I wake the next morning to the feeling of someone's fingers brushing my hair away from my forehead. I blink my eyes open and see Peeta's face smiling down at me.
"Hi," he whispers.
"Hi," I mumble sleepily. "What time is it?"
"About 8," he says. "I wanted to let you sleep longer, but Effie is bustling around outside saying we all need to eat breakfast or we're gonna be late for prep." I roll my eyes sleepily, until all the events of last night come rushing back to me.
"Wait, how are you feeling?" I ask, knitting my brows in concern. I feel terrible that this wasn't my first thought. I was stuck in my sleepy world and couldn't put everything together.
"I'm totally fine," Peeta says gently. "Still a little tired from it all, but nothing coffee can't fix. Thank you for being there for me last night, Katniss. I remember bits and pieces, and I just can't thank you enough."
"I love you," I reply through a yawn. He laughs a little.
"I love you too," he says. "You were still completely out when I got up about a half hour ago, so I let you sleep. Were you up late?" There's a knowing look in his eyes at the question. He knows that I wouldn't have let myself fall asleep after he flashed until I was absolutely certain he was doing ok. He's right; it took me hours to fall asleep last night.
"Just a little," I say, not wanting to make him feel guilty. As much I appreciate his thanks for me taking care of him last night, I honestly would rather him not feel the need to thank me at all. This is what we do for each other. He does it for me all the time, and I don't think there are enough words in the world I could use to thank him sufficiently.
As I think about this, a question from last night that I'd forgotten in the haze of sleep occurs to me, but I'm a little wary about asking it.
"Peeta?" I say, voice tentative.
"Yeah?"
"What was...why was the elevator particularly bad for all of you? I mean more than the rest of the building. Or at least it seemed like it. Even Johanna was breaking..." I trail off, hesitant to say too much for fear of upsetting him and triggering another flash. Also, even though he has always said I can ask him anything, I feel bad making him share painful details about his torture unless it's of his own volition. He has to relive it enough in his head, I don't like making him do it anymore than is unavoidable. Looking at his face right now, though, he doesn't look upset or offended at all. He seems perfectly calm and stable, just a hint of sadness behind his eyes.
"To be honest, not that much, especially looking back from after the fact," Peeta says. "I can't speak for Annie, she was brought here later than we were so we weren't with her, but I'd imagine it would have been a pretty similar experience. Johanna and I were knocked out when the Arena went down, obviously, but came to on the hovercraft somewhere between the Arena and the Capitol. She knew before I did that we were in for something bad, because she knew what to expect from 13 had they rescued us. Still, it was pretty easy for me to catch on quickly, what with peacekeepers all around. They didn't really do anything to us on the hovercraft, though. Just kept watch and made sure we knew they were armed. The reason the elevator was bad last night is because it was the first place that we realized just what we were in for, I guess. We landed on the roof and they led us into the elevator, and the ride down to the basement was long enough for things to take a turn. Johanna mouthed off to them in some way. I don't remember exactly what she said, but one of the peacekeepers hit her across the face and tried to pin her against the wall. I knocked him away from her, but then one of the other guards hit me with enough blows to the stomach that I doubled over. They were still trying to avoid my face at that point for TV, I think."
He pauses, taking a deep breath. "Anyway, it's really nothing all that significant in the scheme of things, the two of us getting hit a couple times. So much worse happened, it's almost silly to be upset by that place. It's just...at the time it was sort of the moment that any shred of hope we might have had that this could be ok for us went away. We knew what we were in for after that."
"It's not silly," I say quietly, taking his hand in mine and rubbing my thumb in circles on it. "It's terrifying, and I'm so sorry."
"You don't need to be," he says, planting a kiss on my cheek. "None of it is your fault."
"That doesn't mean I'm not sorry," I say stubborn. He smiles at that.
"I know," he says. "You better get up now, though, unless you want to be forced to give all those apologies to Effie."
I sit up with a groan and stretch my stiff muscles, realizing that I'm still wearing my clothes from the panel last night. I know that Peeta slept in his clothes too, but he's changed into a fresh set of casual clothes now. His hair is wet, so he must have showered while I slept. I force myself out of bed and throw on whatever clothes are at the top of my bag, knowing I'll have to change at prep anyway so it won't matter. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and braid my hair quickly before heading out with Peeta to the dining room in our suite.
