Disclaimer: I am so sorry for the nearly 3 month hiatus, I'm just not been in the scheme of running this fanfic smoothly. I wanted to push out 3 chapters for you guys in one shot but I couldn't succeed. I will make a promise now to try to stay a little consistent as I morph each chapter into Peeta's POV thank you so much for the support and make sure to review constructively and keep tabs on my whereabouts via tumblr! . com
I'm not sure what to think at first.
Gazing over at Katniss I can tell she's a mixture of repulsed and confused. Checking outside the compartment there's not another worker in sight and Effie has vanished indefinitely. We both edge closer to our fallen mentor. He reeks of spirits and other unpleasant stenches. What makes it worse is he's trying to save himself from lying in the foul residue. Katniss draws her hand up to her mouth, a pale shade of green forming on her cheeks. We glance at each other and simply nod.
Haymitch may be a drunkard, but once we're in the arena he's our only life line once we're inside. I have no other choice but to depend on him.
Together Katniss and I step closer and take one of Haymitch's arms to help the poor man to his feet.
"I tripped?" He slurs, "Smells bad."
Haymitch draws his hand over to his nose, not realizing it's covered in his own vomit. It's times like these I'm thankful for having the mentality to deal with the vomit. Katniss is another story. I can tell she doesn't know what to do and it's possible she's trying to formulate in her mind how to keep herself from upchucking.
"Let's get you back to your room" I chime in, "Clean you up a bit."
At that, Katniss looks over at me weary. Does she think I'd make her do the task along with me? I only need help to carry the drunkard back to his quarters. As we walk out of the compartment half carrying and supporting Haymitch back to his quarters, I swiftly get the door open. Getting inside we notice that the rooms aren't all that different from each other with the grand bed, the dresser, the silken sheets, embroidered bedding. Carefully leading him over to the bath tub, I look at the complex nozzles looking for the one that will only simply turn the water on, keeping him underneath the streaming flow. Katniss has gone to clean her hands from the sink and as she returns I only hold my hand up to her as I keep the man at back to remove sitting up, merely so he doesn't drown.
"It's okay, I'll take it from here." I say simply.
Looking over at her, she seems relieved, not knowing what to say she simply holds our gazes for another moment before replying "All right, I can send one of those Capitol people if you want help?"
Thinking about gaining help from any of the Capitol people leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, I shake my head, "No, I don't want them." I manage to say softly.
Her gray eyes stare at me for a moment, the relief still spreading in her expression and suddenly as I look over to her it's distant. A wall has been put up most likely as a guard, after all weren't we in a fight to the death? She moves her braid back over her shoulder and nods again, not saying a word for any goodbyes turns and leaves. When I hear the door closing completely I'm only greeted by the sound of Haymitch retching in the shower stall.
I give him a few moments to compose himself, hearing a few buttons clicking and relinquishing what ever contents ended up near the drain.
"Good to go?" I ask.
Haymitch only grunts trying to wave me off and slumps towards the opening of the shower. Immediately I get to working on my mentor trying to shape him up into something decent. Stripping him from his clothes and discarding them, a few presses of the buttons and something metallic pops out from the tiles. Heaving him up to stand, the metallic circular objects gently wring around his waist. Haymitch is silent, no slurs, no obscenities, not a word and I'm worried he's really done it this time, drinking himself to death. Until a soft rhythm of snores falls from his mouth, his head is slumped down to his chest, he almost looks eerily peaceful. As I finish the job of cleaning him and the rest of the Capitol's mechanics in the shower, which makes even the most mundane tasks seem trivial, Haymitch is clean and surprisingly still sleeping. Getting him back to the bed is the real bulk of the ordeal and when he's down on the silken sheets and soft bedding the soft purr of his snores gets progressively louder.
"Good night, sir." I muttered under my breath before briskly walking out of his quarters and into my own.
