When I wake again I am not alone. My eyes flutter open slowly, stressing against the bright florescent lights in the room. I groan as I turn onto my side and for a moment I am actually a little surprised to find Haymitch sitting beside me with his head in his hands. "You look about as bad as I feel." I say in a gravelly voice and Haymitch looks up, a small smirk on his face.
"Yeah, but you look worse than I feel, Sweetheart." He mumbles and I roll my eyes. I doubt I can look much worse than he does. He is pale with black circles under his eyes, and I quickly realize what is turning his cheeks a little green. I wonder when the last time he had a drink was, but I don't want to bring it up, Haymitch always gets so touchy when he's sober. The pounding in my head makes it hard to focus on anything but I try my best to ignore it and sit up slowly. My eyes sweep around the room. White floor, white walls, white ceiling; the whole room is so sterile feeling I'm afraid I'm contaminating it with my presence.
"What happened?" I ask, and Haymitch sits up, running his fingers through his hair.
"You took a nasty little spill when…" His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "You hit your head when you fainted." Suddenly the realization of the day before hits me full force. Alive. Peeta is a live. After all these years of longing and yearning, loving a man I thought was dead, he is alive.
"Peeta's alive." I whisper, and Haymitch nods his head. I can tell by the look in his eyes that this is affecting him as well, how could it not? All these years he added Peeta to the list of those he could not save because he chose me over him, and now he is alive. My head pounds a little more furiously. "How?"
"I think… I think it would be best if Plutarch explains it." He says as he stands and walks over towards the door. "Lemmi see if I can go catch him." He slips out of the room before I have a chance to stop him. I shift awkwardly in my bed, covering myself with my blanket as I wait. I touch my head gingerly and find a rather good sized goose egg at my temple. I suck in a breath and wince at the pain of it and lower my hand, that must have been one hell of a fall. To pass the time I take to counting the white tiles on the ceiling. I'm up to thirty-seven when the door opens suddenly and Haymitch reenters with Plutarch, and I can tell by the looks on their faces that they're ready for a fight. As the door closes I see the flash of someone outside the door, but they don't try to come in.
"How are you feeling, Miss Everdeen?" Plutarch asks, but I don't feel like observing formalities today.
"How is Peeta alive?" I ask through gritted teeth, because I know if I give my jaw the freedom I will simply yell ar the top of my lungs. "And why wasn't I told?" Plutarch takes the seat beside my bed and leans forward on his knees, his hands clasped.
"It is a rather extraordinary story." He says and takes a moment to compose his thoughts. He sighs and turns to glance at the door before meeting my eyes once more.
"Back in your game, when you went to the feast to get Peeta the medicine to heal his blood poisoning, I saw an opportunity. You see, in that time my duty as a Game Maker was to sound the cannon and remove the bodies from the arena." He takes a deep breath. "Peeta's heart rate was already so slow, and I was afraid you weren't going to be fast enough, and even if you were I knew of Seneca's plan to revoke the alteration anyway." I glare at him; they had planned to revoke the alteration that said two Tributes from the same District could go home together? Fire lights in my blood as anger from the false hope flares within me, even if it was years ago the knowledge of being tricked in such a way angers me. "And I wanted you both alive."
"Why?" I ask through narrowed eyes. "What was so important about us?"
"You had already caused such a stir in the Districts, as far as they knew you two had caused the alteration entirely on your own. You showed them that two children could stand together and the Capitol would bend." He leans forward slightly. "If two kids from lowly Twelve could do it why not everyone?" I see the spark of rebellion in his eyes, but I don't understand it. He is Capitol why would he want a rebellion? Wouldn't that just make things harder for him?
"What's in it for you?" He leans back slightly, as if surprised by my question. "If the Districts rebel what is in it for you?"
"I am an opportunist, my dear girl." He says simply. "And I believe things aren't working the way they are. I believe it is time for a change in the way we run this land of ours." Rather than question him about his motives any farther I shake my head.
"But I saw his body." I remember the day of his funeral, the day his body was sunken into the cemetery of District Twelve. I remember the hatred in his mother's eyes as she looked at me, the look that blamed me, I remember the horrible numbness I had been unable to shake "I was at his funeral." I add, and Plutarch smiles deviously.
