Peeta leaps out of bed grabbing his pants jumping into them. As much as the scores trouble me and float around in my head I find my gaze lingering on the light making patterns on his back while he jumps around to fit his glorious flesh in his pants. Faint traces of old bruises and scars are highlighted in the golden light, different shades of yellow and purple blooming across his skin. He moves slower than usual as he pulls a simple shirt over his head. I wince with him as the fabric passes over his sides, both marred with black and purple blooms of bruising flesh. The ribs now in place without any unusual lumps or oddly angled abrasions, the bruises still look painful. How had he managed our exertions last night and carried me to bed? His pain threshold could possibly be higher than mine.
Now dressed he holds his side with laboured breathing. I jump up to support him ignoring his feeble attempts to fend me off. His eyes empty and he's back in a memory lost to me. I linger close and carefully ease him down to sit back on the bed.
"You're pushing yourself too hard." I say firmly.
I inspect his other wounds via their dressings not daring to look beneath with my fragile stomach. As it churns I look down to my bare stomach and get a spontaneous idea that I dare to hope will ease Peeta back to the real world. I gently take his hand in mine and press it to my abdomen and look into his eyes. I breathe slowly and deliberately so he can feel the air passing through my lungs and diaphragm. He wavers as if struck by a tide and a smile etches across his handsome face.
"Real or not real?" He whispers. I lean in close to his ear but my voice betrays my fear.
"Real."
"This is a good thing Katniss." He says gently stroking my skin with a thumb.
"You're not the one being hijacked."
Before I can realise my mistake he's gone back to a memory, eyes glazing over and looking past me into the distance. His hand on my back twitches as he relives one horror after another.
"Peeta, Peeta I'm sorry." I whisper meekly.
His eyes return to look at me shaking his head.
"Nothing to be sorry for." He kisses below my navel.
"Peeta you need rest." I reiterate.
"Later, we need to reassure the girls and talk to sponsors today especially with the interviews tonight. We need to prepare them for what's ahead and how to approach this."
He has a point but I don't like the blatant disregard for his welfare he's showing. I feel every wince as he shuffles into the bathroom. Resigning to his stubbornness I quickly dress myself in a brilliant yellow top that bellows out under the bust to hang loosely down my torso to my hips, bubbling at the elastic holding it in place. Seizing simple black pants I throw my messy braid back up and pin it hastily in place. A wave of nausea strikes like a fist and I'm sent running to the sink while Peeta is still in there looking stunned at my appearance. At some point during my vomiting I feel his reassuring hands rub my back and keep my face clear of any stray hair. When I pause between bouts of bile Peeta wets a washcloth and presses it to my brow. The relief of the cool moisture is nothing but wonderful. I sigh in relief before gripping the sink and shuddering as I bring up bile burning my throat. The remaining taste makes me gag before I can rinse my mouth out.
"How do you know what to do to help?" I grumble.
"I've overheard conversations at the bakery. Bread helps keep the stomach settled." Peeta gives mine a rub to prove his point. Electricity tingles my skin at his sensuous touch.
"And I always wanted kids of my own." He shrugs
"Always?"
"Since I saw you with your braids." He winks. His happiness at my battle against bile is irritating. Hot flames of frustration lick at my insides.
Feeling refreshed from the cool cloth I slap it on the sink and stalk out of the bathroom indignant with a puzzled Peeta behind me. I thought I saw a smirk on his lips but I'm not completely sure. Lucky for him. I glimpse the screen still alight in our quarters displaying a table of the tributes and their scores. Cornelia and Aelia sit at the bottom with their scores of five and four. My stomach sinks. When both Peeta and I reach the open dining area we are met by our tributes already half through breakfast. Cornelia wipes her mouth with a square white napkin resembling the paper I was given last night.
My contribution. It was due in the morning at 0900 I look up for a clock. Finding one in a lounge area I'm horrified to see 0845 displayed.
"Peeta where is the paper from the conference?" I ask scanning the table for it.
"Here." He pulls it out of his pocket. Before he can object I snatch it out of his hand and run to the elevator.
I slam the button to the conference room trying to source an idea to contribute to the games, I need inspiration and fast. I need quick and efficient revenge. For Prim. A flurry if memories of Prim helping others comes unbeckoned into my mind's eye. I rub my chest frowning trying to push past the images for a useful thought. What would Prim put in? That was simple enough. Nothing. Like Peeta she would be appalled to be required to do this. My resolve to contribute for her is undermined, leaving me on shaky ground. This must be done so I can rid myself of this once and for all. Her blood being spilt will not go unpunished. Something that the tributes and all Panem will recognise from me. I briefly go through my recollections of the worst elements of the games I had experienced. The fog, ravenous meat eating monkeys, lack of water and bloody rain all enter my mind. The physical elements didn't leave much if a mark once we figured out how to avoid them. I require something enduring. Something that will stay with the victor should Cornelia pull this off. Something to remind her not to cross me again.
