A/N: Hey guys! I just got to say thank you for all the reviews! Wow! It amazes me that I've got over 1,000 reviews for two of my stories! Makes me even more anxious about Come Rain or Come Shine! I sincerely hope you guys end up liking it. It's my favorite book of the three.

But that's getting just a little too far in the future for me. By the way, for those of you who are wondering, this story will end on Christmas Eve. No, I did not plan it that way, it just kinda happened. So never fear, there's still plenty of this story left to tell!

Movie quote of the day comes from The Hangover.

"There's a jungle cat in the bathroom!"

Random Disclaimer: I do not own CF, though I do own a rather fantastic fedora; "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"; "Why is the rum always gone?"; "Why so serious?"; "I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!"; "I am Asneeze, father of Achoo."; "Dobby did not mean to kill . . . only to maim . . . or seriously injure."; "My precious!"; "Puny god"; "So that's what it feels like"; "Yeah, I can fly."; "There's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that."; "Your skin is pale white, you dress fashionably, and you abstain from sex. . . I know what you are . . . Jonas brother"; "Snakes. I hate snakes."; "When you marooned me on that god forsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate: I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."; "It's like Christmas, but with more . . . me."; "It's the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."; "It's beautiful isn't it, Harry? The moon."; "Hang on, everybody! I wanna try something I saw in a cartoon once!"; "Well that's as clean as it will ever be."; "Slimy, yet satisfying."; "You may not like it Minister, but you can't deny . . . Dumbledore's got style."; "Over that boy hand!"; "Don't ever hit your mother with a shovel. It leaves a dull impression on her mind."; "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!"; "There's a jungle cat in the bathroom!"

Chapter 25

For the briefest of moments, mine and Darius's eyes meet, but I immediately drop my gaze. I can't afford to show any recognition. It would only cause him to be punished, and he's already been punished enough. I quickly excuse myself to my room, trying to push away the images of mutilated tongues that are quickly filling my mind.

I have no doubt that this was President Snow's doing. Just to torture me further. All I can see in my mind is Darius, a young Peacekeeper, teasing and joking with me at the Hob as we ate lunch at Greasy Sae's. Of all the Peacekeepers, Darius was the most approachable, and now that I think about it, he was a real flirt, giving me subtle compliments and tugging on the end of my braid occasionally. I feel tears threaten to form, but I resolutely force them back. The last thing I need is for my overactive hormones to make me weepy. They've been doing that enough already, much to my irritation.

Darius doesn't deserve this fate. After all, what had he done that was so reprehensible as to have his tongue cut so that he can't speak? In my head, all I can hear is my memory of his voice. A lighthearted tenor. What had Darius done to deserve this? Try to save Gale? That's all he had done.

This was all my fault. It's because Darius knew me. It's because Darius tried to save Gale, who was my best friend. All of this is because of me. Snow's continuing torture that he hopes will eventually break me. Guilt.

I carefully step out of my jumpsuit and fold it neatly on the bed, placing the crown on top. The tears that I've been desperately holding back finally begin to fall once I'm in the shower, but I don't mind then. I can pretend that their just beads of water from the spray. Meticulously, I scrub away all the traces of the Capitol, all the makeup and products that my prep team adorned me with.

When I see my skin slowly turning pink, I shut off the water and grab a towel, wrapping it tightly around myself. I'm not surprised when I step out into the bedroom to see Peeta sitting on the end of the bed, but I ignore him for the moment, focusing on picking out something to wear. Once I'm dressed, I wordlessly move to the bed and sit by Peeta.

I'm struck by a sense of gratefulness as I lean my head on Peeta's shoulder. It might sound arrogant or selfish, but I'm grateful to myself. For allowing myself to fall in love and to embrace it . . . because I have no idea how I would be able to handle all of this if I didn't have Peeta to rely on. Would I have tried to distance myself from everything? What about the Quell? I have no doubt that Peeta would have still volunteered to go into the arena with me. Would I have decided to try to save him and not myself? Somehow the noble action seems slightly flawed, because I know that I wouldn't have done it out of love, but because I'd feel like I owed him. Or maybe because I didn't want to live life without him. Maybe there would have been some true feelings there. I don't know.

But none of that matters. That's not my reality. In reality, I'm in love with Peeta Mellark, married to him, and carrying our child. I'm grateful that I allowed love into my life, that I allowed Peeta into my life. Because I honestly don't know how I could face all of this without him and that doesn't make me weak. Sometimes it might seem that way and sometimes I almost believe it, but I know it's not true. All I have to do is remember Prim's wise words. Love is a strength that can't be beaten.

