Well let's just jump right back into the action. What's going to happen to poor Peeta?
Ch. 5 – Capital Threats
Peeta had survived the Hunger Games; he killed people with his bare hands. He watched the life flicker from a person's eyes. He tore open the stomach of a kid. He speared a girl through the chest. He never wanted to be involved in the horrors of death and bloodshed again. But he thought he should at least be used to it, numb to violence and fear. Instead he stood paralyzed at the sight of Darius, his carnivorous smile, and silver gun that glinted in the light. Peeta's breath was ragged from the threat of violence that loomed thick in the air like a suffocating cloud of smoke.
But maybe it was because this was different. Peeta knew what it was like to come face-to-face with an attacker. Stasson hunted him relentlessly throughout the games. But this was no ordinary hunt. Peeta was Darius' prey, but he was not hunting to become victor and survive. He wanted Peeta alive. He had plans for Peeta. He had followed him and stalked him and yet his intentions were still a mystery to Peeta and that was probably the most terrifying part along with the fact that he had never been held hostage at gunpoint. He'd never even seen a gun up close until now, but their capabilities were all too well known. He knew how to handle facing an attacker who wanted him dead. So why did Darius lure him here under false pretenses?
Peeta regained some control of his motor functions and hesitantly stepped a foot backwards. The movement must have broken the spell that had frozen both them in place; Peeta in fear and Darius basking in the moment of having finally caught his mouse.
"Don't you try anything now," Darius said with a casual flick of his gun to emphasize the consequence of disobedience.
Peeta reflexively held his hands up in surrender and asked in a friendly voice, "Come on now, Darius. What are you doing? Was there ever even a support group?"
Peeta thought just maybe if he could get him to talk there might be a way out of this. Darius didn't look like he wanted to hurt Peeta; he just had what seemed like a very unhealthy obsession.
"I knew you wouldn't come easy, but I had to try, try and have you for myself. Before you became defiled by those Victor collectors in the Capitol," Darius whispered with grave intonations.
It was like there was ice running through Peeta's veins. Each time Darius spoke it sent a cold spike of fear throughout his system. Peeta racked his brain to find a way out of this situation. He could just go along with it, but no one knew he was here. How would they ever find him?
"Come, Peeta. I've prepared a nice dinner."
He stepped to the side of the doorframe and motioned with his wrist, the one holding the gun, for Peeta to head through it and down the hall towards his dinning room. Peeta's feet felt heavy and slow like he was wading through molasses as he moved towards the hallway. When he passed by Darius he averted his eyes, not wanting him to see the fear behind them, but he couldn't stop himself from hearing the large intake of breath Darius made, inhaling as much of Peeta's scent as he could get. Peeta's stomach knotted in sickening discomfort. He glanced towards the door, his salvation, just behind Darius.
"Ah, ah, ah. Don't even think about it," Darius warned as he pushed the tip of his gun into Peeta's back and propelled him forward.
Peeta turned into the dinning room and found a hot meal waiting on the scratched wood surface of the rectangular table. He had prepared a whole chicken and it made Peeta want to gag. What a willful waste of food in a district full of starving children. Then his eyes caught site of one of the chairs where a piece of rope lay coiled and ready to incapacitate Peeta. He froze in his spot as he tried desperately to form a plan for escape. His eyes darted from the latched windows to the other doorway leading to the kitchen and then all over the surface of the cracked dining table.
"Move, that chair, now."
Darius shoved at Peeta's back again, but this time he refused to move. Darius reached with stubby fingers and gripped Peeta's shoulder roughly, forcing him towards the chair in a jolting motion.
"I do like it when they fight back. That's the reason I chose you; fell for you. For your fight in the games…" He trailed off as if reminiscing about the good old days and Peeta shuddered.
Darius forced him down into the seat, hands pawing at him with too much pleasure. Then he started looping the rope around the base of the chair and up over Peeta's lap. Peeta's pulse began to skyrocket. This was his last chance to escape otherwise he'd be bound to this chair for who knows how long or what Darius would do to him in it. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his back as the anxiety built.
