*UPDATED*

Chapter nine

Last night hadn't been what I had expected, but then I didn't know what to expect from Peeta anymore.

'Him caring about whether I live or die wasn't my intention,' I think as I brush out my long wavy locks, I've been up for what feels like hours taking advantage of the hot shower while I have it.

I'm dressed in tight black pants with black stiletto boots that stop an inch before my knees my t-shirt is gray and flows gracefully around my shoulders but tightens up below my bust. The outfit seriously looks kickass, I just hope my bright eyes and heart shaped face doesn't take away from my look.

I need to look strong, like I can hold my own because today is the day we arrive.

'It's nice though.' I think smiling softly, getting up I place the hairbrush on the dresser on the far wall, above it hangs a mirror that reflects a girl that I nearly recognize to be me, everything about her screams tiny from her too small of a nose to her height even with the six inch heels. 'So much for looking tough,' I internally scoff 'at least I'm clean.' I haven't looked this clean since I arrived, from the crash to living in poverty personal hygiene fell somewhere to the background.

A light rapping at my door caught my attention as I reach for my locket that lays on top the dresser, "Up, up, up." Effie calls as I roll my eyes, I know I have to cut her some slack and knock of the hostility if I want her on my side and that it isn't her fault that she was born in the capitol, I try to picture her being born elsewhere, but with all of her makeup and wigs it's hard to picture her actual face under it all let alone her living in a district like twelve.

"Come in," I interrupt whatever she was in the middle of saying. There is a brief silence but soon my door is opened, and she is popping her head in.

"Oh, you're dressed." She says sounding generally surprised as she takes in my form standing in front of the dresser, I fight back the urge to roll my eyes and try to smile.

"Actually, would you mind giving me a hand?" I ask lifting my locket in a gesture to show her what I was talking about.

The light that fills up Effie's eyes is immediate as she takes quick strides to stand beside me before taking the locket gently from my hand, I pull my hair to the side to make it easier for her to do the clasp.

"It's beautiful," She whispers placing the necklace around my throat allowing the heart to fall lightly on my chest. Once she has finished securing the lock, she is quick to take a side step so she can easily see my face or the locket, I can't be sure, "what made you choose that as your districts symbol?" She asks.

"It belonged to my mother." I reply taking the opportunity to form a connection with Effie, "it's the last thing I have of hers." Effie nods understanding but doesn't question me further on my family.

"Well I believe it was a good choice," she pauses "after all today is a big, big, big day and first impressions mean everything." I know she's right, and still I haven't decided on how I want to play it I'm not even sure if it matters.

"Come on let's go join the boys for breakfast." Effie breaks my thoughts and leads the way out of my room, I'm quick to follow because I have nothing else left to do.

When we enter the dining car Haymitch and Peeta are already seated around a table, whatever conversation they were having stops when Haymitch sees our entrance, Peeta is quick to divert his gaze once our eyes met.

"Come on, sit down!" He waves me over; Effie makes a bee line for the table off to the side that houses the coffee. I can't help the frown as I make my way over, the clicking of my heels filling the silence in the train car, the sound draws both Peeta's and Haymitch's attention to my feet, Haymitch raises an eyebrow at me as I take my seat.

"So, you can actually walk in those, didn't see that one coming." He states as I shoot him a playful glare a plate of food is placed in front of me, it's loaded up with eggs and bacon, ham and piles of fried potatoes. I can feel my mouth water at the sight. And I realize just how much I've missed having food like this, the things I grew up with, no wonder everyone thought I was from the capitol.

There is a pitcher of orange juice and one filled with hot chocolate I smile at the memory of piling little marshmallows on top of hot chocolate and trying to drink it only to end up getting a white mustache. 'I wonder if they have any marshmallows.'

"They call it hot chocolate," Peeta tells me confusing my stare for curiosity, I open my mouth about to tell him I know, instead I smile grateful that he's chosen to talk to me at all. 'He doesn't need to know I grew up with all of this, that while his district starved daily, I ate more than my share.' "It's good." I nod taking a sip from the cup, without the marshmallows it almost tastes bland.

We eat in silence after that, if you can call the way Haymitch keeps tossing back his white liquor 'eating' someone should really tell him that you don't cure a hangover by drinking.