Passing through into my own quarters I strip out of my own clothing for the door and take advantage of the hot water. I want to check on her, make sure she's fine. I want to go back into Haymitch's quarters slap him awake, tell him to lay off the bottle for a few weeks if he can, anything to keep her safe. But to make that talk now as he's still inebriated it'll come to deaf ears. When and if that talk should ever happen I need him somewhat sober, I need him to listen. Staring up at the rivulets of water falling down from the spout, it takes me back to the rainy day where I saw her scavenging for food like a rabid animal. The aftermath of it all and the months that followed were quite silent. Something in Katniss changed and it made me admire her strong will even more. To see her trembling with hunger, doubt, resentment, and fear to transforming into this new found keeper of her household it was like watching a wounded bird grow and rise from an injury. She seemed to be getting healthier. Her usually sullen face now had a ferocity that made those in District 12 know that she was a survivor, though she suffered like the rest she wasn't going down without a fight. Her same shade of black hair would peek through the bakery windows sometimes. She would have an empty satchel with her and a shoddy looking bow, along with a few dull arrows. Taking a closer look she was going over to the woods usually restricted for most to go in, or at least the restriction really was the fear of being eaten or attacked by what ever lay in there. Day after day she went and came back with at first meager portions, presumably game for her family. Then one day, I saw her coming back with another boy. It was strange to see them together at first, he seemed some domineering but soon as days turned into weeks, a smile lit up on her face when I saw them coming back together from the woods. She seemed genuinely happy and in the pit of stomach I felt something churning, jealousy? The days progressed and when I watched from the bakery window, there was something lighter in her step, something lighter in her smile, something lighter in her entire demeanor. The way she looked up and over at that boy who accompanied her in the woods who I would come to know as Gale Hawthorne, it honestly made me jealous. But the more she was with him the more the District buzzed about their game and they had more than and how they would trade with them for such good deals. Which meant more mouths would be fed, including her own and that was the main purpose.. My father even fell prey to it, trading a few cookies or some bread for squirrel (I would never understand his obsession with squirrels even to this day).
The thought of father, the thought of the bakery, my brothers, even my mother, there's a longing that starts in the peak of my mind. As I step out and plant myself into the bed, the lull of the train moving swiftly seems to get me to sleep quickly. The last vision I see is her face smiling with pride.
In the morning, the lights from the windows cascade in, making the darkness from beneath my eyelids shine to an almost translucent orange. It's the morning which means another day is ahead of me, but it also means I'm another day closer to a deadly fate. Making my way to the dining car, I see Haymitch resting clasping his hands together trying to keep his head from smashing against the table. Effie is silently stirring a tiny spoon into a cup of tea, giving him a few small glares and shaking her head. As I make my way to the table, her eyes shine with an exciting.
"Up and at 'em Peeta! And good morning to you." She says with a bit too much enthusiasm to my liking.
I simply nod and mutter back, "And good morning to you too, Effie."
This seems to be enough for her as her smile falters and she goes back to stirring her spoon into her tea. Haymitch grunts and looks over to me, pointing to the kettle in the center of the table.
"Try it. It's hot chocolate, it'll warm you up." He says.
Curiously, I take the kettle and pour it into the cup in front of me, a server has brought over a basket of bread, they look fresh and the steam lines coming from the center makes my mouth salivate. Taking one immediately, I take a feel of the bread, it's soft and warm, no burnt edges anywhere and the aroma is quite intoxicating. Ripping apart the roll, I happily start to settle into eating the bread.
"My, with that much bread, it's no wonder you're so stocky. Must be from all the carbs." Effie chimes in.
Chewing over the rest of the bread, I pick up another roll and think over her statement. "Actually, I don't really particularly care for what goes into bread like you Capitol people do. Bread is home and love to me."
I take another intentionally ravenous bite into the roll, this makes her cringe, I suppose my mannerisms are getting worse for her. Haymitch is chuckling lowly beside me as he takes a look over at Effie.
"What's the matter Trinket? Never gorged yourself on delicacies before?" He says almost bitterly.
The combination of the hot chocolate and the bread is almost too good to be true as I switch from taking a bite and sipping from my cup. It sounds like another mini round of bantering is about to start between Effie and Haymitch so I put my attention into dipping some bread into the hot liquid when the dining car doors slide open. My eyes gaze up to see who's walked in and Katniss enters, her braid a little cleaner and more kempt than yesterday. She looks rested and something about that fact makes a small smile cross my lips. Our eyes lock for a moment and suddenly I'm embarrassed looking down to the table.
"Sit down, sit down!" Haymitch roars, motioning for her to come over.
She makes her way to the table and takes a seat. With the District 12 table full, the servers start to come out with tureens of rich and flavorful food. Fruits, meats, more bread, I can't help but think that if I were able to, taking this home to my family we would be set for months. I watch as she gorges on each platter of food that's set before us. Effie is making remarks on how animal-like it is, Katniss only gives her a terse look and goes back to eating. I stick with the bread and a few eggs here and there. Eventually to cut the awkward tension, I pour a cup of hot chocolate into her cup. She looks perplexed and confused.
"They call it hot chocolate." I say simply. "It's good."