Unexpectedly Peeta dove into action, moving on pure adrenaline and flash memory of what it was like to fight for his life in the arena. His hand shot out towards the table and grabbed the nearest item he could get his hands on and then in a singular and swift movement, brought the glass plate down on Darius' head, which was bent down by his side. The glass crashed against his head with a harsh thud and cracked in two from the impact. Darius cried out in surprise and pain as he fell to the ground, a trail of blood working it's way down the side of his temple.
Peeta struggled against the rope until his body slipped free. Then he knocked the chair and table over as a diversion and way to put obstacles between Darius and himself. But Darius was fast and up on his feet in seconds, leaping over the fallen furniture and chasing Peeta down the hallway.
"STOP!" He shouted.
But Peeta refused to stop moving. He tore down the hallway in a frenzied run. The door was only a few more feet away, where freedom awaited him and then soon he would be free of the terror and captivity that Darius threatened. His hand reached the door handle and wrapped around it, pulling it open, the warm air being sucked out into the cold howling wind outside as—
CRACK.
An ear splitting shot rang out as a searing hot pain pierced Peeta's right side. He stumbled and fell down the few steps leading up to the front door. He landed hard against the frozen dirt road. Peeta cried out in pain and for help, but the foul wind just carried it away to the mountains in the distance, never to be answered.
Peeta panted with harsh breaths as he rolled onto his back and clamped a hand to the rights side of his stomach. He clenched his teeth and a ragged scream tore from his throat. Hot blood gushed from the bullet whole in his lower stomach, warming his hands against the frosty night air.
"Look what you made me do!" Darius howled in frustration.
He stood at the entrance to his door watching Peeta with a pained expression, like he had just shot himself in the foot. Peeta tried to use his left arm to scoot him backwards and away from his attacker, but he was only able to manage to pull himself a foot or so across the road, leaving a smeared trail of his own blood as Darius took deliberate and slow steps down the stairs towards Peeta.
"Let's get you back inside and cleaned up. I promise I'll make it all better, sweet, sweet Peeta," Darius cooed like he was talking to something that was utterly precious to him.
"You're mad!" Peeta yelled at Darius, causing him to flinch.
Darius's nostrils flared and his beard lifted up with his mouth in an offended sneer, the harsh lines of his face thrown into stark shadows by the light from his house, blood still trickling down the side of his face. He stalked closer to Peeta and then leaned down until his hot and polluted breath washed over Peeta, who danced dizzyingly in his mind from the loss of blood.
"The only thing mad is how much I care for you."
Darius then reached out and clamped down with crushing fingertips on Peeta's shoulder to pull him up. Peeta squawked meekly as he was ripped up to his unstable feet, but he accepted the opportunity given to him by Darius. Now that he was on his feet he slammed his shoulder into Darius and kicked the feet out from under him. Darius, taken by surprise, fell back on his ass, hands flailing as he tried to keep hold of Peeta, but failed.
Peeta didn't waste a second as he started running with a difficult limp down the street towards escape. The blood was now sluggishly leaking down his body, the thick warm liquid soaking everything. Peeta's right hand slipped against the copious amount of it to keep the pressure. He heard Darius hissing invectives as he quickly returned to his feet and chased after Peeta down the barren street.
Peeta didn't know where to go. Peacekeeper homes lined the street, but he wasn't sure if he could trust them, they liked to protect each other. So instead he continued pushing his body towards the Seam. He hoped he could lose Darius in the overpopulated and tightly packed shacks.
"Peeta!" Darius shouted after him and it sounded like he was gaining, which wasn't a surprise in Peeta's condition.
The road slanted downwards towards a ditch on the side as the separating line between the Peacekeepers village and the start of the Seam. Peeta stumbled and fell down into the trench. He bit his tongue trying to refrain from crying out in pain, but he managed to stay silent and low as he heard Darius ran past along the road with heavy footsteps.