"We need to go to dinner," Peeta finally speaks in a soft voice.

"I don't know if I can," I reply in a whisper. I don't know if I can go to dinner and pretend that everything is normal while Darius waits on me, serves me. I feel guilty. I'll be eating a succulent dinner, dressed in finer clothes that most people know, and all the while Darius will be serving me. It's not right.

Peeta sighs as he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. "You don't have a choice."

I know. And I hate it.

Reluctantly, I follow Peeta into the dining room, where everyone has been waiting for us. Haymitch, Effie, Portia, and Cinna. I avoid looking at Darius, casting my eyes down to my plate the moment I sit down. Throughout the entire dinner, I'm really not aware of anything that's going on. Just when I'm about to disappear into my mind, I'll feel Peeta's hand on my knee, bringing me back to reality, grounding me. I almost manage to avoid looking at Darius throughout the meal, but when I look up at the wrong time and catch a glimpse of his red hair, I'm filled with guilt and the overwhelming need to acknowledge him, to let him know that I haven't forgotten about him. I want to show him that I'm on his side.

So I knock over a bowl of peas and before anyone can tell me otherwise, I scramble to the floor and begin to pick them up. Darius is at my side, and for a moment, as we're picking up the peas, our hands meet we hold each other's hands tightly for one moment, and in that one moment I manage to convey everything I feel. Our eyes meet, and I see no sense of blame in his eyes, only reassurance. It's not my fault, he's telling me.

"Katniss, that is not your job!" Effie scolds me, and I reluctantly return to my seat.

After dinner, we move into the living room to watch a recap of the ceremonies. I wedge myself between Haymitch and Peeta, feeling more at ease once I have them on either side of me. If I thought that the ceremonies were ridiculous before, that's nothing compared to this year, when the tributes are aging victors instead of kids. Kids look silly. Victors look ridiculous. Some of the younger victors, like Finnick and Johanna, still manage to retain some dignity. Everyone else just looks pathetic. Aged and weary from illness or addiction or both, the rest of the tributes are nothing to look at in their ridiculous costumes of trees and loaves of bread and cows. Surprise, surprise when Peeta and I emerge from the tunnel, looking young and powerful . . . looking like tributes are supposed to. It's a wonder that the crowd goes completely ballistic.

After the ceremonies, I praise Cinna and Portia for their brilliant work, and then excuse myself to go to bed. I hear Peeta following me, and just as we enter the hallway, we hear Haymitch say, "Think I need some fresh air."

Peeta and I immediately head toward the roof.

It's strange to be back on the roof, considering the last time I was here, things were so very different. I glance up at Peeta and I know that he's thinking the same thing I am. His fingers twine with mine and together we move toward the garden. "A lot has changed," Peeta finally comments. "Since last time."

I manage a smile. "You had me so confused." I turn to face him, my smile becoming more genuine as I continue. "Here we were, forced to say more than one word to each other for once, and suddenly it's all I can do not to blush every time you look at me. And then there was that damn fluttery feeling in my stomach when you would touch me, even if you were just holding my hand." I release his hand so that I can wrap my arms around his waist. "We had a lot of important conversations on this roof."

"Well then one more won't hurt."

Peeta and I step away from each other and face our mentor. Haymitch takes a drink from his flask before he begins. "Since we really can't talk strategy inside, we'll have to do it out here," he says. Smart. No doubt our suite is bugged, but up here on the roof, we're safe. Cinna told me that the rooftop is always too windy for any kind of listening device to pick up anything. "Tomorrow, you two need to make friends, but don't be too exclusive. Talk to everyone. Alliances are going to be different this year. Everyone already knows each other and has been friends for a long time. You two are the outsiders, you don't have any trust with them."

"So we'll be the first targets," Peeta deduces and Haymitch nods.

"Yes." Haymitch looks between the both of us, his voice lower when he speaks again. "Even if we're going to break you out of the arena, you still have to go through the Games. Nothing will be different. You will still have to kill to survive, and others will be trying to do the same thing. Just because there is a light at the end of the tunnel, doesn't mean that you let your guard down, got it?" Peeta and I nod. "Alright, now, even though you need to talk to everyone, make time to talk with Beetee, Wiress, Finnick, and Johanna. Katniss, you'd be better off to talk with Beetee and Wiress. Peeta, you take Finnick and Jo. Chaff and Seeder aren't to be forgotten either, but they don't know as much as Finnick and everyone else. Those four are your closest allies."

