Author's Note: Hey everyone. How are you all? I'm actually super excited to write this chapter, since it'll be filled with loads of drama and excitement! I really can't believe that this chapter will be the last of the filming…it feels like it's kind of ending, but of course this fanfic isn't. I've got way too much stuff planned for this fanfic for it to be finished just yet! Anyway, hope you all enjoy the chapter! Btw, I also hit 100 reviews with the last chapter. Thank you so so so much. I honestly never expected to get so much appreciation for this, so thank you, each and every one of you. I love you all!
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own anything from Hunger Games (the world is a very cruel place). It all belongs to the wonderful Suzanne Collins.
"Three…Two…One…Action!"
Chapter 29
I stare up at Peeta, trying to make the chemistry between us become more real, more believable. I know I haven't been doing a good enough job these days. Everyone has to believe that our love is real. I shudder a little at the thought of remembering what Haymitch told me about the Capitol, about how they don't like being laughed at. Peeta notices my shiver and going off script, he asks me if I'm cold. I reply I'm not, but he shrugs off his jacket anyway and wraps it protectively around my small frame. I smile at him gratefully and nestle myself into the material. It's a leather jacket, very much like my father's but it is a different color and texture. The jacket smells like him, comforting, warm…safe. We return to script, strolling around Victor's Village, arm in arm. I wince at what I know is coming next. We have to talk about the Games. It's mostly scripted, like most of this idiotic 'reality' show but I don't like talking about it. It brings back terrible memories that should be locked away in the deepest darkest places of my mind and hidden from the rest of the world.
"So darling," Peeta says, the endearment slipping off his tongue naturally. However, there's something about it that just doesn't feel right. The term is not common in District 12. Not that I'm an expert or anything, but around the Seam couples call each other names like 'honey' or 'sweetheart'. To me, those sound much more natural but apparently 'darling' is very popular in the Capitol. Since the show is aimed at them, we have to use their terminology as much as possible. I snap out of my musing to realize that Peeta is still talking. "Do you think your mother finally approves of me?" He asks, flashing a charming smile at me. My heart melts a little. I mentally roll my eyes at myself. It's all fake, I tell myself sternly.
"Of course she does Peeta!" I tell him, giggling like a Merchant girl would and curling my hand more tightly around his arm. "You are liked by everyone, the notion of my mother disapproving of you is impossible! Truly, you are the best person I could ever have ended up with. A Victor, wealthy and intelligent, smart and strong, what more could I ask for?" I say, attempting to bat my eyelashes in an adorable way. How do girls do this? I feel dizzy and I probably look incredibly stupid. Peeta smiles, clearly amused at my pitiful attempt to flirt.
"Thank you, darling." He says, pulling me towards a bench. We sit down, feeling the cold metal chill our bodies. He wraps a supporting around my waist and I scoot closer to him. Even wrapped up in his coat, its freezing. I lean my head against his shoulder. "You're the beautiful one though," He says quietly after a moment of silence.
"I'm not, Peeta. I think you're deluding yourself." I tell him honestly. Peeta's hand comes up to cup my chin and he turns my face to look up at him.
"You never did see yourself clearly. Look at you, you're stunning. Soft, silky hair, pink cheeks - it makes you beautiful. Why can't you see that?" He says, his blue eyes boring into mine. I bite my lip in embarrassment. I wish he wouldn't say such things, regardless of whether we are on camera or not. It makes me feel so inadequate, since I have nothing to reply back with. Anyway, I'm not deserving of his compliments. He is the bright light of the sun; happy, energizing, filling everyone with warmth and love. However, I am the dark shadows of night; black and miserable. The light and the dark cannot co-exist with one another, the dark swallows up the light, choking the light and swallowing it whole. I sigh a little and turn my face away from him.
