Hello all!
Burning Down is back and better than ever! I know it's been forever (and then some) and I apologize for the disappearing act on this story, but I just couldn't juggle writing two fics and a job (and maybe I lost a little of my motivation). But now that the other one is done I have re-dedicated myself to this story and my passion for it has been reignited! I've already got the next five chapters written and everything has been completely plotted out to the very end. I'm very excited to bring the rest of this story to you now that I have an end game ready. There are lots of twists and turns in store for you so I hope you all are ready, there's a long, rough slog ahead. I'm really going to try and post something every week, but it will really depend on my schedule, but I will be sure to tell you if its going to be more than a week. I do expect to go out of town a few times next month so that will probably interrupt the regularity of my posts, but otherwise there's not stopping me now!
Some of you may have noticed that I did a little editing to the first five chapters and changed the structure of the story. It is now broken down into three parts. As I begin posting the rest of these chapters you will see that the story drastically veers from the book Catching Fire that it was originally based on, I don't want to tell you where I'm going because that's part of the surprise, but the ending of Burning Down will be the end of the series, there's not going to be a third one based on Mockingjay (take that to mean as you will.)
Oh, and one more thing, I just want to give a shout out to MaTM97 for being super awesome and listening to my crazed rants and helping with the editing of this story. He's great.
Okay, so I've done enough talking and I'm sure you're anxious to get back to our story. If you're still with me please make sure to leave a little review so I know people are still out there and want me to continue! Okay, enjoy!
Ch. 6- Fire Rising
"I just don't know how you could let yourself be fooled by such a man! You're a Victor now, one must be smart and diplomatic about these things at all times," Effie lectured Peeta as his prep team made quick work converting the bathroom into an on-the-fly remake center. A thick, pungent smelling paste was already being applied to the skin of his legs. It tingled with the light tickle of carbonated bubbles against the pores of his skin.
Effie's hair was now in viciously teased curls the color of turquoise with silver highlights that matched the silver feathered lashes she wore. Her vivacious attitude was ripe as ever as she near lost her mind over the discovery that a peacekeeper had shot and wounded her star Victor.
"A Victor does not just go off to someone's house with out an escort! Especially not in Twelve," she hissed the word like it should be explanation enough. Her perceptions of the fringe districts, having been molded from the safety and privilege of the Capitol, were filled with stereotypes and misconceptions. If one were to believe Effie, they would think District 12 was run amok with criminals and deviants.
Peeta was forced to bite his tongue from revealing the truth of the matter. That it wasn't just some District 12 loon, but a pawn of President Snow's, thrown his way with full intent of injury. Thankfully, Portia decided to make her appearance and slip into the vastly overcrowded bathroom to save Peeta.
"Effie, why don't you help me inventory Peeta's outfits for the tour? It would be of great help to me and I could use your opinion on a few things."
She winked at Peeta. God, he loved her. Of all the people to descend upon his home for the start of the Victory Tour, he was most glad to see Portia—besides Cato, of course.
"Oh, why yes of course! This is the biggest tour ever put on by the Capitol, what with two Victors, we can't have anything be amiss!" She gushed, clamping her bedazzled fingers on Portia's wrist and guiding her out like it was her idea all along.
It wasn't that hard to figure out how to pull Effie's strings. She was pretty simple, living to be the center of attention and compliments. If one made her feel even the slightest bit useful or needed she was putty in their hands.
Peeta laughed as he settled back into the recliner chair and resigned himself to let the prep team move in and do what they would with his body.
The sun set earlier in this District. It was bewildering to Cato to think that it was still mid-afternoon back home and yet here the sun was already working to fall behind the western mountains, leaving behind a chill in the air that was unfamiliar to him. Back at home the snow had melted with the beginning of March, giving way to the tentative warmth of springtime.
Cato paced the living room, unable to settle after the shock of seeing President Snow leave Peeta's home. Before he could go in to find out what that was all about, the insanity that was Effie Trinket and his prep team descended upon the house to style Peeta. Effie was just as outlandish as he remembered. His handler had a distinct Capitol style like most, but his personality was as bland as white rice whereas Effie demanded your attention for good or bad. He wasn't sure which yet.