"So," I say gaining the attention of my current company "you're supposed to give us advice."

Haymitch's nose crinkles, "didn't we already do this bit?" He asks causing me to freeze up, I couldn't be messing up already.

Sighing he shakes his head and eyes his glass, "you want my advice?" He asks as Peeta leans in close looking afraid to miss the important information, "stay alive." Haymitch's face is dead serious until it cracks, and he starts laughing like he had just heard the funniest joke around, and I know now why Katniss threw a knife at him.

He isn't funny.

"That's very funny," Says Peeta his face is hard as he clench's his jaw, his eyes are alight with anger when he strikes out at the glass in Haymitch's hand sending the cup filled with red liquid to the floor, I hear it shatter as my fingers close around a butter knife. "Only not to us."

I watch Haymitch as his glare is on Peeta, I know what he will do next and he's fast but I'm faster, the reason for this probably has a lot to do with his substance abuse dulling his senses. Either way my butter knife is pressed against his jugular, and my chair is lying on its backside tossed over in my hurried attempt to gain control of the situation.

All eyes are on me.

I can feel the disbelief at what I had done, I clench the knife tighter in my hand feeling the sudden build up of moisture that threatens to let it slip from my grasp if I loosen my hold, as I keep my glare trained on Haymitch who coughs and relaxes back into his seat studying both Peeta and I.

I have drawn the knife back towards me but remain standing as if I were waiting for something to release me, when Haymitch laughs and slams his open palm on to the table I share a confused look with Peeta.

"Look at that," Haymitch bellows his cheeks tinted red from the combination of alcohol and laughter, "I've got myself a pair of fighters this year."

Haymitch calms down somewhere between when I placed the knife down on the table and picking up my over turned chair, I'm about to take my seat when Haymitch stops me. "Don't bother, stand over there." He pauses nodding to the center of the room before eyeing Peeta "both of you," Peeta and I do as we're instructed and stand side by side a few feet away from the table as Haymitch studies us.

It reminded me of when I had come to him for help six months ago.

Haymitch circles us, prodding at mussels and turning our faces this way and that. Not that it was necessary where I was concerned after all we'd been spending irregular time together; I was fairly sure he already knew my physical capabilities.

"Well, you don't seem completely useless." Haymitch states standing before us, "Seem fit." He says while looking at Peeta before turning his blue eyes on me, "you've lost weight, nothing a few extra helpings won't help solve." I blush at this, surprised he noticed, it wasn't so much that hunting had become more difficult or anything, it was more like after feeding my adoptive family majority of what I caught or found was sold.

To be honest the closer the games got the less of an appetite I had.

"Once the stylists get a hold of you, you'll be attractive enough." Haymitch stated before continuing on, "you've already caught the attention of the capitol," He finish's off looking at me as I hold his gaze, "you'll have to play that to your advantage. Don't give them too much at first because they'll bore of you fast, just tidbits to keep them wanting more would be best."

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and nod, the thoughts of the kind of questions they would ask plagued my mind and after the nightmare I had last night I wasn't exactly eager to answer any of them.

"All right, I'll make a deal with you." Haymitch states gaining our attention once more, and I smile because I know what is to come next and it makes me feel the tiniest bit better knowing Haymitch is officially on our side, I'm still working on swaying Effie which may take some more work with how little time we've spent together, but it the end hopefully it'll have been worth it.

"You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you." He's looking at Peeta when he says that, apparently spilling two drinks has labeled him the troublesome one. "But you have to do exactly what I say."

"Fine," Peeta and I both say in unison.

"Good," Haymitch nods picking up his bottle of liquid courage, and I wonder if it really does help him to face the capitol after going through the games. "We'll be arriving in a few minutes," he states glancing at an old wooden clock, "you'll be tended to by your stylists when we arrive, they'll be doing some work on you. You won't like it, but no matter what it is, don't resist." He's quiet for a moment, "if there is anything you'd like to do before we arrive now's the time, you want to look your best because when we pull into the station the cameras will be back on." He states.

Peeta has excused himself, probably taking Haymitch's words to heart and getting cleaned up before we arrive. But I can't make myself care enough to double check my appearance or to take another shower, instead I stand staring out of a window even though we are moving too fast to be able to take in any scenery.