"Peeta…" I say quietly, trying to hold back the tears. I look at him carefully. He is looking down at his lap, twiddling something in his hand. "What's that?" I ask curiously. His hand opens up slowly, his rough fingers unfurling from his palm. There, in the large expanse of his hand, lies a hair clip. It is shaped like a flower, the petals glittering in the muted light of the setting sun. He swallows a little nervously before he speaks,
"Katniss, I was in town and I saw this in the window of the jewelers. It reminded me of you. It's simple, yet elegant. It's delicate and innocent but strong at the same time. I thought it should belong to you, the most beautiful girl I know."
"Oh Peeta!" I gasp, tears flowing freely down my face at his beautiful and moving words. "I'll treasure it forever." I murmur softly, tracing it in my hand. I turn my head so that it can be clipped into my hair. He pins it at the top of my braid and I feel the weight of it grasp my hair firmly.
"I'm glad you like it." He replies, smirking a little. "Because I really didn't have a Plan B if you hated it." I laugh happily, wiping away my earlier tears. I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly, planting a slight kiss to his cheek.
"Thank you so much." I tell him, looking up at him. "It's truly beautiful. I…I have no words to describe what I'm feeling right now." I take a deep breath for my next scripted line. "When we were in the cave, when I thought you were dying, I found it difficult to express what I felt for you, the overwhelming passion that consumed me, it frightened me. Yet you were so patient, so kind. You were always there for me, when before I had no-one other than Prim. Peeta…I…" I struggle to get the words out. Even scripted, it's almost impossible for me to say. Peeta sees my struggle, and of course swoops in to save the day. He places his finger to my lips, hushing my broken sentence.
"I understand Katniss. I feel it too." His sentence is simple, the emotions underneath are as deep as the lake that is hidden in the woods. He holds out his flat palm towards me, lying face up. Hesitantly, my hand appears from its warm hideout in Peeta's jacket and creeps towards his. Our skin touches. His hand is warm and strong, his fingers rough from years of toiling at the bakery. However, his palm is smooth, and my fingers trace like the lines in his palm. He flips his hand, so our fingers intertwine with one another. I'd never admit it to anyone, but I secretly love the feeling of his hand in mine. We smile at one another shyly. I look up at his face, noting every tiny detail. His cheekbones lift in a crooked smile and I find myself leaning in to touch them.
"Cut!" Lato's voice interrupts my thoughts. I jump back in shock, then my cheeks flush bright red. Thankfully, the whole ordeal is over. I was in danger of doing something incredibly stupid. A tiny voice inside my head thinks, what if Lato hadn't ended the scene?
I wake up Sunday morning, sweaty and panicked, my breath coming in short terrified gasps. Why can't I deal with this? Why does every nightmare almost render me catatonic? I should be strong and brave; I should be there for my family. Instead, I'm weak and pathetic. I get out of bed and dress in comfortable trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. Why should I dress fashionably when we're probably not even filming? Even if we are, I'll be getting changed anyway. So I don't really see the point. I go downstairs, hearing excited chatter. I guess that the crew came early. For once, they don't seem exhausted, relying only on their black coffee just to get through the day. As soon as I enter the room, they all watch me excitedly. Lato glares in their direction, and they look down at their mugs whispering frantically amongst themselves. I watch them in confusion. What's going on? I join my mother and Prim, eating my breakfast silently. After the usual addressing from Lato, the crew scatters away. He comes over to me with Cressie trailing behind him. I smile a little at her, but she doesn't return it. She looks so melancholy, hiding her pointed face behind her hair. She doesn't even look up at me.
"Katniss," Lato says, an uncharacteristic smirk playing on his lips. "Today you'll be very busy. We're not filming anything, that's all done. All we want you to do is relax." I look at him in confusion. What is going on? Cinna enters and stands near us, a huge folder in his arms. His brown eyes watch me carefully. I realize that Lato is still talking. "…Upstairs with Cinna. He's going to look after you until everything's ready." He pats my shoulder then marches off, Cressie trailing in his wake. I watch her leave, noting her hunched shoulders and dejected stance. Did she have another fight with Lato? Maybe if I ask her what's wrong, she might tell me what's been going on. She seems to have a fairly good clue. But it must be something bad, if she won't even look at me. I shake my head to rid myself of unwanted thoughts. Cinna smiles encouragingly at me.
