"Come on Katniss don't go," I call out as I jog down the staircase after her retreating form.
Coming to a stop on a landing, she glances at me over her shoulder. "I'm not interested in being a third wheel, but thanks for the invite" she mutters before turning for the next flight of stairs.
"I thought you were going to give her a chance."
This stops her decent. Her hand on the banister, she stands frozen for a second before turning to meet my gaze with an icy glare. "I came, I ate, I was polite. I asked questions and laughed at her stories. What else do you think will be gained by awkwardly shoving me in the middle of your dessert date?" she asks coolly.
My mouth falls open in surprise. Date? I thought we resolved this issue back at the apartment before dinner, but here it is again. "Katniss, everyone was invited to get dessert," I argue, trying to keep my voice calm and even.
"But everyone else bailed, why do you think that is?" she tosses back.
It's true Haymitch, Thom and Effie had all declined the offer for dessert but for valid reasons. Haymitch and Effie had made plans prior to dinner to meet up with an old games sponsor for drinks, and we all know Haymitch wasn't going to miss an occasion where alcohol is the main event. Thom declined to returns a few calls from district 12, with the time difference he couldn't put them off till later.
"There is no conspiracy here Katniss, they just had things that they needed to do. You, however, are free, so why are you running away?" I implore.
She sighs. "Peeta... it was kind of obvious that she wanted to spend time alone with you tonight, and I can't blame her, she hasn't seen you in a year. I'm sure she missed you," she says more softly.
I shake my head, my frustration grows with each of her excuses. "Actually Katniss, she was really worried when you ran out just now. She's concerned that she's offended you somehow."
A slight frown pulls at the corners of her lips as she drops her eyes to down to stare at the tops of my shoes. "You don't see it," she mummers so softly I can barely make out what she is saying.
"I don't see what?" I ask taking a tentative step towards her.
At the first sign of movement, her eyes suddenly snap back up to my own. My stomach sinks when I spot the look of determination in her gray orbs, a look I've become well acquainted with over the years. Nothing good generally comes after she's committed to that look. "Please reiterate my thanks for a lovely dinner, and tell her that I think she was an exquisite hostess, but that I have developed a headache so I'm going to pass on dessert," she states calmly. Then, without waiting for further comment from me, she turns on her heels and bolts down the stairs.
As she disappears around the bend in the staircase I take off in pursuit. "Katniss!" I call out after her. As I round the banister I skid to stop to avoid colliding with a wall of purple fabric. Hanging directly in front of me from ceiling to floor, wall to banister is what appears to be a thick velvet curtain. Instinctively I reach out to touch it. It's incredibly soft but doesn't give easily under my prodding. Beyond the obstacle, I hear the sound of Katniss's footfalls as they move further and further away. Panic begins to fill me. With all the strength I can muster, I take hold the fabric and begin pulling. "Katniss, Katniss, wait!" I yell breathlessly. I feel like I wrestling the mass for hours before I finally locate an opening, but there is no time to celebrate the victory; instead, I push through and launch myself down the flight of stairs beyond.
My heart pounds as I rush down endless flights of stairs. I call out her name over and over until my throat is raw. A stitch forms in my side and I'm forced to stop to catch my breath. "I've lost her", I choke out, but just as the words leave my mouth I spot her hand on the handrail about a floor below me. I sigh in relief. "Katniss, stop!" I plead launching myself down the stairs again.
As I'm rounding the landing the floor beneath my feet suddenly turns soft. I nearly pitch headfirst down the stairs as my feet search for purchase. I regain my footing, but my eye's struggle to understand what they are seeing. Stretched out in front of me, the entire next flight of the stairs is covered knee deep in lavender and pink silk pillows of every shape and size. I let out an irritated scoff but trudge forward, taking a tentative step down. I nearly end up face down. Grabbing the railing to my right, I hoist myself to an upright position and manage to make it safely, if not speedily, down to the bottom of the pile and onto the solid ground of the building's entryway. Spotting the exit, I let out a sigh of relief and sprint out the door, but as my feet it the sidewalk, I see Katniss disappear into the back of our hired car. The car speeds away into the fading evening light before I can even order my feet into pursuit. " Dammit, Katniss!" I grunt, laying a hand over my still pounding heart.
