for survival would help me in the Game, but since going over the recording from the reaping Haymitch says that I've no real social skill. I know how to act socially, that he gives me. But the moment no one's looking I become a dead fish, his words... Not mine. That will never work in the Capitol, with the elite. They will see through me in seconds he informs me, they are trained to.

I hate to give him right, but... the people my future was a war-torn race with mental scars. A fact that had made it possible for me to blend in so well with the mass. In a social party from my world I would have no problem. But here, with these strangers, I was the odd fish out.

When he's finally done he circles us one last time, commenting as he goes before he passes final judgement. I had no idea that Haymitch could be a drama queen, you learn something new every day.

"Listen up cupcakes. I am willing to make a deal with you" he says after clapping his hand together in front of my face. We shoot one another dark glares. It is true love I'm sure, it is the beginning of a horrid friendship. "You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you," Haymitch goes on. Making a point of pouring up a glass of booze in front of us. "But you have to do exactly what I say."

I clench my jaw. I never was good at obeying him, even if his advices were sound, not without arguing first. Peeta once told me that he and Johanna took bets who would win when we really got started. Of course he betted on me. They both lost money over the years.

In my anger and bitterness I am happy that we managed to once again spark Haymitch interest. Without him we would be dead and forgotten seconds after the bell ring. Cinna, Effie and the others has their part, sure, but Haymitch is the one that will keep our sponsors interested.

"Agreed," says Peeta. I only nod.

"When we arrive at the capitol do everything your stylist tells you, no matter how odd. They are your only bet at getting noticed." Haymitch explains. "You have got to give us something to work with so go with it and remember, flirt with the crowd, they are your strongest asset."

With those words he disappears off to his room, with two bottles of booze. He will be drunk within an hour, leaving us on our own for the remaining time. Both Peeta and I spend most of it at the dinner table, nibbling at the food. We hardly speak during that time and it's a good silence. A piece of tranquility in the trials to come; keeping despair at bay.

Then light begins to fade; the former named Rocky Mountains shadow covering us like a blanket. The only mountain-chain big enough to give shelter to the people surviving the dark days; its natural barrier protecting against weather, poisonous gas and radiation. Soon we will enter into the tunnel leading to the capitol, the only way in from the east-side. The mountain wall being too steep and treacherous to climb or fly over.

I turn to Peeta.

"We will arrive soon." He nods. I get up and walk to the window. It will take some time but I know what will be at the end. He gets up and follows me. We stand close but yet apart as we see the train slowly being eaten by a black hole.

I have a sudden urge to tell him everything, warn him of the hardships to come, but I can't. It would be to much to burden him with. But just as the tunnel devour us I can't hold my tongue. The need to say something is too much. I step closer to him and put my hands on his crossed arms.

My height isn't that different from his, he only have half a head on me so I look into his eyes. Just as I'm about to speak the truth I see something glimmer behind him; a camera. The Capitol.

I can't tell him, they will learn and kill us. Instead I get as close as I dare and with a whisper of a breath I say; "Divided we fall, together we stand tall."

I then withdraw a bit and look out into the darkness of the tunnel, not knowing if he heard me. It's an old saying that my father once told me, words given to him from a friend chosen for the games. He had said those words moment before being slaughtered.

Peeta says nothing and I can feel the train slowing down even more, we will arrive within the hour. We remain in front of the window and close to each other the whole way. I can feel his curiosity at the prospect of seeing the capitol for the first time, I on the other hand dread it.

When we are out of the tunnel Peeta gets his fill; the Capitol lays before us in all her glory. The colorful buildings in its odd shapes and forms towering the south part of the valley. Clear water cascading down a waterfall to the west and artistic gardens and forests as far as the eye can see to the north. It looks like a treasure chest, everything appearing valuable and outwardly; blinding onlookers with its splendor. She is as magnificent as she is poisonous. As we look I shiver at the sight. Knowing what evils hides behinds the front, just waiting to kill me.

The train is moving so slow by now that we actually see the people that stare at us and pointing their finger towards the train. I see several persons completely covered in color, even their skin is painted in different shades. Others has hair so big that they themselves look small and it goes on. Their appearance is odd to me; after the war this lifestyle was banned and mostly grey or black was the only colored allowed in the city. I had forgotten the muchness of the capitol, seeing just one or two during the year that been not preparing me for the full onslaught. One woman is dressed in a lobster-dress, driving a lobster-car and has a lobster… well you get the idea. It's giving me a headache. After so many years of dead colors all the brightness is a bit much.

The fact that they all are pointing and shouting at the train doesn't help. We are celebrities and everyone wants to welcome us. I have to swallow hard to stop a scream from breaking out. Instead forcing myself to smile and stay by the window, letting the cameras see me. I try to appear young and innocent, looking away and acting overwhelmed. It's harder than I thought.