Having already gone through all his prep on the train ride here, Cato was left with nothing to do while Peeta was made over. The discovery that Peeta had been injured was a shock he still hadn't gotten over—his blood still quick to boil at the thought of it. It brought back all the fear and helplessness he had felt when Peeta ate the nightlock like it was yesterday and worst of all he didn't find out about it until he was on the train.
Cato found his feet had carried him to a small room that might have been a study, but was converted into the art studio Peeta had mentioned. He wandered about the small room, taking in the few paintings left scattered about the room. It was surprising there were so few, Cato had been under the impression he had been painting non-stop from the conversations they'd had about his art. Yet now that he was here, there weren't too many finished canvasses to look at, except one. Cato's stomach knotted at the sight of the large portrait leaning against the wall in the corner. It was unmistakably a painting of Cato, painstakingly crafted in his likeness, but imbued with a terrible sense of loss. It made Cato's heart ache with the beauty and pain captured in the portrait.
The front door clicked open and a young girl with strikingly familiar hair and olive eyes raced inside. She did a quick survey of the house before her probing eyes settled upon Cato. They lit up with recognition and she suddenly launched forward enveloping Cato in a furious hug.
"Oh I can't believe you're finally here! Peeta's been terribly depressed without you! And you're even better looking in person!" She gushed, stepping back to look up at him as Cato stood about a foot taller than her at least.
"Well hey there, you must be Primrose," Cato surmised.
"I am!" Prim blushed with a suddenly bashful smile. Then she swiveled on her heel and skipped back to the entryway to grab the hand of another man who had entered without Cato noticing.
She tugged the man into the studio with much exuberance. He could tell why Peeta cared for her so much; it was hard not to be taken with her. She had her sister's fire, but with a more outgoing temperament. But Cato was currently more interested by the newest arrival. Who was this man?
Cato gave the guy a once over, taking in his matching height, the large width of his shoulders and lithe athletic body. He was wholesomely attractive. He still held the smudges of coal on his fingertips despite the effort it looked like he took to clean up, leaving an aura of gruff masculinity that bristled Cato. He noticed the man was staring back with an equally analytical eye.
"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" Prim prodded the man in the side, which seemed to break the tension. He moved forward to shake Cato's hand with an unwavering confidence.
"Gale, s'good to finally meet you," Gale said huskily.
"I wish I could say the same, but I'm sorry to say I haven't heard much about you, Gale," Cato replied, pulling his hand back to his side.
"That'd be my fault. I was kind of an asshole—well, not kind of—but Peeta and I worked out the misunderstanding recently. We're good now."
He seemed genuine enough to Cato.
"About time, too!" Prim cut in with a roll of her eyes. Cato could see the spark of Katniss in the gesture and smiled.
Gale cracked the beginnings of smile too and slung an arm around Prim's side, ruffling her hair and pulling her tight against him. She just sighed, obviously discontent with the child-like treatment.
Before Cato could think of a reply, there was a commotion in the hallway as Peeta's entourage headed down the stairs. Cato rushed into the hallway so as to no longer be deprived of his boyfriend's presence when both Haymitch and Lyme entered the doorway too. Gale and Primrose followed close behind.
"My, my these Victor homes are awfully small!" Effie said with a mouthful of distaste. If only she had seen the shacks in the Seam, where Cato found Peeta earlier, she might not be so tactless. "Out, out! Everyone!" She shooed everyone with her hands. "It's time we headed to the Mayor's house anyways."
"I thought Gale hated you?"
Peeta looked up from studying the marble floor behind the entry doors to the Justice building startled from his thoughts. They were waiting just inside the double steel doors before the Mayor called them out for the Victory Tour to finally start. There would be speeches, unnecessary festivities, and a banquet with the Mayor; so it was all terribly off-putting for Peeta as he knew he would have to play along, bask in the glory of it all and pretend not an ounce of rebelliousness flowed within his veins.
President Snow's words still hung heavy in his head. The blatant threats and promise of a happily ever after with Cato if he could just quell the rising spirits of the districts. He still hadn't told the others, and he wasn't sure if he should. Cato never acted with the intent of defiance like Peeta, so if he just let him continue playing the loving boyfriend as he already were, it might seem more genuine.
"Peeta?" Cato nudged him in the shoulder.