Behind me, the door opens and Tova joins me on the sidewalk. "Katniss decided not to join us?" she asks. I look over at her, ready to deliver Katniss's excuse, but the words die in my mouth when my eyes meet her green ones. The warm evening breeze stirs up a piece of her long purple hair and swirls it around us as I stare transfixed by the liquid movement in her emerald pools. The anxiety and concern that was filling me only a few short moments ago, starts to fade away and I find the only thought left weighing on my mind is how beautiful she is.
I bolt upright in bed before my eyes are even open. My heart is pounding wildly in my chest and my body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Real or not real? my mind screams. Much too slowly reality beings to seep its way into my frantic consciousness. I'm in the Capitol. This is a hotel room. That was a dream, I tell myself, but still, my heart races on and my stomach tightens to point of nausea. With my hands clenching blindly at the sheets of the bed as I wait out the seconds that will determine if my mind will go spinning into a flashback, but as the seconds turn to minutes I realize with relief that I've avoided the tumble in the dark abyss of my damages memories. I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding and my muscles start to relax.
"It was just a dream," I tell the empty room.
The games had reeked their own special kind of horror in my dream life, but the tampering Snow's henchmen did to me brought a whole new level of terror to my nights. For nearly a year I lost the ability to escape my nightmare because upon waking they would trigger a flashback. There were days that I didn't surface from a delusional state for hours or unless someone, usually Haymitch, found me and helped pull me back to reality. Now two years out and hours upon hours of intensive therapy later, I've begun to regain the ability to simply wake up most of the time, but the fear conditioning is still deeply rooted and I often wake in a panic, waiting for the flashback to seize me. Regardless of this, my doctor keeps tells me this is incredible progress and that in time I may rid myself of trigger dreams altogether, but I find it hard to put much hope in that eventuality, after all, two and a half decades and living life in the bottom of a liquor bottle hasn't done much to ease Haymitch's nightly torture.
Bringing shaky hands to my face I grind my thumbs into my eyes and shove my musings away. Taking a cleansing breath, my mind slips seamlessly into my long-practiced game of real or not real.
Real: Katniss came to dinner at Tova's with our group.
Real: Tova planned her dessert and coffee course at a bakery a few blocks from her home.
Real: Haymitch and Effie left to meet up with an old Capitol friend, an ex-sponsor of District 12, for drinks.
Real: Tom declined to join because he had District business to deal with.
Real: Katniss declined the invitation without reason and unceremoniously fled Tova's apartment.
Real: I tried to convince her to stay and join us for dessert.
Real: She claimed a headache and chose to return to the hotel.
Not real: Katniss didn't say dessert was a date.
Not real: Katniss made no accusations regarding Tova's motives, though I did sense there was more to her leaving than she claimed.
Not Real: endless stairs, velvet curtains, stairs covered in pillows. Pink and purple pillows? my mind asks. And the curtain was purple too? I grasp at the tendrils the dream, trying to piece together a meaning I feel is there, but as dreams do, the sharpness of the feelings and images slowly begin to fade and my fatigue returns. Sleep can be torture, but so is the lack of it and I know with the week ahead of me I need to at least try to get a couple more hours. Slipping back under my duvet, I stare up at the ceiling and mindless begin counting the slow rotations of the ceiling fan above my bed for a while before forcing my eyes closed and trying to turn off my mind. My body relaxes and I'm slowly sliding towards sleep when an image of Tova, her green eyes shining and her sunset colored hair wrapped around us, bursts into my mind in vivid color. Beautiful my memory whispers.
My eyes fly open in surprise and instantly the uneasiness I felt upon waking earlier returns. Something liking to panic begins to fill my chest as the word beautiful replays in my head. Of course, Tova's beautiful, any man would notice that I reason with myself, but soon as the thought surfaces I know that my distress goes deeper than a simple observation of Tova's physical attributes. My brain begins to whirl but even as my subconscious starts to bring the truth to surface, I shove it away. Throwing off my blanket, I quickly climb out of bed and head straight for the kitchen where I can bury my apprehensions in dough.