Peeta is as active as ever, smiling big and waving his hand effortlessly. He flirts with the camera and tries to capture as many eyes as possible. He wants to be recognized. Standing so close together seems to excite everyone even more and the cameras goes off like mad.

"Someone is born to handle nutcases I see" I say through clenched teeth. Trying to not move a muscle. Peeta turn to me and his eyes filled with laughter as he looks at me. It's so fake that I almost slap him.

"And someone is born to flee from them." He throws back at me. I huff at this and lightly smack his arm, making him start laughing an even faker laugh. It is the last thing anyone sees before we disappear out of sight.

The moment we are in the clear our smile drops and Peeta becomes more closed off and stiff.

"... one of the nutcases might be rich." He says in a quiet depressed voice as the train comes to a stop at the train station.

"Ah! Well… it is good that you have a plan at least. One question though:" I say. Putting my nose in the air. "How do you plan on finding the rich once? They all look the same."

He leers back at me and pulls gently on my braid.

"Easy. I just spot who's crazy enough to approach you and go from there Cattail." At this I break down and start laughing hysterically. He soon follows me and we don't seems to be able to stop, but I'm glad that despise the odds against us and the fact we are supposed to kill each other we can still find comfort in on another.

In any situation.

My Partner in crime.

Chapter 13

I have forgotten how painful a makeover could be. I want to stop everything and calmly ask this people if they are stylists or torturers. Venia, sweat Venia is right now ripping every strand of hair from my body with the most horrid tool imaginable: the wax-paper. She is apologizing for every rip, but I can tell it's insincere. She takes pleasure from this. The only thing making me bare it is her ridiculous appearance. Blue hair, golden tattoos and flower-like eyelashes doesn't match her face-shape. *An eye for an eye.*

But while Venia only stripping me of my skin Octavia is happily tearing my calm apart. Always the rude one in the bunch, a plump woman in her early twenties, Octavia loves to speak her mind. Currently she is trying to fix my broken nails and make my hands look less worn and callus. Whilst doing so she's commenting how dreadful I look and how fast I will die. She's a real charmer that one. But I wonder how a woman whose entire body has been dyed a pale shade of pea-green can speak about looks. Even her eyes have the color of green in them.

Flavius is the least scary of them. He's such a softy that I'm scared of breaking him. He looks like a cupcake, his light dark skin clashes horribly with his orange corkscrew locks and purple lipstick. But he is quick with his hands and can do miracles with any hair: no matter how much he pulls out with that hairbrush.

The worst torture though is their accents. I would take starvation right now if it would stop the horrid squeaky and silly Capitol dialect. Ugh! These people can't talk. Their jaws barely open when they speak and form their sentences like question. I have had to put up with the accent for the past three hours as they prattle over my head and trying to make me pretty.

I've been scrubbed, pinched, combed, waxed and tortured. I am ready to scream but I bare it. I will soon see Cinna and all this would be worth it… I hope. When I am finally deemed clean by Venia they leave me alone, stripped down to my bare skin in a cold room.

I'm thankful that my shyness died a brutal death during my pregnancies. I'm almost comfortable standing here, naked.

I'm anxious of Cinna's arrival. Touching my braid as I wait. Flavius has copied my mother hairstyle, but giving it a touch of the city and made it glisten. It's not that horrible, but I miss my mother's simpler touch. My entire headaches from the treatment Flavius gave it.

I don't have to wait long. Cinna soon enters the door and I have to stop myself from running to him, overjoyed that he is here, alive. I remain silent as he circles me and studies my body. Studying him in return.

I always liked how normal Cinna appeared in looks, he never strived for the over the top fashion. He instead always found the style that fits the person, it is how he made me so beautiful. The only thing he ever did that could be considered over the top were the use of the gold eyeliner, the rest was almost down right subtle.

"Hello Katniss, I am Cinna and I will be taking care of you." He says. I only nod in reply, my tongue feels heavy and swollen. Only managing a small greeting after swallowing a couple of times. After that we make light enquires to one and other and I try to not let it show how much I've missed him.

Within minutes I get the feeling that Cinna is aware of the trust I have in him for he gets warmer in his way of interacting with me. I even think he's forgotten that I'm naked. We are soon behaving like old friends towards each other and the thought warms my heart, even if I'm a bit shilled.

I ask him if I can get dressed and Cinna gives me a grey robe, quick to make me comfortable. As soon as I'm dressed he takes me to a sitting room close by. It is decorated in soft white walls, covered with art, and deep red furnishing. It is tasteful and a bit too much at the same time. Cinna ask me to sit and then presents a light meal.

"Haymitch said that you eat lightly, to heavy food is not good for you?" Cinna inquires. "I hope that some chicken and light salad will be alright?"