I review what I do know of Cornelia as I stride through the foyer of the conference room. 0851. Such little time to think. She must have a weakness. I locate a pen and slink into the chair closest to the glass bowl. The conference room is empty but fresh arrangements of the table suggest this was not always the case today. I tap the pen incessantly on the table racking my brain for a muse. I grit my teeth thinking hard, envying Beetee and the others that had been part of the Mockingjay propaganda team. A smile creeps across my features. That's it, mockingjays. The perfect envoy to remind Cornelia her beloved grandfather was brought to his knees by a Mockingjay. A game maker could teach the birds the screams the victors had to endure during the Quarter Quell. The same birds Rue taught me to use. The same bird featured on the pin from Madge that began the rebellion. But nothing of Prim is related to the bird and this is for her, there's only one thing that enters my mind reminding me of Prim. I take a breath and write two words on the piece of paper sperated by an 'and' sign. I stand and will my feet into taking the few step closer to the bowl. Each step causes new heartache as the hole that Prim had filled gapes ever wider. My ice cold fingers release the crumpled paper into the glass abyss. I rub my chest against the space in my heart to ease the ache.
Minutes drain away until Gale walks in to collect thbowl, his eyes somber he gently moves my hand away. I hadn't realised I was grasping it after the paper had been put inside.
"Come on Katniss, I'll take you back to your quarters." His arm gently holds my shoulders.
I nod with a tight throat a tear slipping when I think of how Prim would react at her memory being used as a weapon. I feel less human. Needing the comfort and contact I wrap my arms around his muscular form. The scars on his back still raised where they have healed over time can be felt through his silk shirt. He clings to me just as desperately breathing apologies I barely register. Apologies from him are lost on me I see no use or reason for them. Until I'm suddenly pushed away from his warmth to face shocked looking camera crews. Gale clears his throat and mutters some rushed orders to the crew to follow him out. When the door closes behind them I numbly stand still at a loss of where to go. The interviews. Peeta will need my help handling the viper. My stomach clenches uncomfortably hoping the impromptu hug from Gale wasn't captured on camera.
Peeta looks up at me from the lounge he's resting on across from Aelia. I force my lips into a smile as I sit next to Peeta keeping close. He slips his hand into mine continuing to outline to Aelia the approach he has designed for her to take during her interview. Charm comes easily to Peeta but as I listen it seems Aelia has similar capability. I sit and listen keeping my mind empty of thoughts and memories alike as Peeta asks Aelia an array of possible interview questions from previous years and some completely thought up on the spot. He frequently glances at my face and my slumped shoulders. His concern visibly increasing in his expression. When his brow furrows impossibly in worry he hands Aelia the paper in his hands when she has answered his last question.
"Aelia, look these over, see if we missed anything. I'll be in with you in a moment." Peeta says dismissively.
Without complaint Aelia rises taking the questions with her to her quarters.
"Peeta you need to give her all your attention." I say flatly.
"You're my future wife." His voice lowers further adding, "and the mother of my child. Of course I'm making you my priority."
"I just need to sit a moment. It's probably..." I look down. "Their fault."
"How did the contribution go? Did you put something in?"
"Yes." I whisper looking away to keep the tears in.
Peeta nods but instead of pulling me close he squeezes my hand, his disapproval of my involvement is almost tangible. I keep my eyes fixed on our entwined fingers trying to discern which are mine and which are his.
"We're almost there Katniss. We can go home soon." Is all he says.
I gently touch Peeta's shoulder when I stand again realising I need to prepare Cornelia for her interview. I ponder the best way to present a crazed former Capitol elite mass murderer to Panem. With a sigh I feel Peeta kiss the back of my hand releasing me when I turn and head towards the two muscular uniforms outside Cornelia's door.
Cornelia had it all worked out.
I nod to the soldier on the right when I enter so he can close the door behind me. The room is identical to mine, complete with furnishings. Cornelia sits on the bed with her eyes fixed unblinking in me. Her ankles crossed making her slender form ever more like a snake. Her blonde hair set in an elaborate braid, upon closer inspection I can make out multitude of smaller braids forming the bigger one. Her lips curve in an unsettling smile painted blood red against her white skin. If her deeds weren't reason enough to fear her, her malevolent beauty would be enough to unnerve the strongest of victors. I let my features fall into my mask of indifference and sit beside her slightly out of arms reach.