Reaching across the counter I grab a large metal bowl filled with pale dough and check the clock on the wall; the final proof is complete. Tossing the tea towel draped across the top aside, I'm about to dump the contents onto the counter when I hear the kitchen door behind me swing open quietly. Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Katniss peering in at me from around the door, a hesitant look on her face. I suspect she is concerned about how we left things when she fled from dinner last night, but I'm not in the mood to drag it all up again, so I offer her a smile and greet her with a cheerful "Morning," hoping to put her at ease.
This seems to work because she responses with a quiet, "Good morning," and slips silently through the door into the kitchen. Joining me at the counter, she takes a look around at bowls and pans scattered about and glances up at the clock. "When did you get up?" she inquires.
I shrug. "Well these cheese buns are just about to go in the oven and I started them first, so I'd say about an hour or so. What time is it anyway?" I ask.
"4:30," she says as she hoists herself up and onto an empty bit of counter. Lifting the corner of a checked tea towel, she peeks into a bowl sitting to her left. "What's this going to be?" she asks.
"Wheat bread," I say offhandedly. Glancing over at her, I take in her sleep disheveled form perched next to me. Her hair, loose from its usual braid and hangs in a tangled mess of waves around her face. For pajamas, a pair of wrinkled pink cotton sleep shorts and my gray sweater. A small smile threatens to tug at my lips, but I squelch it. I thought for sure in the weeks leading up to this trip I would eventually find the garment freshly laundered and hanging my closet, but clearly, she has decided to keep it as I suggested. It looks good on her, the gray looks nice against her olive skin, I think, my eyes from drifting to her tone legs dangling off the counter. "It's early, you didn't sleep well?" I ask distractedly.
She sniggers at this. "This from the man who's been up since 3?
I chuckle. "It was probably more like 3:45, that's just bakers hours," I deflect, which earns me an eye roll. "Really, though did you sleep okay?" I ask, carefully keeping my tone light.
Her shoulders go up in a shrug, "Dream-wise, not as bad as I had feared, but I kept waking up. The sounds, the smells, the bed...they're so different here, I couldn't seem to get comfortable."
"Homesick?" I suggest.
"Yeah...maybe," she returns softly.
A smile creeps across my face as a realization forms, "Well Ms. Everdeen, I just might have something to help with that," I say. Dropping the dough in my hand onto the counter I dust my hands off on my apron and reach behind her to retrieve a bag and hold it out to her.
Glancing at the sack, then at me, she lifts one of her long brown eyebrows at me in an unasked question.
"I think I may have inadvertently bought something last night that may help you with your homesickness. Have a look," I suggest nodding at the bag.
She eyes me suspiciously for a moment, but her curiosity wins out and she takes it from me. Pulling open the top, she stares down into it the depths for a second before reaching in and extracting a light blue candle. Bringing it to her nose she takes a tentative sniff, after a second a small smile quickly spreads across her face. "The mountains in springtime," she says, looking up at me.
"That's what I thought too," I agree. "There's other stuff in there too, soap, lotion, bath oil," I say poking at the sack with my pinky.
She glances back into the bag, then up at me, her face alight with questions. "But where did you...why..." she stammers, holding the candle out feebly.
I shake my head, "Let's just say that I shouldn't be trusted out on the town without the car service," I laugh going back to my task.
Katniss's eyebrows creep up towards her hairline, "Oh no, you're not getting off that easily," she smirks.
"It's kinda boring story," I mutter, hoping that she'll let it go. Between the unspoken reasons about why she felt she left before dessert and the remnant of my dream still lingering, I can't seem to shake a feeling of culpability.
It's 4:45 in the morning, I can't go hunting and I hate Capitol TV, so your boring story will have to do," she counters, lifting the candle to her nose for another sniff.
"Katniss..." I draw out.
"Peeta," she tosses back mockingly.
I'm had, she's not going to let the subject drop. Squinting at her, I give her my best-annoyed look and hand her one the small balls of dough I've been creating. "Cheese is over there," I say pointing at a small blue bowl.
Looking down at the dough and over at the cheese, she gives me a dubious look and I can't help but laugh at her sour expression.
"What! Cheese buns don't make themselves," I chuckle and grab a chunk of cheese. "You help with these, I'll embarrass myself with the tale of my evening." I offer.
Pinning me with a smirk, she gives in and grabs a chunk of cheese. "Show me what to do."
With a quick tutorial, we settled into the task of stuffing our dough with cheese. After a few long moments of struggling at her task, Katniss clears her throat, "So spill it," she demands.