"How much do they know?" I ask Haymitch, remembering my encounter with Finnick before the parade. "Finnick hinted at knowing that Peeta and I were married."

Haymitch scowls. "Kid, can't keep his mouth shut," he mutters before returning his attention to us. "I had to tell 13 why I told you two, and I needed to have a damn good excuse. Only the higher ups know everything. Your allies in the arena only know you two are married, but Finnick's always been good at ferreting out secrets."

That doesn't surprise me.

"How are things in 13?" Peeta asks. "What about the state of the districts?"

"Things are looking a little rough in 7 and 10," Haymitch replies. "They're gathering forces. Don't worry about things in 13. That's my problem, not yours to worry about."

"What about the break-out?" I whisper. "Is everything in place?"

"Getting there," Haymitch answers. "Biggest problem is getting the hovercraft in under the radar. We've got a minute tops to get you out."

"Do you know anything about the arena?" Peeta asks. "Has Plutarch said anything?"

Haymitch shakes his head. "Information from him is always nearly threadbare. Can't afford to give us much without Snow suspecting something." I see a hint of paranoia in Haymitch's eyes as he looks around, as if he expects Capitol goons to jump out at any time. "That's enough," he says. "Get to sleep and I mean sleep. Walls are thin."

I blush furiously and Peeta looks like he's fighting not to grin. Figures.

We make our way back inside, Haymitch immediately going to his room and shutting the door resolutely behind him. Peeta and I stop in the middle of the hallway and he looks at me, "Mine or yours?"

I roll my eyes, and walk into my room.

"Yours it is, then."

Despite the rather lighthearted mood Peeta manages to create before we go to bed, my nightmares still haunt me with a vengeance. Mutilated tongues. Darius's screams that slowly morph into the sound of an infant. Blood dripping from President Snow's puffy lips. Mercifully, Peeta wakes me up, but I don't manage to fall back asleep. After an hour of lying in bed, I try to slip out of Peeta's arms without waking him up, a challenging task any day, but apparently his senses are on high alert now that we're in the Capitol, because the toes of my right foot have just barely touched the carpeted floor when I hear a sleepy voice.

"You should be asleep," Peeta murmurs, barely half-awake.

"I can't," I tell him. "I'm just going to walk around."

"Nope," Peeta shakes his head slightly, still half-asleep. He grabs my wrist and pulls me back into the bed until my back is pressed firmly against his chest, his arm trapping me against him. "Not letting you go," he mumbles, and I can't help but smile a little. "Can't lose you."

Something tells me that he's not simply referring to me leaving the bed anymore.

"Why not?" I ask, unable to help myself.

"Because I love you." Peeta holds me even closer. "You're everything to me," he continues in a sleepy mumble. I doubt he's been completely awake during our entire exchange. "You and the baby."

A light snore tells me he's finally succumbed to sleep completely, and I contently lie in his arms, assuring him that I don't plan on going anywhere.

Breakfast the next morning is a quiet affair since all our strategizing was done on the rooftop last night. A mildly distressed Effie scolds Haymitch for not doing his job properly, prompting Haymitch to glare at her before turning to us and saying, "Play nice with the other kids."

Effie, no doubt in an attempt to show Haymitch how to do one's job properly, showcases her talent for being on schedule and gathers Peeta and I at the elevator early to go down to training. Of course, her plan is foiled when Haymitch tells her not to escort us. Peeta and I have to show that we can stand on our own. We don't need a babysitter.

So Effie contents herself with fussing over us for five minutes and then pressing the button in the elevator for us. While last year Peeta and I were the last to arrive, this year we're one of the firsts. Only Brutus and Enobaria are here. Blame it on my hormones, but everything within me shouts to stay away from Enobaria. This really shouldn't surprise me, considering that in hand to hand combat during Enobaria's games, she ripped out her opponent's neck with her teeth. She became so famous for her action that she got her teeth surgically altered so that each tooth ends in a sharp, gold-capped point.

Peeta and I steer clear of the duo, for now at least, and stand near the center of the room. We each content ourselves with getting reacquainted with the surroundings we never thought we'd have to see again, when Peeta speaks, "Did we talk last night?" he asks, frowning slightly.

"Very early this morning," I correct him with a small smile. "What do you remember?"

"Not wanting to let you go." Peeta looks like he's trying to remember more. "But that's it, really."

"You weren't entirely awake. It was real cute, actually," I tease him as I remember his sleepy, sweet mutterings.

