Peeta stares back at me with hollow eyes. I just stand there, my hand clasped over my mouth, feeling like an idiot for reacting the way I did. But I can't help it. I've been through the worst with Peeta. I've seen him pale and dying in the arena. I've seen him completely naked, forced to do things to me against his will, and how angry it made him. But this? This is something new entirely. Peeta looks like all the life has been sucked out of him. Like the strong body of the boy who stands in front of me, the blond curls, the blue eyes, are all that remains of the Boy with the Bread.
"What happened?" I ask in a loud whisper. He's still with it enough to shake his head and move to the side, indicating I should come inside. He's right. The hallways is definitely not the place for a conversation like this. Though I have to wonder if his bedroom is really much better. Surely they're listening in on us here, too, right? I mean, wasn't that the entire reason everyone keeps going to the rooftop when we have conversations we don't want anyone else to hear?
I'm the one who makes sure the door closes, and locks, behind us. Peeta seems to forget about this task in the middle of doing it. Instead her crosses over to his bed and sinks down onto it, staring blankly into space.
"Peeta?" I try once. My voice is small; I feel so helpless right now. Something happened out there, something that even Peeta hasn't experienced before. Which is really saying something now, when you think about it.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he buries his head in his hands. I hate that I'm so bad in situations like this. Peeta is the one that knows what to do during these things. Not me. But Peeta is the one who needs the help now.
"What happened?" I prod again. He didn't answer the first time, so I don't exactly expect him to answer me now. But I have to do something. I can't stand all this silence. I can't stand the suspense.
Finally, there's some sign of life from him. He shakes his head, still staring blankly off into space. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" I repeat, feeling puzzled. How can he not know? I ask him as much.
He just shrugs, shaking his head again. "I didn't know."
"What?" I ask, noting the pleading tone that's entering my voice. I don't want to hurt him by pushing him when it's obvious he isn't doing too well, but I also don't know how much longer I can take this agony.
Naturally, he doesn't respond. So I just stand there, feeling as awkward as I can be, trying to figure out what on earth I should do right now, while he buries his head in his hands.
Well, I can't do nothing. So I do the only thing I can think of. Crossing the room, I sit down next to him on the bed and watching him, waiting for my next cue. He looks up suddenly, as if surprised I've actually moved to sit so close to him. I should probably say something now, but again, this is normally Peeta's forte, not mine. I have no idea what I should be saying to him right now.
Fortunately, Peeta is the one who solves this dilemma by finally speaking himself. "She… did things," he starts.
Well yeah, I want to say. I took it for granted that she did things. The question is, what kinds of things? Actually, never mind. I'm not sure I want to know. Maybe it's better if Peeta does keep things to a minimum.
In the silence, Peeta slides his arm down his thigh so that it rests where his amputated leg ends, and the prosthetic begins. "It's what she wanted," he whispers.
"What?" I'm so startled by his random non-statement, that I momentarily forget my decision not to pursue clarity.
"My leg," he says, his voice a little bit stronger this time. "She… was into it."
I don't know what he means by that, but I do know that I definitely don't want to know further details now. Whatever it means, it's clear it's a very bad thing. Still, I know I can't just abandon him now. Peeta is usually the one who needs to talk things over when he's upset.
A wide range of emotions seem to cross Peeta's face all at once while he processes the answer to this question. I see him swallow a couple of times. It makes me wonder if I'm even doing the right thing at all. Should I leave? Would he be better off if I just left him alone right now, to try and forget whatever it was that happened to him out there?
He doesn't seem to think so. "She had a… a… a fetish. For amputations," he finally explains. "She did things that… that… " he stops, unable to finish his thought. But he doesn't need to go on. I don't need to know the details. I already feel disgusted. Enraged.
"Oh. Peeta… " now my voice is a whisper as I stare at him. "Wow."
Peeta just lays back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He looks as though he wishes he could be anywhere but here right now. Well, except maybe back at the client's house. Here is definitely better than there. But all the same, I think he probably wishes he could disappear right now if it meant he never had to deal with this again.
