My head is spinning when Effie, Haymitch in tow, finally take their leave of the kitchen. I can't say I've ever experienced whiplash but I imagine my head might feel a bit like it does not. As the reverb of words and dates continue to bounce meaninglessly around my head, I stare down at my now cold eggs, occasionally giving them a poke with my fork.
"Can you believe that was only the schedule for the next week?" Peeta sighs.
I give my numb head a shake and snort. "I stopped absorbing information after the first half hour, so I'm pretty much planning on just wandering the streets of the Capitol aimlessly for the next week," I snigger.
Peeta chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh, I don't think it will come to that, I mean it's not as if Effie's going to let you ruin her reputation by letting you show up late something," he grins. Looking up at the clock, he groans. "Well I guess that's an hour of our lives we won't get back," he mutters as he stands and begins gathering the dirty dishes from the table. "On the bright side, we get Sunday's off!" he adds with a bit of a smile.
"Oh really? I guess that came up after the first 30 minutes," I sniff. "What else did I miss?"
"You caught the whole part about how they want to lower you down on a platform to open the first district meeting on Thursday, right?" he inquires.
My mouth falls open in shock.
"No?" he asks, sounding surprised. "Well I did find it out that you didn't object to the new light up Mockingjay outfit, but I figured maybe you were just going with the flow."
"What! Really?" I choke.
Peeta gives me a mischievous grin, "No, not really," he snorts out in laughter.
Picking a piece of gelatinous egg off my plate I throw it at him. "You're mean," I growl, trying very hard not to laugh.
Dodging the flying food he saunters of to the counter. "I'm going to warm up one of these, you want one?" he asks holding up one of the cheese buns we made earlier. A glance at the bun in his hand brings immediate recall to the incident we had on the counter before Haymitch and Effie came in. My questions must be clear on my face because Peeta's light-hearted disposition disappears instantly. Very carefully, he turns and places the roll on the counter.
"Let's not make a big deal about it," he says without preamble.
Sucking my bottom lip in between my teeth, I gnaw on it for a few seconds. "I'm sorry," I venture.
Cautiously, Peeta moves his eyes from the now abandoned cheese bun back to me. "Sorry? For what?" he asks his brows knit together.
I answer his question with one of my own, "You felt a flashback starting, right?"
His eyes light in understanding and a soft chuckle escapes his lips. "That's what you're worried about?" he asks, relief clear in his tone.
I'm taken aback. "Of course I am! I mean, I know that lately, we've been...um..." I stammer, feeling self-conscience all of sudden.
"Occasionally touching each other?" he offers, his eyebrows raised.
"Yeah," I whisper.
He nods his head and is quiet for a moment but I can see his thought spinning behind his eyes. "You're right we have had a little more contact over the last month or so," he agrees. "But..."
"This morning, were you on the brink of a flashback?" I blurt out in a rush.
"Do you mean in general or..." he trails off, his eyes going to the glistening marble counter next to him.
I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow, I'm beginning to get annoyed by his evasiveness.
"No, I wasn't getting a flashback. And for the record, I didn't feel close to one any of the other times we've touched in the last month either."
I'm stunned by the admission. "Are you su..sure?" I stammer.
It's his turn to give me an incredulous look. "I think I'd know," he says the corners of his lips tugging upward.
My thoughts go in a thousand directions at once. He can touch me without flashbacks? How? Why didn't he tell me before now? If it wasn't a flashback I saw in his face this morning then what exactly did transpire? "Do you that this is just a fluke, or is it….permanent? I ask, stammering a bit
"Don't know," he says letting out a long breath.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. Touching for us is reckless and dangerous, but I can't deny that I'm equal parts elated as I am afraid. "You should talk to Dr. Aurelius about this," I suggest.
"I did...I mean, I have. I contacted him a few weeks ago when I noticed things changing. His hypothesis is that this is a step in my recovery process, but he hesitated to say what it means or how it will play out over the long term."
"You've suspected something for three weeks and never said anything?" I demand.
He takes in a long breath and blows it out slowly. "I should have said something, but I was afraid I'd...jinx it," he admits.
"That's very scientific of you," I return dryly.
"Isn't though?" he smirks.
Silence falls between us, the air heavy with unasked questions. "What happens now?" I ask softly.
Locking his blue eyes on me, he takes a step closer and holds out his hand to me, "We test our hypothesis?" he offers, his voice serious.
A lump forms in my throat as I look down at his proffered hand. My nerves rev up as my mind plays out all the ways this could go terribly wrong. "If we going to try this, we need to really careful," I say, swallowing a lump that has formed in my throat.
"Agreed. The last thing I want is to put you in danger. I think we should probably only experiment when there are someone within shouting distance, preferably Haymitch, since he knows what to do if things go south." He suggests, his eyes earnest. After a beat he gives me a playful smile, "You know Haymitch is just out there," he says, nodding his head towards the kitchen door.
I look once again at his outstretched hand and feel my heart speed up in my chest. Without much effort, I easily recall all the times our hands have spent laced together in moments of worry or fear, as well as those of companionship. But just as easily as these memories come so do those of the nights I spent wrapped safely not only in his hands but in his embrace. As the dull ache that always companies these memories begin to rise up in my chest and I chastise myself for my selfishness and refocused my attention on Peeta's upturned hand. Taking a calming breath, I slowly bring my hand up to hover over his, "Tell me if I need to move away," I whisper.
His eyes soften, "I will. I promise," he returns, his voice low and raspy.