"You seem nervous," Haymitch observes, turning I'm surprised to see him still standing in the dining car, "I'd have thought you'd be more excited."

"Being nervous is human," I say without denying the fact, "sorry, about earlier." I say referring to our less then appropriate breakfast behavior. If Effie had still been in the car at the time I no doubt would have to apologize to her as well.

Haymitch shakes his head coming to stand closer, "never apologize. It's interesting though, when you claimed to want to protect our male tribute, I didn't think you meant from me." He says, but I can see that there is something else he wants to say, "What is your relationship with that boy?" and there it was.

"Peeta," I breathe his name turning to look back out the window, the memories from last night still fresh in my mind, "he's my best friend," I answer easily, "my first friend at the district." It's the truth.

"You'd die for him." Haymitch states, it isn't a question because he already knew I intended to do so for whomever came into the games with me, he just didn't know that I knew it would always be Peeta. "You won't be changing your mind?" There's the question, and I turn to him with my eyebrows pulling together "I assumed as much." He states looking about ready to leave.

"Why would I?" I ask causing him pause.

"You'd be the easy sell," he states honestly shrugging, "you've already caught their interest, and I'm sure they'll be keeping their eye on you."

"For the interview," I say before hesitating, taking a breath I have to go on, because I need to expel these thoughts before they consume me. "They're going to ask where I came from, aren't they? They'll want answers I can't give them." I can feel my hands start to shake as I close them into fists, watching Haymitch I wait for the answer I already know is coming.

"Yes," I nod even though I wanted nothing more than to run and hide, "it's not going to be easy, and to be honest in the long run it'd be easier for you to die in the arena." His words are like ice-water in my veins but looking at him I knew what he meant because if I came back from this, they would want answers, even if they had to torture me to get them.

That was the first time I realized no matter what I did, I would die, because the moment the capitol had found out about me, I was put on their hit list.

Three hours later I'm standing in the nude being examined by three of my stylists and being scolded for my constant squirming as I try to keep as much of myself covered as possible finding being so exposed in front of complete strangers unnerving.

Venia, Flavius and Octavia have already scrubbed my body raw and stripped away all the hair that was deemed atrocious. When I asked; "Can't we just shave it all?" in hopes of evading the painful waxed strips Venia, who was the one to strip my body clean responded with a look of skepticism enhanced by the golden tattoos around her eyebrows.

"Shave? Who shaves anymore?" Venia asks while shaking her aqua spiked head, "No, this will keep the unwanted hairs away for much longer."

After this is done Octavia takes over, she is a plump woman with skin dyed the colour of light peas, Octavia offers me a robe which I'm so thankful for that I hurry to put it on, and instructs me to take a seat in the cold metal chair like I have been doing repeatedly for the past few hours, before she starts to work on my nails.

Octavia files them to perfect oval shapes before applying polish, while Flavius my only male prep member runs a brush through my hair occasionally spraying it with some kind of mist that smelled of strawberries.

When they are done I'm instructed to stand once again and shed my robe, it's only slightly reassuring that I know the other twenty three tributes were going through the same invasive grooming or I would have bolted the moment they told me to strip. The three of them start to circle me, hair plucker's in each of their hands; I can't help the grimace that pulls at my lips I hated the instrument with a passion enough to make me wish for the waxing strips back.

Venia catches my look, trying her best to look sympathetic she apologizes, "sorry, nearly done. Just need to spot the stray hairs, always have a few."

Her statement does little to make me feel any better, so instead of dwelling on the inevitable plucking that is about to take place I try to start a conversation. Faking a laugh, I say, "I bet I'm taking the longest."

Flavius catches my eye and gives me the tiniest of smiles, I wonder if they are trained not to get attached, they must be, or their job would feel unbearable. "You're doing very well, actually." He says before reapplying his purple lipstick while the girls finish up and step away, I watch them curiously as they examine their work marveling in the nearly finished product. I see them nod in satisfaction before Flavius continues, "if there is one thing, we can't stand it's a whiner, grease her down." The last bit isn't directed at me, as they all move to apply lotion to my body that instantly starts to sooth the raw skin.