Blowing out a long breath, I gather my thoughts. "Well, apparently I've learned nothing following you around in the woods for a year," I snort.
Placing a cheese bun in the pan, she quirks an eyebrow at me. "Wait, what does that have to do with dessert?" she asks.
The mention of dessert seems to tighten the knot already residing in my gut. "Well...actually the adventure didn't start until after that," I tell her.
"Oh I see," she says falling silent for a moment. "But how was it...dessert I mean?" she asks carefully keeping her eyes on cheese bun in her hands.
I glance over at her, then back down at the roll I'm forming. "It was a nice place, respectable baked goods. I wish you would have come with us."
"Yeah, I wish I hadn't...um...you know had a headache," she stammers.
I hazard a glance and her and find her looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, I know, just saying you were...missed," I tell her trying to ease the tension I see in her face. "I brought you some petit fours, they're in the fridge," I add. This earns me a small smile.
"I love those, thank you," she offers but then continues by adding, "but don't think cake is going to deter me from the story."
"I wouldn't dream of it," I laugh. "Last night after dessert I decided to forego the car service in lieu of walking back to the hotel, " I tell her. "I realized my folly when after 20 minutes when not only had I failed to find the hotel but then couldn't find my way back to Tova's either."
A laugh bubbles up, but to her credit, she swallows it back. "Why in the world did decide to walk?" she asks unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.
I glare at her playfully and shove another ball of dough into her idle hands. "It was a nice night, weather-wise, and I just wanted to decompress the events of the last few days. I thought I had a good mental map from the drive over...clearly I was delusional," I laugh.
This time she lets her laugh joins mine, "but how do candles and bath products fit in?" she finally manages to ask.
"Chocolates, a lunch invitation, AND bath products," I correct.
Katniss's eyes widen, "What?!"
I shrug, "I'm a sucker, what can I say." At her exasperated look, I continue, "By the time I admitted to myself I was lost, most of the shops in the part of town I was in were closed, so didn't think twice when I found a storefront with the lights on. I should have realized before I walked in what I was heading for, I was raised in the business district for goodness sake," I exclaimed.
Katniss gives me a puzzled looked. "What do you mean," she asks
"A shop opened hours after others around it have closed for the night is a generally not doing it for convenience, generally it's due to cash flow issues," I explained. "There were a few times, generally in the winter months when things were leaner in the district, that I remember my folks staying open late hoping for just more one sale. The look the clerk gave me when I asked for only directions was the same one I saw on my father's face when someone would only buy a single dinner roll those nights." I tell her.
An affectionate smile pulls at her lips. "So you bought stuff."
I nod, "Two large bags filled to the top, but get this, then when I went to pay Honey, the clerk...well owner actually, suddenly she felt bad for taking money from me. She kept calling me a "war hero", I just wanted to crawl under the counter and hide," I lament.
Placing another completed cheese bun in the pan, Katniss levels her eyes at me, "You are a war hero," she offers quietly.
My eyes fall closed at the statement. "I don't feel like that's who I was during the war. A completely batshit crazy lunatic, yes; hero, no."
"You are a hero!" she interjects vehemently.
My eyes pop open to find her staring at me, her gray eyes unwavering. "I'm not comfortable with that term," I redirect.
Her expression softens a bit, "I can appreciate that is was a difficult time for you, but it doesn't change facts Peeta. You saved lives in 13 when you warned us about the bomb attacks, you fought your way through the Capitol with our squad...you stood by me during my trial..." she says her voice cracking. She takes a moment to steady her voice and continues, "Plus, I will point out that it's bound to come up in the speeches and ceremonies we're undoubtedly going to be forced to sit through so you best start getting used to the accolade," she smirks. Taking a cleansing breath and level my gaze at her, "I can't avoid it hu?"
She shakes her head. "You're Peeta Mellark! Tribute, victor, Capitol heartthrob and better half of the star-crossed lover's team, so no, I don't think they are going to let you fade into the background,' she teases as she shoves another chunk of cheese into a ball of dough. "Now, tell me about this lunch invite and then direct me to where you've hidden the chocolates, those are worth being sidetracked for," she says, looking suspiciously around the kitchen.
