"And the Capitol is still in a state of shock with the Quell announcement, isn't it, Caesar?"
"Oh, yes, Claudius, absolutely in shock! Not only are they speculating who this year's Tributes may be, but they're still coming to terms with their most recent Victor, Katniss Everdeen, going into the Arena again so soon." Caesar Flickerman allowed one single, soft sigh to fall from his lips as he looked sadly down the barrel of the camera. "And to think she didn't have the opportunity to spend much time in the Capitol, and all the wonders it has to offer. Let's hope she can repeat herself and perhaps come out victorious again, hmm, Claudius?"
The co-anchor nodded his head in agreement as the two men continued to discuss the Quell. Even over a week after the card reading it was still the hot topic for every Capitolite. It was discussed over lunch dates, odds placed in bars against who would be reaped, families debated as they watched their projector screens of an evening.
Even from the relative quiet of the sitting room of the Capitol house in Twelve, Peeta could feel the intensity that was building as preparations began.
Switching the screen off with an annoyed grunt, he glanced down at the sleeping form of Katniss on the sofa beside him. She was curled up, her knees hugged to her chest while her cheek rested against his thigh. After he'd told her all he could about the Quell, they'd continued to sit as the sun began to set, murmuring quietly to each other until he'd told her he needed to turn the holo off. She'd begrudgingly allowed him to - after admitting she enjoyed knowing that for the first time in over a week the Capitol hadn't really been watching her - and then quietly sat beside him as he'd switched the screen on to a reality program about young socialites in the Capitol. It didn't particularly interest either of them, but after the day and week they'd had, it was the least of their concerns and worries, and mindless programming was all they could deal with.
Katniss had dropped like a light within 5 minutes, and he'd switched to the Capitol news station those who were watching would expect him to.
"Katniss," he whispered, and she didn't stir. "Wake up. Katniss?" he said a little louder, with a slight tap to her shoulder. She started, her body shooting upright abruptly, eyes wide, fists clenched, before she saw Peeta beside her. Her tensed shoulders immediately relaxed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he apologised.
"It's okay," she replied, rubbing her eyes. "I...I slept really well. How long was I out for?"
He glanced down at his watch, surprised himself at the time. "About 3 hours. Your mom called to see if you were here, to make sure you were alright. She, um...she said it was the first time you'd really left the house in a week."
Katniss looked away, trying to hide the pink that crept across her cheeks. "Yeah," she murmured. "I didn't much feel like going out."
"You have to, though," he said. "Especially now." One of the topics they'd discussed before he'd switched the holo off had been his idea for her - and Haymitch - to train, to hone their skills to match those of other Victors who were likely to have maintained their strength and stamina in the years since their win. She'd argued at first, not seeing the point, but then he'd reminded her of Prim, of the people she would return to if she won.
He didn't mention himself, but the implication had been there.
"I know I do," she replied. Katniss stood, stretched her arms out behind her back, then sighed. "I suppose I should go home."
"I can walk you if you like?"
"Okay."
Peeta nodded, began walking towards the door before turning back to her abruptly. No. No, he didn't want to do that. "You can, uh, stay here instead, if you wanted to? I can call your mom, and I'm sure I have something you can sleep in…" He trailed off, watched as the pink in her cheeks deepened. He ran his hand through his hair, turned back to the door. "No, never mind, forget-"
"Yes," she said simply.
He pivoted on his foot. "Really?"
"Really." She shrugged. "I may...I may as well make the most of what time we have together, right?"
His lips firmed, and he strode back to her. "Don't say things like that, Katniss. I mean it." His arms reached out, wrapped around her and pulled her close. "Just don't. It's selfish of me, but I can't think of that right now." He squeezed her, as though if he didn't, she'd simply disappear from his arms. He wished Cressida and Plutarch hadn't been so set on Katniss not knowing about the planned rescue mission, wished he could tell her so that the worry lines on her forehead and the reluctant acceptance in her eyes would disappear.
But he couldn't, and for now, this was all he could do.