"That was a bit of ingenuity on my part." He boasts. "You see, those Mutts in the arena this year, the ones that looked like the loved ones of the Tributes, were not the first of their kind." I look at him through narrowed eyes. "Years ago I created the first generation of humanoid mutts, ones that could be grown to look exactly like a person, down to the very last freckle." His eyes light up with excitement, and I try to hold down my anger. "They could be replicated down to the last memory." I look at him in horror.
"How?" I gasp. "How can you steal a person's memory?" It was one thing to take a person's face, that was something everyone could see with their own eyes, but their memories? That was something entirely despicable. I remember the way Alice's mutt had pleaded her to come down, how she had spouted phrases that, in retrospect, had probably meant a lot more to Alice than they had to me.
"Well you see, with just a bit of DNA it is quite easy. You see in every human body there is-" He clears his throat and shakes his head. "There is no reason to delve into that right now." Though he has stopped his talk on his creations his smirks make me slightly nervous. "Anyway, those early prototypes never lived more than a few moments, but I didn't need one to live, I needed one to fill a box." I feel my heart race as everything begins to come together.
"Once I got Peeta out of the Arena I shipped him off the District Thirteen and shipped his mutt to District Twelve." He nods once more, as if affirming himself. "I sent him here where he healed, and grew, and waited."
"Waited? Waited for what?"
"For you, of course." I feel my heart expand in my chest. Peeta has been waiting for me all these years, locked away in this hole in the ground. "We've kept him in the loop; he hasn't been hidden away here. Each year he's watched the games, well not the games, exactly." Plutarch rubs his chin. "He's watched you; it was actually his idea to have me 'marry' you to get you out of the Capitol. We've been searching for a way to get you out for years." I chuckle softly, that is so like Peeta. Cleverness always did come so easily to him.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I turn to Haymitch but he holds his hands up defensively.
"Don't look at me, Sweetheart. I didn't know till you did."
"No one knew outside of District Thirteen and myself." Plutarch huffs. "We all decided it would simply be too dangerous to share the knowledge." I rub my hands over my face, still unable to believe it. Alive, Peeta is alive.
"When you fainted Peeta ran to your side." Haymitch breathes softly. "He insisted on carrying you here, wouldn't let anyone else touch you. Not me, not your mother, not Prim, not even Cinna." Everything comes to a halt when I hear his name. Cinna. Oh god, Cinna. I curl my knees up against my chest, what must he be thinking?
"I want to see him." I mutter, and Plutarch nods.
"Of course, we asked Peeta to wait outside the door-"
"Cinna, I want to see Cinna." I say before they call Peeta in again and I'm helpless. When I had seen him the emotions that had rushed through me had been too strong to bear, and I can't deal with that right now, I have to talk to Cinna first, though I have no idea what I'll say.
Plutarch and Haymitch exchange glances that set me on edge and I can't help but grip the sheets below my hands. "I don't know if that is… wise." Plutarch says carefully, but I'm through with being careful. I've spent the last four years of my life walking on eggshells, following blindly anyone who wanted to lead me. Without waiting another second I throw the blankets off me and stand, wobbling shakily in my hospital gown.
"What do you think you're doing, kid?" Haymitch growls as his hand shoots for my arm, but I pull it out of his reach and nearly topple over in the process.
"I'm going to see Cinna." I say simply as I make my way towards the door, I'm almost all the way to it when I remember Peeta is standing on the other side, and my hand freezes just as I reach towards the doorknob. I force myself to slow down, force myself to think about this before I go rushing out with guns blazing."Why wouldn't it be wise to see Cinna?" I ask and turn back to face the two men. Once again they exchange looks that make me hiss. "I'm tired of being treated like a child! Either you give me the answers I want or I'll go looking for them!" I shout, and to see them jump gives me such a feeling of satisfaction I can't keep the smirk off my face.
"Since you fainted and Peeta brought you here Cinna… Has busied himself with his work." I let the words sink in, so he is upset. If I know Cinna he will kill himself with his work rather than feel the things he keeps bottled up inside. I have to go to him.