A smile pulls at my lips at her unexpected playfulness. Between the oddness between us most of yesterday and the stress on both of us being in the Capitol again, I'm somewhat relieved that we are sharing witty batter and not barbed comments. "Well, after going back and forth about payment, I finally talked her into a compromise so sorts. If she agreed to take my payment, then I would expect her to join me for lunch."
"You pay and you buy her lunch? That sounds about right for the Capitol," she snickers.
I chuckle as well but shake my head, "No, it isn't like that. While she was packing up the chocolates I found out that she was a Capitol rebel," I clarify.
"Really?"
"Yeah! Her now husband, who makes the chocolates, is originally from District 2. She met him and his family years ago when she started importing their candies for her store and they fell in love. A few years ago she decided to petition for a marriage license, but not only was she denied, but the courts then went after the family claiming they were trying to manipulate a Capitol citizen so they could immigrate to the Capitol. Her now father-in-law spent six months in jail while she battled it out on their behalf. After that, she says she woke up to reality and decided to join the rebellion. She served in the militia during the war! I'm actually looking forward to lunch, I'm really interested to hear more about her and her husband's experiences."
"Well I might just have to meet these folks, they sound like interesting people!"
"I think they would like that a lot," I tell her placing the last cheese bun in the baking dish. "I wanted to avoid going out in public during the day, so they are coming here at noon if you want to join us," I add.
She nods in agreement then turns her attention to our now full tray of cheese buns, "What's next?"
"Thirty minutes in a 375-degree oven should do it," I say depositing the tray into the already warm oven.
Katniss's only response is the growl of her stomach at which we both begin to laugh. "I don't think I can wait till then," she snickers.
"You don't say," I smirk.
"I think I might need something to tide me over. Hum...what could I have?" she says laying a thoughtful finger along her chin. Her eyes take a moment to search the kitchen before landing on the box of chocolates to my left. "Oh wait, you did mention chocolates didn't you?" she ask much too innocently.
"Chocolate isn't a breakfast food," I guffaw, giving the box a small protective push away from us.
She glances at the box then at me, mischief sparkling in her gray eyes. I give her my most winning stage smile and shake my head, "Not. For. Breakfast." I say enunciating each syllable. This earns me a raised eyebrow. "And who's going to stop me...you?" she taunts, her eye's never leaving mine. I shrug and attempt to look unconcerned, but I can feel my muscles tightening in anticipation. A silence falls between us as we stare, unblinking, at each another. Who moved first I can't say, but suddenly we are both lurching for the box of sweets, our laughter cracking the silence.
Still perched on the counter, Katniss slides across the smooth surface easily and leans past me to just far enough that her fingers grazing the box. Although I'm closer to the target my amusement slows my reaction time and I fumble for it, sending it sliding further away from us both. "Damn you Mellark," Katniss cackles as she starts trying to pull her legs up onto the counter so she can gain leverage and crawl past me. I make my move swiftly. "Oh no, you don't," I snort, placing my hands, one on each of her thighs, pinning them to the marble slab beneath her. Instantly Katniss becomes still as a stone under my hands. Our laughter and giggles of just seconds ago evaporate leaving only the sound our labored breathing to fill the silence.
Take your hands off her you fool, my brain screams, but yet they remain on her warm thighs as if glued in place. I hesitantly bring my eyes up to look at her and I'm utterly unprepared for what I find. She is staring at me, eyes wide and unblinking, through a thin veil of disheveled hair that flutters softly with each panted breath that escapes her slightly parted lips. She is vulnerable but not afraid, which isn't something I have seen her in years. It's intoxicating. Suddenly it's not just our breath in the air, but something else. Something...intangible. My mind frantically searches for a comparison but comes up blank. I have no point of reference for which to compare this to. My hands instinctively tighten around her legs, willing her not to move. Later, when I replay this moment over in my mind, I will always wonder what would have happened next if it hadn't been for the sound of the front door flying open and Effie and Haymitch's bickering voices breaking the spell.
The sound startles us both. I immediately pull my hands from her and she jumps down from the counter without any preamble. She's mindlessly brushing at the back of her shorts and sneaking a self-conscience glance up at me. My heart is pounding and my thoughts tumble together in a loud roar in my head, What was that? Think idiot, was she freaking out? She doesn't like being touched, she's afraid of you...and rightly so, but she looks okay, doesn't she? Before I can settle on any one answer, the arguing pair from the entryway bursts through the kitchen door.