It seemed like even though the sun had set it was still getting darker. It took Peeta a moment to realize he might be losing consciousness with the steep loss of blood. He had to act fast or he'd surely be dead, if he didn't bleed to death he'd surely freeze over night. He clawed at the embankment of the ditch and strained his muscles to drag himself up the other side. His wounded stomach scraped over the loose dirt and mixed with his wound, sticking to the blood in clumps. Desperation began to fill him up like water rising in a bathtub, close to spilling over. He needed to get to Mrs. Everdeen; she would be able to fix him.
Frantic eyes tried to fight off the darkness that encroached from the outer edges of his sight as he searched the outskirts of the Seam to get his bearings. The Everdeen's house would be further in and north. He could hear the frustrated sounds of Darius as he looped back around and Peeta knew he had to move now or be caught. He limped into the thick of the decrepit houses that occupied the Seam and disappeared from the line of sight of the road just as Darius ran by and swore in fury.
"FUCK! Peeta, why are you doing this to me?" Darius yelled with a lover's devastation.
Peeta continued towards his destination relieved to have finally lost his captor. His bones ached and his stomach throbbed as blood continued to flow out the hole at a sluggish pace. His mind gradually began weaving incomplete thoughts through his head as his eyesight grew topsy-turvy with fatigue from the blood loss. He was lost. Panic tried to breach his mind, but it was padlocked as the disorientation of his brain threw out all sane thoughts and feelings.
Pain flared on his nose and the dry bitter taste of dirt filled his mouth. He took stock that he was now laying on the ground. He couldn't remember falling, but he was pretty sure his nose had now joined in on the bleeding. Peeta's extremities began to go numb with the cold and he was loosing the will power to keep his right hand pressed against the wound. Then he noticed his right hand was up by his head, not even trying to staunch the flow of blood anymore.
Time drifted disjointedly. Blackness swarmed over his vision. Was that a gasp? Is someone here? He tried to open his eyes, but they already were and staring at a dead turkey a few feet in front of him. That didn't make sense. His mind was toying with him.
"Peeta! Peeta, what happened?" A frantic and familiar voice begged as he was lifted upright.
"—Everdeen," Peeta managed to moan.
Then he was suddenly raised up in the air and carried in a jolting sprint by his savior. He tried to get his eyes to focus, but they continued to stay blurry and shrouded as if he was looking through a black veil. He was able to make out the dark blue eyes of his savior. A dark blue that often looked black when he was angry and Peeta knew that change in color all to often until today. It was Gale. He must have returned from hunting. With the knowledge that he was safe Peeta allowed himself to be pulled under into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.
"AHHHH!" Peeta woke up screaming until his throat was hoarse and he couldn't breath.
The pain was unbearable and he tried to flail about, to attack whoever was digging around inside his wound touching and tugging against the torn muscle and flesh. But hands held him down from various directions as a woman shouted.
"Keep him steady, I can't do this if he is thrashing, I could injure him further."
Tears slipped from Peeta's eyes as he whimpered. He could see Primrose holding one of his legs and glittering tears in her eyes as well. Then Gale's face came into view as Peeta noticed Gale was holding down both of his arms.
"Look at me, just look at me. Try to match my breathing. It will be over soon. They don't have any morphling, but she has to clean out your wound and then stitch it up," Gale talked to Peeta in a calm and soothing manner.
"I think I've cleaned it as best I can. I'm going to start stitching now."
Gale held Peeta's eyes and imbued him with his own strength as Peeta bit down on his lip and tried to ignore the piercing pain and tug of flesh as Mrs. Everdeen threaded his wounded tissue together. Each time the needle punctured his raw and wounded skin he flinched and bile tickled the back of his throat as he felt the thread pulled through his skin and stitched together tightly.
"You're lucky the bullet went clean through, so once your stitched up you can rest. You'll need antibiotics to fight infection though," Mrs. Everdeen supplied in a clinically calm voice as she worked to stitch his skin closed. For such a fragile women she held it together better than most in a medical crisis.