"I'll go call my mom," Katniss said. "If you want to go up and find me some clothes to sleep in." He nodded, probably more enthusiastically than he should have, and took the stairs two at a time to the bedroom. Rifling through the drawers he'd tossed his clothes into, he finally found one shirt that would probably fit well enough - while he wasn't all that much taller than Katniss, her petite build was in distinct contrast to his broad shoulders and chest. The loose, soft material of the t-shirt would work.
"Did you find something?" He glanced over his shoulder to see her standing at the door, arms wrapped around her waist as though she were holding herself together.
"I did. You're so quiet - I didn't even hear you walk up the stairs." He held out the shirt, waited for her to take it.
"Still light on my feet, I suppose," Katniss replied, wrapped her fingers around the grey cotton. "I'm just going to, uh, change in the bathroom."
"No, it's okay. You can change out here - my sleep clothes are in there already." She nodded in agreement and he walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him before moving over to the counter. His fingers clutched the basin tightly, his eyes staring back at him in the mirror.
Sometimes it amazed him that he could so calmly lie to the face of the President, could work as a 'double agent' so to speak, without a worry or a qualm - yet when it came to Katniss Everdeen, it was like every single one of his carefully built barriers crumbled. She was his Achilles heel, and he needed to be careful. Now, when things were even more precarious, he had to be at his smartest, at his wariest.
Because as of this moment, all he could think about was her; keeping her safe and keeping her his.
Stripping off his clothes and tossing them haphazardly towards the hamper, he tugged on the sleep pants and thin, short-sleeved top. He splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, ran his hands through his hair, tugged at the end of his shirt - anything, basically, to get his mind off the fact that Katniss was on the other side of the door, in his bed.
It was purely innocent. She was here because he knew she'd slept soundly each time she'd been with him, and he wanted her to sleep as much as she could. From tomorrow, things were going to get even harder for her.
But it didn't change the fact that the idea of sleeping beside Katniss made his stomach tie in anticipatory knots.
Switching the light off as he opened the door, Peeta stepped out to find her already under the covers, the small lamp on the bedside table throwing shadows across the room. She looked small, swallowed up by the fluffy comforter, a dizzying pattern of silver and gold and black threads. He didn't speak, simply slid into bed beside her, reaching out to turn the lamp off. Faint light from the moon slipped through the gap in the curtains as they fluttered slightly with the breeze, and he waited until his eyes had adjusted to the dark before turning onto his side to face her. Katniss did the same, her braid curling over her shoulder and brushing against his forearm, her hands tucked under her pillow. His hand reached up, tugged the comforter up so that it rested just below their chins.
"You alright?" He whispered. He reached out, grasped her hand firmly in his.
"Yes."
Peeta squeezed her hand, waited until he heard her breathing even out into the soft breaths of sleep before turning onto his back and staring blankly at the ceiling. While she slept, a thousand scenarios in the Arena ran through his head, each one clenching his heart tighter than the one before.
She didn't survive any of them.
Katniss studied the three men gathered around her under the rotunda - the surly older man grasping tightly to a small silver flask, the blond Capitolite with a comm in his hand and a serious look in his eye, and the tall, dark haired miner with a scowl and his arms firmly folded across his chest. After 15 minutes of short explanations, snappy comments and rising tensions, none of them were talking anymore. These were her allies.
She really wasn't coming out of this Arena alive.
She'd slept until 9, the longest she'd slept uninterrupted and peacefully in a long time - possibly ever. The steady beat of Peeta's heart under her ear - somehow, during the night, they'd twisted and twined until they were a tangle of limbs under the sheets - had been a rhythm that had lulled her to sleep. She would have stayed there all day if she could, but they had had appearances to maintain; instead, they'd spent the rest of the day at her home with Prim and her mother, under the guise of a perfectly innocent visit by Peeta to his unlucky victor.
While they had been busy being outsmarted at chess by Prim and playing semi-happy families, Haymitch had gotten word to Gale, organising for him to meet with them half an hour after his shift ended. It had been her idea - Gale's knowledge of snares and setting traps was a skill that Haymitch needed to learn going into the Arena, and they needed a man bigger than both of them to help train physically.