Haymitch is the first through the swinging door. He spots us but keeps moving towards the fridge. "I will make us breakfast woman!" he growls over his shoulder at Effie who is hit on his heels. "No need to spend a months stipend on some dumb fancy restaurant," he grouses.
Effie, the embodiment of manners, stops briefly and offers Katniss and I a warm smile in greeting before snipping back at him. "Really Haymitch, could you exaggerate a bit more, I didn't quite catch what you were getting at," she scoffs. "For your information, breakfast is the least expensive meal you can purchase in a restaurant. And since when are you worried about money? It's not like you're spending your victor's stipend on new clothes," she says giving him a once over with her eyes.
Pulling eggs and bacon from the fridge, he turns and glares at her. "My clothes are fine, perfect for my life of drinking and tending geese. And this," he says holding up the items from the fridge, "is free, paid for by our generous hosts. Trust me, sweetheart, free food always tastes better. Now sit down," he says nodding at a stool at the island counter.
She glares at him, but it doesn't quite make it to her eyes, instead, I see thinly veiled amusement. As I observe these two things suddenly strike me. One, she's missed him, like really missed his presence in her life. And two, that they just came in the door together...at 5:15 in the morning. Possibilities from the mundane to the propositus fill my head, which is a welcome relief to the running internal dialog of "what the hell just happened," of moments ago.
Effie tsk's and moves to sit down. "Since when can he cook?" she asks me in a mock whisper pulling me from the back to the present.
"It's a form of self-preservation," Haymitch mutters as he rummages through the cabinet for a frying pan.
Katniss's eyes flutter to mine for a moment before turning to Haymitch. "I can make eggs," she scoffs indignantly.
Effie looks between the Katniss and Haymitch and then at me. I shake my head. "Nope, not getting in the middle of it," I laugh, joining her at the island.
Having located a pan, Haymitch moves to the stove and sets it on top. "Congratulations, you made scrambled eggs once, why don't you give us an encore Princess," he says handing Katniss a bowl and whisk.
Katniss gives him a dirty look, but sets the bowl down on the island next to me and turns to grab the eggs. As she sets to cracking them into the bowl and Haymitch settles bacon into the pan with a sizzle, I sneak a peek Haymitch and take note that he's still in clothing from yesterday.
"How was drinks with Ms. Vanklaus last night?" I venture.
"As I said, anything free tastes better, that goes especially for liquor," he says, his eyes focused on the sizzling pan in front of him.
Effie lets out an annoyed sigh. "Really Haymitch, must you be so evasive about everything?" she asks rhetorically before turning her eyes on me. "The evening was quite lovely. Mrs. Vanklaus was always such an ardent supporter of twelve, even in through the difficult years..."
"Which were all of them until you two came along," Haymitch interjects.
Effie rolls her eyes at him but seems to be holding back a smile. "Yes, well that is what makes her even more extraordinary, doesn't it? So many were fairweather supporters," she rebuts.
"And one of the only ones still alive," Haymitch says glancing over his shoulder at her, a sad expression on his face.
Effie nods morosely. "I am glad she made through, she always was one of my favorites."
"How do you have favorite sponsors, it's that an oxymoron?" Katniss asks, picking up the whisk.
"Capitol rebels came in all shapes and sizes sweetheart," Haymitch answers, his gaze finding Effie's. Small smile forms on her lips at the comment. My thoughts spin for a long moment for my brain supplies the words I'm looking for, Effie Trinket a rebel?
"Wait, what...what was that," I stammer, drawing a line between Haymitch and Effie with a finger.
Katniss, who has been absorbed in her task and missed the exchange, looks up curiously. "What?" she asks.
"Just now, when he was talking about Capitol rebels, he looked over at Effie and she smiled," I explain.
Katniss's eyes open wide and she drops her whisk. "Effie...you were a rebel?" she asks in awe.
"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly...I just," she begins but is cut off.
"She spent the war in a Capitol prison, what did you think she was in there for, not dressing flamboyant enough?" Haymitch interjects sarcastically.
Katniss sputters for a moment then responds, "Well, I thought is because she was on our team I guess."