"I'm glad it was entertaining," he says. "I didn't say anything stupid, did I? Like 'needs more salt' or something?"

I smile. "No. You definitely didn't say anything like that."

At promptly ten o'clock, Atala, the head instructor for training, begins her speech. Not even half of the tributes are here, but the fact doesn't seem to faze her. Maybe she even expected it. She gives the exact same speech that she gave last year. We can move to the different stations as we please. No fighting between tributes. If you want to spar, a partner will be provided.

A brief flashback of when Peeta lifted weights, taunting Cato, flits through my mind.

We're dismissed to move to the stations, and I turn to Peeta. "We'll cover more ground if we split up," I say. "I'm going to tie knots."

Peeta sighs, and looks around. I can tell he's not really too thrilled with the idea of leaving me, his overprotectiveness getting the better of him. I give him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine," I reassure him. "Go throw spears with Brutus."

Both Peeta and I glance toward the weapons station, where Brutus and Chaff are already chucking spears at targets. Peeta turns back to me, "You've got to be kidding."

"Think of it as male bonding," I say, giving him a nudge in that direction. "Socialize. You're good at that. Make new friends."

Just like Haymitch told us, hangs unsaid in the air.

"Fine," Peeta relents. "But if I get skewered, know that you put me up to this."

I roll my eyes. "Go."

The knot-tying instructor recognizes me, and once I show him that I still remember how to make a snare that will leave someone hanging by their foot from a tree, he's impressed and considers me a star pupil, especially when he takes into account the snares I set in the arena. I spend the next hour and a half tying complicated knots, ones that the instructor thinks may be useful to know. I'm working on a particularly difficult one when I feel a warm, solid chest against my back that is not Peeta's. Muscled arms surround me and practiced fingers quickly finish tying the knot that I'd spent the past ten minutes working on.

Naturally, the person behind me is none other than Finnick Odair. It makes sense I guess, being from the fishing district. Spending all his days on boats, wielding tridents and tying fancy knots. "Katniss!" he greets charmingly. "How are you this morning?"

"Fine," I say as I watch him pick up a length of rope and begin manipulating it quickly. "I guess knot-tying is a piece of cake for you, right?"

Finnick gives me an easy smile. "You could say that," he says as he continues manipulating the rope. "And . . . here . . . we . . . are!" Finnick has made a noose. Glancing at me and waggling his eyebrows, his comically pretends to hang himself. I roll my eyes at his silliness.

"You remind me of someone I know," I tell him, and Finnick looks intrigued.

"Really?" he says. "Is he equally buff and devilishly good looking?"

I smile, neither affirming nor denying his question. "You remind me of Rye," I admit. "One of Peeta's brothers."

"How so?" Finnick asks, truly looking curious.

I study Finnick for a moment. While he's incredibly handsome, I'm beginning to suspect that there is much more than meets the eye with Finnick Odair, if only people would see past his looks. And it might be the budding mothering instincts in me, but I feel the greatest need to give him a hug and hold him.

"You both like to make people smile," I finally say, before looking down, slightly embarrassed. Now that I've said it, it seems slightly pitiful, but when I look up and meet Finnick's eyes, his sea green orbs reflect genuine gratitude. I guess it must be a nice change of pace to be complimented on something other than his looks.

"Katniss, I think this is the beginning of beautiful friendship," Finnick says and I smile.

"Oh, boy, what have I gotten myself into?"

My next station is the fire station. While I'm pretty good with fires, I still rely heavily on matches to start them. The instructor has me try to use flint, steel, and charred cloth as starters and I busy myself with my task for a good hour before I get a decent fire going. A victorious smile pulls at my lips as I look up, only to discover that I no longer have the station to myself.

Beetee and Wiress, the tributes from District 3, are beside me, having trouble starting a fire using matches. I study them briefly. Both have dark hair and pale faces and are small in stature. Wiress appears to be my mother's age and speaks in a soft, quiet, intelligent voice, though it quickly becomes apparent that she has a knack for trailing off mid sentence, though Beetee will flawlessly complete her thought. Beetee himself is older, his black hair streaked with grey. He wears a pair of glasses that he has a habit of looking under and appears to be a bit fidgety.

I automatically like them.

But before making conversation, I take a brief glance around the Training Center. Naturally, my eyes find Peeta first. He's at the knife throwing station, doing well if the knife-ridden target in front of him is anything to go by. I spot Finnick next, with the old woman from his district at the archery station. Johanna is naked again, oiling her breasts for a wrestling lesson. I quickly direct my gaze elsewhere. The tributes from District 6, the morphling addicts, are having a great time at the camouflage station, painting their bodies with a variety of colors.