If Gale wanted in on the rebellion, this was his first step.
He suddenly threw his hands out at his sides, interrupting the awkward silence and Katniss' thoughts. "So, this is it? You got me to come out here after busting my ass for 12 hours in a mine, and we're just going to hang about and twiddle our thumbs?"
"What more do you want us to tell you?" Peeta snapped back.
Gale sneered. "I dunno, how about you start with the part where you caused all this to happen?"
Haymitch scowled, holding a hand up at Peeta to stop him in his tracks before glaring across at Gale. "I'd shut your mouth if I were you," he warned. "You know that's not true. Nothing we've done has changed Snow's mind one little bit. He had it in for Katniss the moment she made people question the games."
"Then what the hell is being done?" Gale demanded. "All I've heard so far is rebellion this, and trying to plan that and-"
"It's none of your damned business," Peeta interrupted. "Making sure we do what we can for Katniss and Haymitch is our priority, and what we do outside of here has nothing to do with you."
"It has everything to do with me!" Gale exploded, taking a step towards Peeta. "I'm part of this fucking rebellion too, you know. You fall back on your Capitol-"
"STOP!" Katniss shouted. She glared at the two men in front of her, almost toe to toe with each other, their eyes hot and bitter. They turned to her in frustration. "In case you'd forgotten, we're the ones going into the Arena again." She gestured angrily between herself and Haymitch with her thumb. "You can argue about this all you like when I'm dead and no longer anyone's problem."
Peeta opened his mouth, a pained look on his face. "Katniss-"
"No," she said firmly. "I don't want to talk anymore. I'm sick of talking, sick of fighting. There's nothing more that we can do other than train, than try and become as fit and cutthroat as the Careers. And we're not going to get there by fighting with each other."
Gale tipped his head to the side. "So that's why I'm here? To help you train or something?"
"Yeah," Haymitch drawled. "It was the boy's idea here that we get ourselves whipped into shape."
"I thought it was against the rules to train for the Games."
"What, you suddenly play by the rules now?" Haymitch couldn't hold back the laugh. "Kid, it don't matter what we do, they can't stop us. What are they gonna do - kill off the only two victors they have from Twelve? Doubt it."
Four stony faces glared at each other, almost as if to dare the others to speak first. "What do you want me to do then?" Gale asked eventually.
"Teach Haymitch to make traps and snares. And fight with us. Hand to hand combat," Katniss told him. She watched him cringe.
"Fighting, Catnip?" he asked. "You know I'm no good at that. I can throw a couple punches, but wrestling? That's not me."
"Whatever you can show them," Peeta interrupted. "It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's something. I already spoke to Mrs Everdeen about the right kind of diet to help them gain weight and to help with muscle development. They just need this. I can't be here, so you need to be."
"Then I'm just your replacement?" Gale tossed back.
"Gale-" Katniss began to warn, but he was already shaking his own head.
"I know, I'm sorry. I just…" he scrubbed his hands across his face and Katniss could still see the dirt and soot and grime embedded under his fingernails. "I'm still not sure it's sunk in what's happening. You were….you were supposed to be out of it all."
"I know that, Gale." She held up her hands, annoyance creeping into her tone. He said it as though she wasn't fully aware of the predicament she was in. "But there's nothing we can do now, except this."
"And hope the rebellion comes up with something in the meantime."
"That's what we're doing," Peeta said firmly. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed in a straight line. Katniss wondered if Peeta and Gale would ever be able to co-exist peacefully, and then realised it didn't really matter - once she was gone, they'd have no need to even speak to each other. Gale would stay here, Peeta would return to the Capitol, and they'd both move on, simple as that. No matter what Peeta said, no matter what silver lining he kept trying to look for, or make her hopeful about, it didn't change the fact that Snow wasn't going to allow her to win.
