Chapter 4

The Knowing

…

Feeling the bed dip down beside me I knew what was happening and it wasn't an idea I was particularly welcome to it. Then as expected I felt Peeta's hand softly shake my shoulder. At his touch I let out a muffled moan of protest into the pillow. "Five mores minutes."

But Peeta's soft laughter said otherwise. "You got to get up," he said, "You've been asleep since you got back this morning and it's nearly six now. You have to get up and eat and shower and move around."

"I showered this morning," I retorted burying my head deeper into the pillow as if it would block out his voice. "You still have to get up and eat something and stretch your legs."

"No," I mumbled snuggling deeper into the bed's sheets, "A human can live up to about four days without food and stretching has been proven in certain events to cause horrendous injuries."

"Katniss," Peeta said in a stern yet playful tone, "You have to get up."

Groaning again I shuffled and twisted under the sheets before I curled up into a small ball in an attempt of concealing myself in with the bed.

Then I let out a screaking yelp of pain as I felt Peeta's hand come in contact with my ribcage where I had drunkenly gotten my tattoo Wednesday night. Feeling Peeta's weight lift off the bed I could hear his feet shuffle against the wooden floor in panic. "Katniss," he said, "You okay? What's wrong?"

"Don't touch there," I said through my teeth. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I lied stealthily. But being Peeta, he caught the lie. "Katni-"

He began to say, but I cut in off firmly restating. "Nothing happened, Peeta."

A minute went by in silence causing me to think Peeta had bought the lie. Nevertheless hearing Peeta's feet shuffle and the bed slightly dip down I felt his hands begin to unbutton the lower half of my flannel shirt. Thinking I could just shift my hand over and stop him I knew if I did it would only be a matter of time before he found out and by then everything would be much worse. Now feeling as his hand reached the last button just below my chest he flipped over the right side of the shirt up revealing the bandage. Letting out a small gasp as I flinched at his touch, Peeta began to peel away the bandage.

Now with the bandage completely removed, the room fell silent. Peeta didn't say a word. I was holding my breath. I was freaking out. I was worried what he would say. Peeta didn't like tattoos. He loved art, but tattoos had always been a different story. Say something Peeta, my mind shouted, say something! Squeezing my eyes shuts I let out a breath only to quickly suck on another just as quickly. I ruined everything, I think, this is it. Yet feeling Peeta's fingertips just barely outline the arrow head he said, "You got a tattoo."

"Yeah," I said nodding my head, "I didn't mean to… But I did… It kind of happened." I pause as I feel the bed dip beside me letting me know that Peeta had shifted himself so he was now lying beside me. "Marcus and I went out…," I begin, "I guess we drank too much. I don't- I don't really know… I woke in the morning with it."

Feeling his fingers run up the arrow's shaft he asked, "Why did you get drunk?"

Why? Oh that's the million dollar question Peeta, I think, with a billion dollar answer I can't spare you... Because I know about the engagement ring and your elaborate proposal plan, I want to tell him, but I don't, I can't.

Opening my eyes I look down at his chest, away from his face making sure I wouldn't make eye contact. "Nightmares," I mumble speaking half truthfully. Five years and I still had nightmares; it was kind of pathetic if you think about it. But most nights without Peeta or a sense of safety protecting me from them, they would always seem to plague my mind when I shut my eyes. Wednesday night had been the only true time that I had slept at Marcus's that had lasted more than an hour or two without me waking up in a cold sweat and a scratchy feeling in my throat. I know that the boozes and shots of god-knows-what had probably helped me fall into my dreamless slumber and I knew that was considered a bad thing, but I pushed that fact away. I had slept. Focusing on Peeta's fingers tips artistically sketching out the tattoo repeatedly along my skin he drew himself closer toward me.

"I like it," he said softly against the top of my hairline.

"You do," I asked surprised looking up.

"Mh hmm," he nodded, "I know I'm not a fan of tattoos, but this is you… It shows how strong and passionate you are, loving and respectful. It shows everything good about you."

Under my breath I said to myself, "It shows my flaws."

Yet catching what I said Peeta lifted my chin so I was looking him in the eye. "Hey," he said, "You're flaws are what I find so perfect about you." Ahhh damn you Peeta, I think, why did you have to be so damn perfect with words.

"Okay?"

I nodded my head reluctantly as I couldn't help, but find myself believing in his words. Then finding ourselves both growing closer toward one another I asked. "So I don't have to get out of bed?"

Peeta laughed. "Five more minutes."

Bursting into a fit of giggles we molded ourselves together, legs intertwined and arms encircling one another. And as we laid there time passed by and with time I found myself drifting back to sleep. I was safe from all them, the nightmares, but I was more pleased with the fact that I had Peeta by my side. As my eyes began to close I leaned my head in so it rested just under Peeta's chin. Nonetheless by the sound of Peeta's heart beat I knew he was still awake so I asked, "So you're not going to kill Marcus?"