I'm no good at this stuff. But even so, I lean down so that I'm right next to him, and wrap my arms around him the best I can. I feel him tense at first under my touch. Then he relaxes. Places one hand on my arm, while we just lie there in silence, trying to figure what in the world we're going to do to deal with all this.
We leave early the next morning to return to 12. It's a relief to say the least, but at the same time, I haven't to admit it isn't much of one. I'm afraid there isn't much relief left anywhere these days. Even back in the district, we're at their control. And they're clearly watching us. How far does that go? Are they taping us in our own homes? Recording our conversations? Just the very thought of it feels so violating, I can't stand it. I make myself get up and wander around the train, just to keep myself moving.
Truthfully, my head is still reeling from everything that happened last night. I haven't had a chance yet to talk to Peeta about my conversation with Finnick Odair, and everything I learned from him. I want to, I keep meaning to. It's just that there's been no real time to do it. Obviously I couldn't tell him last night in his room. He was in no shape to have that kind of a conversation. And really, he isn't doing too much better today, either. Even if he was, though, this isn't a safe place to have that conversation. I'd have to wait for a stop, but even then I'm not sure I could get him out of his room. He's been cooped up in there for most of the trip so far.
So I guess that just leaves home. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Even if our homes are being monitored, it's easy enough to talk someplace where we won't be heard. The road from Victor's Village to the shops usually isn't very well travelled. Maybe I could join him on a trip into town the next time he goes to visit his parents. It's probably as safe a time as any, honestly.
We have to figure something out. I don't know how much more either of us can take of this. Especially after last night. And to know that this is something that happens regularly to the other victors… and Peeta's own comment from the night of our engagement party comes back to me. Maybe we were wrong to try and stop any attempts to revolt.
Maybe it's not too late. I saw what was happening in the other districts when we were on our tour. Some of them were so on edge, I wouldn't be surprised if they already are rebelling. So maybe the best thing to do, instead of escaping into the wilderness to get away, would be to escape to one of the rebelling districts. Try to enlist their help or join their uprising or something.
Back in 12, the state of the district is almost shocking, compared to what it was like when we left. Things were already looking bleaker than usual when we stepped on that train. But now, everything seems even more subdued, more downtrodden. Stocks have been built mere feet from the different shops that align the town square. People look away quickly, and disappear equally as quickly inside the nearest doorways.
"What happened?" I murmur to Haymitch as we survey the scene. We weren't even gone all that long. It's only been a few days.
"It looks like the Peacekeepers have had a change of heart in how they do business," he says, looking around. I look over at him, trying to read his face for more. But Haymitch, like always, keeps his face unreadable.
A car is at the train station to pick us up, and drive us back to Victor's Village. Haymitch, Peeta, and myself all climb into it, cramming into its back seat. Peeta is just as vacant as he's been since he came back last night. He seems to barely even notice the change in the district as we drive through it. He doesn't bat an eyelash, not even when we drive past the whipping post a mere few feet from the bakery.
Once we reach Victor's Village, I know I should go in my house. In fact, my mother and Prim are both there, waiting for my arrival so they can welcome me back. I give them each a hug, holding them tightly as I do, before pulling back. I give a sideways glance to Peeta, who is just now climbing out of the car. "Peeta's not feeling well," I tell my mom and sister. "I think he ate something bad on the train. I'm going to make sure he gets into bed before I go home, okay?"
They both look a bit surprised, but nod. I turn, and join Peeta's side, accompanying him up the stairs of his front porch, then wait as Peeta fumbles in his pockets for his key. He finds it, turning it in the lock and opening the door to let us in. Once we are safely inside, he heads immediately to his front room, and flops down on the couch, staring blankly up into space.
I was hoping I could talk to him about my new plan to escape 12 and join another district's rebellion. But I can see now that this isn't a good time to bring it up. In fact, I'm not sure what I should do at this point. Get him into bed? Stay with him for a while, so he doesn't have to be alone? Leave him alone so he can process his thoughts by himself?
"Are you hungry?" I ask. He shakes his head. "Thirsty?" Another shake. I stand there, waiting for some sort of cue from him, but none comes.
"Um. I guess I'll go home now," I tell him. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"
Finally, he nods.