My fingers have just brushed across his warm open palm when Effie's high pitched voice breaks the intense quiet of the kitchen, "Katniss, Captain Hawthorne is here to see you," she announces from the doorway. Damn it all! I think. I school my face with an apologetic look but he shrugs it off with a stiff smile and turns his attention back to his recently abandoned cheese bun. "I'll be right back," I offer. He glances over his shoulder at me and holds my gaze for a moment, "I'll heat you up a bun," he says, with a half-smile.
"Katniss, you shouldn't keep a guest waiting," Effie admonishes.
I startle at the sound of her voice, surprised she's still standing in the doorway. "Yes, of course," I mumble. With one final glance at Peeta, I turn and follow her into the living room.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I silently pad into the living room and find Gale looking out the window. With his back is to me, I can easily make out the tension in his shoulders through his light jacket. My throat suddenly feels very dry. "Your note said I should call you at your office today," I state. My echoing in the quiet room seem to startle him but he recovers quickly before turning around to face me. His gray eyes seem to a swift inventory of me before he paints a half smile across his hips. When he doesn't respond, I raise my chin at him and tilt my head, "Effie would say it's bad manners for you to show up unannounced, especially before I've had a chance to respond to your letter." I say in my best Capitol accent.
"Good thing I don't care about what a Capitol escort thinks then, hu?" he says hotly.
Great, not only has he sidestepping my lame attempt to break the ice but he has gone right into insulting people I care about. I let out a little sigh and shake my head. I'm not in the mood to argue with him, I'm just glad Effie left to run errands and can't hear him. Reaching into one of my long sleeves where I've stashed his note, I work hastily to retrieve it, but it only ends up tangled in the knit of my garment. "I just got your note this morning," I mumble.
He watches me for a moment, his eyes lingering on the sleeve I'm battling. "You know Catnip if you wear your own clothes this wouldn't be a problem," he says, his voice strained.
My hand becomes still at the comment as I remember that the last time I saw him I was also in this sweater, Peeta sweater. He wasn't keen on fact then either. I feel myself bristle, but I tap it down. "I know you didn't come all the way over here at eight in the morning to give me fashion advice," I warn.
His manages to look mildly regretful when a sound of the kitchen door opening draws his attention away. In an instant his eyes turn hard, the color of cold steel. I glance over my shoulder and find Peeta standing at the table a teapot in one hand, a plate of baked goods in the other.
"Good morning," Peeta greets, his voice carefully neutral. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gale's jaw tighten. "I thought since it was early you might not have had any breakfast yet. Would you like some tea and a cheese bun or cinnamon roll?" Peeta offers.
I make eye contact with Peeta and see no malice in his gaze. Per his nature, he is extending the preverbal olive branch. Turning back to Gale, I can see the muscles of his jaw working hard to keep his tongue in check. The situation is a powder keg. With no easy out, I gesture to the table. "Tea?" I offer. He glances from me to Peeta and back again, "Yeah, okay," he agrees reluctantly.
We arrange ourselves at the table while Peeta sets out teacups, plates, and forks. "Do you take sugar or milk in your tea?" he asks as he works.
When I don't respond, Gale realizes that the question is directed at him. "Both," he grunts. Peeta nods and turns to retrieve the sugar bowl and creamer from the buffet behind him as I make quick work of filling three cups with the hot brew. Without preamble, Peeta douses one cup with milk, then places the cream and sugar in front of Gale. Taking the cut with milk for myself, I quickly distribute the other two cups to their owners before sitting down. My nerves on edge, I gingerly wrapping my hands around my warm cup to keep them from visibly shaking.
Gale sits quietly for a moment watching me as I sip my tea. The silence is awkward and I and his gaze leaves me feeling jittery, so I reach over and grab the plate of baked items. Holding it out to him, I nod for him to take one. "If I were you, I'd go for the cinnamon rolls, as I didn't have a hand in creating them," I suggest with a forced smile.
"You…baked?" Gale asks, taking a cheese bun and eyeing it suspiciously.
"I helped stuff them with cheese. Peeta did the actual bread making," I confess.
He glances up at Peeta, his eye's narrow. "You know you shouldn't let this one cook right?" he says, his voice guarded, but not unfriendly.
Peeta manages to nod in affirmation but his body is shaking in silent laughter. "Oh I wish Haymitch was in here right now," he snorts.
Gale's eyebrow quirks up, but he doesn't join Peeta in laughing at me. I let out an exasperated sigh and shove a piece of cheese bun in my mouth.
As Peeta's laughter dies down, the room grows silent once again. Anxiety building again, I begin fidgeting with my now empty teacup. Grabbing the teapot, Peeta holds his hand out for my cup, but as he works to refill it, he subtly glances over at Gale then back to me. He's silently asking if I want him to stay. I muster a grateful smile and give my head a tiny shake. Handing my cup back to me, he clears his throat and stands up. "Well, I have a mess to clean up in the kitchen, and I'm sure you two would like to catch up. Let me know if you need more tea," he says. Then without further ado, he turns and disappears into the kitchen.
Gale's gaze stays focused on the kitchen door for a few seconds before coming back to meet mine. I offer him a meek smile and finally his shoulders release some of their tension. "I should have waited for you to call," he confesses.
"It's a little late to worry about that, is it not?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. He doesn't return my attempt at lightening the mood.
"I guess I was anxious to see you, little afraid you'd changed your mind since I saw you in in Twelve," he confesses quietly.
My heart aches a little at the state of our friendship. This would have never been a question in his mind before the war. I reach across the table and take his hand. "I didn't change my mind," I assure him.
He seems to consider my answer before nodding his head in acceptance. "So, no training center, you must be happy about that," mutters looking around the room.
"You have no idea," I sigh, taking up my cup for another sip of tea.