"Sorry, just got lost in thought. What?"
"Gale. I thought you two hated each other?"
"Oh, yeah we worked that out. He was hurting over Katniss's death and I was an easy outlet." Peeta explained with disinterest. He was filled to the brim with so many worries there wasn't room to add anymore at the moment.
"Sounds like a good guy," Cato grumbled, straightening and looking forward as the crowd could be heard cheering on the other side.
Peacekeepers flanked them on either side to escort them onto the stage when the Mayor introduced them. He could be heard on the sound system now, playing up the Capitol's 'benevolence'.
"He is," Peeta replied in earnest, looking over Cato's face. "He saved my life."
The doors were flung open by two Peacekeepers and the setting sun burst through in a blinding brilliance of rays, its final parting gift before it settled behind the mountains for the night.
The bug-like pods of two camera people were trained on them as they walked on the stage. Peeta couldn't believe he forgot what it was like to be on national television, the nerves that set off along his skin like a tickle of feathers.
"…Cato Ryves of District 2, and our very own Peeta Mellark of District 12!" The Mayor boomed into the microphone as the victorious couple stepped forward to claim their spotlight.
It was a humbling experience to see the whole of District Twelve spread out before Peeta—for Peeta. They quietly rooted for him as if he were their champion and it was like a small knife gouged into his heart, knowing what he meant to some and the promise he had made to Snow not to stand up for them. Cato's hand slipped into his and kept him steady. His thumb rested against the pulse-point on Cato's wrist, and his pacemaker worked his heart in tune with Cato's. They were finally reunited. That was what mattered. He just had to keep reminding himself of it.
While the Mayor prattled on about how amazing they are and how wonderful the Capitol was for showering them with its good graces Peeta took in those in the crowd. He saw many faces he recognized. Some had frequented the bakery when he worked there, others he knew from school, and even more that had sought him out since his return to congratulate or thank. Near the front Peeta spotted Gale with the rest of his family and the Everdeens. Peeta was surprised to see the Mayor's daughter Madge also standing next to him. She seemed awfully close to him. He hadn't realized they knew each other.
Cato's hand fell from his as he stepped to the microphone to begin his speech. Peeta watched his shoulders roll, ironing out the kinks of his muscled back before he addressed the crowd. Peeta anxiously awaited the speech, wondering what he would say and how he would address the crowd.
"I never knew what it really meant to be a volunteer in these Games until I met Peeta," Cato began. His voice was steady and unwavering in its confidence. Peeta greatly envied the masks he could slip on before a crowd, if he could only do the same then maybe they wouldn't be in this mess with the Capitol.
"District Two often has volunteers step forward, like myself, but Peeta was different. He taught me of the selflessness rooted in the act, of the courage it takes. How it means something more than riches and glory. And so I want to say thank you, to the people of District Twelve, for giving the country and I such a tribute, for giving us two fighter spirits in Katniss and Peeta. He changed me for the better and every day I am moved by his compassion and spirit. It's the spirit of Twelve that I saw in Katniss, and I see it alive and well in him, and all of you. Thank you."
Peeta was stunned. The crowd might have been too, as there was a delay between the end of his speech and then the abrupt outburst in applause. Peeta couldn't remember such a reaction from his district before at any Victory Tour.
Peeta smiled warmly at Cato as he returned to his side and gave his hand a quick squeeze. He hoped it told Cato everything he couldn't in the moment; how much those words meant to him.
Then just as quickly it was time for Peeta's speech and his throat went dry. He didn't know what he would say or how he could follow Cato. His wound gave a painful throb as he stepped toward the microphone and reminded him of the Capitol's oppression—along with Snow's threats. What should he say? What did they expect of him? It was too much.
"I want to thank the Capitol for—" Peeta broke off to clear his throat. "—For making this possible. And thank you all for your support and love during the games…" Peeta was prepared to go generic; to temper the flames sparking to life from Cato's speech. But then his eyes settled upon Riece Wilshurn—the young boy he had volunteered in place of—and his resolve broke before the iron fist of defiance that rose in his chest with a fiery spirit he couldn't control. "I know your hearts broke just as much as mine did when Katniss was lost to us in the Games. Your bread saved me—us." Peeta turned to motion back at Cato who was smiling brilliantly. "Katniss's death was not in vain, nor was it meaningless. None of this was. We changed the game. I live on for her now and all of you. Hope lives on even in the harshest of settings. You gave me hope. You gave me my fuel. Thank you for your fire….and thank you for your bread."
