A/N: I'm a very bad updater. I know. I'm sorry. :/ I'm trying to get better! Really, I am! Thank you so much, as always, for the lovely feedback! (:
I am alive. Katniss is alive. It wasn't a dream. We're locked together, and I'm not letting go. Not for a long time.
We're eventually separated by Haymitch and pushed slightly toward the victor's chair—or what should be the victor's chair. It's been replaced by a small red velvet couch, which Katniss and I sit on. She curls up, tucking her feet to her side after jerking off her shoes and leaning against me. I put my arm around her automatically, pulling her in close, determined to never let go. I notice now that she's wearing a dress made of the same material as my shirt, and that Cinna has made her look much younger, which is especially remarkable considering that she came out of the Games alive.
Caesar gets the crowd going with a few of his good-natured jokes, and then we get ready for the real show to begin. As the lights dim, I think about how odd it is that this is really a show, really entertainment for some people. How much did the many people crowded here pay so that they could see the two victors live? It finally hits me that I'm going to sit here and watch all of these deaths happen all over again, relive three hours of the worst time in my life. But I'm not alone, not like all the other victors before us. The others, the ones who sat and watched and either felt the victory coursing through them, or the remorse. I'm here holding onto another survivor, feeling the pain but at least feeling it with someone else.
The footage does not tell a story of victory. It doesn't show the fierce determination in us, the need to win. It shows Katniss and me as the star-crossed lovers of District 12, destined to be apart from the very beginning. I am shown walking up after being reaped to join her on the District 12 stage, holding her hand as we ride into the Capitol in a blaze of flames, telling the world that I love her as I speak to Caesar Flickerman. I see myself take the risks all over again to protect her, I see her shout my name—and it gives me chills—when she realizes that two could win. I flash from scene to scene, feeling ripples up my spine. I feel like I'm back there. I feel like I'll never come out. I won't die there, I'll just stay. Stay forever. Living in terror.
I watch us as we're lifted into the hovercraft, and the show ends with Katniss pounding desperately on the glass doors behind which I assume I'm being worked on. I want to make some motion to her, something to tell her what that means to me. But I'm in shock. I can't even make myself give her a tiny hug with the arm wrapped around her.
The anthem plays and I feel myself standing, even if I'm not aware of choosing to. President Snow comes forward with a single crown, given to him before by a little girl with the crown on a cushion, and twists it, breaking it into halves. One is placed on my brow, and Snow looks into my eyes. He seems to be congratulating me, but something is off. He moves to Katniss to place her half on her head, and his eyes linger longer on hers.
Suddenly we're nearly blinded with the lights again, and I find us beaming at the crowds—the crowds who clap because twenty-two others died while we survived—and waving like we're proud, like we're thrilled that we survived when no one else did. Eventually Caesar Flickerman bellows out to them to tune in tomorrow for the final interviews, as if they wouldn't.
Naturally, we eat very little at the Victory Banquet that we find ourselves in next. Everyone is determined to shake the hands of the star-crossed lovers who made it out alive. Every time that I think that I just can't stand it, I need to get out, I need to stop talking to these strangers who speak to me as if I'm a long-time friend, I feel Katniss's hand in mine, and I can smile and beam and laugh for them.
It's early morning when we eventually make it back to the Training Center to sleep. I haven't really talked to Katniss since we were really in the Games, and I'm looking forward to just sitting down and talking. Before I know it, though, I'm following Portia down the hall, confused as to how Haymitch convinced her to take me away from Katniss.
"Why couldn't I talk to her?"
"Haymitch is the boss. Besides, sweetie, we won't have to fit you for your clothes tomorrow, we can just do it now."
Why she wants to fit me for my last interview at somewhere near four in the morning is beyond me, but I go along with her. She hands me a pair of clean white pants, a deep red collared shirt, and a shiny white skinny tie to wear. My new not-leg is difficult to manage, but I suppose that with time I'll get used to it.