An awkward silence falls between us as we both pick at our food.
"So…" I venture, "How's your mom…and the kids?" I ask.
Gale glances up at me, then back down at the roll on his plate before speaking. "Mama's good. She's got a job as a clerk in a general store. Rory's in upper-grade classes and hates it. Keeps tell me that he would be done with school if he were in twelve, but mom still makes him go. He really hates Two. I actually see him moving back to Twelve when he's old enough. Vick a totally different story, he loves school. He seems to always have his head in a book. He says he wants to teach History." He says finally look up at me a proud smile on his face. "Posey, well she's shot up to tall she's nearly to ma's chest. You know I don't know if you would recognize her if you passed her on the street! And she is as smart as a whip too. She's given ma a but is run for her money. Always pushing the limits," he says, his voice full of affection for his little sister.
"Vick a teacher…wow!" I marvel, "He wouldn't have had the opportunity in the past," I say in awe.
He shakes his head in agreement. "Would have been a miner like the rest of us," he agrees.
"Makes some of what happened worth it then," I sigh.
"Fighting oppression for the sake of our rights as humans made it worth it," he counters.
I feel myself bristle but push it down. Our history has proven to me that Gale and I have different ideologies bout war, there is no reason to start a fight about it. Swallowing tightly, I give him a small nod.
He must see my discomfort because he looks away and quickly changes the subject. "Mama and the kids are coming for the memorial unveiling this coming week. You'll have to join us for dinner so you can catch up with them," he suggests.
My eyes go to the ceiling trying to recall the pieces of schedule I actually retained, but I draw a blank. I hold a finger up to Gale and call out to Peeta. A few seconds later he appears, a dish towel in hand. "Did Effie say anything about a memorial unveiling next week?" I ask.
"Wow, you really weren't listening were you," he teases, tossing the cloth over his shoulder.
I roll my eyes at him and gesture with my hand for him to continue. He snickers under his breath but proceeds. "Yeah, she mentioned it. It's next Friday and that there is a dinner to follow."
"When is your family arriving?" I ask Gale.
"Friday in the morning and they're here through Sunday," he returns stiffly.
Since I truly have no idea what the next week holds beyond tonight's reception, I look guiltily back up at Peeta for guidance.
He rolls his eyes theatrically at me. "Saturday there is a work session scheduled for all delegates, but that's done by 3 pm and we have Sunday's off…remember? Perhaps I should write it all down for you," he offers with mock sincerity.
"Why ever would I need that when I have you?" I ask with saccharin sweetness, batting my eyelashes at him.
Peeta snorts and tosses his head back in a hardy laugh. My laugh quickly joins his and I revel in the peace I feel. This is the Peeta that Snow tried to strip away from the world...from me. Moments like these are growing in frequency, but are still much too sporadic for my liking, so I make it a point to cherish them when they happen.
Gale scoffs and the spell is broken. Peeta and I fall silent. My eyes snap over to the offender and find him glaring back at me. I pin him with a hard stare to which he rolls his eyes in annoyance. My anger flashes so hotly I feel my cheeks go flush. "Peeta, can you give Gale and me a moment alone please?" I ask, my icy stare not leaving Gales.
He flinches.
"Uh…sure," Peeta says hesitantly then silently slips back into the kitchen.
Putting my hands on the table I slowly push my chair back and stand. "Let's gets some air," I demand. Then without so much as a glance to see if he is following, I head for the patio exit in the hallway. The cool morning air greets me but does little to help to cool the irritation burning my face. When I hear his boots on the concrete behind me I spin around and shove a finger in his chest. "I thought we had an agreement," I growl.
Gale doesn't let my fury intimidate him, he simply crosses his arms and plants himself solidly in front of me. "Yes we did, and I'm keeping it. I didn't say anything to him. I even ate his damn rolls," he grinds out.
My irritation quickly turns to anger. My fists ball up and I know I need to distance myself from him. Turning on my heels, I march over to the edge of the pool. Looking down in the aqua blue depths and try to calm my fury.
After it's clear that I'm not coming back, Gale gives up his stand-off on the patio and comes over to lean against the patio railing just past the end of the pool. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I turn in his direction. "So that's how it's going to be, you keeping to the letter of the law but not the spirit of it?" I demand. He stares at me a second, then lets his eyes drop. "Because if your plan is to groan and snort over every little interaction I have with him, then maybe this wasn't a good idea," I spit.
"No…please don't Katniss. Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he pleads, suddenly repentant.
I look up at him and shake my head, "No you're not!" I toss back. "You're only sorry because I'm calling you on your crap. You clearly don't regret your actions," I shout. My hands begin shaking in anger, so I clinch them into balls and I try to tame my emotions. "Look, I already told you back in Twelve that I'm not going to mediate or be stuck in the middle whatever pissing contest you image you have with him." I manage to say with less wrath.
Shoving his hands in his hair, he growls out in frustration and stomps towards me until his well within my personal space. My instinct is to retreat, but I stand my ground, tilting my head back to look up at him. "What do you expect from me? Hu?" he demands. "You want me to be happy that you've made a life with him? Happy that he gets to make you laugh and knows how you like your tea?" He asks his voice turbulent. "Why should I be glad that he's in your life and I'm out?"
I open my mouth to speak but I'm so shocked by his outburst that the words get stuck in my throat. Haymitch's voice rings in ears, "I got to know him well enough in 13 and he was pretty set on the idea of you and him together." I shake the thought way but suddenly Gale's closeness is suffocating. I go to take a step back, but he catches me by my bicep. "That next step would be a doozy," he says, nodding his head behind me.
