Peeta takes me back to his room. Even though it's identical to mine, I feel safer here. Like the nightmares don't know where I am. He removes his leg and crawls into bed, holding the covers open for me. I crawl in beside him. His arms wrap around me and I pull my body flush with his. I want every part of me against every part of him. We both squeeze each other tight and don't let go, and it hits me. I don't want to let go.
I press my face into his chest and breathe in the scent of him. Even though we've been gone from 12 for a while, the fragrance of cinnamon and dill lingers on his skin like it's a permanent part of his being. He presses a soft kiss into my hair. I find his hand and weave it together with mine. I lace our fingers, press our palms together. Peeta opens his eyes and looks down at me. I meet his gaze. I think he expects me to break away first, but I don't. We both wait, staring at each other.
Slowly I tilt my face up and press my lips to his. They are dry and smooth. He doesn't kiss me back at first. He waits still, expecting me to stop, to panic, to retreat. But I don't stop. I pull myself on top of him, and the mood shifts. He brings his hands to either side of my face and kisses me like he means it. Our mouths move together. We've kissed a million times, his lips are familiar, but what they are doing now is not. There is urgency behind it. We are not sure where it's going or if it will ever happen again, and we both decide to live in the moment. He rolls over and presses me into the bed. I want to feel him against me, not for the cameras or to save someone or because we have to, but for me. I've spent the Tour getting to know Peeta. He bakes. He paints. He always sleeps with the window open. He double knots his shoes. But now I'm learning him in an entirely new way. I'm learning his mouth is warm and wet and steady. I'm learning that I like the feel of his hands under my shirt, on my stomach and up my back. I'm learning that his skin tastes like salt.
When he finally pulls away, my lips feel lonely without his. "We should sleep," he whispers, beginning to shift his body off mine. I fist my hands in his shirt and pull him back onto me.
"Peeta." I don't know what to say. Stay with me? He's already here. I pushed him away and he came and found me anyway.
"I like when you say my name," he whispers. He kisses me chastely before lying back on the bed next to me. I pull myself into him and rest my head on his chest. In place of its normal slow, steady thud, his heart is pounding against his ribcage. It makes me smile.
I finally fall asleep, I don't wake up again until morning.
At breakfast, Peeta is acting especially guilty and I want to slap him in the face. Everyone knows we've been sleeping together. After my confession, Effie asked us to stop. It wasn't proper for two teenagers to be spending their nights together alone. We didn't. Maybe we tried to be more discrete, played at sneaking around, but we never stopped. We are the gossip of the train. Good. Maybe it will get back to Snow.
I think our team knows it's been innocent. They heard me screaming terrors in the night. They know why I am with him. But now, Peeta can't stop grinning. He meets my eyes and I scowl at him. It only makes it worse.
Effie tells us District 6 is the most populous in Panem by far. I remember learning this in school. District 6 has almost four times as many people as District 2, which has the second largest population. From what I can tell from Effie's carefully chosen words, they are on the poorer side. District 6 is responsible for transportation, but because of their mostly mechanical jobs, they never fare well in the Games. Unlike 7's comfort with axes and blades, or the agricultural districts' experience with scythes and machetes, District 6 is primarily assembly-line production of trains, cars, and hovercraft. They weld – but it's not like anyone can get their hands on a torch in an Arena. Despite their enormous population, they've only had as many victors as 12 has, and not much is known about them.
To get to District 6, we have to come back the way we came and then some. It will take a few days. After breakfast, Portia and Cinna excuse themselves to go work on our outfits for the ball in the Capitol. Haymitch goes to his room to drink, and Effie covers the table with plans for the upcoming districts. Itineraries, booklets on District customs. She never wants to be unfashionable. Effie tells us there will be a bit stop the refuel later this afternoon.
I hate travel. I feel claustrophobic. My legs are jittery with inactivity. There is an exercise car, but I find my mind wanders to bad places when I run on the treadmill, so instead I just complain. "Have you seen the last car?" Peeta asks, and I shake my head. That end of the train is part of Peeta's wandering turf, so I've steered clear. He gives me a giant grin. "Oh, you'll like it. Come on," he says, grabbing my hand.
Peeta leads me to the back of the train and we enter the last car. The room takes my breath away. Windows drop floor to ceiling, with cushioned benches hugging the wall. I walk slowly to a window and gingerly place my fingertips on the glass. I see the world running away from us, but it's the world. It's not just us on this train. We are part of something bigger. I stand there entranced, and watch the green forests dip into plains. It's too cold for flowers and there aren't a lot of animals, but it still feels like it's breathing. The train begins to drag to a lull to refuel, and I can't wait to step outside and feel real air in my lungs.
When Peeta and I jump from the train, he weaves his hand in mine. My heart leaps to my throat and I want to pull away, but I don't. Instead, I squeeze his hand back and watch the smile creep across his face. I focus on the earth, the air, the sky. I stare long distances, because in the train everything is right in front of my face. Out here it feels open.