"Let's see," she murmurs to herself, circling me. "I think we'll roll those sleeves up just a few…yes, and then take down a few buttons, more casual…Okay, my friend! Just change back out of those clothes and you're fine to go to bed now."
"Can I go talk to Katniss? Is she already asleep?"
"You both need your rest, dear. You'll be able to talk to her later. You'll be on air at two, go on to sleep!"
I know that Portia would let me have forever with Katniss if I asked her, so I trust her and go on to my room. I lie down, thinking about how long ago this morning seemed. Dark covers me and soon I'm out.
"Peeta, dear! Wake up, wake up! We have another big, big, big day ahead of us!" Effie trills from outside my door. I blink sleepily a few times. Effie Trinket's voice is not the best way to start my day.
I eat a small bowl of oatmeal and some mild fruit for breakfast before I'm whisked away by the prep team. They chatter around me excitedly, trying to make me look my best. With the spray of a can of hair product, my hair has been transformed from looking like I just woke up to a windswept look. I don the clothes that I tried on last night and then, with my cane making an awful metallic clunk beside me every other step, I follow Portia to the interview room, just down the hallway. We enter and I see Katniss, dressed in a white dress and pink shoes, making small talk with Caesar. I grab her arm and pull her to the side.
"I hardly get to see you. Haymitch seems bent on keeping us apart."
"Yes, he's gotten very responsible lately," she replies vaguely. I want to raise my eyebrows. So now it's responsible to keep the victors away from each other?
"Well, there's just this and we go home. Then he can't watch us all the time."
She gives me an odd little smile, but I barely have time to register it because it's time for the interview. We sit again on the loveseat, side-by-side, no lovey-dovey-ness, but then Caesar smiles good-naturedly at Katniss and says, "Oh, go ahead and curl up next to him if you want. It looked very sweet." I grin at him as she tucks her feet under her again, and my arm goes around her before I pull her in close.
I hardly pay attention to the answers I'm giving until we arrive to the topic that I know the nation is anxious to hear about. After joking and laughing with Caesar for awhile, Katniss interjecting every now and then, he gives me a meaningful look and says, "Well, Peeta, we know, from our days in the cave, that it was love at first sight for you at what, age five?"
"From the moment I laid eyes on her," I tell him honestly.
"But, Katniss, what a ride for you. I think the real excitement for the audience was watching you fall for him. When did you realize you were in love with him?"
"Oh," Katniss gives a little fake laugh. "That's a hard one…" I look at her. I'd like to know this, too.
"Well, I know when it hit me. The night you shouted out his name from that tree." I wish I'd heard that.
She nods in agreement, smiling. "Yes, I guess that was it. I mean, until that point, I just tried not to think about what my feelings might be, honestly, because it was so confusing and it only made things worse if I actually cared about him. But then, in the tree, everything changed."
"Why do you think that was?" Caesar prompts.
"Maybe…because for the first time…there was a chance I could keep him."
Something in me turns to liquid. I press my forehead gently into her temple. I almost shake. "So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?"
She turns to me and gives me a subtle, Katniss-esque smile. "Put you somewhere you can't get hurt."
I lean in to her, and kiss her gently. Everyone sighs in the room. I can almost hear the sighs around the nation. I don't take any notice.
I pull away and just look at her for a minute, and it takes me awhile to start talking to Caesar again. Naturally, he has begun to discuss when we did get hurt in the Games, which is an odd switch from talking about being in love. He asks, after awhile, how my new leg is doing.
"New leg?" Katniss looks genuinely bemused and reaches over to pull up the bottom of my pants. "Oh, no."
"No one told you?" Caesar asks gently. She shakes her head, looking alarmed.
"I haven't had the chance." I resist the urge to eye Haymitch.
"It's my fault," she says immediately, looking stunned. "Because I used that tourniquet."
"Yes, it's your fault I'm alive."
"He's right," says Caesar. "He'd have bled to death for sure without it."