In the days that follow our return, I quickly learn that Snow has not been idle in securing the district while we were away in the Capitol. It turns out there's a new Head Peacekeeper. A man named Romulus Thread, who made quick work of reforming the lackadaisical practices of our peacekeepers. No one is quite sure what happened to old Cray, the old Head Peacekeeper.
"I need to talk to you," I finally tell Peeta in a hushed tone one afternoon, when he's finally had enough time to recover and listen to my plan.
He eyes me curiously. "What about?"
Now that I'm right on the brink of saying, I suddenly feel nervous. Paranoid. I can't help glancing around the house, wondering what will be heard, how careful I should be right now. "About what we talked about in the garden that time," I say. It's vague enough that no one listening in will know what I'm talking about, but Peeta will know exactly what I'm referring to.
He looks thoughtful, and stares off into the distance. Almost like he's not quite here. Maybe he isn't. I've seen traces of this before, in the arena, on the tour, when Peeta seems to have another world tucked away inside him. "Do you really think that's still a good idea?" He asks at last. "I mean, with everything going on here? They'd notice."
"Yeah," I admit. "We'd have to be careful. But… I've revised my plan a little."
"How so?" he asks, looking genuinely curious.
"Remember what you said at the party at Snow's mansion that one time? About us being wrong to… to, well, you know."
He thinks back on it, and nods. "Yes. So, what's your plan?"
I don't know how to get out the rest of it without just saying it straight out. But we're sitting at the table in my kitchen. Even if the house isn't bugged - which is unlikely - my mother or sister could still overhear what I'm about to say. And even though they'll be a part of this plan eventually, I think it's probably better if I don't include them just yet. If I iron out all the details before I tell them about it. "Let's take a walk," I tell him.
He agrees, and we grab our coats and shoes and head out the front door. We only get to the middle of the courtyard the houses of Victor's Village are centered around before I stop, though, and turn to face him.
Peeta comes to a sudden stop, clearly not anticipating my move. He looks at me, half-curious, half-amused, but remains silent as he waits for my explanation.
"We need to get out of here. Out of 12, I mean," I whisper as quietly as I can. "And get someplace that can help us."
Now he looks truly confused. "Help us?"
I nod. "Peeta, President Snow told me himself that several districts were on the brink of an uprising. We saw it with our own eyes. I think, maybe, if we can escape from here and just get to one of them… maybe we can join forces and fight back."
He frowns, which worries me. That was not the reaction I expected out of him over this. "What's making you want to do this now?" he asks.
Isn't it obvious? After what happened to him in the Capitol… after what's happened to us, what's happened to at least some of the other Victors… how could I want to do anything but? Because if that's what they're doing to us, the supposed strongest and best Panem has to offer… what's to stop them from doing something just as bad to our families? Or maybe they might even do worse.
"Because- Because of what they're doing to us," I tell him. "And Peeta… it's not just us."
This catches his attention. He gives me a hard look, like he's trying to deduce just exactly what I'm getting out. "What do you mean?" he asks me.
I glance around us, just to make sure we really are alone, so no one overhears what I'm about him. "While you were gone that night. I went up to the roof, and Finnick Odair was up there, too."
He makes a face. "The playboy?"
"Yes. But no, not really. Peeta, you'll never believe what I found out from him."
"I'm waiting," Peeta says, looking like he's not sure he's even going to believe whatever I'm about to tell him. Which only serves to fuel me more in my need to make him understand this.
"It's happening to him, too," I hiss. "Those people we always see them with, they're not actually his lovers. They're people who have bought him."
A strange look crosses Peeta's face, like he can't quite absorb what I'm telling him. "How do you know he was telling the truth?" He asks.
Now I feel borderline angry. Why isn't he believing me? "Because I could tell by the way he was telling me about it. Peeta, you have to believe me!"
He shakes his head as if to clear it. "Sorry. I do believe you. But, it's just… it's getting hard to even understand what's going on at all anymore."
Well, he's right on that account. "That's why we have to try and figure it out," I tell him.
He bites on his lip while he thinks this over. "Come on," he motions with his head back towards his house. "Let's talk this over someplace where it's warmer. I just made cheese buns this morning."