"It is fine." I answer. "It's not that I don't want to eat heavy food, but my stomach is not yet used to it."

He nods at this and we begin eating our lunch. I'm so focused on the food that I miss him looking at me at first. Mostly because it's hard to look at him, he died right in front of me. Beaten to death because of a dress, the thought make me want to stop eating, but I don't. I need all the fat I can build before the game starts.

"I thought there would be more anger in you, but instead I find a tired women." He tells me.

"I have fire, it just takes a lot to kindle it." I answer in a soft tone. His words wounding me. I hadn't known that I was showing my true self; the wounded animal, but then again Cinna could always read me.

"I can believe that." He says. "But it's not entirely compatible with the costumes that I had created." I look nervous at him, I need that fire to stand out. What if he skip it?

"I think it would be better if I and Portia, being Peeta's stylist, work on a combined outfit for the pair of you that has a bit of umph to it." He continues. "You both seem to be somewhat companionable and we should use that, but give it an edge; luring the sponsors."

I nod mutely, purring as a kitten inside but refusing to show it. I had thought that it would be more of a struggle to get Cinna over to my way of thinking, but here he is. Handing it over on a silver plate.

"We dress you in similar clothes and with a trick of my own design I should make them see you." His voice is full of mischief and pride. Its hard to play unknowing since all I want is to smirk with him.

"Is it true that miners work in teams down in the dark?" He asks me out of the blue.

"Yes." I say with a stiff voice, trying to hold back the memories. Thinking of the mines darkness my mood. "You will get killed if you work on your own, it's hades."

Cinna gives a serious nod.

"You been there yourself?" Cinna inquires softly after seeing the pain in my eyes. I feel exposed since I know we're not alone, never fully.

"My father." I say. "He was a miner all his life, he met many that believed they could make it on their own. No one did." Remembering how much father valued teamwork, but I myself was never any good at it. It wasn't natural for me.

"I see… well to get back on track; miner work in teams and they fear fire right?" Cinna continues awkwardly.

"No." I answer with a firm voice. "Miners fear wildfire, but never fire. Fire is their friend." I begin saying, trying to find the right words. "Fire gives us warmth, food, hope and life. It tells us there is a tomorrow and a chance at something more."

"What do you mean?" Cinna ask looking thoughtful.

"Fire keeps the cold at bay, warms the food, tell us there's air. It is essential for miners to know there is life." My voice grows firmer as I speak. Knowing that my words are though. "However… wildfire burns everything, leaving nothing in its wake. A monster, not a savior."

Cinna nods, excited by my tail. I can take a guess as to why.

"Miner and fires go hand in hand, is that what you're telling me?"

"I'm telling you that a miner only live past his first year if he has learned to handle fire." I say. The atmosphere a bit dark. "That is why no child of twelve ever starts working the mines until after their seventeenth birthday. "

Cinna stares at me.

"So… no tribute from twelve, under the age of seventeen, has any knowledge about the thing that distinguish twelve from the other districts?" he ask in a shaky voice.

"None." I answer. "That is why we die so quick, we sit at a school bench for about ten years of our life."

"…And you are…" he asks with fear in his voice.

"I am sixteen."

"…"

I can see that Cinna has a hard time swallowing this. He has never work the games before, so he has no former knowledge than the capitals to go on. I almost feel sorry for him, he was already compassionate for our plight but this information must really hurt him.

"Don't let it trouble you." I say, sounding joyful. "Twelve has no problems with that structure. We enjoy the childhood the Capitol grants us and the work they provide." I lie, trying to take the edge of my words. Hoping that Snow isn't listening. I've let too much of myself show.

Cinna looks at me. I don't look away. Instead I smile at him and get up. I move over to the glass-panel that makes out the wall in the room. Looking over the Capitol and collecting myself.

"What will I and Peeta be dressed in?" I ask as I stand there overlooking the Capitol.

That brings Cinna back to basic and he starts talking passionately how different he wants to go this year. How he doesn't want to dress us in miner-outfit or in coal dust. Believing that none of the previous costumes were ever suited after the tributes, only the districts. Cinna thou will be changing that and I almost look forward to it. I will be beautiful.

"You see, Portia and I think that coal miner thing's very overdone, no one sees the tributes and we want to make you two unforgettable," says Cinna.

"Tell me Katniss, how afraid of fire are you?" He sees my expression and grins.

…

Cinna has dressed me the black bodysuit, I have forgotten how tight it was. I like the boots though, they reminds me of hunter boots, also black and goes up to my tights. My head is decorated in an elaborate headpiece that is interlaced with my braid, it's black-red and golden tones blending in well with my hair. Flaviu's refused to undo his already hard work, but agreed to tone down the gloss. The one thing I'm uncomfortable with is the cape Cinna holds up to me. It is hideous. Cinna must have seen my disgust for he quickly disregards it.