Katniss looks at the cup as if I'm just poured poison in there, but soon enough she takes it and sips at the warm liquid, I can tell she's probably burned her taste buds slightly as she cringes with slight pain but still she manages to finish her cup before going back to eating. Eventually she slows down and stops eating/ I mindlessly work on another bread roll and dip it into the hot chocolate. Haymitch sits beside me drinking cranberry juice and spirits when he adds it from his flask. This fact makes me wary, if it continues it'll be in no time at all that he'll be lost in his drunken haze as usual. Katniss seems to pick up the same thought as she gives him a stern look, folding her arms together as she leans back into her seat. She appears to be studying him like the hunter she is, only Haymitch isn't prey to hunt but something she needs to understand.
"So you're supposed to give us advice." She states bluntly.
Haymitch only smirks and takes another sip of his drink. "Here's some advice, stay alive." He retorts.
Grinding my teeth together, something about the statement makes me snap. Stay alive. Stay alive? When the odds were this numbered, the only thing he could offer up to say was something vague and common? Looking into Katniss' gray eyes I turn back to Haymitch, the venom of my words surprising her and myself.
"That's very funny." I say vehemently before knocking out his glass from his hands, the shatter of the glass hits the floor and the table is stunned. "Only not to us."
Haymitch is silent for a moment looking from the liquid and back at me, that's when his arm comes swinging and I take a blow to the face, sending me out of my chair and onto the floor. It stings and I'm sure it will bruise, the force of it feeling all too familiar to me. I look up however and see that Katniss has taken it upon herself to make a fighting statement as well as she takes a knife and drives it near his hand. Haymitch sits back and stares at us both, as I stand up behind Katniss ready to take him if he decides to hit her as well.
"Well what's this?" He says quizzically. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"
Soon enough I think it's safe to step away from Katniss, he won't harm her, I don't think Haymitch would be that despicable. Grabbing ice from one of the tureens holding fruit, I start to put it to my face when he stops me.
"No, let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it into the arena." He says.
"That's against the rules." I reply incredulously.
"Only if they catch you. That bruise will show you fought. The fact you weren't caught, makes it better. " Haymitch turns his gaze back to Katniss looking at the knife planted in the table. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"
Katniss looks at him and back to the knife, taking it from where it was planted and stands up to throw it into the wall across the room making a clean targeted hit. She looks just as surprised as Haymitch does as he inspects it and realizes it's in the seam of the wall wedged between two panels. He instructs us both to stand up and he circles around us, prodding at us as if we're test subjects, animals. He checks our make up, squeezing our arms, prodding her stomachs and getting too close to comfort from our faces.
"You're not entirely hopeless. You seem fit. And once your stylists get to you, you'll be attractive enough." He says.
We both can only nod at this fact, though the Games is more so a prowess of strength, sponsors often look for those who a little well off and easier to look at then the dowdy downtrodden tribute.
"I'll make you a deal." He says eyeing us both. "If you don't interfere with my drinking, I will stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say." He warns, looking at Katniss specifically when he says the last sentence.
It's not much, I'm not sure if I can still truly put my life in this man's hands or even guarantee he can help me thoroughly, but I've no other choice.
"Fine." I say finally.
"So help us, when we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-" Katniss rambles off.
Haymitch holds up a hand to silence her. "One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be meeting your stylists and you probably won't like what they're going to do but you mustn't resist."
"But-" She tries to assert more words but he cuts her off.
"No buts, don't resist. " He says with a finality giving us one more sweeping look before grabbing a bottle and rushing out of the dining car.
As the door closes the lights dim out slightly. I take a look towards the window and realize it must be night time as flashes of small lights start to pass as we make it under the last tunnel. We're here. Katniss and I rush to the window to see what we've read about in the history books, seen occasionally on the television. The Capitol. The mountains of Appalachia cut off the Districts from this place and to say the least it's like entering a whole new planet let alone a new place. The train beings to slow and a blinding light starts to pour into the window as we make it into the station. The ruling city of Panem doesn't rest apparently as their new batch of tributes has finally made it to them to be plucked and primed the way they find suitable. The technology growing more bizarre than the last as cameras snake through, flashing lights already begins as reporters try to flock to different windows trying to see who they can manage to catch first. It's almost as if getting any coverage on us is a game to them and I'm only a piece of what sets them up. The thought of that makes me ill but I know I have to bear it if we're ever going to give this a shot. I muster up the courage to smile back, feeling my face hurt at how wide the smile has set itself as I wave back. I stop when they're out of sight as we pull closer into a different station, I feel a set of eyes burning a hole into my skin, turning my gaze to be met with Katniss' gray eyes, I shrug.
"Who knows, one of them may be rich." I say evenly.
Something about the statement alarms her as far as I can tell. She steps away slowly and I've become the subject for her to study. I only nod at her as I make my way towards the doors to get out. We'll need the sponsors, we'll have to be as charming as anything, especially if I want to succeed in getting her out and alive as the victor.