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I hope you enjoy! This chapter is very different from the books for two scenes in particular...heehee

Now, let the Games begin -

I'm awake.

I don't want to be, but I am. My body seems to realize what day it is because my heart immediately goes into double time – and not because of what is sleeping on top of me. I look down at my chest and find a snoring Katniss curled into a ball in my arms. I can't stop myself from reaching out and brushing a few strands of hair out of her face.

Her eyes flutter open, then, and I'm startled by how intense they are.

You know what day it is, too.

"Hi," I murmur and give her a smile.

She doesn't smile back, but trails her hand from between our bodies up to my face, tracing the circles under my eyes.

"How did you sleep?" she asks, concerned.

"Better than I have in a while."

The crease between her eyebrows appears, maybe doubting my words, but she doesn't verbalize it. She simply curls tighter against me and buries her face in my neck, goose bumps rising on my skin in response.

I draw lazy patterns on her back as she continues to huddle into me. She's scared – I can tell by her tense breathing. She's holding back emotions.

"You'll be okay," I whisper sincerely.

If you never believe another word I say – believe that.

I feel her lips trail a string of kisses up my neck to my ear and I start to panic. It's too nice – I get lost in the feeling. I should be stopping it, but I don't because I'm selfish.

"Peeta," she breathes in my ear.

"Hmm?"

"Tell me something happy."

"Like what?"

"Like what would have happened to us if we hadn't been reaped?"

Hadn't been reaped?

"I would have asked you that afternoon. When we went back to get Prim's cake, I would have asked you out on a date."

I feel her lips curl into a smile against my skin, "What if I'd said no?"

"I'd have crawled, begged – Prim would probably have had to drag me home, sobbing."

She nuzzles my ear. "I wouldn't have said no."

Right now, I hate the Hunger Games more than I ever have.

"Where would you have taken me?"

"Huh?"

She chuckles. "Where would you have taken me out on our date?"

"Oh," I mutter. "I would have taken you to the lake in the woods – where my father and I used to go to fish. It's illegal, but it's peaceful there. You almost forget you're in 12."

She hums in appreciation. "That sounds nice. What would we do there?"

"I'd probably have packed a picnic – something cheesy like that. Do you know how to swim?"

She shakes her head. "No."

"I would have taught you to swim, too."

I feel her fingers play with the hairs on the back of my neck as she litters slow, soft, kisses on my cheek bones and jaw.

"What else?"

My thoughts become severely clouded with lust at that point, I barely recognize my voice. "I'd have set out our clothes in the sun to dry. I'd talk to you about every little thing that came to mind. I wouldn't hide anything from you."

She brushes her lips back and forth over my chin and her hands are freely tugging and combing through my hair. I have to close my eyes to keep composure. Who knew something so simple could feel this good?

"What about after?"

"I'd walk you home."

She positions herself so that she hovers over me. Her arms on either side of my head, and her face so close our noses brush.

"Would you have kissed me?" Her eyes dart from my eyes to my mouth before her tongue reaches out to wet her lips. I'm not even sure she was trying to be seductive. But if I knew one thing about kissing a girl, which I have no experience in, it was that this was the green light.

"I would have tried – but only if you wanted me to."

"I want you to." And suddenly, we aren't talking about "what-ifs" anymore.

She leans down, trying to close the remaining space between us. Our lips haven't even touched when we hear Effie scream.

"Oh my God!" She shrieks. "Seriously, you two?" She covers her eyes. "I'm sick of this! Put your clothes back on before I strangle you with them!"

Last time, Katniss and I had shared a laugh, but now, we're both furious.

Thanks, Effie.

She storms out and Katniss leans down next to the bed to pick up my shirt. She hands it to me, eyes sad, yet dark with desire.

"That would have been nice."

If she's referring to the what-if date or the almost kiss, I'll never know.


"Water."

I look up from my bowl. "What about it?"

"Find it," Haymitch snaps. "Don't go to the Cornucopia – it's just a blood bath. You want to distance yourself from the others."

Haymitch kind of broke this morning. He's so sober it's frightening – constantly angry. He's been drifting in and out of the on-going conversations between Effie, Katniss, and I – and I can tell he's panicking on the inside. Every few minutes he'll have an outburst and snip some survival tip at us, worried that he's forgot something. I'm almost too terrified to eat my cereal in fear of upsetting him. Katniss, on the other hand, brushes him off. She sends an appreciative look at him, thanking him for everything.

"Other than that, you're on your own," he barks. "Just be smart and be safe."

Easier said than done, Haymitch.

After we clear our things from the table, Effie mentions lightly to Katniss that they need to leave to meet with Cinna and my heart drops to my feet.

This is it.

This is the last time I'm going to get to see her before the arena.

There isn't time.

And there never will be enough time. While time is just a concept, something non-physical that we merely measure with non-physical units, it still leaves. How can something that doesn't exist slip through my fingers so easily?

Katniss catches my gaze and reaches for my hand.

"Could we have a minute?" she asks Effie and Haymitch. They nod and leave the room, giving us some space and privacy.