"Hello Katniss." My skin tingles with gooseflesh at her icy voice, crisply enunciating each word.
"Cornelia."
"How fares the President?" Her eyes fill with mirth causing all my instincts to scream for a weapon.
"Alive."
"I see you are still keeping honest."
"What?" The hairs on the back of my neck stand up but my muscles tense ready for use.
"You made a promise to my grandfather to be honest with him. I'm glad that you are treating me with the same arrangement."
"I have nothing to hide."
"Not from me, no you don't." Her smile widens to display perfect teeth.
"Why are you doing this? You're just giving Panem more reason to want you dead." I say bluntly needing to change the subject to somehow gain ground over the eerie beauty.
"Because we have strayed from perfection Katniss Everdeen. You upset the perfect balance that has taken decades to implement. I simply seek to restore the last Golden Era before it is left to the rabble. My life has been severely upheaved Katniss, perfection is something worth dedicating your life to. These formalities provide the perfect means for me to once again attain perfection."
I look at her looking for some hint that her explanation is a ruse or some sort of joke. Her eyes peer at me unblinking. She believes what she's saying. She's just as obsessively crazed for what she perceives is perfection. What her grandfather saw as perfection. Unable to respond to her madness I press forward hoping to get the preparation done so I can leave the confined space sooner.
"What did you do in your private session?" I keep my voice steady.
"My private session was precisely that, private."
"I'm your mentor if you want to live you better talk." I fold my arms.
"It makes no difference now."
"Whatever you did they didn't like it."
"Sponsors are no concern Katniss, I have plenty of friends still in the Captiol. As for the interview, I doubt you could possibly tell me anything I don't already know, I was born in the spotlight."
"Then I have no reason to stay here. I could be helping Aelia or someone who wants my help." I stand and knock on the door to let the guards know I'm ready to leave.
"Careful Katniss." The concern in her voice makes me pause.
"Of what? If you wanted to kill me this was your chance."
"As it was yours yet we are both still here."
"I'm not a monster like you." I hiss.
"But I'm not the only monster here." The room seems colder as I look into her hypnotic stare.
"What do you mean?"
"I came here to destroy you Katniss Everdeen. That is my sole purpose before I win these games. A stepping stone to reinstating nirvana." Her voice adopts a dream like quality.
"And you haven't been too successful." I snap.
"With that objective in mind, it would be... Counterproductive for me to attack your president." He voice keeps casual.
"You said you wanted the old Capitol back."
"Indeed but I could not do that from a jail cell waiting for my death now could I? Nor does it help my cause to rally support if I'm disposed enough to warrant a low score in the games, also bringing about my demise according to those fools now running Panem. Monsters know monsters Katniss. " She says as if talking to a child.
Confused and unnerved I knock at the door again to escape the opaque fog of madness Cornelia dwells in. I slip through the door as soon as the space allows me to fit through. The last moments of the encounter linger in my head. Cornelia may be mad but like Snow she's calculating and intelligent enough to know the best way to get what she wants and how not to get caught. If I indeed allow myself to believe what Medusa said then that can mean only one thing.
There is more than one murderer at the games. It may not be a tribute either. My mind races with possibilities from a third uprising to an insane supporter of Cornelia's. Cornelia has made herself into the perfect scapegoat and an attack on the nation's leader is no small matter. I step into my room to splash water on my face to bring me back to a lucid state. The whole idea was preposterous. With no more work I hide under my covers and close my eyes hoping to wake up when I could finally go home. A wedding will be an easy feat after this is all over and I can go home with my fiancé.
"Make sure you are memorable." Peeta repeats yet again.
"Got it." Aelia does her best to stay respectful.
"Peeta she's got it."
I had woken to a setting sun and Peeta's gently lips easing me back into consciousness. Being mentors, attendance at the interviews was mandatory if I was to keep up my image as a supporter of the new order and the games. In mere moments the familiar faces of my prep team entered the room to strap me into my current gown and war paint, prepared for all live appearances and interviews of my own for the variety of programs now available to watch during these last games. According to Flavius, the new freedoms of expression and speech even in the public arena have been received well by the public.
I adjust the tight bodice around my bust and roll my shoulders. The silky transparent fabric was beautiful, imported directly from District 4, it felt like cool air over my skin painted in vibrant blues, yellows, purples and black in an intricate pattern that astounds the eye. I try to loosen the tie around my neck that holds the neckline in place. Thanks to my condition, the bust is the only fitted area of the dress. The rest flows freely cinched in at my waist with a gentle elastic like fixture. From here the fabric is free to cascade down to the floor in varying lengths. Sleeves are formed by excess fabric around my waist tied up at the top of my arms allowing for free movement. The dress is beautiful but looking at it makes me realise that it is not the same quality as one of Cinna's.