Shoving her hands deep in her pockets, she turned to Gale. "So will you help us?" She glanced over at Haymitch - who had his legs kicked out and his eyes closed, as though he was ready for sleep - and then at Peeta, who still radiated tension and frustration.
"Yeah, you know I will," Gale told her. "We've got to make sure you come home, right?"
"Make sure one of us comes home," she murmured, saw Haymitch's eyes lazily open out of the corner of her own.
"No hope for me, sweetheart," he replied bluntly. "I'm just gonna do this to make sure I can cover your ass if it needs it." The warning look in his eye was more than enough to stop her from arguing.
"Alright then. I guess you start tomorrow," Peeta said.
"You won't be there?" Gale asked, and although Katniss knew he was trying to control it, there was still a slight bite to his tone.
"Oh, I'll be there, but I can't be seen helping," he replied simply. "So it's back to what I do best, I guess - my job. Take photos. Spy. Snow wouldn't expect anything less."
"He'd want photos of me...training?" Katniss said, the distaste obvious on her face.
Haymitch rose to his feet. "The boy's right. Snow might not be able to release them to the public, sweetheart, but the bastard will get some sick kind of perversion from watching you attempt to try and win. Remember he thinks he holds all the cards here. We're just helping him to think that even more." He shoved his flask back in his pocket, glanced over at Gale. "I'm done for the day. I guess we'll see you same time tomorrow, my place." He walked off without a backwards glance, whistling decidedly out of tune.
Gale looked at Katniss and shrugged. "I guess he will," he said gruffly. "I need to get home, Mom will be wondering where I am. I'll see you, Catnip." He tipped his head at Peeta, then walked off in the opposite direction to Haymitch, to cut through town back to the Seam.
Katniss shifted her attention to Peeta, watched as he shoved his comm into his pocket. "I guess that went well?"
"Gale agreed. That's all we could hope for."
"I'm sorry he was so rude to you."
"I kind of expected it. He's angry, Katniss, that's all. Not at me, specifically, but I'm an easy target. Let him channel that into the training."
"I guess. I'm still not entirely sure it will change anything, but we do what we can, I suppose."
He sighed. "If you're not really convinced this is a good thing to do, why are you agreeing to it? Why did we even bother to just have that discussion?"
She shrugged. "What else am I going to do? Sit around in the hope the rebellion does something?" She folded her arms across her chest, the words that had laid heavily on her all afternoon suddenly beginning to tumble out. "I'm doing it because I don't want to rely on anyone else in the slim hope they manage to pull something off. I've been self-reliant for a long time, Peeta, and that isn't going to change just because some guy like Plutarch says he's going to come up with a big plan. I can't afford to think any other way other than survival. And this training, no matter how minimal it may be, might mean that." She took a deep breath, looked out in the direction Haymitch had wandered off. "And I'm doing it for him. If I can't survive, I want him to."
Peeta ran his hands through his hair, resting them at the nape of his neck and interlacing his fingers. "Katniss, he won't want to live if you don't," he said simply. "Look at what losing kid after kid every year has done to him. You think it's going to make things any easier for him if you...if you die?"
"I don't know!" She threw her hands up, the frustration building up in her so that her words came out in an unexpected shout. "I shouldn't even have to be worrying about this! I thought my biggest worry was going to be doing what he's always had to do, mentoring! Not the Arena again!"
"I know!" She watched as he tightened his forearms around his head, covering his ears as if to block out her words. "I know, Katniss. That's why we're doing all of this!"
"No," she argued. "You don't know, you don't understand! You've never had to worry about the threat of going into that Arena, never had to worry if your brother or sister or best friend were going to get reaped. Never had to worry if the desk beside you at school was going to be empty come the end of the games. Never had to worry about taking tesserae to help feed your family, knowing that all it does is increase your chances of dying. You might think you understand what all of this is like, Peeta, but you don't!"
