Wildfire

Disclaimer: I don't own the hUnger Games. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Part One: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three:

When Cinna was done with her, Katniss glanced in the mirror, and struggled to associate herself with the person staring back. He'd given her a smokey eye, the eyeliner and mascara thickly layered. The blush on her cheekbones was tinted gold, her hair in a strict, high ponytail, and somehow, in spite of - or because of - her black unitard, cape, knee-high boots, and the ornate headpiece on her head, she looked ethereal; like a warrior from another world.

"Come," Cinna beckoned, "The others are gathering. It's almost time."

Katniss acquiesced, followed her stylist through a series of maze-like corridors, and found herself in a large, uncomfortably warm hall full of strings, horses, and chariots.

Katniss herself found her way to the twelfth chariot, and pleasantly, Peeta was already there. He wore the same body suit as Katniss, a skin-tight unitard that defined his broad shoulders, bulky arms, and well-toned chest.

It was glorious.

"You look positively lethal," Peeta greeted her, and Katniss shrugged.

"If we're not burning alive, the fire should be interesting."

Peeta winced at the prospect. "What do you think about that? I thought Haymitch was supposed to - you know - veto these kinds of things."

"He was probably asked to stay away from open flames," Katniss deadpanned. In response, Peeta laughed, loud and buoyant, and the sound brought a grin to Katniss' face.

Overhead, a disembodied voice instructed them to board their chariots. Katniss did so, Peeta followed suit, and behind them, Cinna and Portia adjusted their capes to their aesthetic ideal.

"I'll rip yours off if you rip off mine?" Peeta offered.

"Absolutely."

In front of them, the massive doors opened, and beyond, the citizens of Panem's capital went crazy. The volume was astounding, the colour was too, and as the District 1 chariots began to creep forward, the crowds only grew more uproarious.

District 1, District 2, and on and on. As District 8 rolled out of the garage, Cinna and Portia set their capes aflame, and Katniss marvelled at the boy beside her.

He was extraordinary.

"Wow," Peeta murmured. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, and Katniss looked away, unexplainably shy. Instead, she glanced at Cinna, offered him a thumbs up, and frowned when she couldn't hear him speak. He gestured instead, and Katniss acquiesced without hesitation. She entwined her hand in Peeta's, their fingers linked, and as their chariot rolled ever onward, Katniss felt as though she could conquer the world.

They played the crowds as though they had been their entire lives. Kisses were blown, waves were given, and smiles were abundant. On fire, as the Capital citizens went berserk, they stole the show.

When it was done, and the pair were back in the garage, Portia set to work dousing their costumes. Meanwhile, Effie commended their performance, Haymitch offered his own gruff compliment, and Cinna watched on, smile serene.

"Thank you, Cinna, Portia," Katniss said, "Without you two, we wouldn't have been as memorable as we were tonight."

Peeta nodded his agreement. "It was a fantastic idea, and I think I speak for both of us when I say we're sorry we doubted you."

The elevator dinged to a stop, the company piled out, and Effie guided them through a tour of their suite. Her room was probably bigger than her entire house in the seam, the adjoining bathroom with more fixings than Katniss could fathom. It was luxurious and beautiful and wondrous, and Katniss hated every inch of it.

There were people starving - dying - in District 12, and meanwhile, every single ignorant, oblivious Capital citizen lived in the lap of luxury.

Did they know? Did they even give a damn?

With the resentment festering inside her, Katniss undressed, haphazardly threw her costume on her bed, and stalked into the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her, wrestled with the shower functions until the water was warm, and proceeded to cry, silent, agonising sobs that seemed to last forever.

Eventually, though, she couldn't draw out her shower any longer, and Katniss exited her bathroom, dressed, and returned to the main living area. Everyone else was at the dining table and they each glanced at her when she arrived, but made no comment on her red rimmed eyes and sodden curls.

"You two made quite the impression," Effie trilled, "You're all the commentators could talk about."

"Great," Katniss acknowledged, "I'm sure District 2 loved that."

Before they'd entered the lift in the garage, Katniss had caught the eyes of the brute named Cato. he'd been glaring ferociously at she and Peeta, apparently displeased by the attention lost, and Katniss had briefly wondered if Cinna had just painted a target on her back. Whatever the case, there was no changing it now, and she tried not to dwell on it.

"Bet they did," Haymitch chortled heartily, Katniss settled herself in the last remaining seat, and around them, two servers began to spread out their dinner. Neither of them spoke, and Katniss didn't address them beyond a 'thank you' when they were done.

"What's next, then?" She queried.

Over their three course dinner, Effie explained their schedule for the next five days. Katniss listened attentively, and beside her, Peeta was occupied with his thoughts. He ate mechanically, Katniss did too, and by the time their dessert plates had been cleared away, the girl was sullen and tired, and ready for bed.

"Sweet dreams," Effie said.

"I make no promises," Katniss answered dryly, retreated to the room she'd been assigned, and flopped gracelessly onto the bed awaiting her. It was soft and plush - more so than anything Katniss had ever known - but she fell asleep quickly, and dreamt of nothing. It was peaceful, but in the harsh light of day, the lingering peace was fleeting, and the preparation for the Hunger Games awaited.

She dreaded it.