"Good morning Katniss." I look at him replying only on instinct. Growing up, my mother always taught us to be polite and courteous to everyone. I never really paid attention to it until I was reaped. I remember Effie commenting on my impeccable table manners.
"Hello Cinna." I reply quietly. I look around the room for Peeta. I haven't seen him at all this morning. My thoughts become increasingly panicked. Why isn't he here? What happened? Is he alright? Cinna lays a comforting hand on my arm, his emerald green eyes watching me in concern.
"Shall we go upstairs?" He asks. I nod weakly, forcing my limbs to shuffle after him. Once in my room, away from prying eyes, I collapse onto the sofa. The sofa dips a little and I feel Cinna's presence next to me. His hand lies comfortingly on my knee. I brush his hand away, then instantly feel guilty. He was only trying to help and I was rude. I sigh a little. What is wrong with me? Instead of sitting around and feeling sorry for myself, I force myself to sit up straight and gain some control over my emotions.
"So what's the plan for today?" I ask Cinna. He smiles a little and reaches for his folder, opening it and flashing me a neatly written list. "Looks pretty extensive." I comment dryly. He laughs a little and then gets down to business.
"As you probably are aware, every Victor has to have a talent." He says. I nod, remembering countless TV shows about Victors and their talents. "So, in preparation for the Victory Tour, what's your 'talent'?" I stare at him, thinking about the Victory Tour. It's not for another few months but already I know that it will be hell. Parading arrogantly around the Districts, rubbing it in their faces that Peeta and I murdered their children, that they died whilst we walked away. I choke back a sob. I can't do it. I know I can't. I blink the tears away, seeing Cinna watch me silently in concern. I probably look like a crazy person to him. I've had more mood swings in the last five minutes than I've had in a year. I need to get a fucking grip.
"Does hunting illegally count?" I ask, smiling a little. Cinna laughs, shaking his head.
"As much as I'd love to say it does, you and I both know that it's not true. Anything else?" I chew my lip, thinking about it. I don't think I have any talent. The only thing you can say about me is that I'm stubborn and good with a bow. Since archery is out, I really don't think that you can class being stubborn as a talent. My mother walks into the room humming an old tune, an empty wicker basket in her arms. She sees us and stops in the middle of the room.
"I'm sorry!" She gasps. "If I'd known that anyone was in here, I wouldn't have…" I roll my eyes and tell her its okay. She didn't do anything wrong. My mother opens the teal curtains and begins to strip the covers. She frowns a little as she notices how warm the sheets are. However, she doesn't say anything. Cinna stands up, walking over to my bookshelf, pulling a book out and flipping through the pages absentmindedly.
"Mrs Everdeen?" Cinna asks. My mother's head snaps up, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
"Yes?" She replies timidly.
"Katniss and I are trying to find a talent for her. Do you have any suggestions?" My mother smoothes back her dull blonde hair, frowning a little in concentration.
"What about your singing Katniss?" I stare at her in horror. "You sing beautifully. Just like…your father." Her voice breaks on the last two words. In an attempt not to lose control, she continues speaking, her voice high-pitched and rushed. "That's how he got me to go on a date with him you know. He came to the Apothecary and sang me a song that he'd written himself. It was…" Tears spring up in her eyes and she rushes from the room, sobs erupting from inside her and shaking her shoulders. The door slams shut behind her, leaving an eerie silence in her wake. Cinna stares at the closed wooden door.
"Will she be alright?" He asks in concern. I nod.
"She'll be fine." I wave away his concerns. A tiny voice inside of me reminds me of the time when my father died, when she shut herself away from the world…
Prim and I were standing outside the entrance of the mine, watching as hundreds of men were lifted out of the ground. They were covered in soot and grime, and they all looked hopeless and exhausted. Mummy rushed towards us, clasping Prim and I close. I clutched onto her faded patterned dress, hoping to see Daddy emerge from the lift and hug us tightly. Over the next few hours, the amount of men in the lift dwindled. Still, we waited. Eventually, there was no-one left. The man in charge of the mines walked over to Mummy, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm very sorry." He said to everyone standing there. I looked around in confusion. Where was Daddy? Then the terrible truth began to dawn on me. My father was dead. Prim's blue eyes were watery; a single tear fell down her cheek, splashing onto the grimy pavement. My mother's calloused hand stroked my brown hair.