Gale, now confident that Peeta wouldn't try and thrash about anymore, rested his hand on Peeta's chest, right over his heart and then held Peeta's hand to his heart. "Feel my heart beat? Try and calm yourself to match it."
Peeta felt the steady pulse of Gale's heart and he took deep shuddering breaths through his nose and out his mouth as he tried to reign in his riotous heartbeat. The feel of Gale's heart pumping slow and steady against Peeta's limp hand helped guide his breaths and blanket him in comfort from the pain his body was experiencing.
Slowly and surely his heartbeat fell within a normal range, the stabbing of the needle and the sickly feeling of his flesh being tugged subsided as Mrs. Everdeen finished her stitching, and then Peeta's eyes started to drift shut, but his hand was still placed against Gale's heart. Gale tried to place it back down by Peeta's side when his eyes whipped open and he whimpered pitifully.
"N-no, don't leave me," Peeta croaked and then gripped Gale's hand with tensed muscles.
Peeta could hear Mrs. Everdeen telling Prim to let Peeta get his rest and shooing her to bed as she had school in the morning. Gale rubbed his rough and calloused thumb across Peeta's pulse-point on his hand until his grip relaxed again.
Then he asked in an edgy whisper, "Who did this to you, Peeta?"
Peeta lolled his head to the side with droopy and tired eyes. He stared at Gale for a moment before he could piece it together and then tell him.
"It was Darius… He became… obsessed. Tried to take me… hostage—"
Gale muttered a foul cry, his hand going tense this time and that was the last Peeta could remember as he slipped back into oblivion.
Peeta wasn't sure how much time had passed, but surely a few days. The first day after the gunshot he didn't remember much, but that it was groggy and painful and he popped a stitch that Mrs. Everdeen had to suture back up, which was just as terrible an experience the second time with no anesthesia. After that they didn't want to risk moving him to his home so they set him up in Prim's bed and she slept with her mom, which she probably did anyways since Katniss had died. His dad may have visited that first day too, but everything was so foggy and laced with a dull throb of pain it was hard to remember. He did recall how Gale came by each night after work in the mines to check on him. He told him how he went to Cray, the head Peacekeeper, and repeated to him what happened with Darius, who tried to deny it, but they found all the pictures of Peeta in his house and one of his bullets outside—all Peacekeeper ammunition is marked and tracked—so it was clear what had happened. Apparently after that Darius had been shipped off to the Capitol to be dealt with.
By the third night Peeta was feeling much better, but still exhausted and woozy, when Gale came by to check on him again. Prim was feeding him a bowl of soup her mom had just cooked up and Peeta was flying high from the Morphling that Haymitch had managed to find in the basement of his house. Peeta giggled relentlessly when Gale took the soup from Prim and tried to help feed him.
"Come on now, stop laughing and eat," Gale said with exasperation, but a hint of amusement in his crinkled eyes.
"Make choo-choo sounds, ha-ha," Peeta giggled like a child again and Gale just shook his head while Prim joined in on laughing.
Soon after eating Peeta found his hand clasped around Gale's dirtied coalminer one and he whispered, "Thank you, Gale."
"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner."
Peeta wanted to respond but it was too late as he drifted off into a drugged and painless sleep filled with fantastic dreams. His favorite one was when he decided to jump into the air and fly out and away from District 12. He didn't stop flying until he arrived at District 2 and landed in front of Cato's house. He was antsy and giddy about the prospect of finally seeing his lover again. He ran towards the door and pounded against it repeatedly until he heard the latch being undone and the door opened inwards. Right before Cato's face was revealed on the other side he slipped from his dream and into the world of the living.
Birds could be heard, muffled through the walls, chirping their morning songs. Peeta's eyelids lit up in a pink fleshy color from the sun coming through the windows, but he wasn't ready to truly wake up just yet. He was happy to embrace the intangible space between waking and sleep. The space where all his feelings and faculties had yet to return to him and his mind drifted lazily through time and space with out consciously thinking. The pain had yet to set in again and his mind had yet to start gnawing at him with its unremitting memories: one's of blood and guts; guns and hammers; predatory smiles and eyes.
