A/N: Biting the cuticle off my right thumb and listening to Revolution Radio Hunger Games Podcast (shameless plug) as I write. Just thought you might want to know.

**Chapter 2**

When I open my eyes, I'm all sweaty again. Peeta is running his fingers through my hair. I turn to face him, pressing my forehead into his chest.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hey," I mumble into his shirt.

"How are you feeling?"

I take a quick inventory of my aching head and body. "Mmmm. Sick," I say.

"I know," Peeta soothes, trying to get a hand on my face to feel my fever.

"What time is it?" I ask, pushing myself to a sitting position before Peeta can reach my cheek.

"I don't know. It's light outside," he says with a smile. "Probably a couple of hours to lunch."

I sigh. Not too much longer before we have to appear in public. Soon my prep team will be prodding me into perfection. I think of how painful this is going to be. Feeling dejected, I slump back onto the pillows. Peeta wraps an arm around me. I go to sleep again.

I must have really passed out, because the next time I open my eyes Peeta is sitting on the edge of the bed. Effie is standing behind him.

"Think you can manage some breakfast?" Peeta asks. He's holding a cup of broth in his lap.

I push myself up onto the pillows. "I guess so."

Peeta scoops a spoonful of broth and slowly brings it to my lips. I swallow the hot liquid. It feels good on my throat. He feeds me another sip.

"Katniss." Effie speaks up. "We'll be pulling into district 8 in a little over an hour." She thrusts a glass of water and another couple of pills at me.

"What do these things do?" I ask. Now I'm awake enough to care what I'm taking.

"Fever reducer. Anti nausea," Effie explains.

"Okay," I say as I toss the tablets into my mouth.

Effie takes the broth from Peeta and pushes it into my water-free hand. "Your prep team will be in shortly," she says. "Yours will too," she says to Peeta, pulling him up and steering him out of the room.

"See you soon," Peeta says as the door closes.

I sit there stupidly, looking down at the broth and water in my hands. I don't want to get up. I really don't want to be plucked and painted into perfection. I'm a little hungry for something more substantial than broth, but I think it probably won't stay down. I'll probably puke all over the steps to the justice building.

The bedroom door opens again. I screw my eyes shut, waiting for the shrill squeals of my preps. But there are only quiet footsteps coming toward the bed. Cool lips graze my forehead. "Girl on fire," Cinna says softly.

I open my eyes and smile up at Cinna. "Hey," I whisper.

"You're sick," he says.

"Did Haymitch tell you I was drunk?"

"Pregnant, actually." Cinna replies with a grin. I laugh quietly. My head throbs.

Cinna doesn't make me get out of bed. He just pulls up a chair and begins to comb my hair with gentle fingers. I drink a little more broth and sit with my eyes closed.

Cinna finishes my hair and starts on my makeup. He promises not to use much, and he rubs the liquid pigments between his fingers to warm them before applying them to my face. I feel better than I had earlier, but I'm still achy to the point of being miserable.

The prep time isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. When I'm lightly made up, Cinna helps me into my outfit. Soft black pants like the ones I wore for the reunion in 12. A pale green silky blouse with long sleeves and a high waist. The hem falls to my upper thighs. My hair is loose and curling around my shoulders. I'm grateful that my hairstyle isn't one that will make headache worse. Cinna pins my mockingjay to the blouse. I step into my shoes, which, to my relief, don't have high heels.

Cinna takes my arm. We exit the bedroom and walk down the train. Haymitch, Effie, Peeta, and Portia are waiting in the sitting area.

"You look lovely," Effie trills.

"Thanks," I say, acutely aware of how rough my voice is. Effie notices too, and she gives me a peppermint lozenge.

The train begins to slow, and minute later the doors are open and Peacekeepers and important people are helping us off the train and into a car. I sit next to Peeta and rest my head on his shoulder. I'm cold. And hot. And tired. I sigh a little.

"It'll be over soon," Peeta whispers.

A/N: R&R please! More coming soon (maybe later tonight if I'm not to sleepy).