"Let's go home girls." Her voice seemed surprisingly strong. I wondered how she could seem so normal after such terrible news. We got home and I dumped my school bag on the table. There was nearly complete silence in the house, except for the annoying sound of the clock on the wall. I rushed over to it, stretching up on my tip-toes, pulling the clock off the wall. It was wooden, hand carved. Daddy had made it. He would never hear it tick again. The thought made me sad and angry. Why wasn't he here? Why had he left us? I opened the door and threw the clock onto the street. It bounced to the floor, breaking into tiny pieces. Mrs Jones came out of her house and stared at me incredulously.
"Katniss? What do you think you're doing?" She yelled angrily, rushing over to me. "I should have a word with your mother." She threatened. I shrunk under her piercing glare. Mrs Jones was scary. She pushed me back into the house, following me in. Prim was hunched up on a kitchen chair, pulling her satchel close to her chest. Mrs Jones looked like she was about to shout again, but then she saw Mummy. Mummy had walked over to the mantelpiece, clutching a picture of Daddy to her chest. Her eyes were closed and she sounded like she was talking to herself.
"Mummy?" I asked. I rushed over to her, tugging on her clothes anxiously. Mrs Jones walked over, pulling me away from my Mummy. What right did she have to take me away from her? I began to yell. She turned to face me, stunning me into silence.
"Katniss." She said gently, a small sympathetic smile on her features. "Why don't you and Primrose go upstairs? I need to talk to your Mummy."
"Don't tell on me!" I begged Mrs Jones. She smiled again.
"I won't." She promised. "Now go!" She shooed us away with her hands. I glared at her, stomping my foot on the floor. I wanted to be there for Mummy, not stupid Mrs Jones. I was glad I wasn't Mrs Jones' daughter. She was mean.
"I'll tell my Daddy that you were mean to me!" I yelled, forgetting for a second that Daddy was never coming home. Mummy broke into violent sobs.
"He's gone." She choked out, tears streaming down her face. "He's gone Katniss!" She screeched. I took a step back. Mummy had never yelled at me before. "He's gone." Mummy repeated, quieter now. She rushed past me, pushing me out the way. She raced up the stairs and disappeared, the door slamming shut…
I shook my head, pushing myself off the sofa. A tear fell down my face. Maybe I should check on my mother. No, I thought. She's stronger now. She'll be okay.
"So how about it?" Cinna asks gently.
"What?" I reply confused. I've completely forgotten about what we were talking about.
"Your singing." Cinna says. "Do you want that to be your talent?"
"No!" I snap. "I refuse to sing for the Capitol." I see Cinna's hurt look. "I'm sorry," I say, controlling my temper. "It's just that…it's very private and personal. I don't want anyone knowing about it." Cinna smiles a little.
"Don't worry Katniss. I promise it'll be a secret between you and me. So what else could you do?"
"I really don't know," I murmur. "I'm not very talented…" Cinna smiles sympathetically.
"Don't worry Katniss, we'll figure it out. I'll tell Effie to research some talents and she can send you a list. Perhaps you'll find your 'calling' then." He smirks. I laugh a little, wondering what talents Effie will think up. It'll probably be something incredibly stupid like flower arranging.
"Okay." I agree. There's a knock at my door. I jump up expecting my mother to be standing on the other side. It's the prep team, clutching a garment bag and several boxes.
"Darling!" Flavius exclaims, kissing my cheek. They act like they haven't seen me in weeks, even though it was only yesterday. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
"Cinna please can we start?" Venia begs.
"Pretty please?" Octavia asks, fluttering her thick eyelashes at Cinna. "We only have five hours to make her beautiful! The fe…" She trails off when Venia nudges her knowingly.