Katniss doesn't look reassured at all; on the contrary, she buries her face in my shoulder. I stroke her hair, willing to let her stay there, but Caesar tries to coax her back out, and eventually succeeds after a few minutes. He doesn't ask her anything directly after that for awhile, so I answer him and keep my arm firmly around her.
Eventually, though, he can't avoid her. "Katniss, I know you've just had a shock, but I've got to ask. The moment you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind, hm?"
There is silence. It's full of meaning that I can't distinguish, but I sit and wait. I want to know that she'll see just as much as the rest of the nation does. When she speaks, it comes out in a hush. "I don't know, I just…couldn't bear the thought of…being without him."
I'm surprised that I don't just melt there. Why isn't there a puddle of Peeta on the loveseat next to Katniss?
"Peeta? Anything to add?"
"No," I tell him. "I think that goes for both of us."
He turns to the camera. "Well, my friends, as much as I wouldn't like it to, that's going to have to conclude our final interviews. Don't worry, you'll be seeing Katniss and Peeta in your districts in a matter of months!" He turns to us. "It's been a pleasure!"
The cameras go off and we all stand up to stretch and hug everyone else, and there's laughter echoing around the small room. I go back to my room to collect anything I might have left, and then we're driven to the train station in a car with windows so dark that I can't see the sun outside. We slip in a quick goodbye to Portia and Cinna, but we aren't given much time. We'll see them soon on the Victory Tour.
The train zips through country sides, and we eat a stupendous dinner with Haymitch and Effie, then sit down to watch the interview we just gave. Eventually Katniss excuses herself to her to change clothes, and she returns looking like home, her hair in a braid and wearing plain, comfortable-looking clothes. When I put my arm around her again she stiffens almost unnoticeably. I decide that I must have imagined it.
The train makes a stop for fuel, and Katniss and I drift outside for fresh air. To my relief, no one accompanies us. This is the first time we've been alone since the Games. We walk along the tracks, her hand in mine, and feel the silence in between us. I bend down at one point to gather her some wildflowers, and she smiles at me, but something is off. I wonder if they remind her of the Games.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replies, but I can tell there's something.
We keep walking until the train is behind us, and the silence stays. Suddenly Haymitch appears out of nowhere and puts a hand on her back. "Great job, you two," he says under his breath. "Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay." He turns back to the train. I can feel confusion painted on my face. I look at Katniss.
"What's he mean?"
"It's the Capitol. They didn't like our stunt with the berries," she tells me.
Stunt? "What? What are you talking about?"
"It seemed too rebellious." Her voice sounds like she is giving me a confession. She won't meet my eyes. "So, Haymitch has been coaching me the last few days. So I didn't make it worse."
"Coaching you? But not me," I say. How do you coach someone on something like this?
"He knew you were smart enough to get it right," she responds weakly.
"I didn't know there was anything to get right." But it begins to dawn on me. How Katniss never knew me before the Games. How she reacted when I told the world I loved her. How suddenly, she cared, and nursed me back to health. Suddenly. As if it took a cue. "So, what you're saying is, these last few days and then I guess…back in the arena…that was just some strategy you two worked out."
"No," she says quickly, looking in my eyes, finally. "I mean, I couldn't even talk to him in the arena, could I?"
You didn't have to. "But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn't you?" She drops her eyes and bites her lip. She says nothing. The liquid in me from the interview has hardened to a heavy rock in my chest. "Katniss?" I let her hand fall. How long has she waited for me to drop her hand? "It was all for the Games. How you acted." The words are torn from me. I need to hear them denied. I need her to grab my hand again.
"Not all of it."
"Then how much?" I ask, a lump forming in my throat. "No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?"
"I don't know." I feel like she has just pierced me. I wish she had. "The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get." I let it unfold in my brain. I know who, besides me, makes her confused. I know who else loves her. But after all this, I had thought that she loved me, too.
"Well, let me know when you work it out." I can't hide the pain. I turn away, and let it overtake me. After all of this time, I really believed it?
I should have known that I was never good enough for Katniss Everdeen.