"I can forgo the cape, but it will be a bit trickier to make the show pup. I have to work on that." Cinna mumbles to himself. I wisely keep my mouth shut. In his hand he is holding the spray that will light us on fire. I can see how much attention Peeta keeps on the spray can and I understand him. I know it will not harm us, but I still am against lightning myself on fire; even for Cinna.

Peeta and I are standing on district twelves chariot, it's covered in coal-dust and pulled by two black-grey horses. I look like a mythological being and Peeta is my champion; He's dressed in a similar bodysuit as mine, with boots that goes up to his knees. But I think he would benefit more skin showing. He is almost covered completely.

Portia has brought out his beauty and power, but he doesn't stand out.

And speaking of Portia, se is right beside us and trying to calm Peeta down.

"It is fake Peeta." She says. ""You'll be perfectly safe," he says.

Peeta looks at her doubtful.

"Portia." I say and she looks at me with surprise. The other tributes and stylist never interact and I am doing something very odd right now.

"Y…yes Katniss." She asks.

"You made him beautiful but isn't there too little… I don't know… Peeta?" I ask in a soft almost shy voice. I don't want to anger her after all. She might refuse to continue working with Cinna if I do.

Cinna looks at up at me, shocked by my boldness. Portia is stunned to while Peeta is blushing lightly. Giving me a suspicious look while doing so, not buying the innocent girl act. Too clever for his own good.

"What do you mean dear?" Portia inquires.

"He completes me just fine." I say. "But I don't get much of Peeta through that costume." I continue. I bit more sure of myself this time. I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"What about taking of the overtop and smear his chest in gold like dust with a lot of coal?" I say. "And put him in a cape with arms? Tease the audience a little? "

Portia seems to be thinking it over. Cinna looks to his fellow stylist and they both withdrawn and are soon in a heated debate. Peeta just looks to me.

"What was that?" he asks.

"I don't know?! It just felt like you weren't done." I say back. Giving him an awkward side glance.

He just looks at me for a few seconds and then focuses on Portia. She and Cinna seems to have reached an agreement. They hurry back to us, their hand full of clothes.

"Peeta get down." Portia orders. He obeys. She starts tearing his overtop up and he helps her. Soon she has him bare chested, but instead of dust painting on him she forced him into a netlike body shirt made out of gold, it's that is almost invisible. Above this she smears black charcoal and dust, highlighting his muscles. On his right shoulder she then places a heavy black cloak that goes from his shoulder across his back and under his left arm, then she secures it with a black pin borsch.

He looks divine.

Portia finish up just as it's time to begin. Cinna and Portia empties the fire cans on our backs and hair. I am more nervous than I could imagine. I am silently praying for this to work, for the capitol to see both of us. Peeta deserves some help in the arena, he almost died the first time around.

Cinna and Portia hugs us goodbye.

"You will be like two phoenix's being reborn, so act like it." Cinna says to me dreamily. I give a stiff nod. "But don't be to royal, they must see the young women in you." He finish of.

That will be easy I think sarcastically. I haven't been a child for some time now.

"You will be the tributes of district twelve, the once on fire." Portia declares. How rights he is I think as I turn around and grip the side of the chariot. Peeta standing next to me. My hands are sweating and I resist the temptation to wipe them off on my clothes.

Opening ceremonies are about to start and before us stands eleven chariots, all filled with their tributes, awaiting their starting signal.

"If I'm caught on fire Katniss. Will you save me?" I hear Peeta say between closed lips.

"If you save me." I answer on instinct. "Think what image it will be. We, jumping around trying to extinguish each other's fire."

Peeta laughs.

"I can see Seneca Crane now…. Their smoking hot!" Peeta says in a capitol dialect. I look at him startled and then I'm laughing. I'm laughing so hard that Peeta has to hold me up. The other tributes are looking at me and I try to point at Peeta, to show them it's his doing.

"If I get badly burned I am going to force Haymitch into sobriety." Peeta continues when I finally managed to control my laughter. "Isn't he supposed to stop people from killing us?"

I start laughing again. Cursing him under my breath.

"Can…Can you imagine… He and Cinna… trying to…" I have a hard time getting out what I want to say. I have to pinch myself on the thigh hard to make myself focus.

"I mean. Can you imagine Haymitch arguing with Cinna and Portia… over clothes?" I snort at the thought. Not a chance. Peeta most agree with me for I manage to get a smile.

"Mmhm. You might be right. Besides. He might actually make the flames real, what with him carrying around so much alcohol in his body." Peeta says. I manage to just chuckle at that one.

He's the man. My man.