I glance back to find the pool at my heels. "Thanks," I mutter. Extracting my arm from his grasp, I navigate way from him, and the pool, and go over to the railing he just abandoned. I look out over the city and try to find the right thing to say. After long moment he joins me, but this time gives me a few feet of personal space.
"Katniss, I...I...should not have said that..." he stammers, running a nervous hand along the back of his neck.
I glare at him. The fact he believes he has a right to have any feelings at all about my life choices irritates me. I don't owe him an explanation, nor should I be made to feel bad because he feels left out. I bit back the curse words on the tip of my tongue, and choose to focus on the issue at hand. "You're right, I have been putting my life back together and Peeta is part of it, and that's probably not going to change," I state. He frowns but remains quiet. "But as for you being "out of my life", isn't that what we agreed to work on?" I ask pointedly.
His eyes narrow at my clipped tone. "So, you're with him now then?" he says flatly.
I let out a low groan of frustration and look back out at the city. "Gale you don't get to come back into my life in the same place you left off. I've had a lot of time to think about this and I now realize that didn't owe you an explanation in the past, and I sure as hell don't owe you one now!" I say, my voice escalating.
Gale slaps the rail, causing it to ring. "Damn it, Katniss," he growls.
The clang causes me to jump a little. He curses at himself under his breath, but I refuse to look over at him. This isn't how I wanted things to go. I really do want to mend the hurt between us, to forgive, and maybe find a place in my life for his friendship again but now I'm second guessing my judgment. "Maybe you should go," I say in the calmest voice I can muster.
The silence between us a palpable. After a long stretch of it, I hear him take a deep breath and clear his throat. When he speaks his voice is much calmer. "You're right," he breaths out. "You're absolutely right. I don't owe me anything. I should have come here today with the best intentions and reasonable expectations."
I hazard a gaze over him. Locking nervous eyes with mine, he licks his lips and continues. "If you give me another chance, I'll work a lot harder to keep my insecurities in check," he offers hopefully.
Looking up into the bright blue morning sky I let his plead resonate and consider my options, but I become distracted when I hear a patio door behind us slide open.
I turn to find Peeta standing in the door, a giddy expression on his face. "Hey Katniss, sorry to disturb you, but you're not going to believe who just showed up for you," he says.
My sour mood evaporates at the site of his goofy grin. "Who is it?" I ask my interest peaked.
Peeta shakes his head. "I think they'll hurt me if I ruin the surprise," he laughs, looking back over his shoulder briefly.
I glance over a Gale, then back a Peeta. "Just give me a minute, I'll be right in," I say, knowing I have to deal with the situation at hand, my curiosity be damned. Peeta nods and closes the door, leaving us to the silence of the patio once again.
Straightening my back and squaring my shoulders I turn to face Gale and find a mask of concern. "Gale, I've been clear, I will not discuss my relationship with Peeta with you and I will not play mediator, either. And just to be clear, you should know that I've had a similar conversation with Peeta and he has agreed to the same expectations. I just need to know if you're willing to try to abide by them going forward," I ask evenly. "And I mean really try. That includes no groaning, grunting or huffing under your breath," I clarify.
His face lightens. "I will try harder," he promises.
I nod and fervently hope he means it because another conversation like this is not likely to end favorably for him. "Then, yes, I'd like to have dinner with your family when they are here. Since I'm not super clear on my schedule, as I'm sure you surmised, you'll have to give me a day to get it sorted out. I'll try, however, to have a couple of options ready when I see you at the reception tonight," I offer.
"That works," he breathes out in relief. We stand awkwardly for a moment before I make a move towards the door and my awaiting guests. "Are you free for lunch today?" he suddenly asks in a rush.
I pause and look over at him. "You came here this morning to ask me that didn't you?" I ask knowingly.
He smirks and shrugs, "Just excited to see you," he offers sweetly.
I have an urge to hug him, but I refrain. Considering all that's taken place this morning, I think it would send mixed messages. "I'm looking forward to hearing more about your life too," I admit. "But..." I trail off, glancing at the door.
"But, you can't do lunch," he says trying hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
I nod. "I've already agreed to something over lunch today," I say, intentionally keeping Peeta's name from the statement. "And it sounds like I have more unexpected visitors," I grin, gesturing towards the door.
"The next few days will be like this for you?" he asks.
"Probably," I laugh thinking of Effie's long list that I managed to block out during breakfast. "But, I know I have Sunday's off, so why don't we plan lunch for Sunday," I suggest.
"It's a dat...plan," he says correcting his wording as he goes.
This makes me laugh, which I find strange since only a few minutes ago I was considering having Haymitch bodily remove him from the premises. "Well, I need to go in," I say glancing towards the door.
"Oh, yeah, of course," he says. Moving quickly ahead of me, he intercepts me at the door and pulls it open for me. I offer him a grateful smile and step out of the sunlight into the hall.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As soon as I'm through the door, I'm immediately encased in two sets of familiar arms. My face splits into a large smile. "Flavius?! Octavia!?" I cry, completely stunned. They release me after a moment, but each keeps a hand on my arm.
"Surprise!" Flavius yells.
I chuckle and hug him tightly once more. "Surprise indeed," I say, tears forming in my eyes. Pulling away, I take a turn at hugging Octavia. "What are you doing here?" I ask, taking the moment to look them over. Flavius is nearly unchanged from my memories of him before the war. The biggest difference is his hair. Gone are the corkscrew curls, in their place a much more coiffed and subtle flip. Octavia, on the other hand, has not returned to her pre-war look. No longer is her died skin green nor are her nails three inches long. She has not returned to wigs of gaudy lights and colors, instead, her shoulder length hair falls in pretty waves around her face, which is made up but not nearly as dramatically as I remember. She looks fresh, pretty and young.