"Oh, I'm going to kill Marcus," he said, "That bastard has it coming for him." This causing me to burst into another fit of giggles Peeta and I spent hours in bed drifting in and out of sleep only leaving the other's side to either visit the bathroom or to retrieve something to snack on from the kitchen.

…

Wandering into the kitchen, Haymitch was seated at the counter beside Chaff, Plutarch, and Seeder playing a game of bull. "What the hell Chaff," Plutarch broke out collecting the pile of cards that rested in the center of them, "I thought we were on the same side." Chaff laughed setting down a card into the center.

"One Ace," he said before responding, "You didn't think I wouldn't side with my wife, my wife."

"Two twos," Plutarch grunted tossing two cards into the newly made pile, "You suck."

Setting the grocery bags down on the counter Seeder said to me, "Hey dear."

"Hey Seed," I responded coming up beside Haymitch, "You winning?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Think so. I know I'm at least beating Chaff and Plutarch over here. I can't say the same about your old man though; the guy knows how to lie."

"I know to lie," Chaff peeped up.

"And then you married me," Seeder responded with a smirk. Then tossing down a card Seeder said, "Okay boys, count the cards to see who has the least."

"What, come on I just got the whole pile," Plutarch wined, "Ten more minutes."

"No," Seeder said, "It's about time we go. Katniss is here and she and Haymitch got to have their weekly family dinner." Huffing and puffing Plutarch gave in and in fifteen minutes they were gone.

As the door behind them shut, I began to unpacking the grocery bag I had brought while Haymitch ventured off down the hall with the deck on cards in his hand. It wasn't still minutes later that Haymitch reappeared. He took his usual seat at the counter after filling up a glass of water from the sink. As he drank from his glass I prepared dinner, stirring the noodle and vegetable stir-fried around the saucer-pan.

"So I take it the boy didn't ask you," Haymitch said abruptly.

What!? Jerking around, I waved the spoon in my hand at him.

"You knew!" He grunted, "Asked me months ago for your hand." What! "And you never thought to bring it up?"

He let out a snort. "Now sweetheart, what would have been the fun in that? I mean usually when being asked to be married the lady doesn't know about the man's proposal." Glaring at him in anger I turned away from him back to the stove. Frustrated, I mused up all my anger and prevention at Haymitch and put it toward the stir-fired. God, why couldn't he have told me about this!? As I angrily poked and stirred the food, Haymitch spoke again. "So how do you know about the boy's choice of rings if he hasn't popped the question yet?"

Shit. Ignore it Katniss, my brain tells me, don't answer that question. So turning off the stove I scooped the stir-fried from the pan and into a bowl before placing it on the counter where Haymitch was seated. Then grabbing two plates and a pair of forks I placed one in front of Haymitch and the other across from him where I usually sat. Taking my seat across from him, I ignored his pervious question and now searching eyes as I took a portion of the stir-fried on my plate. I continued to ignore Haymitch, slowly eating my meal. I thought I was going to be able to make it through without having to answer Haymitch's question, but then he said in that parentally stern voice.

"Katniss?" Ahhh, dammit. "It fell out of his jacket." I mumbled piling a portion of vegetables into my mouth.

"And he doesn't know that you know?"

I shook my head no, "And I'd like to keep it that way."

Haymitch nodded his head, testing his portion of food. He ate a few mouthfuls and so did I for a few minutes before one of broke the silence. "You know he's going to find out sooner or later," he said, "And it won't be pretty."

"I know it won't be," I said, "I know."

…

I knew about the ring. The ring. Haymitch knew that I knew about the ring. Marcus knew that I knew about the ring. Was I aware that anyone else knew that I knew about the ring? No, not that I knew of. Did Peeta know? That was a big, fat no. Peeta knew about the tattoo. The tattoo. Everything was going great and then pow! Everything was going oh so horribly. I knew that Peeta had bought me a freakin' engagement ring. An engagement right! He wanted to marry me. And I didn't tell him I knew about it. I had to tell Peeta, but I couldn't. Every time I saw him there was a pang of guilt inside me. I wanted to tell him, but at the same time I didn't. I wanted him to have the chance to ask me on his own terms. He deserved his "grand-jester" as Marcus had said before. He deserved everything to go right for once. He deserved whatever he wanted. I wanted him to have his chance, what he deserved.

I had to tell him though. It was eating me alive. The guilt inside me kept building and building and sooner or later I was going to explode. I just wanted it all to be over. I wanted the guilt to be gone and Peeta to know and for us be us again, not Peeta being Peeta while I was freaking. But god life was just not fair. Life was one big game. It was a game that seemed to be where everyone and everything was out to get you and you were fighting to stay alive. You were fighting to make it through so you could go home and live in a fancy, new home with some money and not give a freakin' care in the world. Yet I felt that if I won this game or not didn't really matter because in the end nothing could truly be perfect and there was always going to be someone out there just to make think it all over. I was fighting for Peeta, for us to be us, for us to live happily ever after, but that odds forming just didn't seem to be in my favor.