"That was a big part of it," Effie confirms, the fingers of her right hand subconsciously running over a faint but jagged scar at circles her thumb and runs across the top of her left hand. I wonder suddenly how she got it, and about the others, she is most like hiding with make and clothes. I shudder as my mind fills with images of Effie stripped of her wigs and dress and withering in pain at the hands of peacekeepers.
"Don't forget about the charges of conspiracy and treason," Haymitch says, pulling me back from the gruesome thoughts playing out in my head.
"Conspiracy? Treason? But...you liked the games," I say trying desperately to connect the two images of her converging in my brain.
"You expected her to what, flip Snow off from the reaping stage?' Haymitch laughs at me over his shoulder.
Effie nervously runs her hands over her shirt. "Haymitch is being kind. I wasn't a rebel, not in the way the three of you were," she says, pinning Haymitch with a look that tells him not to interrupt her. "I did hate the games. I hated from my very first year as an escort. You never forget the moment that challenges everything you know," she says looking at us sadly. She seems to take a moment to collect herself before continuing. "It was the 65th games and I had just come into the mentor's lounge to retrieve Haymitch to talk to a sponsor when Rachel died, beaten to death by the male tribute from two," she says a far off look in her eyes. "I remember as they lifted her lifeless body from the arena all I could hear was her mothers inconsolable weeping the reaping. It was in that second, everything I had ever known, everything I was taught to believe...changed."
"If you hated it, why did you stay?" Katniss asks abruptly.
"Oh dear, you don't just quit being an escort. It is considered an honor to be chosen, to leave for any reason expect a promotion or to start a family was a dishonor that your whole family would endure, a dishonor that could ruin them for generations. I couldn't do that to my family, so I chose to make it mean something, at least to me. I choose to serve the children, to honor them by doing everything in my power to help prepare them so that maybe one day one might go home," she says.
Like a fogged mirror wiped clean, I suddenly feel like I'm seeing the real Effie clearly for the first time. She was always there, I just chose not to look through the fog of wigs and outfits to see the real her. "I had no idea," I say around a lump in my throat. "You knew about this?" I ask, looking over at Haymitch who is taking the finished bacon from the pan.
"You don't work with someone 10 years and not figure something like that out," he answers, coming over to take the bowl of eggs from Katniss.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I ask, eyeing him. He nods at Effie and turns to dump the eggs into the hot pan on the stove.
"I asked him not to say anything," Effie answers solemnly. "I may have hated the Capitol and the games, but in the end, I contributed nothing to the cause. Hating the system didn't save lives," she says sincerely.
"You're wrong, hating the system made you fight harder to say every tribute...to save Katniss and me," I reason. "Not all acts of war require shooting a gun, Effie."
Effie's eyes fill with tears. "Oh Peeta, it's so good to see the real you again," she mummers as a single tear escapes the confines of her bottom eyelashes.
I give her a small smile and choose not to contradict her. I just sincerely hope that I won't have an episode in front of her and ruin her dreams that the old me has returned.
Grabbing a napkin, Effie quickly dabs away her tears and sits up straighter on her stool. "I think I've had quite enough of this depressing topic for the moment," she says with a wave of her hand, "How's breakfast coming?" she asks.
"I'm workin' as fast as I can Princess," Haymitch grumbles under his breath.
As we wait for breakfast to be served an awkward silence descends upon our group. Effie fidgets, Haymitch scoops scrambled eggs into a clean bowl and I get up to check the cheese buns in the oven. As I peek into the oven, I consider suggesting that we going over the schedule for the day when Katniss chooses to break the silence in a way that only she can. "So Haymitch, where did you sleep last night?" she asks unceremoniously.
I nearly drop the tray of buns in my hand, shocked by her guileless. Placing the pan on the counter, I turn to find Katniss with an expression of childish amusement on her face. Haymitch, on the other hand, is anything but amused. Still facing the stove, I can see the muscles of his back tense against his shirt.
"Effie, do you know where Haymitch went after drinks with Ms. Vanklaus?" she asks innocently. When Effie just stares at her with wide eyes, Katniss continues, "Haymitch? Did you pass out...somewhere?"
I blink, totally astonished by her pressing of the subject. Granted I was wondering the same thing just a few minutes ago but I would never go so far as to confront him, at least not in front of everyone.