Flavius laughs loudly, "My dear, we are here to do what we do best of course," he says fluffing the orange bouffant hairdo.
"But I thought there wasn't money for prep teams," I say, recalling what Effie told us about the stylist issue for other delegations.
"Oh, there isn't dear, we volunteered," Octavia says patting my arm sweetly. My eyes go wide. My prep team, my self-involved pets...volunteered? For no money?
Octavia scoffs at my shocked look. "There is no way we are going to let you, or Peeta, go out without proper grooming," she admonishes.
"In short, we're not going to let your split in's and chewed nails ruin our reputations," Flavius teases, plucking a long strain of unruly hair and holding up to me as evidence. I literarily snort out in laughter at this and pull him back into a crushing hug. He pats my back affectionately. "We're your team, we wouldn't leave you high and dry," he says softly into my ear.
A tear escapes my lashes and falls unhindered down my face and onto his shoulder. Sniffing, I pull away. "I'm glad you're here, I was wondering how I was going to manage on my own. Not much to dress up for in Twelve," I admit. As the surprise begins to wane, I realize the group is one short. "Where is Venia?" I ask, swatting at a stray tear.
"You haven't heard?" Octavia asks. I shake my head. "She got a job at a resort in four last year and ended up falling in love with one of the locals. She got married two months ago!" she beams.
"My goodness!" I exclaim.
"Okay, okay, enough, we can fill you in as we get you back to beauty base zero," Flavius says, taking me by my arm. "Goodness knows, we're going to need plenty of time," he says conspiratorially to Octavia.
"Katniss," Gale calls from behind me. With my surprise visitors, I nearly forgot he was still here. I turn to face him. "I'm gonna go," he says his eyes drifting to Flavius and Octavia.
"Alright, I'll walk you out," I say. Looking to Peeta I ask, "Can you show Octavia and Flavius where my room is so they can set up?" He nods and sets off for my room, my team in tow. Turning to Gale, I start for the front door.
"Your prep team...I bet you're thrilled," Gale says sarcastically.
"I am actually really happy they're here," I return nonchalantly.
He snorts and rolls his eyes.
"You never have understood them," I sigh. "Regardless, you need to be nice to them," I warn, stopping at the front door.
"Yes, I know," he mumbles.
I consider him for a moment, then give him a nod. Turning the knob, I pull open the door.
"I'll see you tonight," he says.
"Tonight," I smile.
And with that, he heads out the door and down the hall.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Cocooned in warmth, my body floating free, I take in a deep breath, appreciating the soft lavender scent filling the bathroom. Baths were not a luxury I grew up enjoying. They were lukewarm at best and purely functional, certainly not something a Seam resident would intentionally prolong. An image of the small corrugated steel tub Prim and I used to wash in comes to mind and I shiver involuntarily. Taking a deep breath, I submerge my head under water letting the warm bath water completely envelop me. I like the way the world around me is muted when I'm on this side of the water's surface, but too soon, I hear the bathroom door open and feel a hand on my knee.
Pushing my way to daylight, I take a cleansing breath when my face greets the cooler air of the bathroom. A soft towel brushes the end of my nose and I reach and take it, dabbing my eyes.
"You look like you're enjoying yourself," Octavia says.
I finish drying my eyes and hand her the towel. "My tub at home isn't this big, I can't sink completely down into like this," I smile at her.
"In that case, I feel even worse cutting your time short, but your lunch has put us behind the schedule Effie gave us," she grins, holding a robe up for me to step into.
Stepping out of the tub, I slide my arms into the soft terrycloth and tie a quick knot into the belt before turning to her. "I'm grateful to you and Flavius for your willingness to work with me on that. I really would have hated missing it," I tell her as starts blotting my hair with a towel.
"Yes, well you truly did need a deep conditioning treatment so it worked out splendidly to let it set while you took your lunch meeting."
We are quiet for a second as she works the towel in my hair. "Your hair has grown so long," she sighs sweetly.
I glance at our reflection in the mirror as she works her way down the length of my locks. My hair is the longest it's ever been, extending well past the middle of my back. "Haircuts haven't been my first priority the last couple of years," I say quietly.
Octavia catches my eyes in the mirror, they are kind and gentle. "Yes, I can imagine," she returns compassionately. "Well, I'm here now to rectify the situation. What do you think we should with it, hu?" She asks, raking her fingers through the strains. I shrug, having no real opinion on the subject.
Octavia tilts her head to the side in contemplation, before moving for a brush on the counter. "Well, Peeta suggested we don't cut it too short," she says with a mischievous smile.
My eyes widen and my cheeks flush. I'm shocked that Peeta has considered my hair at all, let alone went to the extent of speaking to the team about it. "I'm sure he was just...um..." I stammer.
She laughs and pats my shoulder. "He didn't track us down or anything, it was a passing conversation when we were cutting his hair this afternoon," she confesses.
Well that makes more sense, I think, but somewhere deep down I feel disappointment and not relief working its way around in my guts. I quickly look away from Octavia, attempting to hide the thoughts as they pass over my face. "Oh, I see," I manage to say neutrally.
Placing hands on my shoulders, Octavia directs me out the door of the bathroom and into the chair in front of the vanity in my room. Once seated, she brings her hands around to gently brush my hair from where it hangs over my shoulders to lay it against my back. Then, leaning over my shoulder, she once again locks eyes with me in the mirror. "He said he thought it looks nice longer," she says in a soft voice only meant for me.