As soon as he finished, Peeta knew he had royally fucked up. He just completely disregarded everything Snow had asked of him and he had even gone against his own promise not to put them in anymore danger after the Hunger Games. But then he remembered what Katniss gave her life for, an idea represented in Peeta. Which was right? Peeta couldn't begin to fathom, but his gut seemed to have made a clear decision and now the consequences were his to own.
The crowd did not cheer for Peeta like they did Cato; instead they raised the three-finger salute in silent respect. Peeta backed away from the stage, unsure what to do next or how to handle their display. He noticed even Prim and Gale with their hands defiantly raised, Madge and Mrs. Everdeen, Mrs. Hawthorne and her children.
Then a whistle sounded out from the crowd. It was a hauntingly familiar tune like the whisper of a ghost reaching from beyond the grave to remind them of its truth. It was the melody of the Hanging Tree and Peeta's eyes immediately honed in on the instigator who whistled it. It was young Riece.
The tune grew into a chorus of whistles as more joined, echoing across the town square. Peeta's stomach dropped out from under him and a hand slapped against his shoulder tugging him backwards, away from the stage. Fear flooded his system like ice as Peacekeepers flooded the stage like a swarm of sterile insects and everyone was scuttled from the stage. Peeta couldn't see Cato. He must have already been taken back inside. The crowd surged forward and a scream pierced the night sky begging for mercy. It lashed at Peeta like a lance to the gut. A growing sense of urgency and dread descended on the assembly. Angry shouts and cries began to join in as the situation deteriorated quickly. The carefully architected atmosphere of celebration and joy crumbled like the thin pastry crust it was built upon.
The camera crew was gone, done recording. They had probably stopped a long time before when Peeta got too defiant in his speech.
Peeta struggled against the Peacekeeper shoving him back. He had to see what was happening. Were Prim and Gale okay? Was his family here? He dug his heels against the wood of the stage, trying to stall the Peacekeeper and locate his friends. The Peacekeeper shouted at him, but it was unintelligible as the sounds around him grew deafening. Men and women were shouting in anger and fear. A woman was sobbing. A line of Peacekeepers moved forward and pushed back against the crowd.
An elbow crushed into Peeta's stomach and he doubled over in pain, breath expelled from his lungs. Tears beaded at the corner of his eyes as the Peacekeeper dragged him back into the Justice Building now that there was no resistance. The last thing he saw was a Peacekeeper un-holstering his gun as another climbed on stage holding a kicking and screaming child. It was Riece. His face was streaked with tears and red with exertion. All the blood drained from Peeta's face as he struggled to gather air in his lungs.
Then the doors slammed closed, cutting his line of sight to Riece. A few beats went by in silence as everyone in the Justice building collected themselves, stunned by the turn of events. Then a single shot rang out and a roar erupted from the crowd.
"NO!" Peeta cried with a chest finally full of air.
"Peeta!" Cato shouted, fighting his way through the dense throng of people. "Peeta!"
Haymitch got to Peeta first. He clutched Peeta's shoulder with an ironclad grip like he was afraid Peeta would disappear before him.
"They're taking us to the train. Now. The rest of the festivities for Twelve have been canceled. Let's go and don't try anything foolish."
He then slung an arm around Peeta and guided him through the mass of frightened politicians towards Cato, who was being held back by Lyme. His handler and Effie were standing by looking properly befuddled. A contingent of Peacekeepers swarmed around them and quickly escorted them out the back of the Justice Building.
Once outside it was the difference between day and night. The last remnants of light had faded from the skyline and a sharp frost nipped at Peeta's cheeks as screams and violent outbursts polluted the night air. It wasn't right. It wasn't how his home should sound—depressed and subdued, yes, but panicked and pained, no. People ran by, terror clearly etched on their faces. Children cried as their parents sheltered them in their arms, scurrying to safety.
Light flickered in the distance behind them in abnormal movements and then the smell of smoke reached Peeta's nose and he knew it was fire. Something was burning in the town square. Another crack rang out, but this time Peeta wasn't sure if it was a gunshot or the crack of plywood warped by fire.