"Look," Octavia exclaims when they are finished, turning to see the full length mirror I'm met with my reflection, though it felt more like I was looking at my former self the girl I used to be before my life got turned into some sort of sick fantasy. "You look presentable now." She says with a smile.

The same time that Venia coos, "you look like a human being!" and Flavius nods with a grin, agreeing with his female coworkers.

Turning I manage a genuine smile, "Thank you," I say honestly because the image is a reminder of why I am here and what I am fighting to get back, my life. "It's really rather difficult to look nice back in twelve." I say, quietly which causes Octavia to clasp her hands together as she looks at me.

"Of course, you poor darling! And after such a transition," Octavia pauses long enough for Venia to scold her with a sharp look causing the pale green woman to clasp her hands over her mouth looking mortified by her own words. Confused I look between my three stylists, besides Venia's obvious scornful look Flavius looks uncomfortable.

"It's alright," I tell them, curious why Octavia's words would cause such a reaction out of them. When no one changes the topic, or continues to speak at all I continue confused, "really, I don't mind, if there is anything you want to know?" I leave off watching as they exchange looks before both Flavius and Octavia are looking to Venia for her permission. Sighing the woman shakes her head as a single to go ahead.

"Obviously the first question is, is it true?" Flavius starts looking eager.

I laugh a little, when I expected the capitol to drill me for answers I expected it to be horrible and feel uncomfortable, but in this moment it's almost like talking to friends, or at least a class full of students. "That I'm not actually from twelve?" I ask, the two nodding in confirmation, "Yes, it's true. My hovercraft crashed in the forest near the district, I was lucky to survive." I tell them for dramatic effect, it works because Octavia gasps, but mostly I can't help but realize how true it was. I was lucky to have survived the crash, and to find my way to a relative safe place. If you could call this lucky, that is.

"You'll have a good chance at winning!" Octavia exclaims, ever the happy bordering on hyper one of the three, "don't you think?" she asks turning to her companions, "I mean she's survived a hovercraft crash, I think we may have a winner on our hands. How great would that be? To prep the next victor?"

I laugh shaking my head causing my natural wavy locks to sway, "Sorry," I apologize when they look at me like I am mad, "it's just when I anticipated telling people I'm not from twelve I expected more hostility." If I hadn't won them yet, then I did as they all seem to want to inspire me with kind words like.

"Not at all, this makes you special." Flavius states with a kind smile and his eyes shining.

"Everyone will love you, will want to be you and know your story." Octavia states as Venia nods along with her, finishing off their words of encouragement.

"It's all the advantage you will need to get sponsors." She states, I smile thanking them again because I hadn't expected them to end up being so nice, even if their motives were unclear it was reassuring to hear what they had to say. "Alright," Venia breathes all business like, "it's time, let's call Cinna!" They say before retreating, Octavia barely having the time to hand me my robe before bustling out of the room after her partners in crime.

I'm grateful for the moments alone as I wrap myself in the soft robe; it's white like everything else in this room. Looking around it reminds me of what our hospital rooms looked like, clean, sterilized and a place you didn't really want to be.

Turning I take another moment to glance at my reflection in the mirror, my hair has been brushed out but otherwise left untouched and my face is still clear of makeup, though I wonder for how much longer. Hearing the door open I turn to face the one, the only Cinna, he glance's up at me from his blue folder meeting my stare, "Kira, hello." He greets warmly standing just inside the door, "I'm Cinna, your stylist. Robe, off." He instructs while making his way further into the room, I can't help but watch him even as I drop the robe.

He's younger than I had expected, maybe early twenties, much too young to die next year but then so are all the kids going into the arena next week. Shaking my head, I force myself to clear it of the troubling thoughts, because it isn't something I should be dwelling on.

No, at this moment Cinna requires my full attention.

"Just give me a moment," he says quietly as I watch him circle me, taking in every inch from head to toe. Until he stops to my right and gently lifts my arm, "what happened there?" he asks nodding to the scaring that I had nearly forgotten about.

"Wild dog," I answer meeting his stare, his eyes are green with flecks of gold that stand out with the aid of his metallic gold eyeliner, the only enhancement he has made to himself, it's simple and effective. Nodding Cinna drops my wrist and takes a step back.