Slowly, but surely, his sense of being came back to life. It was almost a spiritual experience as he returned to his body, feeling the nerve-endings begin firing as awareness and a sense of his body's general position in the external world was restored. It was also when he realized he was still holding someone's hand. He remembered falling asleep holding Gale's hand now, but he should have been off to the mine's already. No one should be here truthfully. Prim should be at school and Mrs. Everdeen out doing house calls.
Peeta gave an experimental squeeze to the hand he was holding as he worked on opening his eyes and adjusting them to the light. That morphling really packed a punch and knocked him into a whole other world. No wonder people got so addicted to it, he thought.
The hand gave a squeeze back and Peeta's heart stuttered against the pacemaker's will. If his mind was not so foggy from the morphling he might have noticed sooner. His body could never forget. They were molded to fit together. His blood began to race and a strong heat crept up his neck. He thought he might be on the verge of a panic attack as his breathing also steadily increased.
"Peeta?" A voice spoke, deep and worried.
Finally he managed to get his eyes open, but they were paralyzed with fear. He was afraid to look over to see the face connected to the hand he held. He panted with a hyperactive breath. Was it real? Was he only imagining it? What if it was the morphling? He couldn't handle it, not after the past few days. But then that voice, the voice he had only heard in his dreams and over grainy telephone lines at scheduled times revealed the truth.
"Babe, it's okay."
He pointed his eyes up towards the ceiling and released a quivering breath. A tear slipped out and ran at an angle down his cheeks where two soft and large fingers swiped it away. Fingers he knew intimately. Peeta leaned into them, closed his eyes and then opened them, finally looking at the man next to his bed. His heart was on the brink of exploding with the love that had been contained, unable to go anywhere during their hellish exile.
"I'm here now and it's all going to be okay," Cato spoke in a sure and even tone.
Peeta was afraid this day would never come and he realized, no matter how much he tried to hold on to and remember his face, he could never get it right. The full glory of it was too much for his memory to contain: Cato's chocolate eyes and slender nose, strong jaw line and smooth unblemished skin. His chest felt heavy with the weight and emotion of the reunion, because it was real. Not dreamed or fantasized about. It was here and now, this moment, when Peeta was waking from a drugged sleep like Snow White to find his prince Charming waiting at his bed side. All that was left to complete the fairytale reunion was a kiss.
He couldn't find the words to speak, but his hand broke free of Cato's and fingered up his forearm, tickling the hairs they passed as they reached his tensed bicep and pulled him down. The concern in Cato's eyes disappeared with Peeta's intentions becoming evident and a smile hooked itself at the corners of his mouth as he lowered his head and connected their lips in a kiss of paradoxes; of fire and ice, of healing and suffering, of restraint and zeal, of joy and sadness.
Cato's tongue pushed through Peeta's moistened lips and reclaimed the mouth that was his. Cato swept along Peeta's teeth, traced his gum line and massaged his tongue, reacquainting himself with what had been denied to him for so long. Peeta hummed in the back of his throat with satisfaction and his body thrilled with the emotional release. The feel of Cato's lips on his was real, the heat from his skin and the staccato of his grunts were all Cato, impossible to be recreated in such vivid detail.
"C-Cato," Peeta stuttered out in a sob as he broke the searing kiss.
"Yes, babe. I'm here. It's real, it's real."
Cato rubbed his hands up and down Peeta's shoulders in a soothing manner, but Peeta could tell also because he didn't want to let go of him. Both afraid that if they by chance let go, even for a moment, the Capitol would only tear them apart again.
"I—I don't understand, how'd you get here?" Peeta asked with a grunt as he tried to get up into a sitting position.
"Careful," Cato warned as he pushed Peeta's hands away and helped lift him upright so he didn't have to strain anything. Then he answered, "The Victory Tour starts today, Peeta. Haymitch and Lyme tried to get me here earlier, but the Capitol wouldn't have it. They were able to make it so I got here in the morning instead of evening. They want to keep our time in District 12 limited for some reason."
