Chapter 20

Peeta and I decide to delay the Capitol interview as much as possible by staying in the house. He runs downstairs to fetch some leftover stew from last night's dinner for breakfast and we spend the morning mostly talking about District 13.

"I don't think I'd ever want to go back there, even if its just to visit," I say as Peeta thoughtfully chews a particularly tough piece of rabbit. "There's so many memories there that aren't worth unearthing."

Peeta's response is short. "I would." He finishes chewing and swallows, explaining. "I don't particularly dislike the place. I can imagine what it would've been like for you. The whole Mockingjay propaganda. Training. The hijacking." I flinch. I can't help it. I wait for the worst from Peeta when he mentions the hijacking, but he seems to be fine.

"You'd really go back?" I state numbly. Peeta shrugs. "But I don't think I'm going anywhere soon," he replies carelessly.

"Why?" I frown at this. Peeta should be able to go anywhere he wants. Its me who is confined to District 12, by orders of Paylor, for my own safety.

Peeta is about to answer when the bedroom door flies open with a bang. Haymitch's eyes are apologetic. "Sorry, sweetheart, but they really couldn't wait any longer."

He is thrown aside by a pair of pale green hands. "Katniss, your eyebrows!" Venia bursts past Octavia who thrusts Haymitch out of the doorway. Flavius follows quickly, carrying bags upon bags of supplies, no doubt meant for me.

Peeta gives me a sympathetic look before Venia's face pops into view. They are all still wearing ridiculous Capitol fashions, but I can tell their ordeal in District 13 has left them all changed. They're quieter than before, but they still smile when they see me. Hot anger pulses through me as I think of what Coin had done to them- tortured over a bit of extra food. They didn't know any better, yet they were put through terrible treatment just because they were Capitol hostages. And they still trusted me.

I was the only one who treated them like humans when they were mistreated in 13. I quickly add them on my mental list of people I keep fighting for.

Peeta is dragged out of my room by Flavius, a mass of alarmingly orange curls banishing Peeta from the bedroom. The sight is hysterical, but as soon as the door closes, I miss having him near me. Talking to Peeta offers a sense of calm for my crazed mind.

The prep crew scatters then proceeds to rip out every strand of hair that seems to offend them. I get a reprieve when they dump me into my bathtub they had filled with an odd greenish liquid. It annoys me that Peeta really doesn't have that much grooming to endure. But then again, he didn't have to worry about his eyebrows growing out.

As they put the finishing touches on my makeup, they are talking a little bit more. More confidently. But still just as foolishly. "You're going to look beautiful again, darling!" Venia trills. They're such total idiots, but I let them apply layers upon layers of brushstrokes as Flavius deals with my 'dry, unkempt, tangled' hair.

When Flavius is finally finished taming my hair, Octavia walks in with a large clothing bag. "Here. You're to wear this for the interview later this afternoon," she explains. I'm hardly listening as I spot a name tag on the hanger.

Property of the Capitol: Cinna

Octavia must notice this. She's quiet for a moment before she says softly, "There's thousands of outfits for you, Katniss. They're all kept in Cinna's private storage in the Capitol." I nod, trying to hold back my tears. Even after death, he's still managed to find a way into my life.

They leave so I can change into my clothes, Venia reminding me quickly to blot my tears carefully with a tissue as not to ruin her hard work. The zipper glides easily down as I remove the garment inside.

Its astounding. Each time I see one of Cinna's creations, I think that they can't possibly get any more incredible than the one before. But he always seems to find a way to make the next have its own extravagant elegance.

The dress is silver, a long one that reaches the floor and trails behind me a bit. It sparkles when lights hit it, giving the impression of snowflakes falling from the sky. It shimmers at every twist and turn the fabric makes, almost as if it were glowing. The neckline dips low in a V formation, meeting at a solid silver replica of my Mockingjay pin.

Its not radiant as the sun. But instead, rivals the moon.

There's mixed feelings about wearing the dress, however. A sick feeling in my stomach develops as I realize why. Snowflakes. It looks like snow. A vision of President Snow's face covered in blood suddenly blooms in my mind. I close my eyes tightly and will it away.

He's dead. He's dead and he's never coming back.

There's also the fact that I owe it to Cinna to wear it. Its probably tailored exactly to my height and will flatter every unflattering curve on my body.

Then I'm angry at myself. I'm angry at Snow. And I'm angry at myself for holding any shred of doubt that I should wear this dress just because it reminds me of a dead person. I slip into the dress easily, adjusting the smooth fabric around my waist. I stand in front of a floor-length mirror that my prep team hauled in, impressed.

The girl in the mirror isn't the girl on fire. No, its almost like she has conquered ice instead of flames. I'm stunning, shining like fresh snow and icicles. The dress compliments my stormy grey eyes, making them flash dangerously under the smoky grey makeup that Venia swirled dramatically around them.

The girl on fire has been transformed.

Just as I finish sliding the other strap over my shoulder, the door opens. The mirror reflects Peeta poking his head inside, glancing around before resting on my backside.

The dress has left nothing hidden from the eye. The dress criss-crosses in the back, leaving skin exposed tantalizingly. I mentally thank Cinna, wherever he is, as Peeta's jaw goes slack.

Twirling around slowly, I turn to face Peeta, who hasn't moved from the doorway at all. "Well?" He blinks, broken out of his trance. He walks in completely, dressed in dark gray pants and a white shirt, open at the top. His eyes pop out more than usual as I realize that his prep team has lined his eyelids with silver. At first, I find myself wanting to wipe it off completely, but the more I stare at it, the more I adjust to it.

He approaches slowly, holding his arms down at his sides. "He's done it again," he laughs as his eyes slowly take in every detail of the dress, resting at the silver Mockingjay between my breasts. "You're beautiful."

The room suddenly grows hot. Peeta still hasn't moved his gaze and I squirm, feeling that familiar heat pooling in my belly. He's close enough to reach out and touch the Mockingjay if he wants to. We're both standing there, taking each other in, the tension growing.

I want to know. The heat. He has to feel it too. Its there only when we're together. I wonder briefly if this was how Finnick felt when he talked about Annie. Jealousy hits then, unwanted and brief because I push it down. I'm jealous of the certainty. The certainty of their love.

But is what I'm feeling for Peeta really love? Every time I see him, it makes me long for his touch. To stare into his eyes and get lost in that gentle blue. Is that really what love feels like? But everything is so damn complicated when it comes to my own feelings that I don't want to risk taking a chance.

But Peeta would know how he felt.

The door opens again just as I begin debating with myself whether or not to ask Peeta how he feels about me, effectively causing Peeta to take a few steps back so he's a respectable distance away.

Haymitch is scowling as he sits on the bed before us. Peeta glances over at me before sighing, "Just spit it out, Haymitch. You look like you've got something bitter in your mouth. Unless its alcohol, I'm just going to assume its bad news."

"Well, what tipped you off?" Haymitch growls. He's been cleaned up too. "Guess what, sweetheart? Better get your game face on because interviews are long gone. "

"What do you mean?" I say.

"They tricked us. We're headed to the little surprise party the Capitol kindly sent over here instead." Its no surprise that he's in a bad mood now. But he's not done.

He sneers before adding,

"And lover boy, here, is your date."