Surprised, I can't help but to pull back and look directly at her face. She looks pleased with herself at her confession and perhaps...at my reaction? "Octavia...you know that Peeta and I aren't...that the whole thing was..." I stammer, my mind spinning for the right words.
She pats my arm. "Oh yes dear, we were filled in on the...a..." she gropes for the right word for a second before continuing, "Specifics of your connection when we were in Thirteen," she explains but continues to smile down at me with a look I can't quite name. "I just thought you'd like to know his thoughts," she finishes with a wink.
I'm taken completely off guard by her comment, so I just sit mutely and watch as she sets out her scissors and combs on the vanity. I search desperately for the words I need to convince her that all that was told to her in Thirteen is true. The Peeta Mellark who professed his love for me at the 74th games is gone most days, stolen away by a Capitol doctor with a syringe full of tracker jacker venom and that I, Katniss Everdeen, only ever allowed myself to playact at being the object of Peeta's affections. But even if I can't convince her of these truths, then I need to be sure she will keep her thoughts about us to herself for the sake of the star-crossed lover's ban. "Octavia, you and Flavius….uh…any ideas you may have about that, could you please keep them out of the gossip mill," I finally manage to get out.
A bright smile spreads across her youthful face. "I only meant my comments to be girl talk," she says with a wink, "As for gossip, Effie provided us with a disclosure to sign," she tells me as she runs a comb through my hair. "Not that it was necessary really. Cinna trained us well. 'Nothing seen or heard when dealing with a client leaves the room'," she quotes proudly.
I sigh in relief and offer her a sad smile at the mention of my dearly departed friend and stylist. "Cinna, he was better to me than I deserved," I say, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.
Handing me a tissue from the vanity, she lays a comforting hand on one of my shoulders. "Katniss he loved you dearly and wanted so much to be able to protect you," she says, her eyes unfocused as she recalls the past.
I place a hand atop hers and give it a squeeze, which seems pulling her back to the present. Straightening her back, she places a brilliant smile back on her face. "Let's make him proud, shall we?" she asks cheerfully, grabbing the scissors. "How about we just trim this pretty mane of yours and give you some soft layers?" she asks.
I can hardly believe this is the same woman who used to dye herself green and could talk at nauseam about parties and her pet mice. I look up into her kind eyes, put on my most confident smile, and pay her the deepest respect I can think of by saying, "Do whatever you think is best. I trust your judgment."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Two hours of cutting, plucking, shaping, exfoliating, and mud masks and I am stripped clean of my district self. While this treatment was nothing compared to the intense preparations I endured for the games and victory tour, I figure I'm still probably down a half a pound after all the hair that has been removed from me today. I look at myself in the mirror and can't help but admire the work Octavia and Flavius have done. This look is understated by the standards of the Capitol, for which I'm grateful. Octavia has styled my hair into loose glossy curls that cascade down my back. Over my right ear, she has swept up a bit of hair and pinned it back with gold comb topped delicate pink enameled flowers. The make-up that Flavious has applied is subtle but highlights my gray eyes. Reaching up I run my fingers gingerly across my face and marvel at how soft my skin feels. "You know, while I still could do without all the plucking, but I really do like how my skin feels," I admit to Flavius who is studiously packing his tools of trade into a black leather satchel.
"I've left you the face wash and lotion on the bathroom counter. While you're here, be a dear and use them in the morning and before bed. I'll come and give you a mask once a week."
"Twice a day?" I scoff.
Flavius tosses a saucy look at me over his shoulder. "My sweet girl, good skin care is all about daily maintenance. Honestly, you really should have a routine because as my dearly departed grandmother used to say, "'Time keeps marching on and eventually it does so across your face'," he lectures me in a high falsetto that I assume it meant to emulate his grandmother, but point is lost on me and I can't help but laugh.
Flavius gives me a look of mock derision and walks to the door. Pulling it open, he calls down the hall to Tova who has been waiting patiently for him to finish up my make-up to bring in my dress.
The woman who breezes into the room is already dressed for the evening. Clad in a simple floor-length chiffon dress that is the same purple shade as her pinned up hair, she is so effortlessly beautiful that next to her, even with the amazing work my prep team has done, I feel inadequate.
Looping the hanger of the garment bag in her arms on the hook on the back of my bathroom door, she turns and takes me in. "You look wonderful," she professes.
I nervously pull on the end of one of my curls. "All Flavius and Octavia's doing," I say gesturing to Flavius who smiles kindly at me before escaping into the hall and pulling the door closed.
"You shouldn't sell yourself short Katniss," she advises as she slips the zipper down the garment bag. "Oh, by the way, your cousin is here. He's been assigned to escort our group to the event," she says brightly.
"He's not my cousin," I correct automatically.
She glances over at me, one of her perfect purple eyebrows arched slightly.
"That just something the Capitol made up. Couldn't have one-half of the star-crossed lovers having a handsome male friend," I explain.
She seems to take a moment to digest the info, then turns back to the bag. "Well he is handsome," she says with a smile in her voice. With one final snap, the garment bag gives way to reveal the dress within. With a flourish, she gives the skirt a shake and takes a step back to gauge my reaction.
My eyes lock on the pale pink dress and my breath catches in my throat. It is the dress Cinna made for the victory tour banquet in District 11, but it has been modified. When Effie requested us to send our clothing and measurements to her, she had asked if there were any specific things they needed to consider, so I had requested that I be given a way to cover my arms and back. Although my skin is healed, it will probably forever show where the fire licked at me. I had assumed that what I would be presented with was clothing adjusted to fit my current body and maybe a shawl or jacket for my arms, not a remake of my only surviving link to my friend Cinna.