Peeta had forgotten how close it was to the Victory Tours starting before Darius had attacked him, but either way everything was better now. The world could resume spinning again because Peeta was back with Cato. He took a moment to take stock of Cato. Almost everything seemed the same, his blonde hair styled with little care, his broad shoulders and chest; Peeta worked his hands over every inch he could touch, wishing to never forget what Cato felt like, solid and real in his grasp. The only difference was behind his eyes; there was sadness there, damage. Peeta knew the look all too well. He had the same look hidden behind his eyes, the memory of the Games having forever changed them and the forced separation inducing a profound melancholy.
"I guess that means my prep team is probably here. They're going to freak when they see the wound," Peeta sighed at the thought of his prep teams probable outlandish reaction to his stitched abdomen.
Cato visibly bristled at the mention of Peeta's wound and he could hear his teeth grinding as Cato growled.
"If that cretin hadn't been shipped off to the Capitol I'd find him and skin him alive for what he did. My god, to think I could have—have lost you and I wouldn't even have known it until the tour started!"
Peeta shushed him as he cupped Cato's face in his hands and forced him to hold eye contact.
"I'm fine. The stitches can come out in a few days and once we're at the Capitol Effie will have one of their doctors do a full check up on me, pacemaker, gun wound, all of it. So there's no reason to get worked up, okay?"
Peeta inclined his head questioningly until Cato unclenched his jaw and replied with a big gust of air.
"Okay…"
"Good, now help me up. I bet the prep team is waiting at my house. I'm tired of laying in this bed."
Cato obliged and didn't mention his wound again. Peeta had missed how they worked together so well. The implicit trust they placed in each other and the understanding they could come to fast and with out question. Almost six months had passed since the Hunger Games had ended and they had been together. It was insane to think that hey had only been together for some three odd weeks and yet they could slip back into their comfortable relationship like no time had passed at all.
As Cato helped Peeta hobble down the dirtied streets of the Seam towards Victors Village Peeta turned towards his boyfriend with a beaming smile.
"I love you."
A massive grin spread across Cato's face. He leaned in to kiss Peeta's temple and whisper against his ear with a warm and tingling breath that washed over Peeta's body down to his toes.
"And I love you."
Anyone they passed along the street basically came to a standstill to stare at the two Victors, together at last.
"This is surreal. I never got this much attention in District 2." Cato shook his head and laughed.
"Well you do win the games most of the time. Haymitch is the only other living winner from 12, so I'm kind of a big deal."
Cato barked with laughter at that and rested his head atop Peeta's dirty blonde locks, inhaling deeply. Even though Peeta had been shot and put through a hell filled three days things couldn't have been better now. His stomach purred with contentment and his mind floated at ease in his head, no longer beating down the doors with a battering ram trying to break his sanity with it's graphic memories and pain. Together they could keep their demons at bay.
An audible breath escaped Cato's lips as they left the Seam and entered the nicer market area of the District, which was still nothing much to boast about.
"The amount of poverty here, it—it's unbelievable. District 2 has nothing near comparable to this…" He trailed off as he stretched his neck to look back at the shacks they had left behind.
"I know. You see what a miserable life it is to grow up here? Why I might want to escape? There's not much happiness to be found."
Cato hugged Peeta closer to his body and he wished they could just meld together, so they would never have to be divided again. When they turned onto Victory Row Peeta noticed two armed Peacekeepers standing at attention by his front door. He had no clue what that was about, but he had a sinking feeling in his gut. Cato looked at him with perplexed eyes. Peeta just shook his head signaling for him to remain silent.
When they approached the front door the two guards stepped forwards and held out a hand to halt them.
"This is my house," Peeta stated, not amused.
"Just you will be allowed in. He'll have to wait out here," One guard said with a jut of his thumb towards Cato.
"I'm not—"
"—Stay here," Peeta interrupted Cato's protest. "I'll be fine. Don't make trouble."
Peeta then stepped away from Cato on unsteady feet and paused to take a deep breath before pressing forward on his own. Each time he brought down his right foot the wound throbbed painfully, but it was manageable and he could at least continue walking on his own.