After we've put some distance between ourselves and the train, I ask, "Peeta, do you think we are doing any good?"
"What do you mean?" he replies, meeting my troubled gaze.
"The people in the districts. Especially in 11 and 8. I don't think anyone's buying it."
"I don't think there's anything to buy," he responds. I hate when he gets cryptic and romantic all at the same time. I shift uncomfortably.
"I can't talk about that right now," I say as I stare at the ground.
"That's not what I mean," he says, and I breathe a little. I can't have another conversation about us. "What I mean is… Katniss, even if we did what we did purely out of love, it doesn't change the fact that we broke the rules. We rebelled. I think, even if we'd swallowed those berries and they let us die, the districts would still be seething like this. Things are coming to a head."
"But I have to save Gale. And my sister."
Peeta drops my hand and for a moment a flash of anger overcomes me. I say Gale's name and he can't hold my hand? But suddenly his palms are on my cheeks, he fingers in my hair. His blue eyes look at mine with purpose. His face offers comfort but his words do not. "No amount of kissing and pretending to be in love is going to stop Snow from hurting them." Before I can stop it, tears burn at my eyes and I try to turn my head away from him, but he moves his to stay in my sight. "Katniss. We need to play along. We need to make it through this Tour. But we need another plan."
"What other plan? There is no other choice," I reply, frustrated and sounding more resentful than I mean to.
"We'll think of something," he offers.
"What? Run away? Live in the woods? We can't take everyone with us. Prim, my mom, your whole family, Gale, Hazelle, all the kids. Haymitch, I can't leave Haymitch behind. Maybe we'd make it, just you and me, but we can't hide all those people. They'd hunt us down like a pack of wild dogs and execute us." I see Posy's body pierced with a bullet. I see her blood soak into the dry leaves of the forest floor. Peeta notices the distance in my eyes and wraps his arms around me, keeping me here. I breathe him in. "I just wish we had another choice."
"We'll think of something," he whispers into my neck.
After dinner, the adults stay up for hours. I'm exhausted. The emotional stress of the day is catching up with me, but I won't be able to sneak to Peeta's room with everyone awake. I'm starting to wonder if they are doing it on purpose. I knew Peeta looked guilty this morning. Finally I just give up and retreat to my room. Peeta retires to his. There is no way to get from one to the other without being seen – the lounge car is too close to my compartment.
I crawl in bed frustrated and alone. The sheets feel chilled against my bare legs, and I get out of bed and pull on pants. My feet are like ice and I slide thick, woolen socks over them and bury myself under the covers. Peeta is a furnace. I'm not used to my bed being this cold. My eyes begin to grow heavy.
District 6 is the genesis of a ghost story. His name is whispered by kids when they think their parents aren't listening. Titus. His story is told with the same tone as most lore – with precaution and fright. The only difference is we know his story hasn't been exaggerated or misconstrued with time or retelling. It's all recorded. Titus was a tribute from District 6 in a Hunger Games when I was a little girl - maybe 5 or 6. He was vicious in the Arena and he was easily a favorite to win. He was lauded by the Capitol, an underdog from a forgotten district, until he lost his mind. He began eating his kills. No one expected it the first time, and when he began ripping the flesh from the bones of a little girl he'd slain with his teeth, the cameras quickly cut away. The children in school the next day were quiet. The teachers didn't know what to say. Titus went on a killing rampage. He took out 5 tributes in as many hours, until he was killed in an avalanche. Most people assume the Capitol did it on purpose, so the reigning victor wouldn't be a cannibalistic maniac. Kids at school would tease that if you didn't watch your back, his phantom would consume you where you slept. That he'd take your throat first, so you couldn't scream. Even more horrific, though, was the idea we all feared and refused to talk about. Being reaped. Losing yourself in the Arena. Becoming someone you aren't. Being forged into something you are not. As the train rocks, and my eyes fall closed, the nightmares are unforgiving. I can taste the veins stuck in my teeth. I can hear children screaming in agony. It's me. I'm screaming. I'm screaming and screaming and screaming.
I wake, but not really. I can't come back. I try to process what's going on. I see Cinna and Effie. I can feel their hands on my body but I can't grab them, can't anchor myself. My throat feels like it's bleeding, but I can't stop screaming. I see Haymitch at the door. He's dripping with blood and I squeeze my eyes closed. Effie is crying. I can't do this. I can't do this.
I feel fingers weave in my hair and I find silence in my throat. "Shhhh…" I hear a calm hush in my ear. I swallow and it burns. Arms wrap around me and rock slowly, each sway bringing me closer to reality. "I'm here, I got you," he whispers. His thumbs rub circles into my muscles, urging away the tension. I open my eyes, which struggle to focus until they see tranquil blue mirrors staring back. Peeta. "There you are," he says, and all the muscles in my body relax. I hear the door click. The lights go out.
We are finally alone. He slips under the covers with me, and the train keeps pushing toward 6 like nothing ever happened, but I finally feel warm.