"Finally, finally!" Effie chirps, too high pitched for my taste in the morning. "Sit and eat, now. You'll need to be leaving for prep in just 20 minutes." Peeta and I take seats next to each other at the table. Looking around the table I see that everyone else is here already, except for Cressida and Pollux, who I assume will be meeting us at prep. Even Haymitch is conscious, which is truly unusual for him at this hour. He looks deeply unhappy about it, though, and I'm sure it's only at Effie's behest.
"How are you doing, Lover Boy?" Johanna asks. She looks a bit the worse for wear this morning. I can't quite tell if she drank last night and is hungover or if she was just kept awake by demons that need no chemical enhancement. Either option seems entirely probable.
"I'm alright," Peeta says, pouring both him and myself cups of coffee. He stirs milk and sugar into mine automatically, and the ease of the action brings a smile to my face. "How about you?" he asks her.
"Oh, just peachy," she says sarcastically. "Even peachier than Effie's hair, in fact." Effie looks affronted by the comment, but everyone else laughs. Haymitch is included in the laughter, and Effie glares at him in response, causing him to try and fail to stifle his laughter. In turn, that only makes the rest of us laugh more.
Breakfast is nice, all things considered. I'm able to eat a bit more than I did yesterday, which seems to be a relief both to me and to Peeta. I'm deeply nervous about what today has in store, especially the interviews, but at least I won't be spending any time in the spot where Prim died.
"So!" Effie interjects after about ten minutes or so. "Schedules, schedules. You'll all be off to prep in about 10 minutes, where I've been told you're all to be dressed in business casual attire. I'd imagine it should take about an hour or so between all of you. Then it's off to sit in on some government meetings until lunch time, then a break for lunch, then the interviews over the next couple of hours. Unlike last night's panel, these interviews will be either individual or in small groups. I'm told we will be given specifics when we arrive." She looks identifiably irritated at the lack of proper planning, but brushes it off to conclude with her business.
"Then after the interviews you will be prepped in evening attire for the dinner and festivities that should take up the rest of the night!" Effie seems excited, but I groan internally. The amount of publicity today seems almost unbearable. And though I don't even really know what "business casual" means, it seems thoroughly unnecessary to me that we need to be prepped twice.
The rest of the meal passes quickly, and afterwards we head back over to the same government building we were in yesterday, as this is where both the meetings and later the interviews will take place. I once again have to begrudgingly part from Peeta, and follow Johanna and Annie into the room where my prep team is waiting for us.
"Good morning!" Octavia chirps when we come in. "You all did wonderfully yesterday!" Johanna rolls her eyes at the enthusiasm of my prep team, but I do my best to smile and be as friendly as my mood will allow. Sure, they're a lot, but I know after all my time with them that they mean well and are far braver than one would ever guess.
It's for their benefit more than that of Plutarch or anyone else running these stupid events that I make small talk and let my team work on me without complaint. Luckily, prep this morning is pretty similar to last night, and they don't do anything overly complicated. It's even simpler, in fact, because things like my nails are still intact and don't have to be done all over again. That at least is an improvement from the days of the Victory Tour, when they would have to reshape and repaint my nails sometimes twice a day to meet the different standards of each event. Flavius does my hair in a style almost identical to last night's waves, except this time he pulls two pieces away from around my face and braids them back around my face.
"We've pulled some clothes that will be appropriate for your meetings, if you want to pick something out," Venia offers once my hair and makeup is finished. I shrug. I really have no sense of what business attire looks like. For the vast majority of my life, the people I saw going to work wore only mining uniforms. Now in my work with the medicine factory, everyone is extremely casual. I don't know what would count as appropriate for today, and if I'm being honest I don't really care.
"That's ok," I say to my prep team. "You all can just choose what you think is best, I'm sure you know better." They all lighten up at the compliment, and set about picking things for me. I end up in a structured dress made of a material I vaguely remember Cinna telling me was called tweed when he helped me prepare my "talent" after the Games. It feels a little stiff on my body, but could be worse, all things considered. I thank my team, who seem thrilled at my approval, and step aside to wait for Johanna and Annie to be prepped.
