A/N: Thanks so, so, so, so much for the reviews! I love you guys!

I heard someone say something a long time ago and I thought it was goofy, but now I really feel it, so I'm going to start saying it too: Reviews feed my muse!

**Chapter 5**

I am in some sort of hazy dreamland fog when the door to the sitting room opens again. Peeta's kissing me back to awareness, palming my sweaty forehead. I open my eyes and see Cinna draping a garment bag over a wooden chair in the corner.

"You awake?" Cinna asks.

"Yeah," I say softly.

"Got some rest?"

I nod, pushing my hair off my face. I look up at Peeta. "Thanks," I whisper. He kisses the tip of my nose.

Cinna comes and sits next to me on the couch again. "Hey," he says, patting my knee. "This won't be so bad."

I nod and try to smile.

"Portia's got you next door," Cinna says to Peeta. "I'll get her back to you real soon."

"Okay," Peeta says as he stands up. He plumps the couch cushions up behind me, kisses the top of my head, and leaves.

I want him to stay. I want to apologize for snapping at him earlier. But he's already gone. I run my fingers over my head where his lips last touched.

"How are you doing?" Cinna asks me, "and be honest."

"I'll make it for a while," I say. "But after that…" I sigh. "I don't fucking know." I'm losing it. I want to cry. I want to sleep. I want Peeta to hold me. I don't want to get drunk or pretend to get drunk at a stupid dinner party. I want the districts to go ahead and stomp on the face of the Capital. I want to punch President Snow in his grotesque, puffy mouth.

But I want my mother to tuck me into bed with warm blankets and a cool compress. I want Prim to sit beside me, hug me, and bring me slices of toast. I can't let them slip away. I can't let anyone hurt them. Especially not because of me.

I bury my face in the furry blanket and let the tears fall. Cinna guides my head into his lap. His hands cool the back of my neck as I cry. I sob until my head is pounding and I'm all out of tears.

When I sit up, Cinna leaves me sniffling for a moment and returns with a glass of water and a cool washcloth. He sponges smeared makeup from my face, then tosses more pillows behind me and begins combing my hair. I sip water and breathe deeply, trying to hydrate myself and get a handle on my emotions.

Cinna loosely gathers my hair with a jeweled barrette, then begins to apply a light layer of makeup. I start to relax, my heartbeat melding with my breathing and aches. It feels like barely a minute has passed, though it has been much longer, and Cinna is helping me to my feet. He shows me the outfit I'll wear, then helps me put it on.

I have a pale taupe satin dress. It is sleeveless and falls to my mid calves. Then there is a pair of soft leather flats and a creamy colored knit wrap. I sigh at the luxury of the wrap as Cinna drapes it over my shoulders.

"Cashmere," Cinna explains.

"Thank you," I say, pulling it closer around me.

"You look beautiful," He says, cupping my fevered cheeks. I force myself to smile. Cinna takes my arm and escorts me from the sitting room. We meet up with Peeta and Portia in the hall. Peeta takes my hand.

We wait a moment, and Effie and a very cleaned up looking Haymitch join us. Cinna squeezes my shoulder and gives an affirming nod before he and Portia depart. Effie starts jabbering about manners and schedules as she leads us to the dining room. Haymitch is scowling and raising his eyebrows, reminding me of our grand escape plan. I straighten my shoulders and take a huge breath through my mouth, trying not to smell the food that I know is waiting.

Effie pushes the door open, and Peeta and I enter with Haymitch a few steps behind us. The mayor comes forward to shake our hands and introduce his wife. I nod politely, not listening.

I scan the room, taking in all the trays of hors d'oeuvres. I locate a table populated with small glasses of amber liquid.

Letting go of Peeta's hand, I retrieve a cup of the alcohol, searching my brain for an appropriate emotion to portray. I settle on relief and try to arrange my face into a corresponding expression. I look around for the camera and am not surprised to find it right behind me. I raise my glass in a mock toast and act like I'm taking a swig while swallowing the tiniest amount possible.

The alcohol is sharp and burning, but it goes down easier than I expected. It tastes fairly decent too. There's a hint of nature, almost a maple. It tastes surprisingly like home. I hold the glass tightly and make my way back to Peeta, kiss him on the cheek, and nuzzle his neck.

We slowly make a circuit of the room, greeting people, kissing as we lean against the wall, and examining the trays of appetizers. I let Peeta feed me a bite of fluffy bread, but I can barely keep from sprinting in the opposite direction as we come upon a fragrant plate of fish and crackers.

I sneak my glass of liquor behind a vase as I bend close to a table displaying dishes of fruit. When Peeta and I make it back to the table of liquor glasses, I help myself to another. Peeta playfully teases me, saying that I should slow down and have something to eat. I just lay my head on my shoulder and kiss his cheek.

I don't know how long we've been meandering around the room, but after a while I begin to feel more tired and shaky. I'm on my fourth glass of the autumn-forest liquor. I've only consumed a couple of tablespoons of the brew, but my head is warm and light. Maybe it's just the fever.

Haymitch is coming toward Peeta and me. I toast him. We smile. Someone approaches to speak to us as a group. I get the bright idea to drop my glass so I don't have to think of some other way to get rid of it. It'll help with the tipsy act. The head peacekeeper is wishing us luck with the rest of the tour when I let go of the cup. It lands on Haymitch's foot, then bounces to the floor where it shatters.

Everyone is staring at me. There are a few seconds of silence, then Effie begins chirping apologies. She rushes to apprehend the attendant who is bringing me another drink. "Oh, she's had enough I'm sure, and it's nearly time to sit down to eat," she trills.

"Oh, come on," Haymitch says, handing me his own glass of alcohol, "Let her be her own girl on fire." He suppresses a belch.

I thank Haymitch, toast the peacekeeper, and plant a kiss on Peeta's mouth. He's surprised, but doesn't pull back as I slip my tongue between his lips. Just for the act. Maybe. I just hope I'm not passing on too many of my germs. When I emerge from the kiss, the room has swung back into action. But the camera is still on Peeta and me.

I take a cautious sip of the drink. It's not the autumn-forest liquor I'd been drinking before. This stuff is disgusting and slightly fizzy. I swallow more than I meant to, and I come up choking a little. Peeta puts his arm around my shoulders and chuckles at the camera. Then he looks at me.

My warm lightness is gone. My entire body is throbbing and my nausea has returned with a vengeance. Haymitch's glass is trembling in my hand.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks, a concerned note in his voice.

I push a loose lock of hair from my forehead. "I'm just…" I feel so sick. Shit. "I'm not feeling—excuse me."

I push away from Peeta and dash out of the dining room, down the hall, and into the nearest bathroom. I slam the door and begin to gag. A small amount of liquor and water comes up, most of it ending up down the front of my dress. I swear under my breath and kneel in front of the toilet, resting my head on the seat.

I shut my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to ignore the smell of puke. I just hope we can get out of here soon.

The bathroom door creaks open. I raise my head a little and look, squinting at the bright light spilling in from the hallway. I breathe in sharply as the glare assaults my eyes. Peeta is immediately kneeling beside me. He tenuously touches my shoulder. I don't pull away, and he wraps his solid arms completely around my trembling body. I tilt my head back onto his shoulder.

"I can't fucking wait to go to bed," I whisper.

A/N: R&R please! "Reviews feed my muse!" One more chapter to go!