I should probably argue about the questionable security of talking this over in either of our houses, but the lure of cheese buns is too much for me. Peeta has kept a steady supply of them ever since he found out they were my favorite. He brings them over to our house on the regular. Besides, it is cold out here. Maybe we can figure out a way to talk in shorthand that won't be easy to pick up on by anyone listening to our conversation.
Once inside Peeta's house, I peel off the layers of coats, hats, gloves, until I'm finally in my normal clothes underneath. Then I head promptly to Peeta's kitchen where, as promised, he shows me his fresh batch of homemade cheese buns. I greedily begin chewing on one while he takes a seat across from me, fixing me with those blue eyes of his.
"So… why do you think another district could help?" He asks.
"Shh!" I warn him, glancing around, like I might spot a microphone in any corner. He picks up on what I'm hinting at quickly.
"Sorry," he says quieter. "I guess we're not safe anywhere."
I shake my head, and try to choose my next questions carefully. "Because… because we have to do something," I tell him. "Look what they did to you!"
Immediately, I regret saying it. Peeta closes off, refusing to look at me. "I'm sorry, Peeta," I say sincerely. "I was just trying to make you understand-"
"I understand," he says curtly. This stuns me into silence. I just sit there, trying to figure what on earth I should do, what I should say next in order to get through to him.
We just sit there like that, at an impasse, as I stare at him, but he refuses to make eye contact with me. I don't know how much time goes by. The second hand on the clock in his kitchen ticks for what seems like an eternity. "Peeta," I finally whisper, surprised myself by the sound of my own voice because I hadn't really meant to speak. But I might as well continue now. "What happened?"
The silence that follows is some of the most tense yet. I can practically feel the internal struggle in Peeta as he decides if he should tell me or not. Part of me doesn't really want him to answer myself. But Peeta has been so off, so angry and weird ever since it happened, that I don't know what else to do. But I can't see him like this, not for much longer.
At last, he answers, his whisper so low and hoarse, it rips through the silence and gives me the chills. "It was my leg," he says.
"Your… leg?" I repeat, not sure I hear him right, and definitely not sure what he's getting at.
"She had a- a fetish for it," he explains, his voice a little louder. He still doesn't make eye contact. "She did things to it, and made me do things, that- " he trails off, unable to finish. He's said enough anyhow. He really doesn't need to go on.
"Peeta," I try, but he just looks away from me, frowning. I think he feels like he's said too much. Like I'm going to think less of him for something he had no control over. Impulsively, I do the only thing I can think of. I jump to my feet and go around the table, wrapping him in my arms.
I can feel him tense up under my touch. "What are you doing?" He asks.
Now it's my turn to feel uneasy. I drop my arms and pull away from him. "Hugging you," I say, feeling a bit annoyed.
"Don't," he says, shaking his head. "Don't feel sorry for me, Katniss. I can't feeling like you're pitying me."
"I'm not," I protest, feeling a little surprised, and maybe even slightly insulted. "I was just trying to help."
Now Peeta climbs to his feet with a sigh. "There's nothing we can do," he says, obviously frustrated. "We're trapped. Don't you see? They're going to make us keep having these- these sexual encounters with each other, and with everyone else, because they know it's exactly what we don't want. Or else they hurt our families. It's how they're controlling us!" He stomps out of the room at that, slamming the kitchen door behind him as he does, leaving me in silence to ponder what on earth just happened.
I've only really seen Peeta one other time before this. It was that day in District 11, on the Victory Tour, after the man had been shot and Peeta realized that Haymitch and I were keeping things from him. He had gotten pretty upset that day, smashing a vase and yelling at us both to the point where Haymitch actually made him apologize to me later. It wasn't my fault, he had told Peeta. We were both stuck in this nightmare together. And we still are, forced to do all these things against our will to control us. Just like Peeta said.
I considering going to check on Peeta, but somehow I think I might just make things worse. I decide to leave him be, let him cool down a little bit on his own first. Then I'll try talking to him later. If he even wants to talk to me later. I don't think I would blame him if he didn't.
The next day is Sunday, which means Gale is off from the mines. His only day off. I haven't had a chance to see him since we've been back from the Capitol, because he spends long days working down there. And I just haven't been ready to see him yet. Not after all that's happened.