Definitely different from the last time I was here.

My attention returns to Wiress and Beetee. "Hi," I say, sounding slightly awkward. Socializing really isn't my thing, though I'd like to think that some of Peeta's charm has rubbed off on me.

"Hello," Wiress replies and Beetee offers me a smile. I think we're off to a good start.

After I muddle my way through the beginning, eventually we manage to settle into an easy-going conversation. Beetee and Wiress are both smarter than I could ever dream of being. They invent things, they tell me. It's their talent. Of course, I share my 'talent' of fashion design, but it interests them just about as much as it does me, which is to say not at all. Although, Wiress tells me that she's invented some kind of stitching device.

"It senses the density of the fabric and selects the strength . . ." she trails off and Beetee obligingly finishes her thought.

"The strength of the thread," he explains. "Automatically. It rules out human error."

Beetee goes on to share his latest invention, which is a device that plays music that is about the size of a flake of glitter. Apparently, it can hold hundreds of songs, and I vaguely remember Octavia mentioning the device during my wedding photo shoot.

We continue to talk, and I stick with them as they move to the shelter station. Suddenly, Wiress stops walking to look at the stands were the Gamemakers reside, occasionally looking up from their food and drink to take notice of us. "Look," she says.

I do, but all I see is Plutarch Heavensbee, dressed in his royal purple Head Gamemaker's robes. He's studiously ignoring me, but I don't mind. The last thing I want is for him to come under any suspicion. I don't understand why Wiress has pointed him out, considering the most interesting thing he's doing is eating a turkey leg.

But nonetheless I say, "Yes, he's been promoted to Head Gamemaker this year."

"No, no," Wiress shakes her head. "There by the corner of the table. You can just . . ." she trails off and Beetee continues.

"Just make it out," he says as he squints under his glasses.

I stare at the table, trying to fruitlessly see whatever Wiress and Beetee have spotted. I'm just about to throw my hands up in exasperation when I see it. A square patch maybe six inches in width that seems to be vibrating, undulating in the air. Perplexed, I turn to Wiress and Beetee for an explanation.

"A force field," Beetee answers my unspoken question. My eyes find the little vibrating patch again that's distorting my view of the corner of the table and goblet of wine set upon it. "They've set one up between the Gamemakers and us. I wonder what brought that on."

A light blush colors my cheeks. "I think that's probably my fault," I admit. "Last year I shot an arrow at them during my private training session."

Beetee and Wiress seem to look at me with new eyes, though I think I see Beetee's lips twitch as he fights a smile. I still feel the need to defend my actions, "They weren't paying attention to me. Just this roast pig. I shot the apple out of its mouth, that's it."

Reverting back to the original subject I ask, "So, do all force fields have a spot like that?"

"Chink," Wiress mumbles and Beetee nods.

"In the armor, as it were," he says. "Ideally it'd be invisible, wouldn't it?"

All this talk about force fields has reminded me of an important fact. The fact that the arena is surrounded by a force field, and somehow, Beetee and Wiress have a plan to disable it. Suddenly, our conversation takes on a whole new meaning as I realize their connotation. A chink in the armor. I'm now certain that this chink, this rippling patch of the force field, is how Beetee and Wiress plan to bring down the force field. I simply have no idea how they plan to do this.

Lunch is called and I excuse myself to find Peeta. I notice a crowd around the weight lifting station, and a wave of unease hits me, memories of last year's encounter with the weight lifting station flitting through my mind. I weave my way through the crowd, and can't help but roll my eyes at the scene in front of me, my unease quickly being replaced with annoyed amusement.

Brutus, Peeta, and Finnick are having a weight lifting contest.

There are three bench presses, and I find Peeta lying comfortably under the one in the middle, Brutus and Finnick on either side of them. Johanna is next to me, eyeing Peeta appraisingly, which really doesn't sit right with me, especially when I remember that she offered to pose nude for Peeta in the elevator last night. "They're up to 250," she tells me. "Brutus is about to bow out."

Sure enough, Brutus concedes defeat, though he doesn't look too happy about it. He makes up some excuse that I don't hear. I watch as Peeta and Finnick's instructor adds more weight to either side of their respective bars. "So, just how much can Golden Boy lift?" Johanna asks.

I can't help the prideful smirk that appears on my face. "More than 250."