What have I done? Peeta thought. Fear gnawed at his skin like an army of ticks, trying to burrow its way deep into his flesh where he might never be rid of it. The Peacekeepers moved at a brutal pace, trying to move the Victors and their entourage to the trains as quickly as possible before the situation deteriorated further. Haymitch tried to carry Peeta's weight as best as possible so that he could keep up. Cato slid up on his other side and together they worked to move Peeta with the now brisk jog to the train station two blocks away. Peeta thought he felt warm blood trickling down his side from the wound, but all he could focus on was the growing sounds of violence they were leaving behind.
Half an hour later and they were on the train already miles from District Twelve. It shot like a glimmering silver bullet through the untamed and uncharted wilderness that surrounded district 12. Peeta stared out a window wondering how there could be so much space and tranquil serenity around him and then the terror that he left behind. Could the two things possibly live in the same space, side-by-side? He felt sick just at the thought of what might be occurring in his home district, knowing he would never forgive himself if Riece was dead, if Prim or Gale or any of their family hurt. If his father was taken from him before he even had a chance to discover what it was like to be a son.
Cato sat across from him, eyeing him speculatively, but letting Peeta stew for the moment. Effie had sputtered ineffectually for the better part of ten minutes before Haymitch had kicked out of the train car. Portia tried to bring him food, but he didn't want any as the despair settled in him like a dropped anchor.
Then Snow's threats against his family and friends surfaced in his mind and he was reminded who was responsible for all of this: the Capitol. Peeta shot up from his seat, ignoring the twinge in his re-stitched stomach.
"Peeta? What's wrong?" Cato asked, rising to his feet in worry.
Peeta just shook his head and looked pointedly at Haymitch.
"Not here."
Haymitch seemed to understand as he stood and motioned for them to follow. They went out the back of the train car and gathered on the platform between the two rail cars outside. The wind howled by with the speed of the train and the velocity at which the ground passed beneath their feet was nauseating.
"What are we doing out here?" Cato asked with a slight green pallor to his face. He seemed nauseated by the sway of the platform and the blurring of the passing scenery.
"We should be free of eavesdroppers here," Haymitch said.
It was tough to hear over the sound of the wind, but that was the price they had to pay for safety from prying ears.
"Snow visited me earlier today."
"What?" Haymitch asked with a slight slur. He had already gotten into the train's stock of scotch. Cato already knew and waited patiently for the point.
"The gist is he threatened me. He threatened to harm all of you, anyone I care about if I don't help him temper the rebellious spirits of the districts, but I think I've already fucked that up. He said if I did well I could live in Two." Peeta couldn't bear to look at Cato when he said that, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on his face knowing that Peeta kept this from him and then destroyed their best chance at happiness before they even had a shot at it.
But Cato didn't seem upset. Instead he just asked, "So what do we do now?"
Haymitch contemplated in silence for a minute. Peeta held onto the railing for stability, but his bones jittered with the vibrations from the train—or maybe it was nerves.
"It seems there is only one option. Snow obviously knows of your true nature, that I have no doubt of, but we can try to convince everyone else that it's just love driving the two of you." Haymitch surveyed both of them intently. "So one of you will have to propose."
Peeta was not sure what he was ready for, but that was the last suggestion he saw coming. He didn't know how to respond. I mean of course I want to marry Cato, one day… Peeta thought, but this was not the way he wanted it to go down.
"I'll do it."
"What, no let's talk about this first!" Peeta protested.
"What's there to talk about? They think we're leading an insurrection. Even those in my home district believe it. This is the only way to show that we're just two guys, in love and desperate to be together, not encouraging an uprising."
Peeta couldn't understand how he was so calm about this. There was nothing calm about this or any situation in the past week.
"I just…" Peeta saw both men looking at him. Watching and waiting, like he had the final say. When had he become the decisive voice? He wasn't ready to have decisions like this rest on his shoulders. But then he looked up at the night sky and the thousands of twinkling stars that danced above him. He found his serenity in the moment and the resolve to move forward. He would do what he had to, if it kept Cato and his friends safe.
"Okay. Let's do it. Let's get engaged."
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