"You're right, I don't," he shot back, his arms dropping to his sides. "Not in that way. But I know what I see when those kids come to the Capitol. I see what happens to them while they're there, and I see what happens to them after they win. I watch kids get reaped year after year and even though I don't know them, it's still painful to watch. And I know when the time comes for the next Reaping, I'm going to be standing there, worrying about the girl I love being reaped! Except I already know it's going to happen, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it!" His tirade ended on a shout, and her mouth dropped open. None of that was what she'd expected to hear come pouring out of his mouth, and she had no idea how to respond. She hadn't realised all of that had built up inside of him; hadn't realised he'd been concealing his true worries so well.
Instead, she raised her hands to the front of his shirt and tugged him to her, clumsily covering his mouth with hers. She still really didn't feel like she knew what she was doing, but it didn't matter. All she knew, right now, is that she didn't want to talk or fight or argue anymore. She just wanted some kind of comfort, dammit. Something to remind her that, even for a short time, she'd had something good.
His arms banded around her waist, pulling her closer, tighter. She couldn't really breathe, but it didn't matter. Peeta's lips were warm and soft and desperate against hers, his tongue sliding across her lower lip, encouraging her mouth to part and allowing him to deepen the kiss. Her chest felt like it was going to burst, but the ache that sparked inside her, causing her hips to press against him even more, was welcomed. It made her feel alive.
Peeta's mouth trailed across her jaw, down her neck, settled on the soft juncture just below her ear. Her head fell back almost involuntarily, her fingers clutching even tighter at his shirt, and welcomed the way his hands spread across her lower back. Her arms slipped around his neck, fingers tugging at the blonde strands at the nape of his neck, listened as he released a short moan against her skin. It reminded her of their first kiss in the woods, where his hand had slipped under her shirt, traced along her skin, curved over her body. The way everything had converged into that one single moment of frustration and want and need. And again, the way they'd kissed in her room after the interview with Caesar, and he'd stopped them before they went too far, though she couldn't imagine why she'd ever want to stop.
She wanted his hands on her again, everywhere, anywhere he could touch her.
She brought his mouth back to hers and kissed him until she was out of breath and her thoughts were full of nothing but him.
"These are some striking photographs, Mr Mellark." President Snow studied the images that appeared on his screen, smirked slightly at one of Katniss and Haymitch glaring at each other over a snare. "It's so insightful to see what people do when they feel cornered." He reached for the remote, switched the vision off. "As usual, you surprise me with your ingenuity, and making the most of the situation. But then again, so does Miss Everdeen. Trying everything little thing she can think of to survive. It's almost…inspiring."
"I thought it would be something you'd be interested in seeing. I advised Miss Everdeen they would be incorporated into her Victor Portfolio."
Snow steepled his fingers together atop his desk. "Very clever. And you are correct, I'm very interested in seeing these. They are marvellous."
Peeta had been back in the Capitol for almost a week, had thrown himself back into his work and had managed one brief interaction with Plutarch. In their short meeting, Plutarch had been able to tell him very little of any progress of the rebellions plans, other than that the Arena was almost complete and that the rescue couldn't be finalised until every element of it was done. They'd argued – again – and Peeta had bitterly complained over how limited their time was to ensure the plan was sound and safe and doable. He'd stormed out before he became tempted enough to throw another punch.
Afterwards, he'd ensconced himself in his apartment for the rest of the day, editing the photos he'd taken in Twelve of Katniss, Haymitch and Gale. He'd spent far too long looking at the images of Katniss, wondering if this would be all he would ever have left of her. And when he was done, and he knew they were some of the photos he was the proudest of taking so far in his career, he'd contacted Snow's office and requested a meeting. It was the first time he'd ever initiated one, and hoped it showed some sense of loyalty and interest in the President's plans. His risk, apparently, had paid off.
Snow stood, moved over to the wide window that ran the length of the wall beside the mahogany desk, stared out to the street below. "Tell me, are their spirits high? The Mockingjay and the Drunk?"
"As high as they can be, President Snow," Peeta replied.
"They spend so little time in their homes now, it's hard to determine how they're truly feeling," Snow murmured quietly. He turned back around to face Peeta, hands clasped behind his back. "I assume Miss Everdeen will want to see you again before the Reaping?"