I take a tentative step closer to dress to survey the changes. As I look closer I can see that the basic structure of the dress is the same, only the top of the dress has been overlaid with a delicate lace bodice in exact color as the dress. The light fabric drapes down to end at the natural waistline which is encircled with a sash of silver ribbon about three inches wide. Reaching a hand out, I run my fingers over the soft lace of notice a slight shimmer from the tiny silver threads woven into the pattern of the lace which, of course, match the sash. With a high boat neck and three quarter sleeves, this addition will cover most all of my damage skin.
"You...don't like it?" Tova asks worriedly.
I shake my head and pull my gaze from the dress to the dressmaker. "Oh no, that isn't it at all. The dress is beautiful and I really do like the lace...I just wasn't expecting the dress to be changed this much," I try to explain.
"I didn't want to burden you with a shawl because the extra fabric can be a bit awkward at events such as these where there will be eating, hand shaking, and dancing. I figured this way you can keep your hands free to enjoy the evening," she quickly explains.
"Practical and beautiful," I mummer, looking back at the dress. "I think the original maker would approve of that tactic," I admit.
"Cinna," Tova breaths out, her voice full of reverence. "I spent a lot of time looking at his drawings and clothes before making adjustments. I'm sure my work would pale in comparison to the genius he could have created," she says softly.
"It's lovely," I reaffirm, taking the hanger off the hook.
"Do you need help getting dressed?"
The very thought of this pretty girl helping me into the dress and seeing all my rippled sink makes my stomach hurt. "No, I think I can handle it," I dismiss.
"Very well. You'll find the shoes in a box in the bottom of the garment bag, and if you change your mind, I'll just be in the living room."
Grabbing the shoes, I thank her again for the dress and disappear into the bathroom. Tossing my bathrobe over the side of the tub and the shoe box on the bathroom counter, I quickly slip into the dress on and pull the zipper under my arm up. Padding over to the counter, I slide the lid of the shoe box off. Tucked between layers of light blue tissue paper I find a pair of sparkly heels. As I strap them to my feet, I make a mental note to thank Tova for the relatively short heel height. It's been a long time since I've had to prance around in these torture devices, the shorter heels should make it a bit easier for me to navigate the evening on. Once the last shoe is secured, I stand up and run my hands over the soft satin of my dress then turn towards the full-length mirror in the corner.
Starting at the top of my head, I work my way down, checking to ensure that I haven't disturbed the hair or make up my prep team spent so much time perfecting. Everything seems in place, but still, I stand staring at my reflection. I suddenly feel rooted to the floor as the realization of what comes next washes over me. I feel my skin go clammy and my hands begin to shake. Once I leave this room we will be on our way to a Capitol party. Logically, I know that this party will be different than those I attended as a Victor but I can't seem to convince my racing heart of it. Today has been a flurry of activity. From a fight with Gale this morning, to the surprise appearance of my prep team, to lunch with alliance fighters, Honey and Ardor whom Peeta befriend on his adventure last night, then to an afternoon of party prep, I haven't had time to really think about the actual event this evening.
Closing my eyes, I focus on a breathing technique Dr. Aurelius taught me during one of our more productive sessions. Deep breath in and let it out slow. Deep breath in and let it out slow. I continue on in this fashion for another few breaths when Peeta's face surfaces in my thoughts. How is he managing this stress? Has it triggered an episode? I worry. I suddenly feel the urge to see him. I want to check on him, and in all honesty, I'd just like to be in his reassuring presence at the moment. Spinning on my heels, I march out the room, down the hall and towards the living room filled with lively chatter.
I stop in the entryway to the living room and sweep my eyes over my group of well-dressed friends. No Peeta. I'm about to turn and head back down the hall towards his room but Gale, decked out in his dress uniform, spots me and saunters over.
"You know I've never seen you dressed up like this before," he says in way of greeting.
My brow wrinkles, "I was paraded around on TV for over a year in stuff like this," I counter, my eyes glance down the hall towards Peeta's door.
"Not the same thing as seeing it in person," he says. Dipping his head, he seeks my eyes out. "You clean up nice Catnip," he smiles.
I bite my lip self-consciously. "Thanks," I mutter.
"Stop that right now, you'll ruin that lip I spent so much time on," Flavius calls from across the room. I immediately relinquish my tug and smile sheepishly at him.
"Katniss, you look lovely," Effie bubbles, floating over to me.
Dressed in a stunning midnight blue dress, her hair in soft waves, she is unrecognizable compared to the escort I knew. "You look lovely as well," I offer. This makes her smile broadly.
"You don't need to make her head any bigger than it already is you know," Haymitch snorts as he approaches our group. To my surprise, in spite of his customary tumbler of liquor, he seems mostly sober. Running his eyes over me, he smirks. "Well, well, looks like your prep team still has the ability to wash the district off ya," he jokes. I smirk at the comment, having thought the very thing myself only a couple of hours ago.
Effie scoffs and swats him gently in the stomach, "Haymitch!" she scolds.
"What? It's true," he tosses back. Effie glares at him.
I feel Gale bristle next to me. There is no way he can understand Haymitch and I's relationship, hell most days I don't understand it. What I do know is that this is about to turn into a yelling match. I clear my throat, "Effie, when does the event start?" I ask, knowing this will turn the conversation.
Having noticed Gale's change in posture, Effie looks relieved at the change of subject. "Excellent, question," she says, glance down at a silver watch on her wrist. "It starts sooner than I'd like," she breathes out. Looking up at Gale she turns on her best sponsor smile, "Captain, perhaps we need to contact the driver, and get organized to leave," she suggests.
Gale, who's eyes are still glued to Haymitch, snap over to Effie. "Yes, of course, Ms. Trinket," he responses formally.