"I'm gonna win, Mellark!" Finnick taunts as he lifts the bar. "Just give in now!"

Peeta chuckles. "Not happening, Odair."

"Oh, I see," Finnick continues to try to goad. "Don't want to look bad in front of your girlfriend?"

"Fiancée," Peeta corrects. "You wouldn't be trying to buy time, would you, Odair? Getting tired?"

"Ha!" Finnick motions to the instructors. "More weight!"

They get up to 330 before Finnick begins to struggle. I roll my eyes and step away from Johanna, sidling up to Peeta. I squat down beside his head. "Will you just end this already?" I ask with a smirk. "Cause I really want to eat sometime soon."

"We're not friends anymore, Katniss!" Finnick declares childishly.

I look up to the instructor. "Make it 400."

Finnick rests his bar in its cradle and sits up. "He can't lift 400," he says.

"Just admit defeat now," Peeta grins at Finnick.

"You lift it, then!" Finnick demands, though his eyes are sparkling with playfulness. He and Peeta are having fun. I see why Haymitch suggested that Peeta talk to Finnick. They get along well.

"Fine," Peeta shrugs, getting situated once more. He glances at Finnick. "How many reps?"

Finnick scoffs. "Well, since I don't think you can do one, let's make it three."

Peeta just smiles. "Prepare to lose."

The instructor adds on the extra weight, and Peeta glances at me for a moment, gives me a quick smile, before clenching his jaw and beginning to lift. Unable to help myself, I take advantage of my position, and lean forward so that my lips are at his ear. I begin to count. "One," I whisper. "Two." Peeta grunts in exertion. "Three."

Peeta rests the bar in its cradle and sits up, exhaling loudly. He then looks up at Finnick, wearing a smugly innocent expression, "What was that about not being able to do one rep, let alone three?"

Finnick's begins to splutter. "How can you lift more weight than me?"

Peeta laughs as he throws an arm around me and begins to walk toward the cafeteria. "Because I'm prettier than you."

"Are not!"

Lunch is very social. Peeta and some of the others drag all the tables together to make one large table so we all eat together. I don't really mind as long as I sit by Peeta. Maybe Wiress or Beetee. Even Finnick.

I'm loading my plate with food when Peeta comes up beside me. He chuckles, "Got enough food?"

"I'm hungry," I reply lightly. "I already told you that."

Peeta shakes his head, a smile on his face. "So, make any friends?"

"Finnick reminds me of Rye a little," I say and Peeta pauses to consider before nodding.

"Yeah, I guess," he says. "They're both funny guys."

"And I like Wiress and Beetee."

"They're something of a joke to the others," Peeta explains. "Johanna nicknamed them Nuts and Volts. I think she's Nuts and he's Volts."

I snort. "Of course, we should all take into account anything Johanna Mason says while oiling up her breasts for wrestling."

"You're still mad at her for the naked thing in the elevator, aren't you?" Peeta asks with a small smile. I have no idea why he thinks this is amusing.

"She offered to pose nude for you," I snap as I add a handful of chocolate-dipped strawberries to my plate. "If anyone is posing nude for you, it's me."

Peeta raises his eyebrows, a light entering his eye. "Would you really?"

I begin to stammer, a blush flooding my cheeks. "I, well, it's just, um, maybe?"

"Relax Katniss," he grins. "I can draw you from memory. Wouldn't forget a single detail, I promise."

Once I'm sure that my blush has faded, I take a seat at the table, Peeta on my right and Beetee on my left. The atmosphere this year is so different from last year. Last year, everyone spread out and ate alone, except for the Careers and me and Peeta. And here we are this year, showing all this camaraderie, eating together and joking around like we're not going into an arena to fight to the death in just four days.

After lunch, I spend the rest of the day trying to talk to each tribute. I talk with Cecelia from District 8, the mother of three, at the edible insects station. However, I can't manage to talk with her for long because inevitably she'll bring up one of her kids, and I'll be reminded of my own child growing within me. Though a part of me is desperate to ask her questions, about what exactly I don't know, but I tear myself away before I let slip my greatest secret.

Cashmere and Gloss, the sibling tributes from District 1 invite me over to make hammocks, but all I can think about when I'm with them is how I killed both their tributes last year, Marvel and Glimmer. Our conversation and my hammock are mediocre.