Katniss stares at the floor for a minute before reaching into the pocket of her sweats and clutching something small in her hand. She looks back up at me, eyes glassy and containing a deep emotion that I'm confused by – Callousness? Determination? It's somewhere on that spectrum. She opens my palm in hers and presses something cold and metal into it. Uncovered, it's a gold pin – a Mockingjay. I'd seen one like it before, I think. I faintly remember Madge wearing something similar, but it was years ago and she traded the pin for a ring that she constantly wore around her neck. It suited her better – less flashy.

"Cinna got this approved for me to take into the arena – but I really want you to wear it," she breaths, voice steady even though her eyes betray her. "It was Gale's." That last bit is like a kick in the gut, leaving me breathless. She's giving me a memoir of her dead brother –

"I can't take this," I refuse, holding it out to her. "You keep it."

She shakes her head. She's already made up her mind. I grip it in my hand tightly, "Thank you."

She doesn't say anything else – she doesn't need to. But that look in her eyes flashes strongly – and now I'm certain it's determination.

And I don't have time to ask what she's thinking because she rises on her tiptoes and kisses me. A part of me should have been expecting it given the almost kiss this morning – but I'm still caught off guard. It's soft and warm and shy, but powerful enough to ignite a small burn in the pit of my stomach. It's nothing like what I daydreamed my first kiss with Katniss Everdeen – first kiss ever, actually – was going to be like. Not one that was a mere hour before the Hunger Games. That was never a part of it. But she tastes the way I imagine – sweet, kind of like cookies, and those long eyelashes that I drew so many times brushing my cheeks. It's pure bliss.

But I have no idea what I'm doing.

Katniss pulls away ever so slightly, whispering against my skin, "Breathe, Peeta," before pressing her lips to mine again. While her confidence may speak otherwise, I can tell from the way her hands tremble against my chest and how her lips move cautiously against mine that she's just as inexperienced as I. But nevertheless, it's still incredible.

The breathing is not as easy as I thought it would be. I have to pull away from her when I feel the room starts to spin, but I keep her close, cradled in my arms.

With the tingling of where her lips touched mine fresh on my skin, I silently tell her that I love her with all I am.

And I apologize for any trouble I may cause in the very near future.


Portia notices the pin right away.

"What's that?"

"Mockingjay," I say. "Katniss wanted me to have it."

She tugs on my arms, bringing me closer so that she can study it. "I like it."

I smirk, "I do, too."

She helps me dress. The actions seem slow and dodgy, like I'm watching a video through a fuzzy screen – or listening to a record that's skipping. She tosses clothes at me. The shirt is form fitting and the pants stretch comfortably when I bend. I shrug on a jacket that oddly doesn't make me warm in this tiny room.

"It keeps you warm when it's supposed to," she says, noticing my curiosity. The boots are comfortable too – I won't be having any trouble running. It's relieving. "You'll be fine, Peeta," she comments lowly, trying to comfort me. "You're an extraordinary man."

Man. Not boy.

"Haymitch wants to see you," she says shyly when I'm done repinning the Mockingjay onto myself. He comes in, face looking scrubbed clean like he'd been trying to wake himself up. He spots it and a small smile graces his pink face.

Neither of us make a move towards the other, unsure of what to say.

He speaks first, though. "I'm proud of you," his voice breaks. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that."

It is I, though, who embraces him. It doesn't feel awkward like I thought it would – it reminds me of my dad, and it's comforting. He pulls away to look at me and pats me on the shoulder. "I don't think I need to remind you of anything," he says certainly. "You're a brave soul, Peeta Mellark. I wish I was half the man you are."

"Tributes at stand by."

I can't find my voice, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Good luck."

Cinna gently prods me into the glass tube-like elevator that will take me up to the arena from the catacombs. I can hear clicking and grinding as the floor starts moving underneath me.

As I turn around catching the last glimpses I'll ever have of Haymitch and Portia – I see Haymitch press three fingers to his lips and hold them out to me.

Goodbye to you, too, Haymitch.

The light when I surface is blinding. The catacombs were far too dark, and it's disorienting. I look around, spotting twenty-two faces that won't make it home and it makes me sick to know that these people, good or not, will be dead within the next week. Katniss is several people over, looking confident and strong on her platform and as she connects gazes with me, she grins a little.

This is it.

The Cornucopia is massive – and exactly what it's named. It's a metal building filled with weapons and backpacks of food and water and supplies and – Haymitch said to stay away from it all. How could I? Look at it! If I could get my hands on it –

No. Do what Haymitch says.

But...bow...

There's a satchel with archery supplies tied together. It's like it's made for me.

For all I know, it might have been – they might be targeting me. The Gamemakers want me to wrestle for it.

Well then they have quite a show in store.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Katniss shaking her head at me. I look at her and she gives me a severe look that's easy to read –

Don't be stupid.

Sorry, Katniss.

"Ladies and Gentlemen – Let the 74th Annual Hunger Games begin!"

Ten.

Listen to Katniss. Don't do it.

Nine.

But her life might depend on it...

Eight.

Just go for it – You can take them. Find the careers. Find water.

Seven.

She's still shaking her head...maybe I shouldn't.

Six.

No. It's for her own good.

Five.

Wipe the sweat of your hands. Get a grip.

Four.

I can feel my heart in my throat.

Three.

Just be fast. Bow. Water. Careers.

Two.

I love you, Katniss.

One.

Run.

Peeta can be dumb, can't he? Oh, well, when you're a seventeen year old boy fueled by adrenaline and love you make dumb decisions.

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