Johanna finishes first and comes to join me. They've dressed her in a white dress made of some sort of sweater material, which is fitted to her body everywhere except the sleeves, which billow out until they come in around her wrists.
"I hate wearing this stupid shit," she mumbles.
"You look good in it," I reply, and it's true. She just rolls her eyes. She's in a particularly bad mood this morning, even by her standards, which only confirms my suspicions that she had a rough night last night. I want to ask her about it, but am wary of doing so in any way that will make her feel like I'm pitying her. Pitying Johanna, or at least doing so outwardly and in front of her, is only a recipe for disaster.
"How was last night for you?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual and without the weight of concern. I don't seem to be succeeding, because she glares at me.
"How do you think it was? Of course it was shitty," she says. "But it doesn't matter. I'm just gonna get through it. I mean, what other option is there?" Her voice is a little heated, but I don't feel any anger in response. I know exactly where her head is at. She's struggling with the memories associated with the Training Center, as she has every right to. Like me, Johanna does not like to appear vulnerable or as if she needs anyone. If I have learned anything this past year, though, it's that even those of us who have learned to cope alone still need people, at least if we really want to heal.
"Johanna, I'm here," I say, my voice kind. "Like you said on the train, we both have shit on each other. That's ok. We can be there for each other. I'm here for you. So is Peeta. I hope you know you can...you can rely on us." She gives a small smile at that.
"I know," she says, all anger gone from her voice. "I do rely on you two idiots." The two of us laugh together, and soon after Annie comes over and the three of us head out to find the rest of our group.
When I see Peeta, the urge to get him alone is almost overwhelming, this time not because of pain or heartache but just because he looks good and I want to be with him. He's in a fitted blue suit that accentuates his muscles and brings out the color in his eyes. He gives me a funny little look when he catches me staring at him, and Johanna smirks and rolls her eyes.
"Such a master of subtlety you are," she says sarcastically. I scowl at her and head over to Peeta.
"Hi," I say, slipping my hand in his. He smiles before opening his mouth to speak, but he doesn't get the opportunity because Effie starts rattling off instructions. Apparently we'll be sitting in on a series of meetings between the district Senators, and then a conference in which they present the results of their meetings to Paylor and her staff. It actually seems interesting, and I think if it wasn't for the fact that we are going to be photographed the entire time I actually wouldn't be that unhappy to do it. At the very least I won't be surrounded entirely by unfamiliar faces, as everyone in our group will stay together, and I know the District 12 Senators and Paylor as well.
At the first meeting we're placed at different tables, in which senators from different districts are discussing various issues of importance. Luckily I'm able to stick with Peeta and Haymitch, and the three of us end up at a table with senators from 6, 10, and 11, who are discussing various ways to ensure food is efficiently transported to all districts. I'm far more engaged in the conversation than I would have predicted going into this; I suppose that having grown up without a stable food supply for so much of my life, hearing people work to resolve the problems that plague my memory is rewarding. I'm pleasantly surprised and a little relieved to see that everyone here seems to be putting genuine effort into helping people and improving the quality of life in Panem. Given my anger with Plutarch and others like him involved in publicity, it's a necessary reminder that, over all, the people running our new government do have good intentions.
We rotate through several more conversations and debates. The most interesting by far to me is the discussion between senators from the Capitol, 13, 4, and 12, discussing access to medicine and medical care. The Capitol and 13 for years were the only places in Panem with sophisticated medical technology and well trained doctors, so they have the most expertise to share now. 4 has now joined the Capital and 13 in having the third major hospital center in Panem, and we're going to be developing most of the medicines used in these hospitals at home in 12. It's really interesting to me to see how the various stages connect and combine to help people. In a strange and distant way, it makes me feel closer to my mom; if I helped set up the medicine factory, the work that will be done there will help her do her work in 4. In fact, by extension, I feel like this chain of events helps me feel connected to everyone in Panem. It's nice to feel this connection in a realm of mutual improvement, rather than any of the ways I felt connected before, as a Tribute or a Victor or the Mockingjay.
The last meeting before lunch is the one in which each of the committees presents their findings to Paylor, and the Senate as a whole discusses what projects need support and funding with her input. If there is one positive from this whole trip so far, it is that I am genuinely happy with the way I see Paylor interacting with the Senators and everyone on her staff. She seems focussed and kind, and like she deeply respects those around her and wants to take their opinions into account. It is such a far cry from anything I saw from Snow, or Coin for that matter, that it is almost unrecognizable. I can tell that this is what I want from our leader, and I can at least say with confidence that she is doing a very good job.