When Haymitch turns around his face is surprisingly passive. "Drank too much; slept it off on Effie's couch," he returns nonchalantly. A rebuttal is on Katniss's lips, but before she can speak, Haymitch crosses the kitchen, puts the bowl of steaming eggs on the table and pulls out an envelope from his back pocket. "Here," he says handing her the crumpled letter, "dark and moody left this for you at the front desk." Katniss goes stone still, her needling of Haymitch gone silent, which was his intent I'm sure.
Ugh, Gale already? I groan inwardly. I know Katniss has agreed to see him while she here, but I'm not thrilled about the prospect. Scratch that, I hate it. I would like to think my dislike of the situation is totally altruistic, concern over Katniss's well-being, but the truth is, I can't stand Gale Hawthorn. Since Katniss told me that she agreed to meet up with him while we are here in the Capitol, I've spent a lot of time contemplating my contempt for him. I wanted to be sure that my issues with him are real and not a product of my hijacking. I did my fact checking with Haymitch and mulled over war records and transcripts and in the end, I found my feelings unchanged.
War has a way of stripping away the superficial to reveal the real person. Naive, impulsive and narcissistic all amplified by war. He created bomb traps to kill with maximum efficiency and did so without a moment's consideration of the fallout. When bombs start flying and Prim ended up dead, Katniss destroyed, it was only then that he found regret in his actions and I can't abide this. I don't like him, but he isn't trying to fix things with me so I hold my tongue. Katniss has to make a decision about him on her own, without my interference. I will just watch and be there if she needs me to catch her if he sends her falling.
Haymitch retrieves plates, forks, and the bacon and returns to the table. "So the Captain tryin' to make amends?" Haymitch asks, nodding at the envelope.
Katniss shrugs. "I can't speak to his motive, but this more about me anyway, I'm trying to be a steward of a good life."
My eyes snap up to hers when I hear my own words proclaimed.
"Sweetheart it doesn't take much imagination to know what his motives probably are," Haymitch says as he dishes up the egg for everyone.
She rolls her eyes and takes his proffered plate of food. "It's been a year, life goes on Haymitch."
"I got to know him well enough in 13 and he was pretty set on the idea of you and him together so you shouldn't underestimate that factor in your whole "let's be friend" plan," he says shoving a fork full of eggs into his mouth.
Absentmindedly she wraps a tendril of hair around her finger as she seems to consider what Haymitch has said. After a moment of pondering, she lets the coil of hair slip from her finger and she picks up a fork. "I can't control or change what he thinks or feels, but I do have the ability to affect change for myself," she says, her earnest gray eyes beseeching me to understand her choice. "I want to choose love over hate, laughter instead of tears and offer forgiveness instead of seeking revenge."
My chest fills with warmth, and I can't help but hope she finds what she is looking for. Curling my fingers around my glass and I hold it aloft in front of her. She follows suit and holds her glass up to mine. "For Prim," I say, gently touching my cup to hers. A sad smile creases her face, "For all those gone too soon," she returns. Haymitch and Effie lift a glass at the sentiment and we all take a give a moment of silence to the long list of names of those the war and the games took.
Once the moment has passed, we return to our breakfast and being chatting over the most recent news of the friends we are still blessed to have with us. News exhausted and our stomachs filled, Effie reaches over and pulls out her schedule book. Haymitch groans at the sight of it but clears the table in front of her all the same, a fact that doesn't escape me. I feel a smirk start to pull at my lips but I grab my glass and take a sip of my juice to cover it.
Effie nods her thanks at Haymitch then gently lays her book down on the table, one hand resting on the cover in reverence. "It is going to be a very busy few weeks, and it all starts today with the arrival of the remaining victors and the welcome dinner tonight," she says sounding like the escort of our past. "Shall we go over the schedule?" she asks very seriously. Katniss and I nod and Haymitch grumbles, "I think I'm gonna need a drink."
"Don't you even think about it," Effie warns. Haymitch glares at her for a few counts before giving in and settling for his glass of juice. Effie, looking please with herself, turns her attention back to the subject at hand. Lifting the cover of the schedule with a flourish, she glances down and skims the first page before lifting her bright blues back up to us and saying, "Let's begin."