"Octavia be quiet! You know it's supposed to be a surprise!" She admonishes. Octavia looks down, wringing her pale green hands. "What she means to say, is that we don't have much time. We are makeup artists, not miracle workers." Cinna smiles, picking up his black folder. He hands it to Venia and leaves the room, telling them to call him when they're 'done'. I realize in horror that I'm going to be prepped for a very long time. Great. Just fantastic. At least I don't really have to do anything, I just have to sit there and let them work their magic. I sigh a little. I hate being beautified. The prep team rushes into the room, setting the boxes down and opening them, spreading the contents across my dresser. There's enough make up here to disguise an army. How can they possibly use so much make up? Flavius carefully hangs up the garment bag on the door. I wonder if it's the dress I tried on yesterday. Probably. I feel like something big is about to happen, but I've got no idea what it could be. I hate surprises. The prep team usher me from my bedroom and into the bathroom. Octavia begins to run a bath, pouring in scented liquids from unknown bottles.
"Do you have some of this?" She asks me, holding up a light blue bottle. I shake my head. She rolls her eyes, looking shocked. "You mean, no-one gave you some Capitol Factor All-In-One?" I shrug my shoulders.
"Should they have given me it?" I ask. I did not know that this bottle is apparently something I urgently needed.
"Of course!" She exclaims. "Every self-respecting woman needs this!" I stare at her.
"Well, I've managed for sixteen years without it." I remind her gently.
"I do not know how." Octavia sighs, handing over a bottle. "Keep this. Now you're a Victor, you're just going to have to keep up your appearance. I'll go get another." She leaves the bathroom and I set the little bottle on the edge of the bath. I study the label. Apparently, it promises perfect hair. Why would I have a need for such a product? Still, I can see how Octavia is only trying to help. She comes back in and turns the water on. "Bath, Katniss." Obediently, I strip in front of her, handing her my clothes. She takes them out of the room and I try not to look at my naked body in the mirror. I don't hate my body, but I don't love it either. I get in the warm water, resting my head against the edge of the bath. The water washes over my skin, the foamy white bubbles crackle softly. Octavia returns kneeling behind my head. She washes my hair softly, treating it as if it is some priceless object. I close my eyes and smile as she gently kneads my head. Her fingers trail through my wet hair, washing it free from dirt and grime. The heaven doesn't last for long though. Soon, the water grows cold, and I'm forced to get out and face reality. Octavia wraps a fluffy white towel around my body, leading my back to my bedroom. Venia then dries me, helping me into a soft robe. I sit in a chair, noticing that the mirror has been covered up.
"It's a surprise." Flavius tells me, winking a little.
"You'll find out soon darling," Venia tells me. "Just relax and close your eyes. The time will fly by, you'll see." For once, she's right. The hours seem to pass in minutes as the team paint my nails, apply make-up to my skin and style my hair. Eventually, the quiet sounds of them working stops. I hear the door open and close, I presume to call Cinna. I open my eyes when I hear his quiet voice.
"Hello Katniss. You ready for the dress?" I nod. I look down at my nails hooping that they'll give me some clue. My nails look natural, but like they are painted on. I frown at them. Cinna laughs.
"I didn't want to make it obvious. Besides, they want your reaction on camera." Now I'm really confused. Why would they want my reaction to a dress? It's not like I'm going anywhere or doing anything. I guess Lato changed his mind about filming. Typical. Cinna smiles, blindfolding me once more. The dress is pulled gently over my head, the zip done up at the back. I hear Lato speaking in a hushed whisper,
"Action!" Cinna stands behind me, gently untying the elaborate knot.
"Enjoy, Girl On Fire. Tonight's your night to shine." He whispers, letting the blindfold fall from my eyes.
I gasp in shock. The dress is jet black, covered with tiny white dots. It has tiny sleeves which are tight around the top of my arm. The neckline plunges down to show off a little of my chest. The dress has a tightly fitted bodice, making me appear to have more curves than I possess. At my waist, a thick black band cinches my waist. Then, at my hips the dress flares out to my knees. A layer of black netting peeks out from the bottom of the dress. The prep team has made my eyes dark, outlined with a thin black line and grey eyeshadow. My lips are painted a bright red, making them stand out. The rest of my make-up is fairly natural, with only the slightest blush littering my cheeks.