Lunch is supposed to be something of a social event, in which there is a big buffet and we're free to chat casually with the Senators, but I just end up back with Peeta, Haymitch, Johanna, and Annie. People seem in good spirits, relatively speaking. Johanna seems to be doing a bit better than earlier, and Annie looks tired but otherwise alright. Peeta has been doing remarkably well, especially considering his flash from last night. He's been attentive and charismatic and asked thoughtful questions to the Senators during the meetings. It occurs to me that he actually might be good at a job like this, but I would never want him to do it, and luckily I don't think he'd want to either. While thinking through different policies to help people and presenting them skillfully in words is certainly a task that Peeta would excel at, the formalities, bureaucracy, and significant amount of time spent in the Capitol is not something either of us would want.
"Are you alright?" Peeta asks me, looking slightly concerned. I think that I had a sort of absent look on my face as I was thinking about him before.
"Oh yeah, sorry, I'm fine," I say, and I mean it. "I was just distracted. But I'm ok, really. This was actually not that bad." Peeta nods.
"I agree," he says. "I actually enjoyed it pretty well. Although I will say it feels weird wearing suits all day again. It's been so long since I've worn formal things like this, it all feels so stiff." I snort at him.
"Oh please, the clothes they've forced you into have always been way easier to tolerate than mine," I say with a laugh. "Just wait, I'm sure whatever I'm wearing tonight for the stupid party thing is ten times more elaborate and uncomfortable than it needs to be." Peeta laughs at this, and he looks so deeply handsome that I'm spurred onwards.
"That being said," I add, dropping my voice lower so only he can hear me. "If that outfit really is that uncomfortable for you, I'd be more than happy to take it off of you." Peeta raises an eyebrow at me and a boyish smile graces his lips.
"Oh really?" he asks, trying to keep his voice casual, but it's obvious he's holding back more laughter. He likes this, I can tell. It's not like me to be forward like this in my teasing, especially in public where I could be overheard.
"Yes really," I say, with a coy expression on my face. In response, he just puts his arms around me and rests them on my waist. I'm about to lean in and kiss him when I register the flashing bulbs and clicking sounds of cameras.
There. Just like that, the moment is broken. It's stupid, really, that the cameras should have an effect on me now when they've been here the whole time. We've been photographed the whole morning. And it's not like our relationship is some sort of secret or anything either, we both publicly talked about it on stage yesterday. But something about it becomes too much when they're trying to photograph us in a private moment together. It's all too similar to the Victory Tour, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. Peeta notices the change in my demeanor.
"Katniss, are you ok?" he asks, his voice just above a whisper. He's trying to keep things as private as possible, which I appreciate. I try to take deep breaths, and give him a shaky nod.
"Y-yeah," I say. "Yeah. The cameras just got to me, is all. It's all too..." I trail off, not sure even exactly what the word is that I want to say.
"Too damn familiar?" he asks, and I give a small, dry laugh.
"Pretty much, yeah." He pulls me into a hug and wraps his arms around me, positioning me so that my face is shielded from the cameras by his head on one side and my hair on the other. My appreciation for him is unparalleled and seems to grow more and more each day.
"Come on you two," Haymitch says gruffly, interrupting the moment of calm. "Effie says it's time for us to head down to the interviews. She's all anxious about timing, so let's not be late." My anxiety returns in full force when I think about the interviews. Plutarch himself will be asking the questions today, so I can only assume they will be overly personal and asinine. And since we'll be in small groups, there will be plenty of time for him to ask each of us whatever he wants.
Our group heads down the stairs and back to the same auditorium entrance from which we entered the stage yesterday. Effie is waiting for us there, holding a clipboard and looking relieved when she sees that we've finally arrived.
"Alright, I've finally been given the schedule for the interviews," she says, glancing down at her clipboard. Despite my nervous state, it does take some effort not to laugh. The fact that Effie skipped a cursory greeting means that she is overwhelmingly stressed, and it's all just so her. It's kind of weird to me that I take comfort in her excessive fretting, but it's become such a constant in my life that at the very least it brings a sense of familiarity to me.