When entering his house his nostrils flared at the abnormal scent they caught. He had smelled it once before, but not this powerful. It was when he was at the Capitol Circle where Cato and he were crowned winners of the games. It was an indecent smell, a mixture of blood and sickly sweet roses. He turned to his left and saw the living room was empty and then he turned to his right and saw a terrifying figure standing in his art studio studying the portrait of Cato.
"You have quite a gift, Mr. Mellark. It's a talent I'm sure that will get you far in the Capitol, I may just have to commission you to paint something for my palace."
President Snow then turned from the portrait to face Peeta with a sinister smile planted on his cushiony cheeks. His lips were blood red and his hair shock white and slicked back.
"Can I help you with something, President?" Peeta managed to ask.
The smile grew bigger.
"Yes, actually. You've started quite a fire, Peeta—do you mind if I call you, Peeta?" He paused to ask, but then kept going with out waiting for a response, confident in knowing he needn't ask in the first place. He could do as he pleases. "Not surprising, though, for the boy on fire," He rolled the last word around on his tongue like it gave him a foul taste. Then he motioned to one of Peeta's chairs as if it were his. "Please, have a seat. I know you must be in pain."
Peeta's eyes narrowed as he analyzed President Snow. Of course he knew of his injury. He made sure to clench his teeth and suffer through the pain with out limping as he walked to take a seat. He would not show weakness in the President's company. Snow's eyes glinted with a hint of sadism as he took a seat across from Peeta.
"I don't understand, a fire?" Peeta finally broached the topic for this unusual visit. President Snow never left the Capitol.
"You're a smart boy, Peeta. Let's not have any pretenses. I'm confident you knew what you were doing in those games. Some may be fooled into thinking you didn't know how rebellious your actions looked, but I'm not just anyone. You have lit the fuse to something that could very well burn this nation to the ground and I want you to help put it out before it's too late. Before lives are lost."
President Snow folded his fingers in his lap carefully and let the threat linger in the air. I refrained from looking at his cold, ice blue eyes and instead focused on the insulting tangerine colored handkerchief situated in the breast pocket of his cream colored suit.
"Haven't lives already been lost?" I asked. It was a dangerous question, but I wanted him to know they drew blood first. He was obviously worried of the power I wielded or he wouldn't have come personally to visit me.
'Hmm' was the only response he gave, before dangling the carrot.
"Peeta, if you can prove to me you have no ulterior motive, if you can temper the inflamed spirits of the districts, you may live in two with Cato…" He paused to let his words sink in.
Peeta kept a placid expression on his face, but internally his heart beat against his ribcage and his stomach did back flips in hope.
"… And because we have means of dealing with you if you refuse. Cato has family, a family survives Katniss, and you're just starting to mend fences with your father, are you not? It would be terrible if something were to happen just as things got better. Additionally, more people than just Darius are unstable, obsessive and can be tipped with the slightest of hand in your direction."
Peeta's throat went dry. There was no end to the Capitol's cruelty, to what they were willing to do. Snow was practically telling Peeta in no uncertain terms he set a psychotic stalker on him. He probably did it just as a test, not even meaning to hurt Peeta nor caring if he did, but just to see what methods he could use to rattle Peeta. Probably as a show of power too, to demonstrate to Peeta he not only had control over the Districts, but intimate control over its people.
"Okay."
"Come again?" Snow leaned forward, licking his cherry red lips.
"Okay, I'll try and stop the fire," Peeta replied monotone.
A wicked grin spread back across President Snow's face as he pushed up from his chair.
"Perfect," He purred. "Well good day to you, Peeta Mellark. I do hope you cherish your time together with Cato and think hard on what it could mean to fail in this endeavor…" Snow warned with a deep vibrato that saturated Peeta to his bones.
He gave Peeta one last parting glance and then swept from the room in an authoritative grandeur leaving in his wake the sickly scent of blood and roses.
Reviews are love and a new chapter is coming soon!