Effie lowers her head in a gracious nod, then looks at me. "Peeta is still MIA, please go down and hurry him alone," she requests.
Finally. "Sure thing Effie," I say. Without further encouragement, I head down the hall and knock on the door. When I hear a muffled "Come in," I twist the knob and step into the room. Standing at the foot of the bed, his back to me, he appears to be struggling with the cuff of his crisp white shirt. "Effie says it's time to go," I announce.
"I thought you were Flav..." he beings but stops mid-sentence when he turns and spots me. His eyes flutter over me and back to up to my face. "Wow! You look beautiful," he says in a thick voice.
I feel my cheeks turn crimson under his gaze, but a small smile forces its way onto my lips in spite of myself. "You look quite dapper as well," I return. His lips lift into a crooked smile. "Would look better if I could get this damn cuff-link in," he says, holding it out to me.
I roll my eyes in mock exasperation but take the jewelry from his fingers. He dutifully holds his arm up to me. Stepping in closer, I take his cuff in hand and begin working the stud into the hole under my thumb. Standing this close to him, I can make out the smell of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of cinnamon that always seems to cling to him after he's made cinnamon rolls. It's familiar, comforting...distracting. I drop the cufflink. I look down but it's disappeared. "Shit," I mutter.
"Katniss Everdeen, language," Peeta lectures, in what was clearly meant to be an impression of Effie. I snort but then turn my attention back to the floor. I'm in motion to squat down so I can look more efficiently for the missing jewelry when Peeta clucks his tongue at me. "Oh no you don't," he chides "Our entire team will have my head if you wreck that dress." Before I can object, he's squatting down in front of me, running his hands over the carpet. After a few seconds of searching, I hear a frustrated grunt. "It didn't just disappear," he mutters, his hand searching under the edge of the bed.
In an attempt to not be completely useless, I start searching the floor opposite of where he's looking but startle when I feel callused fingers slip over the top of my foot. My gaze snaps down at the culprit and find him looking pleased with himself. "Nice shoes," he winks. I feel a faint redness crosses my cheeks. "And look what I found," he adds, pulling the cuff link from under the hem of my gown. I take it from him and turn my full attention to the object hoping the distraction will cover my blush. Using the bed to help hoisted himself up from the floor, he steps back into my personal space and holds out the offending sleeve. "We better hurry or Effie might just explode," he warns, his voice low and warm sounding.
"That would be messy," I mummer under my breath as I work the pin of the cuff-link through the hole.
Peeta chuckles then sighs thoughtfully. "Can you believe we're here again Katniss?" he wonders aloud.
I glance up at him and for the first time notice the hair cut our prep team gave him. "It didn't really hit me until I saw myself in the mirror in this get-up," I admit as I present the cuff complete with cuff-link secured in place.
He nods his gratitude but scrutinizes my face. "You don't look too freaked out," he concludes.
I shrug uncommittedly. "I'm...nervous, I guess. Worried about you. Any episodes?" I inquire.
His cuff now securely closed, he reaches for his coat. "I felt a little off earlier, but between the chatter of the Octavia and Flavius and a nice long shower, it seems to have faded. I now only have your typical, run-of-the-mill, social anxiety thing goin' on," he jokes, sliding the coat on.
"You're sure?" I ask, concerned in spite of his attempt to brush the subject off.
He stares at me for a moment, then nods sincerely. "I'm sure. Plus I'll have you there, so it will be just like old times," he grins.
"I'm the central figure in your highjacking, so that isn't super reassuring," I point out.
He shrugs dismissively and tugs at the knot of his silver-gray tie. "It's more reassuring than you realize," he counters off-handedly.
I want to argue with him but it's not really the time for that kind of discussion. Swatting his hand away from his tie and set myself to straighten it. "I am looking forward to the food," I say, hoping to redirect the conversation.
He chuckles softly, "Just promise me that you won't make me eat all of your leftovers this time," he teases.
At our last stop on the victory tour, the Capitol celebration, and the day I realized I couldn't appease Snow, I had handed plate after plate of food that I wanted to try but was fearful of wasting, to him. He had dutifully finished every bite I left behind. Until now I never gave much thought to the fact the perhaps he was full.
I tug harder on the knot of his tie and try my best to look offended by the comment, but it's hard when it's all I can do to keep a silly grin from breaking through.
Peeta is feigning choking when there is a knock at the door. I glance over my shoulder and find Tova standing there, an uncomfortable expression on her face. In spite of the innocent nature of our current situation, I can't help but feel as though I've been caught doing something inappropriate. I immediately drop my hands from Peeta's necktie and take a step back.
Tova shifts awkwardly, "Are you two ready to go?" she inquires.
Peeta doesn't remove his gaze from me when he responds, "We are just finishing up."
"The car is waiting," she offers, stepping back and gesturing down the hall.
Peeta nods and buttons his jacket. "You ready to do this?" he asks me.
My first instinct is to nibble on my lip, but I remember my make-up and choose to wring my hands instead. I glance over at the door and Tova, who is waiting expectantly, then back at him, "Does it matter if I say no," I ask.
"Yeah, it does. You can say no to this, to...any of it, at any time," he says leveling his gaze at me.
I considering the option for only a second because I already know I will go. I've chosen to come here, bring everyone I care about with me. And the truth of the matter is that this is going to be easy compared to what will be expected of me in the upcoming weeks. So I straighten my back and lay a finger along the side of my mouth in faux contemplation, "I was looking forward to the food..." draw out.
He laughs and gestures towards the door, "I'm smart enough to know not to get between you and food, so let's go."