"Cressida and Pollux will be going first as a pair," she says. The two of them weren't in the meetings with us this morning, as they had obligations for their own jobs to attend to. "Then Gale and Beetee will go next. They'll be followed by Annie, then Johanna, then Haymitch. The three of you will each appear individually." I feel a pang of sympathy for each of them, because going alone seems entirely too stressful to me. I feel especially bad for Annie, who is more likely than Johanna or Haymitch to be vulnerable to Plutarch's questioning. "And then last but not least, Katniss and Peeta will finish it off together." Well, that's not surprising, I think to myself. In fact, it's entirely typical. They want to finish it all up with their star-crossed lovers from District 12. That much hasn't changed.
My prep team joins us and flits between each of us, just touching up hair and makeup that came out of place throughout the morning. I try my best to be friendly and appreciative, but I'm not sure how genuine it comes off in my anxious and preoccupied state. Peeta's hand never leaves mine, which helps. We keep each other grounded as Cressida and Pollux take the stage. Their interview is simple enough, as they're both public figures in the Capitol and people generally know what they're up to. Cressida manages to play off of Plutarch quite well, and from what I can hear the audience seems happy, laughing and applauding at all of the appropriate places.
I feel myself grow more tense as Gale and Beetee go up together. Plutarch starts with some simple introductory questions about the work Gale and Beetee are doing on weapons design in 2. It's clear in an instant that the two of them are a very good team when it comes to public appearances, because Beetee is an expert on all of the details of their work and can express his knowledge well, and Gale brings the audience in by augmenting Beetee's awkward formalities with charisma and charm. I'm not sure whether I'm right in this or if it's just my preconceived notions influencing me, but to me Gale's affable nature on camera seems very fake insincere and a little smug. Certainly when I think about Peeta, who always manages to captivate an audience while maintaining a sort of self-deprecating and humble nature, Gale seems extremely full of himself as he talks about his work in 2. It might not be a fair comparison, but my head goes to it without any effort. Still, the audience seems to be eating it all up; it's very clear that Gale is popular with the people here, and I can only imagine he likes that.
When Annie goes up I feel my nerves constrict even further. I am able to regain a modicum of respect for Plutarch because, at least for his standards, he goes relatively easy on her. His voice is kind and he doesn't push too much when she veers off track or just sort of quiets down inexplicably. He mostly asks her about Finn, who she seems happy to talk about, even if her answers are a bit vague and abstract. When he asks briefly about Finnick it's clear that she's going to shut down, so he quickly changes the subject. For once, at least, it seems Plutarch has some other concerns in mind except for what will get good TV ratings. If that should come out for anyone, I'm deeply glad it's Annie.
Johanna's and Haymitch's interviews seem to go well, I think. Both of them are able to take some control away from Plutarch through their crass, bold natures and their ability to joke with the crowd. As the time for Peeta and I to take the stage gets closer I find myself getting more and more distracted by anxiety and unable to focus on what they are saying, but from what I can tell they both do quite well without much effort.
Towards the end of Haymitch's interview, Effie gives Peeta and I a cue to walk backstage.
"It'll be ok," Peeta whispers to me as we walk. "I can do most of the talking, don't worry." He squeezes my hand and I give him a weak smile. While I find it unlikely that Plutarch will let us get away with only Peeta really talking, I appreciate very much that Peeta is going to try to spare me. Far too soon for my liking, we hear the audience giving a final round of applause for Haymitch, and see him walk off the stage past us.
"Have fun," he mutters sarcastically as he breezes by us and towards Effie. I take a deep breath and Peeta and I head onstage.
We're met with hot lights and loud cheers, and I have to dig my nails deep into Peeta's hand to keep myself here. I'm sure it's painful for him, but he doesn't react in any way, which I'm grateful for because I desperately need it to ground me. The sound and the feel of the lights and the atmosphere are all overwhelming and I feel so completely like I'm back on the interview stage with Caesar Flickerman before the Games that it's hard not to panic. I feel adrenaline coursing through my body, with my breath quickening and my stomach churning. I vaguely remember Dr. Aurelius saying at some point that these reactions are common when people who have "posttraumatic stress" face a trigger, and try to calm myself by employing some of the breathing exercises he's recommended to me at various points. It helps marginally; I'm still deeply anxious, but at least the overwhelming, blinding panic has subsided to the point where I can sit down on the little couch with Peeta without obviously shaking.