"I…I would suppose so," Peeta said hesitantly.
"Good, good. You'll visit Twelve again, Mr Mellark, as a guest of the Capitol. A number of times. I want to know what she's thinking, what she's feeling. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"
Peeta shook his head. "No, President Snow."
"Correct response. I shall advise Heavensbee and Cressida to clear you from work duties at any time while you still continue to remain under their employ. Although after this Reaping…" Snow trailed off, walked slowly over to Peeta until he was standing directly in front of him. The smell of roses was cloying, the scent from the single white bud just barely hiding the metallic scent of blood Peeta had come to think of synonymously with the man.
"After this reaping?" Peeta prompted.
"With this reaping, you will remain on your usual duty, covering the events at Four. I'd originally thought to suggest you travel with the crew that covers Twelve, but I'm afraid your appearance there would be too…distracting. After this Reaping however, Mr Mellark, I believe you should focus solely on your responsibilities of being Capitol Photographer. I'm certain Cressida and Heavensbee will be delighted with your promotion and official appointment."
Peeta nodded simply, unsure what else to say or do. Because as Snow had spoken those words, the realisation had finally hit that if the rescue didn't succeed, and the rebellion failed in their acts, he would be working with President Snow for the rest of his days. He knew no one – no one – left the President's employ voluntarily.
Snow pursed his lips together and returned to his seat, gestured towards the door as he did so. "I'm looking forward to working with you more closely in the future, Mr Mellark." Peeta nodded again, realising he was being dismissed and took a step towards the door. "Oh, by the way…" Peeta turned on his foot, glanced back at Snow. "Thank you again for the images, they've added an unexpected frivolity to my day." He smiled, wide and white and enthusiastically.
But it didn't reach his eyes, and the shiver that ran down Peeta's spine was immediate and chilling.
He moved from the office as quickly as he could, keen to get as much distance between himself and the President as possible.
They trained, and trained hard. Years of liquor abuse and not giving a shit hadn't done Haymitch's body any favours, and it fought bitterly as he tried to re-train it. Katniss attempted to show him how to use a bow with little success, and knife throwing didn't fare better.
He could at least build a decent snare though, so at least that was one thing.
Peeta came back to Twelve on occasion, to give updates on the rebellion - of which there were few, beyond continued unrest in the Districts - and reports on Snow - slyly gleeful over her impending demise. Katniss was glad he never sugar coated it, that Peeta was honest in what Snow said or did. She knew he went back and reported on her after each of his visits – albeit abbreviated versions of the truth – and wondered how he did it, day in and day out.
The nights she slept beside him were nightmare free, and made up for the others where she'd wake screaming, tears pouring down her face for Rue, for Foxface, for herself. And during the day, when a simple word, the smallest sound, the slightest intake of breath, could make her chest heave and her mind to race right back into the Arena, he was there to take her hand and tell her it was okay. And because he wouldn't take no for an answer, she always agreed with him, though she knew as much as the next person that it was never going to be alright.
Slowly, hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months. Katniss became fitter, stronger, weighed more than she had in her entire life with the diet her mother put her on. Haymitch learnt how to perform a decent choke hold and while his hands still shook when he threw a knife, eventually he could at least get it to stick.
Gale trained with them when he could, on Sundays, and in some of the hours after his shift finished. Occasionally - in the times sweat would seep through his shirt and he's toss it aside - Katniss would study the raised lines that criss-crossed his back, pink and white and stark against his olive skin. They were just another bitter reminder of what they were up against.
Routine became habit, and soon it was all they knew.
Reaping Day dawned muggy and warm, the sun beating down on their heads as they headed to the square. The Quell was upon them, and her fate was in the hands of 22 other tributes who all wanted her dead - along with the slim hope that perhaps - perhaps - the rebellion could stop it all before it began.