"Where is his room?" I ask as I reach for the knob once more.
"Wait!" Plutarch calls, and I turn to look at him with arched eyebrows. "He's… he's asked us to keep you in bed until you heal." I turn from the door and place my hands on my hips, his deception is as clear as the squat nose on his fat face.
"Oh really?" I can feel my face going red but I fight to keep the anger down. "Is that exactly what he said? Word for word?" I can see Plutarch struggling to come up with an excuse.
"Well no, that was his intentions, I'm sure. But- you must understand that- I didn't mean to- He- I- Uh-"
"Cinna said to keep you stuck in your room while he figures things out." Haymitch says over the blubbering man, his face a stony mask of resolve. I turn my eyes to Haymitch.
"He what?" I growl, and while Plutarch looks as if he is about to pee himself Haymitch simply meets my gaze. He's seen me angry before, a million times, he knows how to deal with me. At least, he thinks he does.
"He wants some space." I let the words sink in; let them simmer deep in my stomach. He wants some space? "He just needs some time." He needs time? I let my anger take ahold of me, as if I have done anything wrong! Cinna cannot simply cut me off of all interaction with him simply because of- because- before I can think straight I throw open the door and Peeta spins around, his crystal blue eyes finding mine instantly. All the anger, all the fight, drains out of me in one fell swoop. I stand there for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes that had only moments ago been full of fury. Now, as they look at him, I know there is nothing in them but awe.
"Katniss…" He says just as he said before, but instead of fainting I go to him. I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my face in his chest. I remember the embraces we had shared in the Arena, the kisses we had stolen to receive sponsors. In the years following I had tried to tell myself the fire I had felt in the arena had been nothing, but it had been a lie. Each night I relieved those moments, and each time the fire grew until it consumed me. When I awoke from those dreams cold and shivering, it was as if I had been plucked from the fire and thrown into ice. That was how Cinna and I's relationship had begun. He was good at keeping out the cold when the dreams receded and I was alone again, and how could a relationship not grow from that? But how could I love him when I dreamed of another man every night, when I took the blame for his death on my shoulders? How could I love him when I couldn't even love myself?
"Peeta… you're alive." I murmur, and the soft feeling of his chest bouncing as he chuckles causes me to smile.
"I'm alive." I can feel his words against my neck, his breath rustling my hair. This is, by far, better than any dream. He tightens his grip on me, as if he is trying to pull me into him. "I've missed you." He whispers. "Every moment of every day." I can't help but smile slightly, that is exactly the type of thing he would say in my dreams. I pull away slowly and look at him, cradling his cheek in my hand. His face is stronger now, his jaw and cheek bones more proud than they had been four years ago. What little baby fat he'd had in the Arena has melted away now, leaving a face that looks so much like his fathers'. There is blonde stubble all over his chin and cheeks, and despite all his differences his eyes are still that unmistakable color of blue.
There is the sound of a throat being cleared behind me and I turn in time to see Haymitch and Plutarch skirting around us. I glower at them for breaking me away from the moment, but when I turn back to Peeta it is as if nothing exists any more. His thumbs stroke my cheeks as his hands cup my face, and for a moment he begins to lean in, I feel my heart hammer in my chest as he pulls me closer, but the sound of someone clearing their throat breaks us apart once more and I let out a hiss. "Now what?" I ask as I turn towards Haymitch, but find Cinna there instead.
Quickly I step back from Peeta, my cheeks burning red as I look at the man who has held my like that for years. His face is a stony mask of indifference, but only I can see the pain raging in his eyes, the betrayal. "Sorry for interrupting." He says in an even voice before turning to walk away.
"Cinna!" I call, but he doesn't even flinch. I throw Peeta a glance and hurry after Cinna, and I hope Peeta took it as a warning not to follow. He doesn't, however. Just as I catch up to Cinna I feel Peeta's hand in mine. I turn to look at him and shake my head, and Peeta doesn't try to hide his hurt and confusion. I feel shame rise within me, no one has told him of my relationship with Cinna. He doesn't know. "Please Peeta… I'll…" I can't even think of an excuse as I pull my hand out of his and hurry after Cinna once more. I don't give Peeta another look as I go; I know looking back and seeing the pain in his eyes will hurt far too much "Cinna wait!" I call, and this time the desperation in my voice stops him. He turns around quickly, his eyes set and his mouth a thin line.