"Katniss, Peeta!" Plutarch says, reaching out from his seat to shake both of our hands. "It is so nice to see both of you again. How are you doing today?" Plutarch's voice is jovial and cheery, as if the fight we all had in my living room a few weeks ago never occurred.
"We're doing well, Plutarch," Peeta says, his voice friendly and kind. "How about yourself?"
"Oh just fine, Peeta," Plutarch says, beaming. "I must say, everyone here in the Capitol and across Panem is thrilled to see the two of you are together and doing well." I force my mouth into a smile and see Peeta do the same.
"Well, that's very kind of you all," he says. "As you all know, this year has been a long road of recovery, but Katniss and I both feel very lucky to be where we are now." Plutarch seems pleased with this, and he engages Peeta in some easy questions that are just sort of recapping things we said at the panel yesterday. So far I haven't had to say much at all, which I am perfectly fine with, but I doubt that will last.
"Now, Katniss, last night you talked a bit about how life for you in District 12 has improved as the year progressed, can you talk a little bit more about that?" Plutarch asks. I take a deep breath and swallow before speaking. It's the first question that he's directed individually towards me, and I don't really think there's a way to get out of it, so I'm just going to try to make my answer brief.
"Um, sure," I say, starting awkwardly. "I mean, in terms of myself individually, I was struggling a lot, uh...mentally for the first few months. I really owe a lot of my friends for keeping me going through that time. Haymitch and others from 12 helped make sure I ate, checked in on me, that sort of thing. And then I guess Peeta coming back home sort of took that to another level. He's such a good person, so he helped take care of me and helped me come out of myself bit by bit. And seeing other people in the district start to recover was good motivation too. With the way that 12 was bombed, almost everyone lost someone, and no one except Haymitch, Peeta, and I still had our homes. Seeing people around me determined to improve the district and grow and heal, even after having lost so much...that really helped me keep going too."
I trail off there. I feel awkwardly vulnerable and desperately hope that Plutarch is satisfied with this answer and moves on. I don't really want to talk about it anymore on TV.
"Could you describe a bit more about your mental state during that time?" Plutarch asks. I blink, taken aback. I don't know exactly what he's getting at here, if he's trying to lay on heavily with my insanity defense for killing Coin, or if he just thinks it will make good television to hear me talk about how depressed and despondent I was.
"I...I'd rather not really linger on it much," I get out. "I guess it's just...it was painful, and I was out of it enough that I'm not sure I even could describe it well anyways. But things are better now. They're not perfect, but a lot better."
"Katniss has improved so much since I got home, and in doing so she's been able to help me too," says Peeta. I can read a look on his face that I don't think would be discernible to others, but it is to me and it's extremely telling. He's angry, genuinely angry, at Plutarch for pushing me on my mental health. He's trying to divert the pressure off of me and compliment me at the same time to create a distraction. "In terms of regaining some of my memories, and just general comfort and confidence in myself, I know I wouldn't have been able to do it without her." I smile and take Peeta's hand in my lap. I appreciate everything he's trying to do for me very much and I know from years of forced experience that it will read well for the cameras too.
"That's just lovely to hear!" Plutarch says. "Now Peeta, speaking of helping each other and growing closer together, would you be able to give us a little overview of how you and Katniss redeveloped your romantic relationship?" I can feel Peeta tense next to me.
"Well, like I said yesterday, Plutarch, there's a good deal that we'd like to keep to ourselves," Peeta says. His voice isn't at all harsh or unkind, but he's trying to make a point. "I think one of the biggest factors in our ability to grow back together and find each other again has been the fact that it was able to be done in private. For better or for worse, the majority of our relationship was always in the public eye, and after all the pain of the Games and the war, there has been something cathartic about the ability to see our relationship unfold on our own terms this time around, rather than anyone else's. I think that being able to help each other heal, bond, and grow closer again in private and without the influence of prying eyes has helped our relationship grow stronger than ever."
I cannot express the relief that I feel at having Peeta with me right now. Everything he has said is just exactly right, and I couldn't say it for myself.