I talk with Finnick some more at the fishing station, where he introduces me to his district partner, Mags. We busy ourselves with making fish hooks while enjoying a light conversation, well me and Finnick anyway. I can't really understand Mags, what with her district accent and then her garbled speech. Perhaps she had a stroke? Either way, I quickly gather a lot of respect for Mags. She can make a fish hook out of anything. A hair pin, a wishbone, a thorn, an earring. I forgo listening to the instructor and simply to copy Mags. When I make a fish hook out of a nail and attach it to a strand of my own hair, Mags says something to me, and from Finnick's smile, I realize that whatever she said was complimentary. Finnick seems to have no trouble understanding Mags.

I decide that I like Mags. I want her as an ally.

After all, we have something in common, aside from being victors. I remember the beautiful, yet hysterical dark-haired woman at the reaping in 4. Mags had volunteered for her, like I had volunteered for Prim. Mags and I share that connection, and it automatically makes me trust her more than any of the other victors.

By mid afternoon I'm getting tired and have the strangest urge to take a nap. Damn pregnancy hormones. To try and keep myself alert, I head to the archery station, which will require absolute focus. It quickly becomes apparent to the instructor that the standing targets are nothing to me. I send arrow after arrow into the bull's-eye, so the instructor decides to present a 'challenge.' He takes out these stuffed birds and begins to toss them in the air for me to shoot. It seems silly at first, but it turns out to be the most fun I've had all day. After I manage to shoot five birds in one round, I realize that the gym is unusually quiet. I turn around and find everyone staring at me, wearing expressions varying from admiration to jealousy to hatred. Okay, so I just gained some admirers and some enemies. All in a day's work.

The next two days of training pass like this. Peeta and I continue to mingle, but it's easy to see that the lines have already been drawn. Districts 1 and 2 have obviously joined up together, forming the typical Career Pack, while me, Peeta, Finnick, and Johanna seem to be the other imposing force. Of course, Mags is with us too, and though Beetee and Wiress keep to themselves a lot, it's obvious that they're with us. I really can't tell where Chaff and Seeder stand.

Haymitch hasn't spoken another word about the rebellion or the break out or District 13, and I don't expect him to. He said his piece the other night, and he won't be repeating it. Honestly, sometimes I can't decide if knowing about the plan to break out is a good thing or not. Because while it's somewhat reassuring to know that there's a light at the end of the tunnel, if Beetee and Wiress work their magic, it also threatens to make me more relaxed in the arena. I might let my guard down and that could not only cost me my life, but the baby's as well. I refuse to let my own stupidity end my child's life before it's really even begun. It's like what Haymitch said. Yes, we may break out, but we've got to survive long enough to reach that point. People will still try to kill us, tributes and Gamemakers alike.

It's these thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me, and my nightmares continue to be as dark and twisted as ever. However, I still manage to find a light amidst the darkness, and that light is Peeta, who always seems to be able to put a smile on my face. Watching him and Finnick in training, you'd think they'd been best friends for years, and together they work to keep me laughing and smiling. Even Johanna, who I'm still wary of, will make a snarky comment every once in a while that will get me to smile.

The final day of training ends with our private sessions with the Gamemakers, and it's proving to be a joke between everyone. After all, what can we possibly do to surprise them? They all know our strengths, our weaknesses. What's to show? This prompts a string of hilarious scenarios of things that they might do. Finnick says he might just go for it and strip. Cashmere flips her hair and says that she might sing, "I'm A Little Teapot," which causes everyone to laugh. Chaff says that he might dance and do something called the 'running man.'

Mags says she's going to take a nap.

But too quickly, the cafeteria slowly grows quieter as everyone goes to their private session. I'm going to be the last to go, since I'm the girl from District 12. I have no idea what I'm going to show the Gamemakers. I can't exactly shoot an arrow at them like I did last year.

I lean my head on Peeta's shoulder and close my eyes. Honestly, I could care less what I do for the Gamemakers. I learned this morning that I detest the smell of fried potatoes and that it gives me the strong urge to vomit. I barely made it to the bathroom in time. Ever since this morning, that nauseous feeling has stuck with me, and I can't seem to shake it.

"Are you alright?" Peeta asks concerned.

"No," I moan, knowing I sound pitiful, but at this point, I really don't care. I'm pregnant. Universal excuse to feel, act, and say anything I want.

Still, showing weakness will always be a pet peeve of mine, so I take a deep breath, open my eyes, and sit up straight. "I'll be fine," I say, reassuring Peeta, who still looks worried. I try to distract him. "What are you going to do for the Gamemakers?"

Peeta shrugs. "No idea."

"You could do some camouflage," I suggest, and Peeta chuckles.

"Yeah, if the morphlings have left me anything to work with."