With Cornelia already escorted to the interviews arena it had been an anxious wait for Effie to return for Aelia. Effie, looking flustered in her bright green get up, ushers Aelia from us to the elevator disappearing from view.
"Remember your transport will be here in five minutes. Do not be late. Haymitch will show you where we are seated." She calls back to us. Peeta nods and gives a deft wave of understanding before turning to face me. The apartment seems cold and unfeeling with only two people left in it.
"You look beautiful." Peeta smiles to me holding me at arms length to drink me in.
"So do you." I smile slyly.
Peeta did indeed look good. The fabric of his suit shifts colour when he moves making it look alive. It shifts colour to colour depending how close he is to my dress to constantly compliment it.
"It's not too tight is it?" His blonde brow frowns.
"It's fine."
"They are fine you mean."
I sigh exasperated.
"No I mean it, as in the dress."
"Your mother is getting cross with me." Peeta bends to coo at my stomach. I slap the back of his head.
"Cut that out."
"See how she treats me?" He gives me a wide eyed look still cooing. To my own dismay I smile, Peeta gifts me with one in return straightening to take my hand and kiss the back of it.
"I know you're stressed. Try and enjoy tonight Katniss, it's just you and me. Forget everyone else." He tucks my hand in his arm.
I wring my hands in my lap. This is going too smoothly. We had arrived and had been seated without incident which, instead of putting me at ease like Peeta, sets me on edge. I play with my nails while various conversations play out around me.
"Yes I heard that the tributes are all recovered and will be here tonight!"
"What do you think Cornelia will be wearing? I can't believe they let her in!"
"I heard that the President is even making an appearance tonight."
The chatter grates on my nerves causing me to chew my lip in irritation. Peeta fawns over Annie's son next to me, naturally causing the small child to giggle and squeal in complete delight. I overhear Annie make several observations regarding how naturally Peeta's parenting skills are developing. Peeta tried to have me hold the baby but I had refused feeling too vulnerable if something should happen. That, and there are too many cameras around. Several times a minute my brightly coloured dress appears on screen next to Peeta holding the little boy. My insides fill with dread wondering what the commentators and gossips are prattling on about it.
The crowd roars with the thousands of different voices and cheers as the banners light up displaying each tribute in turn dressed in their parade garb. When Cornelia appears the roar is almost deafening catching me off guard. The public have thrived on the controversy around her despite her low score. Her name floats through the air as gentry nearby discuss her low score and all the rumours currently circulating about her interview tonight. Peeta holds my hand handing Annie her son. The lights dim indicating the main event is about the start heralded by the booming introduction for Claudius Templesmith. Dressed in a bizarre tuxedo of powder blue he sweeps onto the stage greeting his audience with a charismatic smile. Distaste boils up inside as I watch him work the crowd looking like he has had the role for years instead of inheriting it from his wrongly accused colleague. He plays the crowd like a skilled puppeteer, drawing attention to Paylor who sits grim faced on a secluded balcony surrounded by officials and heavily armed guards. Despite her makeup covering a probable pale complexion, she sits awkwardly betraying her fragility. She's alive, but in pain.
Before the crowd can grasp this the camera sweeps over to where all the mentors are sitting and predictably focus in on Peeta and I. I drag up my showmance smile and wave graciously. Peeta adding to our display by giving me a passionate kiss when Claudius sends us public congratulations. All my strength is exhausted to keep my expression stable and as glamorous as possible as to not show my innate desire to strangle Claudius for spreading the news ever further. At least this attention will work in Aelia and Peeta's favour. The crowd's frenzy multiplies tenfold at our kiss sounding more like a wild animal.
Thankfully we aren't shown long before the tributes are brought out to sit behind Claudius who introduces them all one by one. Aelia looks resplendent in a gown that resembles her father's famous starlight suit. Her hair has been arranged to sparkle like her gown and her make up reminscent of Caesar's white face and partially painted lips. She easily smiles and waves as she is introduced before her spotlight is stolen by Cornelia. My stomach lurches at the sudden scent of roses assaulting my senses. The murmurs from the crowd indicate that everyone can smell the sickly sweet scent. Peeta clutches my hand keeping his eyes on her his face serious. Cornelia graciously waves and blows kisses to the crowd, smiling a dazzling smile she has practiced for years, her white gown glows on the banners each layer of fabric just as brilliant as the last. The gown wraps around her frame forming a bell shape from her hips. Fabric scarcely covering her cleavage at the bodice creating a mesmerising alluring image but the symbolic nature of the dress is unmistakable.
She's a rose. A white rose.