"That's very good, Peeta," Plutarch says. "But I just think that the people of Panem would love to hear a bit more about how their star-crossed lovers found each other again. Katniss, could you speak to that?" I feel irritation and anger prick inside me. We don't owe them this answer, we don't owe them anything. We have a right to be private after all of this.
"Well, Plutarch, I think we've both sort of said that we became close again, first platonically, by helping each other try to cope with years of trauma," I say, attempting to keep the annoyance out of my voice, though not entirely successfully. "As we grew closer and closer, the more we realized how much we depend on each other, and the more romantic feelings began to reappear and develop. It just happened naturally, that's all there is to it. Like Peeta said, we don't really want to go into details. There's not much that you all would find exciting anyways." I add that last sentence in an attempt to lighten up my answer and play my deflection off as being a matter of entertainment value rather than comfort and privacy. I don't know if it worked or not.
"Of course, of course," Plutarch says, seeming at least modestly satisfied, which I'm counting as a victory. He turns back to Peeta and asks him a couple of questions about the bakery, which is a welcome change, and Peeta happily gives thorough answers, sharing stories about the rebuilding process and anecdotes about silly kitchen mishaps that have the audience roaring with laughter.
"It sounds wonderful Peeta, really," Plutarch says. "You must be very happy with what you've accomplished, especially after everything you experienced with the hijacking." Peeta smiles but I feel that his body is stiff next to me. Even in the context of a compliment, I know the hijacking is not something he wants to discuss at length on national television.
"Thanks, Plutarch," he says kindly.
"What has it been like for you, recovering from an event like that?" Plutarch asks, and now it's my turn to feel angry. No, angry is not a strong enough word. I am utterly furious that Plutarch would have the audacity to make him talk about that so publicly.
"Well," Peeta starts, sounding more flustered and hesitant than I've maybe ever heard him on camera. It makes my heart hurt. "I...I won't lie to you, Plutarch. That hasn't been easy. There was a very, very long time in which I had absolutely no trust in myself. I knew I needed support, but I was scared to be around the people who I cared about because I was worried I might lash out, might hurt them without even knowing why. I don't think I can really explain in words what it feels like to not have any clue which of your memories are real, but it's awful. I am extremely grateful for my doctors and for people like Katniss and Haymitch for not just letting me go but instead trying to help me. They would have had every right, every reason to just not want me around anymore, and there is no way I could have recovered to the extent that I have without them. I...I still flash. It won't really ever be done. But I didn't think I could get here."
Peeta has given a perfect answer. An absolutely perfect, touchingly vulnerable answer. It seems impossible to me that Plutarch could ask for anything more on the subject. But apparently I'm wrong.
"Could you tell us how it makes you feel when you 'flash' now, after all this time?" he asks, and I lose it. All thoughts of respect, of the public nature of it all, go out of my head and all I can think about is how much I want to send an arrow through Plutarch's neck for pushing Peeta around like this. I've had it.
"He doesn't need to answer that and you know it," I get out, before Peeta even has the chance to speak or I can even conceptualize the possible consequences. "He has told you way more than you had any right to ask, we both have, in fact we all have! Even someone like you must understand how over the line that is to ask. Just...enough! He doesn't owe you that information, he's been through enough." There is an awkward moment of silence following my words, in which myself, Peeta, Plutarch, and the audience are all frozen, unsure of what to do or say next.
"Well!" Plutarch says with an uncomfortable laugh after a few minutes. "At least we know our Mockingjay is just as fiery as ever! Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, thank you so much for joining us." Realizing that the interview is over, people in the audience start applauding. I don't even really register walking off the stage with Peeta, my thoughts fluctuating between lingering anger and new fear of potential consequences.
When we get back to the off-stage area where the rest of our group is waiting, Haymitch meets us with an expression on his face that is almost indescribable. It's an utterly bizarre mix of annoyance, skepticism, humor, anger, and, if it's possible, a touch of pride. When we come up to him, he gives a few slow claps.
"Well, sweetheart, I must say that I feel at least a little bit vindicated," he says.
"What the hell do you mean, Haymitch?" I ask, confused and exhausted and not in the mood for any of his humor.
"At least now I can be certain that it was never my fault that I couldn't get a halfway decent goddamn interview out of you!"