"How do you normally wear your hair?" He asks, "Up or down?" and just like that he doesn't pry on how I'd been close enough to have been bitten by said beast.

"Down," I answer automatically.

Cinna pushes his lips together, clearly not liking my answer, "it'll be much safer to wear it up in the arena, but we want the audience to recognize you so if you prefer it down…" he trails off, still not entirely liking the idea.

"I could do half up, half down, or a ponytail." I state, "I'd prefer not to wear it in a braid though." I tell him, it's possible that I'm trying to keep myself from turning in to Katniss that I refuse the look, but in all honesty, I never wore my hair in a braid to begin with.

"We'll curl it, draw some attention to these natural curls, and pull the front back to keep it out of your eyesight." He states after a moments debate, "now that, that's settled. Pick up your robe and follow me." I do as I'm told and follow Cinna into a joining room, it's a sitting room with two red couches facing each other and a coffee table placed between them, the walls are bare like the room I'd been in all morning, the only difference is this room has a wall filled with windows allowing the natural light to fill the room.

"Come, sit." Cinna calls to me, pulling my mind away from the city beyond the glass. Offering Cinna a small smile I take my seat on the couch directly across from him and watch as he leans forward and presses a button, and watch as the table opens up and food appears on platters. Roasted chicken with orange slices are marinated together in some light yellow sauce with what looks like parsley and other spices cooked in, besides that there is a pudding off to the side that I assume is butterscotch.

Picking up a fork I strip a small piece of chicken away from the bone before eating it, a few moments of silence has passed us by before I look up to see Cinna sitting back on the couch studying me. Swallowing I feel my cheeks start to warm with a blush of embarrassment, after all the prep work I was hungry, but we were here to talk wardrobe. "How are you enjoying the food here?" Cinna asks when he realizes he has my full attention.

"To be honest," I pause "I've eaten more in the past twenty-four hours then the year I've been living in twelve." I'm exaggerating, I'm sure, but my stomach has never felt as full as it did last night after dinner.

Cinna nods at this, "I've heard that if you don't take it easy, it could be a shock to your system." He states offhandedly.

"It's not what I'm used to," I agree and have to bite my tongue not wanting to say something that I would later regret, after all it wasn't Cinna's fault he'd proven to Katniss that he was willing to do what was right, and that alone was enough for me to hold my tongue.

"Alright. Well, Kira about the consume you'll be wearing for the opening ceremony my partner Portia, who is the stylist for your fellow tribute Peeta, and I are planning to dress you both in complementary costumes." Cinna says pausing long enough to make sure I'm following him. "As I'm sure you know, it's customary to reflect your district." I nod because I know all of this already.

"So, we'll be dressed in some coal miner getup?" I ask, even though I already know that Cinna has planned something completely original and mesmerizing, instinctively I bit my lip it's all I can do to keep my smile from showing.

"No," Cinna waves off the idea, "that is so overdone, it's lacking finesse. No, our job is to make the District twelve tributes unforgettable." Cinna states with a look in his eyes though is either true passion or madness, "Rather than focusing on the coal mining, we're going to focus on the coal. What do we do with coal?" He asks, all eagerness plain on his features as he leans forward, and I can't help but do the same, something about the excitement draws me in as my fingers grip the end of the knee length robe.

"We burn it." I answer

"Exactly!" He exclaims, "Kira, you're not afraid of fire, are you?"

I can't stop the smile now that threatens to slip my face in half.

A few hours later I'm dressed in a black unitard that covers me completely from neck to ankle, black leather boots are laced up to my knees and I'm in love with the look. Honestly, it makes me feel like some vigilantly and I'm nervous and excited all at once.

I do a slow spin allowing the cape that is made of streams of orange, yellow and red to flutter around my body. I'm not sure who is more mesmerized by the sight, myself, Cinna or my prep team that are all grinning at my little display.

Flavius has brushed my hair, curled and binned it back but left it down to flow over my shoulders at my request, for whatever reason Cinna hasn't mentioned the headpiece but I don't bring it up encase he has rethought the idea. Octavia has added a small blackened tip to my nails making them appear singed; she then adds a clear coat of something over them that smells terrible, she says it will make them look like they are also on fire. Venia and Cinna have overseen my makeup; for the most part my face is left untouched the only noticeable change is around my eyes that now have a dark smoky colour surrounding them.

