((A/N About the contest... Yep, the answer was Jimmy Wright! But, as I'd said... Only the first five people would get the special chapter. If ya'll still really want it, PM me the answer to this, and I'll send it right over. [What names does Katniss give to the children in her dreams?] This is only valid until Sunday, July 29th. Anyways, HERE'S a super-duper long chapter for everyone! :D Love you guys! Review!))
From the moment I open my eyes, I know today is the day that our week of sanctuary comes to an end. It was a great week; one of nothing but soft kisses and mugs of hot chocolate and fireplaces. One where I got to be myself, no one else. Not someone on the run, or someone hiding, or someone who acts tolerable in front of the camera.
No, I got to be my stubborn, obnoxious, sarcastic self; the self that Peeta adores.
I take a deep breath and let it out as a sigh, rolling over to find him face down in a pillow. I've come to learn that he sleeps like this when he's having a good dream.
I kind of just sit there and stare it him for a few minutes, watching the rise and fall of his torso that alerts me he's still breathing. One of his hands hangs off the edge of the bed, and the other is stuffed under his pillow.
For some reason I have the urge to reach out and touch his hair, run my fingers through it. His curls are perfect, no matter which side of his head sleeps on. I'm sure my own hair is sticking out in every direction, causing me to resemble some sort of muttation.
My touch causes him to stir, and he rolls onto his side to face me. His eyes open and the moment they focus on me he breaks into a smile. "Some people would find that creepy."
I'm not sure if he means me watching him sleep or my crazy bed-hair, but I'm pulled into a good-morning kiss before I can ask.
"Sleep okay? When did you wake up?" he asks, pulling himself up into a sitting position.
"A few minutes ago. I slept well."
"So did I." he grins, "You were in my dream."
"You were in mine." I answer, forcing a smile. I'm not going to tell him about my nightmare. There's no reason to worry him.
Yet I can see his eyebrows twitch in concern, and I know he can detect my act.
That's something that I can't get over. How he can lie so utterly perfectly, but every time I spout a tiny fib, he knows about it. I've filed through all the possibilities of how he could know, lied to myself in the mirror to see if I do anything physically. This idea came from Prim.
When we'd first gotten Buttercup, Prim's old hideous cat that know is the unofficial mascot of District Twelve, she'd once come home with scratches covering her entire hand. I'd asked her how it had happened, and she bit her cheek as she answered, "I dropped my necklace in the bushes and had to dig it out." The first lie she'd ever told me, and all because she didn't want me to know Buttercup had clawed her fingers.
I could tell from then on when she told a fib (which was rarely), because every time she'd chew on the inside of her cheek.
But when I practiced in front of the mirror, I could find no such sign. So I'd come to the conclusion that Peeta can read my mind.
"How do you do that?" I ask, deciding once and for all that I'm going to get to the bottom of this mysterious boy.
"Do what?" he pulls himself out of bed and wanders over to his closet.
"How do you know when I lie?" I watch him as he pulls a sweater over his head.
He turns to me with a smirk on his face, "You really think I'd tell you? Come on, Katniss. We all have our quirks."
"You've told me before. I just can't remember."
"Did I? I don't remember that." He sighs, retreating to the bathroom where I can hear the water running as he brushes his teeth.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and search through my own clothes. I throw together a random outfit, since I know the moment I walk out of my home today I'll be redressed and prettied up. "Are you ready to be all dolled up again?" Peeta returns into the room, coming over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist as I braid my hair.
I make a disgusted sound in response, but can't help but smile. My prep team has become so much more bearable over the months, even without Cinna's help. They do a great job on altering my appearance. Which is okay with me now, because I might as well look good if I'm going to act like myself. There has to be some balance.
"In my opinion, you're gorgeous as it is. Right now." Peeta kisses my cheek and I laugh.
"Tell that to Octavia, and she'll have you shipped back to the mental ward."
"As long as you come with me." He chuckles, "I'll go start coffee."
Coffee was an acquired taste for me. It was too bitter at first, but when Peeta started adding milk and sugar, it didn't taste so bad. Now I drink it because I'm in desperate need of caffeine.
I brush my teeth before hopping down the steps after my husband.
It's so strange, being married. Just three years ago, I'd sworn to myself I would never wed. And now I'm probably the happiest girl in the world, alongside the 'luckiest man in the universe', as Peeta referred to himself as.