But today, I know I need to get to him. I need to tell him my idea. He'll understand it for sure. He'll see what I couldn't make Peeta see, about this being our only hope. Gale has always wanted to stand up and fight against the Capitol, anyway. It might not be here in 12, like he wanted. But it will be something. At least we'll be fighting.
I'm tempted to try and sneak out to our usual meeting place beyond the fence. But the rumor is that the fence has been turned back on. In fact, I wander down there, just to be sure, and sure enough, there is the familiar buzzing sound that indicates it's not safe to crawl under. So then it's doubtful Gale will be out there at all. Which means the next place to check is at his house. I set off for the Seam immediately.
Hazelle answers the door when I knock. She doesn't look surprised to see me. "He's here," she confirms. "He went out this morning, but he's back already." I can tell she already knows about the fence.
Maybe Hazelle wasn't surprised to see me, but Gale actually seems to be. "Katniss," he says as he steps into the room, looking like I'm the last person he expected to see sitting at the table.
"Hey," I say, feeling a little awkward. We haven't really spoken much since that one afternoon at the cabin. I was too embarrassed by my reaction, and too caught up in my own problems. He hasn't said it, but I suspect Gale was a little hurt. He doesn't know what all has happened to Peeta and me. I feel like I should tell him, so he understands it's not personal that I reacted that way. But I can't. I just can't do it. I don't know how to talk about it. If I'm honest, I don't really even want to talk about it. And besides, I can't help but worry what Gale would do with the information, once he found out. He'd probably attempt to start his own uprising right here, in 12.
"I wanted to talk to you," I tell him. I glance over at Hazelle, who is busy washing a tub of laundry, to try and pass the hint. We need to talk alone.
Fortunately, Gale understands my mind better than anybody. He understands what I'm trying to tell him. "I was going to carry a tub of clothes out to dry for my mother," he says. "You can help if you want."
I follow him outside as he scoops up the tub and exits to the dingy little yard in front of the house. It's hardly an ideal spot, considering anyone could walk by and overhear what we're saying. But it's going to have to do. Maybe I can conceal the conversation somewhat by muffling our voices behind the clothes or something.
"So. Did you have fun in the Capitol?" His voice is cold and flat, and I can tell Gale has been stewing over my latest visit for some time.
"No. Of course not," I say, bitterly at that. A part of me prickles that I would ever even have fun at what I'm forced to do when I make these trips out to the Capitol, but I stop myself before I light into Gale for it. He doesn't know what's really going on, I remind myself. From his perspective, Peeta and I just taking joy trips out to parties in the Capitol to promote President Snow's agenda. It's like his worst nightmare come to life.
Gale doesn't really respond. He just gives me a look while he grabs a few items of clothing from the pile and begins to pin them to the line. I grab a handful myself and begin to the do the same.
"You don't need to do that. You can afford to have someone do your clothes for you, remember?"
"Stop it, Gale," I frown at him. "You know I don't like it any better than you do."
"No. I can't say that I do know that," he says, refusing to make eye contact with me.
"Well, it's true," I shoot back at him, and then I sigh. This wasn't how I wanted this conversation to go at all. I need to convince Gale to escape with me out into the woods, and in order to do that, I have to convince him that I'm still on his side. So, once again, I decide to cut directly to the heart of the matter. "Gale, I need to talk to you about our plan to escape into the woods."
He just looks at me, one eyebrow raised, and a skeptical expression on his face. "You sure you want to do that? It might involve accidently touching me again."
There it is. An admission that Gale hasn't gotten over the incident in the cabin at all. It's clear he's still angry over it. Still hurt over it. So I do the only thing I know I can do. I apologize. "I'm sorry. About what happened. I really am. I'm just- I'm so on edge, all the time. Little things set me off. Stupid stuff, that never used to get to me before," I tell him, looking at him, pleading with him with my eyes, my tone of voice, to please believe me. "It wasn't you. It just surprised me. I'm not good with surprises anymore."