"Cinna," I say, my voice quiet with awe. "It's…beautiful." Cinna smiles.
"You're the beautiful one Girl On Fire. Now go, enjoy the festival." I look at him in confusion. I thought that it'd be a simple meal with my mother and Prim to celebrate. It appears not. I hug him quickly, thanking him for his amazing work. I wonder what I could be doing tonight that requires me to dress up. I walk out of my bedroom, the cameras following my every move, being careful not to trip in the low black heels Cinna has dressed me in. I get to the top of the stairs and stop. The lights in the hallway have been muted, the lamp glows softly on the sideboard. Haymitch stands at the bottom of the stairs, looking surprisingly sober for once. I walk cautiously down the stairs, remembering how I'd fallen down them once. The dress moves as I do, the pleated layers twirling around me with every step that I take.
"Hey Sweetheart." Haymitch says, a proud smile on his face. His grey eyes are startlingly clear, and I wonder how the crew managed to get Haymitch to sober up for this. He's wearing a light gray suit, the silver buttons glinting in the lamplight. His normally unruly hair has been neatly combed back and he stands up straight, not hunched over like he usually does. I reach the last step and he holds out his arm to me. I take it, my fingers curling over the rough material.
"Hello Haymitch." I reply. He looks down at me. Standing at his full height, I'd never realized how tall he actually is. "You turn out well." I complement him. His smirk grows a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Effie got to me." He grumbled. "Well, well, well Sweetheart, who'd have thought that you could look nice for once." I shove him good-naturedly. Then he loses his teasing smirk and becomes serious. "I mean it Katniss." I pay attention because he called me by my real name, not the stupid nickname he came up with. "You really do look beautiful." I smile shyly. I'm not used to such compliments, especially ones coming from Haymitch. I watch him for signs of sarcasm, of any hint that his compliment was insincere, but I can find none. We leave the house; I clutch his arm so that I don't fall. Day is giving away to night, and the lamps in Victor's Village are not yet lit. The sun sets behind us as we walk down the steps of my house, where a gleaming black car awaits us. Haymitch helps me in, then gets in the other side. Here, there are no cameras. An unknown crew member is driving, but there's a black screen between us and him.
"What's going to happen?" I ask Haymitch curiously. He just smirks.
"I'm not allowed to tell you. Just relax and enjoy it."
"How come you came to collect me?"
"They wanted me to escort you. Victors together and all that crap. The boy wanted to, but he wasn't allowed."
"Why?" I challenge. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing.
"Stop asking so many questions Sweetheart, you're making my head hurt. I'm telling ya now, I don't like being sober. As soon as I get there, I'm having a drink. Think I'll need one to get through the night." I roll my eyes at him. I want to say more, but the car stops and Haymitch darts out before I have the chance to ask any more questions. He helps me out of the car, and I take his arm once more. We walk up a road, which is getting darker by the second. I realize it's the road that leads from Victor's Village to the square. What is going on? Then we're underneath the arch, and the rich smell of baking bread overcomes me. We emerge from the shadows of the arch into the light of the festival…
Author's Note: I know, I know! I promised that this chapter would be the Harvest Festival, but as usual my writing got ahead of me. I can absolutely promise with all my heart that the next chapter will be the festival. But at least Haymitch has made a return and the dress has been revealed. I really hope it can across to you guys what it looked like in my mind. I did try to upload the image to fanfiction, but I can't get the link on my profile. Sorry. I hope you all aren't too cross with me for holding out on you all. While I'm here, I really want to thank Abi623 for all her help with this chapter. She's proofread it for me, correcting my million and one mistakes. She's also one of the most amazing people I've ever met. Please, go check out her Hunger Games fanfic Courage; it's an amazing story, literally one of the best I've ever read. Also, please leave a review, I love getting them and they are so special to me. See y'all soon!
Love,
Mjenney21 xxx