"You could see how many pushups you can do in fifteen minutes."

Peeta rolls his eyes. "I bet that's what Brutus did," he says and I grin. "What about you? You know what you're going to do?"

"Nope." I would shake my head, but I don't want to risk the action making me feel the need to toss my lunch. "I can't really use the Gamemakers for target practice this year." I sigh and close my eyes briefly. "At this point, I'm wondering if I might just skip out."

"Can we do that?" Peeta asks and I shrug.

"Only one way to find out."

But before Peeta and I can test my theory, he is called. He gives me a quick kiss and then disappears into the training room. I sit quietly before eventually laying my head on the table and closing my eyes. But as the minutes pass, I begin to grow anxious. Fifteen minutes pass and I'm not called. Thirty minutes pass and I'm worried. What's happened? I should have already been through my session by now. Did Peeta do something? What's wrong?

Ten more minutes pass before I'm finally called, and the moment I step into the training room, I'm hit with the sharp smell of heavy duty cleaning agents. A large mat has been dragged to the center of the room, and I frown. My eyes find the Gamemakers, and unlike last year they are very alert. And upset.

What did you do, Peeta?

I slowly walk into the room, debating all the while what the hell I'm going to do. Whatever Peeta did must have been something, because the Gamemakers are agitated. What could Peeta have done to put them in such a state? I think of a better question. Why? Why would he do something so provoking? The answer hits me like a ton of bricks. For me. Whatever he did, he did for me, to put more attention on him. Anger flows through my veins. Damn him. I should have known that Peeta would do something like this. Even if we plan on breaking out of the arena, we still have to survive long enough to get to that point. Peeta is, once again, trying to protect me in whatever way he can.

I really hate it when he does these things, especially when it puts him in even more danger. Well, he forgot that we made a deal. We're in this together. So if he's going to upset the Gamemakers, then so am I.

I study them for a moment, when my eyes land on Plutarch Heavensbee, Head Gamemaker, and secret spy for District 13. He's on my side . . .

And that leads me to think of another Head Gamemaker who was on my side, in a way at least. After all, he did allow Peeta and me to live . . .

I know what I'm going to do.

It's crazy, but I'm motivated partly out of spite and partly because of Peeta. Now, you'd probably think that I'd try and play it safe and not do anything that could cause more harm to me and by extension the little life growing within me. After all, the last thing I need is to paint a target on my back. But the thing is, I've already got a target on my back, painted by none other than President Snow himself. I'm in danger no matter what I do, or whatever Peeta does to deflect attention from me. There's no making my situation any better, and aside from blowing me up while I'm still on my platform, there's no making my situation any worse. Besides, Snow wouldn't do that anyway. It'd be a stupid, obvious move, and he's not so kind as to make my death that quick.

My mind made up, I quickly head to the knot tying station. I begin manipulating a length of rope. It's a difficult knot to begin with, and it doesn't help that I've only seen the knot done once by very quick and practiced fingers. Still, I manage to complete my noose.

Knowing that I don't have much time left, I quickly grab the noose and take one of the dummies from the target station and slip the noose over its head. I hang it from some chinning bars, and take a step back to admire my work. Figuring I've got about five minutes to spare, I hurry over to the camouflage station. The morphlings have made a complete mess, but I manage to find some red berry juice to serve my purposes.

I hurry back over to the dummy, and stand in front of it so that the Gamemakers can't see what I'm writing. Carefully, I finger paint the words in all caps, the absorbent canvas of the dummy really suiting my purposes nicely. When I'm finished, I feel very satisfied with my work. I bet that whatever Peeta did, I just blew out of the water.

I take a step back, revealing my work to the Gamemakers, allowing them to read the name on the dummy.

SENECA CRANE.

And there we go. I seriously debated not having her hang Seneca Crane . . . but, come on . . . that's one of the coolest, gutsy things Katniss did in the entire series. I had to keep it, just add a little bit of a twist on her reasoning.

Alas, next chapter is the interviews! What, oh what, could I have planned? *cue evil laugh*

So! This is typically when I would give you a quote from the next chapter, but that's not happening! Nope, I'm giving you a quote from Come Rain or Come Shine, my version of Mockingjay instead. I hope you don't mind. ;)

Quote comes from . . . Haymitch!

"If you show up in a big-ass wig tomorrow morning and four-inch heels, I'll disown you."

I figured a little lightheartedness was warranted. Most of the quotes I thought of posting were either too spoilerish just too depressing.

Lots of love,

AC