"You never were all that good with surprises to begin with," Gale says. And then he flashes me a grin at last, and I know my apology has worked. He's coming back around. I'm so relieved, I can't help actually grinning back at him. I can't even remember the last time we've joked around like this. I can't remember the last time I really joked around with anyone, for that matter.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asks, a lot more openly this time.
"I've changed the plan. Just a little," I explain as we work to pin more clothes on the line together. "We still go. But instead of surviving out in the woods, we make our way to another district."
"I'm confused," Gale says. "How exactly does that help us?"
I have to remind myself that Gale is even more in the dark about what's happening in the rest of the country than I am. And I can only feed him my suspicions. "Gale… I think the other districts are rebelling."
This has the intended effect.
"What?" He turns at me, looking at me like he can't believe he heard me right. Like he has to make sure I really meant what he thought I said. "How do you know this? What have you heard?"
"Not… much," I admit, already sort of regretting going down this road with him. "Just things I've heard here and there. I told you what President Snow said. And just the things I saw when we were on the Victory Tour."
"What things?" Gale looks disgusted that I would even bring the tour up, but I can tell he's trying to let it go in light of the much better information that accompanies it.
"The restlessness," I tell him. "And, well… " I pause, wondering just how much I should really tell Gale. I want him to go to another district with me, to help fight back, but Gale seems so ready to join up in the rebellion that I'm afraid he might not even wait until we've left to start in on anything. But Gale and I don't keep secrets. He alone knows how I operate. So I tell him. About the coordinated signal given in 11, about the man who initiated it and how he had been dragged to his knees and shot in the head by the Peacekeepers. I tell him how in the other districts, you could just feel it in the air, how they were about to rebel. "And that was a few weeks ago," I say as I finish. "I know Peeta and I haven't done enough to stop it. So I can only think they've actually started to rebel by now. Or they will be, at least, by the time we get to them."
Gale frowns. "That sounds awfully risky, Katniss," he says. "What if we get to one of these districts, and they're not rebelling after all?"
I have to think for a minute. Admittedly, I hadn't thought of that. Only of how desperately I need to get out of here. "I don't know," I confess. "We can figure it out from there. But we have to get everyone out, Gale!"
I regret my choice of words almost immediately. Gale gives me a good, long look, like he suspects he knows what's really going on. "And has our party changed at all, since the last time we had this discussion?" he asks.
"No." I knew that was his hang up. I feel myself growing angry. How can he be so caught up in his feelings at a time like this? "We can't leave Peeta behind, Gale. They're hurting him just as much as they are me!" Maybe even more so, at this point.
"Is that what this is really about? Saving your fiance?" He clips another shirt to the line, refusing to look at me.
"He's not my fiance," I say for what feels like the millionth time. But at this point, I'm not sure why I even bother or care. Gale doesn't seem willing to see reason. If he can't see past his own feelings to see what's really going on, that innocent lives need to be protected, well, maybe he can just go ahead and be angry.
"Right. He's only your fiance when you get to go to live it up in the Capitol."
"Forget it!" I yell, not caring anymore who hears me. "Just forget I ever said anything about it." I turn on my heel to storm off.
"Katniss! Wait, Katniss!" I hear him call over me. But it's too late for him to feel bad. Frankly, I've had enough of his tantrums over Peeta. Peeta didn't ask for this, and neither did I. And after everything they've put us through, I just can't take much more of Gale acting like this.
It takes about a half an hour to get from Gale's house in the Seam back to Victor's Village. Naturally, the two are placed about as far away from each other as they can be. In the time it takes me to walk the distance between the two, I go over my encounter with Gale, holding arguments in my mind, stuff I wish I had thought to say when I was still there with him. What's wrong with him? Again I remind myself that Gale has no clue what they're really doing to us behind the scenes in the Capitol. I start to cool down. He doesn't know.
Still, the fact remains that I don't have time to play around anymore. I have to do something, and fast. Because if not… if not, I don't know how I'll cope. I can't stand being in this position for much longer. I have to do something, something to tip things back in my favor.
By the time I get back to Victor's Village, I've calmed down enough that I'm ready to start forming a plan, instead of stewing in my own anger over Gale, over the Capitol, over the woman who raped Peeta, over everything.