"Yes?" He asks, and I come to stop in front of him.
"I… You… It wasn't what it-"
"Looked like?" Cinna laughs bitterly, shaking his head. "Of course it was what it looked like, Katniss. For years you've been pining over him." Cinna makes a gesture with his hand. "And here he is, alive and well. How could it be anything else?" I try to formulate a response but my tongue is fat in my mouth. I open my mouth to speak but Cinna cuts me off. "Don't bother. You have nothing to apologize for, nothing to regret. You've done nothing wrong; this is just the way things are." I shake my head.
"But I-"
"There are not buts!" Cinna yells, and I can see the fury in his glance. I stumble back, my eyes wide. He's never once raised his voice to me, not once. "I fought for you for four years, Katniss. I've been there for you! I've held you as you cried, stroked your hair when you woke up screaming his name, I was a living, breathing man and you preferred a dead one to me!" His arms swing wildly as he lets loose all the things he has held back all these years, and I'm surprised to find that I'm trembling. "I couldn't compete with him when he was dead, how the hell am I supposed to beat him when he's alive?" His voice breaks just as the tears slip out of my eyes.
None of this is fair to Cinna, he has every right in the world to be mad, he has every right to hate me. For a moment we both just stand there, him breathing wildly and me looking at the ground. I can't lie to him and tell him that I love him, I can't pretend seeing Peeta again isn't everything I've ever dreamed of. Cinna has known from the very start where my heart was, and I suppose he knew deep down that a day like this was coming; I had always hoped it would. What I had never dreamed of, though, was how Cinna would feel if it even happened. I never stopped to imagine just how much this would hurt him. I look up slowly, and what I see breaks my heart. Cinna's face, usually so devoid of emotions, is suddenly full of it. There are tears in his eyes and his lips are trembling. He looks as if his whole world is ending, as if everything he loves is crumbling around him to dust.
"I'm sorry." He whispers. "I didn't mean to yell at you." I shake my head; he deserves a lot more than the right to yell at me. "I didn't mean what I said. I'll… I'm still here for you, you know that." He walks forwards slowly and presses his lips to my forehead, and I let out a soft sob. When he pulls away his face is a clear mask once more. "I'll see you later." He says as he turns and walks away, and just like always I don't have the words to make him stay.
I lean back against the wall and wrap my arms around my stomach, my hair hanging down around my face like a curtain. Cinna, poor Cinna. Guilt rampages through me, burning like a wild fire. I am so consumed by it that I don't even realize I'm not alone until fingers touch my chin, forcing my face upwards. There is confusion in Peeta's eyes, but there is also understanding. I look away quickly. "So, you and Cinna…" He trails off, and I can hear the disappointment in his voice. He heard everything.
"You were dead." I choke out, and he nods.
"But you…" He pauses for a moment, as if he's trying to think of the best way to ask it. "You never loved him?" I shake my head, and Peeta lets out a short sigh of relief.
"That doesn't mean I don't care about him." I bite back as I look up at Peeta. He nods.
"Well, I'm afraid to say I'm not nearly as noble as Cinna." I narrow my eyes in confusion. "I'm not giving in, I've waited for you for four years and I'm not going to live without you for another day." I feel my heart constrict in my chest. "He's not the only one who's loved you all these years." I close my eyes, as if that will block out the conflict raging in my mind. It doesn't. Peeta tucks my hair behind my ear and forces me to look at him. "Are you hungry?" He asks softly, and I almost want to laugh.
"Not in the slightest." I respond and Peeta simply shrugs his shoulders and smiles.
"Well then, how about we work up an appetite by showing you around District Thirteen?" He asks with a flourish as he offers me his arm. I look at him skeptically before threading my hand through the crook of his elbow and following him away. I can't help but be ashamed by how easy it is to forget about my guilt and lose myself in his voice.