Peeta raised the camera to his face, framed the stage in the centre of the shot, before pressing the small button to capture the image. It was elaborately decorated as usual, banners in sea green and golden yellow hanging from the edge of the Justice Building, music blasting from the large speakers that were set up around the square. It wasn't loud enough though, to cover the dismayed murmurs of the crowd. Four would never show dissent towards the Capitol by out rightly voicing their opinions, but Peeta could feel the unease, the tension. They had Victors that everyone loved, for a multitude of reasons. And there was a very good chance that they would lose two of them by the end of this week.
He couldn't believe the day had arrived, after months of preparation and travelling between Twelve and the Capitol constantly. He was exhausted and utterly spent from trying to remain upbeat for Katniss, meetings on the rebellion and maintaining his cover with Snow. He'd not seen his family in months – not that they missed him – and he'd barely had more than 4 hours sleep a night in all that time.
Closing his eyes, he briefly thought about what life would be like once it was all over.
The order came through his ear, a short and sharp announcement from the program coordinator, and right on cue the doors to the Justice Building opened, the flamboyant escort from Four stepping through them. He wore green, a bright lime shade that contrasted with the banners that fluttered behind him, with a small hat jauntily placed on his head at an angle. Peeta adjusted the aperture on his camera, zoomed in slightly to capture the clownish make-up that finished off the escorts look.
"Welcome!" he crowed, clasping his hands together at chest height. "How exciting it is that we're here today for the reaping of the 75th Hunger Games!" He took in an exaggerated deep breath, and Peeta was glad the camera obscured his eye-roll. "We're all aware of the announcement President Snow made for this Quarter Quell, and what it means for our glorious victors. Two of them will be re-entering the Arena, hoping to bring victory back to our District again." He glanced at the two small clusters of people at either end of the stage, smiling winningly. "Now, without further ado…" He moved over to one of the bowls, dipped his hand in and pulled out one of the small slips of paper. "The male victor representing District Four in this year's Hunger Games is…." A hush fell over the crowd as the escort paused dramatically. "Finnick Odair!"
The camera almost slipped from Peeta's hands as his head flew up in shock. No. No, no no. Not Finnick as well. Finnick and Haymitch and Katniss…. His breath came short, and he tried desperately to compose himself. This couldn't be happening.
He couldn't allow any of the other crew situated around the square to see his reaction, so instead he moved around the edge of the crowd, taking photos he wasn't even really seeing, as Finnick stepped forward to take his place beside the escort. He smiled, and waved to the crowd, as a mixture of cheers and wailing sobs echoed around the square.
They only got worse as Annie Cresta's name was called, as Mags stepped forward to take her place. Annie sobbed hysterically while Mags tried to comfort her, while Finnick wrapped his arms around both of them. And in that instant, Peeta was certain every bone in his body was going to break with the intensity with which it ached. It was his worst nightmare, the people who had come to mean the most to him to be snatched away by the smallest pieces of paper.
His only thought was of the rescue mission, and the certainty that it had to be a success. Otherwise he didn't know if there was a point to going on if he lost everyone he loved.
An hour later, after the square had been packed up and the equipment stored away ready for their return to the Capitol, Peeta sat in the small hovercraft bathroom, the delayed feed from Twelve's Reaping on his comm. Head and heart heavy, he watched as Effie held the slip of paper in front of her, not even bothering to open it. If she had, Peeta mused, the whole nation would have seen how much her hands had been trembling, and how would that have been perceived, what comments would have been made? She cleared her throat, pasted on a smile as she moved toward the microphone. Her voice was soft, softer than he could ever remember it being.
"This year's female tribute for the Quarter Quell is...Katniss Everdeen." It wasn't a surprise, considering the wide, clear bowl only had one piece of paper with a single name on it, but the knowledge didn't make the punch any easier. It certainly didn't dissolve the ball of terror that had lodged in his stomach the day the Quell announcement had been made and that had tightened and grown every day since.
Peeta bit down on his bottom lip as Katniss dutifully moved beside Effie, her spine straight, her face stoic but her eyes wet. And when Haymitch's name was called a minute later, the tear that tracked down her cheek cut him to the bone.
There was no going back now.
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