"Katniss." A male voice calls my name from behind me. I whirl around, half-expecting it to be Gale, following me all the way from the Seam for I don't know what, another lecture or something maybe. But it isn't him. It's Peeta.
"Just come back from hunting?" He asks. You can tell he doesn't think it's a very good idea.
"No," I say. "The fence is on. Can't get out. I was just in the Seam."
He nods. "Oh yeah, I heard about the fence. I was just visiting the bakery."
We turn at the same time, and continue up the path that leads to our houses. "You seem like you're feeling better," I say.
Peeta shrugs. "I guess I just had some time to think over what you said yesterday."
"Yeah?" I look over at him. I feel a small twinge of hope, somewhere deep inside of me. "And?"
"And I realized you're right," he says with a sigh. "I just don't know what we can do."
"We run," I tell him. Isn't it that simple?
"I think it may be too late for that now, Katniss," he says sadly. "How are we supposed to get out of here with the fence turned back on?"
I hadn't thought of that. I hadn't put the connection together yet from this morning. But Peeta is right. With the fence turned on, there's no way we could really get out of here. Not all of us, at least. Gale and I could find a way over, maybe, but how could we get everyone else over it? Certainly Peeta couldn't do it with his leg. And Haymitch is far too out of shape to do much besides crawl underneath. My mother and Hazelle might not be much up for the challenge, either. And don't even get me started on Posy.
I feel like folding on my knees right here and crying. There goes my only idea. What on earth are we supposed to do now?
Peeta looks upset just from watching me. We've come to a stop in front of his house. "Come on inside," he says. "You can warm up. And I've been baking."
Not even cheese buns sound good right now, that's how dire this situation is. But I still follow him inside, and take a seat in front of the fireplace in his front room while he disappears momentarily into the kitchen, then comes back, cheese buns on a plate in one hand, and mugs of something in another.
"It's tea," he says.
"Thank you," I accept it from him. Despite my lack of an appetite, I still take one of the buns, and nibble on it absently while I stare off into space, trying to figure what on earth we're going to do.
"What do we do, Peeta?" I whisper at last. "We can't keep going on like this."
"I know," he agrees. "But I don't think we should be discussing anything here."
He's right. I know he is. Wasn't it exactly what I was concerned about the other day? That they had bugged our houses, were listening in on our conversations? And it's probably true. It's exactly the kind of thing President Snow would do.
They control every aspect of our lives.
No. They can't control our thoughts, our feelings. And if they're listening in, maybe there's a way we can use that to our advantage. I think back to the stories of the Dark Days, when the rebels would purposely feed wrong information to the jabberjays, knowing they would carry it back and throw off the Capitol.
Peeta and I don't know any information, though. There are no rebellions going on here. Or if there are, then Peeta and I don't know about them. So what can we do, then, that they would overhear, that would be in direct defiance of the Capitol? Of Snow himself?
I watch as Peeta gets up to throw another log on the fire. The arms in his muscle tighten, work together as he moves them. Those arms that, even now, even despite the circumstances, make me feel safe when I'm in them. I hear Snow's voice echo inside my head. Convince me, he had said. And then, in a further attempt to control the Star-Crossed Lovers of District 12, to prevent them from causing any more damage, he had sold us, our bodies, to the highest bidder. Because just like with Finnick, and who knows how many other victors, Snow even gets to decide when and how and with whom we have sex.
That's when it hits me. It's so bold, it's almost reckless. But what do I have to lose? What do either of us have to lose at this point? But if we can gain even some semblance of autonomy back, at this point, I'll take it.
I rise carefully to my feet. Peeta, who has just finished his work with the fire, turns to face me. He always knew the best way to handle flame. He looks at me now, can see that I have something in mind. I see the question in his face. As I cross the room, he's just forming the question with his voice.
In response, I take his face in my hands and kiss him.
Surprise! I bet you didn't think I'd have the next chapter up so soon. ;) I'm working on this story for NaNoWriMo, so I've been getting a lot done. The next chapter will likely be up by next week, and as you can expect, it'll be a doozy. Things are finally heating up in this story! (No pun intended. :P)
Thanks to bigbigbigday006/feeding_geese for her help, as always.