"I've had to rethink the headdress," Cinna states coming forward with something quiet small in his hands, it's a comb I realize that has black streams dangling from it, Cinna places the comb above where my hair has been binned and then proceeds to intertwine the strands into my hair. "This will also be lit on fire," he states before he continues, "of course this isn't real fire, and you'll be perfectly safe." He explains taking a step back to look at his work once again, "it's important that you wear the costume, and that it doesn't simply where you." He finishes meeting my gaze, "do you understand?"

I nod, even though I'm not entirely sure what he is getting at, I'm already entirely aware of the fact that these are big shoes I am trying to fill.

"Of course," I say, "I'll wave, I'll smile, hell I'll even take a bow." It's meant to sound lighthearted, but when I see the look Cinna is giving me with his eyebrows pulled together like he is trying to figure something out, something that isn't sitting well with him. Something changes.

"I will not be forgotten." I say.

Whatever hope I had to calm the nerves that have come over him shifts when he looks at me, it's strange, his eyes are no longer alight with excitement; no, he looks mission oriented almost like he knew from this moment what was to come.

All of the death.

The rebellion.

But that was impossible… I open and close my mouth unsure of what to say, as I stare back at the man before me. There's a knock on the door that snaps Cinna out of whatever like trance he had been in, he nods before looking at the door then back to where I stand before him, "good, are you ready?" He asks me, I nod, because what else is there for me to do?

I follow Cinna to the door, when he opens it, I'm relieved to see Peeta with his stylist, "what'd I tell you, girl's always take the longest." She states, but it doesn't matter because Peeta isn't listening to her anymore, no I have his full attention and I smile because it feel's almost normal, like everything else doesn't matter; it's just too bad that the moment doesn't last long.

Who I assume is Portia turns and leads the way. Cinna is quickly at her heels as the two start whispering immediately.

My locket is placed on top of the unitard lying on my chest, and as we walk to the elevators, I can't help but touch it. When we're in the elevator Peeta is standing beside me, "you look great, did I say that yet?" he asks smiling at me on the ride down, dropping my hand, I shake my head and smile back still feeling the excitement and nerves twisting in my stomach. "Well you do."

"Thank you," I reply "you do too."

Peeta seems uncomfortable as the elevator stops on the ground floor and we all exit, "so apparently we're going to be set on fire."

"Our clothes are." I correct him with a half smile, Peeta opens his mouth to retort but closes it almost instantly and looks away, seemingly embarrassed about something. "Nervous?" I ask as we stop now backstage, beside our chariot "tell you what, I'll rip your cape off if you'll do mine?"

"Deal." He laughs and extends his hand. We shake, and as we do, I catch Cinna looking at us. Studying us the way he has been doing to me for the past few hours. "After you," Peeta says before showing me to the step ladder, I can't help the hesitation that hits me on the first step, and I have to close my eyes to force back the images from my nightmare. Feeling a hand on my arm I reopen my eyes to see Peeta standing there looking at me with concern, "it'll be ok." He says, and it's a lie, the sweetest lie he can give me.

Nodding Peeta drops his hand as I continue to make my way into the chariot, closely followed by him.

I can hear the crowd roaring with applause and screams as each pair of tributes make their debut, soon district eleven has gone and Cinna is standing next to our chariot. "Ready?" he asks, and without waiting for our responses he lifts a torch and lights our capes on fire, climbing the few steps he lights our headdresses a blaze as well. "Alright," he says catching our attention, "remember heads high, smiles. They're going to love you." I watch as he jumps down and our chariot starts to move, Cinna spins and shouts something waving his hands in the air, but our announcement drowns him out.

"I think he wants us to hold hands," I say quietly to Peeta, who nods and takes my hand without a thought and squeezes it.

And it's just like the first time, on reaping day, and like then I can't contain my small smile at the warmth and strength in his one hand. It's calming, knowing that he will be ok, knowing that as long as I do what I already know I have to that Peeta will be the one going home.

The big doors open and our chariot bursts through them, it's quiet at first but that silence quickly turns to applauses and screaming as we make our way down the run way to where President Snow is waiting.