I'd pointed out that his luck was nonexistent when they chose his name from the thousands of others at the 74th reaping, and that the Quarter Quell wasn't the highlight of either of our lives, but he continues to remind me that he would never have said a word to me before them. Without our horrific pasts, we wouldn't be in this glorious present.
He hands me a mug of steaming hot coffee, just the way I like it. Four spoons of milk and five sugar cubes. I know, I know. It's ridiculous. I can't count how many times Peeta has pulled the 'Would you like some coffee with your milk and sugar?' joke on me. I just can't stand how he drinks his: Black.
"Think they're out there already?" he asks, motioning with his head towards the front door. All of our curtains are drawn, blocking out the outside world.
"I think they've been out there since five o'clock this morning." I mutter.
"It was a nice break." He says dramatically, as if this is the end of our lives. If only.
I nod in agreement, and he grins. He pulls me to him, and we kiss for a few moments before he pulls away. "Ready?"
I nod sharply, "Ready."
He sets his coffee cup down and strides over to the front door. His hand lingers on the doorknob. "Whatever happens, Katniss, just know that I love you." His voice is deep and serious, and I laugh at him so hard that I have to set my mug down and hug myself to keep from cracking a rib.
"Love you too. See you on the other side." I give him a wink between spurts of laughter.
As he turns the knob, I can see him smiling, his act blown.
But the next thing I know, all I can see is Capitol hairstyles and flashes of light as cameras go off. It's like a flood of reporters have completely permeated our home. If I have a personal bubble, it was popped within two seconds of the door being opened.
They fight to ask me questions, their inquiries practically being screamed in my ears. I don't respond at first, all I do is blink. Then I begin laughing once more as I realize Peeta's and my dramatic moment was nothing compared to this. I feel like I'm drowning in person soup.
"Mrs. Mellark, can you please tell us… – And how did you feel about… - So where is…?" No matter how hard I concentrate, I cannot listen to one complete thought without being distracted by another. For the first few minutes it's hilarious to me, their reactions to our month long disappearance. But after ten minutes has gone by and the volume level has done nothing but increase, I'm beginning to get annoyed.
I wade through the crowd, trying to spot Peeta. I figure it shouldn't be too hard, us being the only two dressed normally, but I soon find that the bright colors of the Capitol are practically blinding when so many of them are mushed together and moving around.
"Peeta?" I call out. But I can barely hear my own voice over the roar of reporters.
I'm stunned for a few moments, as horror washes over me. I think about what it would be like to be stuck in this mess forever, and claustrophobia begins to smother me. Of course I know it's dramatic, but at this moment, everything and everyone is being dramatic.
Haymitch comes and saves me just in time. Somehow he's found me, and I feel him dragging me through the crowd by my elbow. He reaches our couch, and stands up on it. I'm about to protest, since his shoes are muddy, but I doubt he'd hear me.
"SHUT UP!" His voice is so loud that I can feel the ground shaking. Or maybe that's just me shaking, because his outburst catches me off guard. Apparently it catches all the others off guard as well, because somehow, by some miracle, the crowd does shut up. "Now, in this mess, you're not going to get anything out of anyone, so if you all want what you came here for, then just shut up!"
"Haymitch…" I start to pull him off the couch, but he rips his arms away from me.
"Look, sweetheart, I know what I'm doing." And I believe him, because every eye and camera in the room is turned on him. He turns back to them, "Every person in here, you get to ask one question only. We're going to do this in a nice, orderly fashion, because if not, someone's going to get hurt." And that's where Haymitch loses his dignity, because he loses his balance and falls straight onto his face, where he lays sprawled out on our floor.
"He's right. If you'd ever-so-kindly line up in a single-file line, Katniss and I will be glad to take a question from each of you." Peeta says, loudly enough for everyone to hear. I want to yell back, 'Speak for yourself!', but I keep my mouth shut. "We'll sit on that couch there. And the people that aren't asking can stand off to the side, and take notes. Whatever. But we are not going to do this the way you've all been trying to do it, because it's obviously not working. Either you do it our way, or you get no answers what-so-ever."
The crowd reacts immediately, lining up and whipping out their pens and papers.
I look over at Peeta with a proud grin, and he gives me a subtle wink back.
Haymitch pulls himself off the floor and slurs, "Wait… What?" before staggering to our bathroom to puke something up.
And so the student becomes the master.