Catching Fire in Peeta's Point of View
Don't be afraid to message me with a one shot request! This isn't that great of a chapter, so I apologise in advance.
Chapter Two
"Your hair! Have you not had it cut since we parted?"
"Look at those nails! I think I'll have just enough time to perfect them."
"Oh! I see you've bulked up again, you look much better!"
It goes on and on. An onslaught of excited talk of how I look, how they'll prepare me for the cameras, the tour I'm about to embark on, the Quarter Quell. Surprisingly, I find I quite enjoy it compared to the silence that had been in my house a lot of the time.
"Do you live in this house on your own?" I nod my head my head in an answer.
"Yes. Sometimes my brothers stay over, but everyone's busy with the bakery today." I tell them, which isn't entirely true. My brothers had offered to come to the house for Interviews and support, but I had told them to stay back at the bakery with our parents. I'm not sure why, but I don't want them here in all of this. I have an odd feeling that everything is all extremely complicated and messed up. I go downstairs to meet Portia with my hair cut, my skin scrubbed, my face shaved and my nails manicured. Portia is standing in my living room, nibbling on a decorated cookie.
"Portia," I smile warmly and she turns to me with a similar smile on her lips. We cross the room and embrace one another like friends. Haymitch walks through the door and glances at us briefly, then falling onto the sofa with a sigh.
"What a lovely scene!" He laughs, and there's a heavy smell of alcohol on his breath, as expected. Portia and I ignore him.
"Your clothes are over there on the chair, get dressed quickly! The cameras are all set up upstairs, and they're ready to start rolling as soon as you're ready." I pick the clothes up and slip them on. Quite simple clothing today, just some black trousers and a white shirt, but the material is lined with something that keeps me warm. "I saw your paintings, and they are so wonderful, Peeta." Portia gushes and I smile, quite surprised. I thought she would have hated them, just like I do.
"Thank you. I painted them from my nightmares," I say, and there's an audible gasp behind me.
"Oh..." Portia falters, seemingly unsure what to say. "Well, perhaps that's something you shouldn't say on camera." She forces a chuckle and I nod my head in agreement, fastening the buttons of my shirt.
Once she sees I'm dressed, Portia ushers me up to my painting room and I imagine my invisible sack of flour, plaster the smile on my face. Time for the act to begin. The cameras follow me around as I show them my paintings, more of the less violent ones I had done. I keep my voice pleasant as I pick up paintings and grin at the camera. They comment on how there are a lot with Katniss in them, so of course I have to gush about my love for her and the like. It doesn't take too long and the cameras are unplugged and moved. They want to televise Katniss and I meeting one another at the beginning of the tour. They want to televise everything.
Haymitch and Portia are waiting for me in the living room, Portia holding out a jacket for me. I shrug it on and allow her to wrap the scarf around my neck. Haymitch pats me on the shoulder.
"Remember to smile, you're about to see the girl you're madly in love with," he says and I clench my jaw.
"Thank you Haymitch, but there's no need to coach me how to act in love," I tell him through my gritted teeth. Something flickers in his eyes but he nods his head and steps back. I half regret saying the words, but I guess I still harbour some resentment over the whole matter of Haymitch and Katniss deceiving me. I step out into the snow, but it's coming down hard now and seeing ahead of me is difficult. I step out, the snow crunching underneath my one real and my one fake foot.
And there she is. Walking towards me, and I think I see a smile on her face. That's nice. I haven't seen Katniss smile many times since our return, especially not in my direction. It actually thaws some of the frost of my own feelings, and I manage the smile that the cameras are used to. Suddenly, Katniss breaks into a run, still heading for me. She jumps into my arms and the force of her body pushes me back. My left leg slips in the snow and we both fall backwards, Katniss still enclosed in my arms. Then we kiss, and it's a confusing kiss that sets my heart racing and has me tightening my arms around her to pull her to me. There's fur and snowflakes getting in the way, and I'm sure I taste the odd, bitter lipstick on her lips. The Capitol expect us to be in love, and so that is how we act. But I don't know if it's all an act. Everything is so confusing.
Before I can even catch up with the hours, we're on the train and leaving the station. Haymitch, Effie, Portia, Katniss, the Prep teams and I. We enjoy a meal and then everybody is off to their rooms to ready themselves for bed, but Portia and I hang back. We decide to go to the sitting room, curling up on the sofas opposite one another, and for a while we enjoy the silence. I realise that Portia is possibly the only real friend I have on this trip.
"How are you doing, Peeta?" She asks me and I look up at her properly, and I don't even see the Capitol of her any more. I only see the woman who dressed me to impress the whole of Panem, the woman who was there before the Games to help me through, the woman who bandaged my hands, and the woman who was there when my leg was amputated. The train stops so they can fill up on fuel.
"I don't know," I answer her honestly, running my now manicured fingers through my new cut hair. "It's all been so … tense. Ever since the train ride back," I say and she nods in understanding.
"I was once in love, you know," Portia muses with the hint of a smile on her yellow painted lips. I raise my eyebrows in questions, and she continues on. "His name was Klaustica, and he was so very handsome. We were together a long time, so long that everyone thought we were going to get married and grow old together. This was back in school, of course." She takes a sip of her tea and I frown across at her.
"What happened?"
"Oh, he got a new job and a new woman. Some secretary of his, and they fell so in love, and he couldn't be without her." Portia gives a wave of her hand as if it doesn't matter, but I can see that it does.
"Well, there's something we have in common I guess." She looks at me with a questioning expression.
"We both had our hearts broken." I then frown down at my hands for a moment, eventually looking back up at her. "Do you think I'll be all right? That I'll … be able to move on?" I ask, because surely I can't be hung up on the same girl forever. Portia gets to her feet and crosses to me, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"I think we should go to bed," my stomach drops, because she avoids answering my question. I don't argue with her, and wander to my own room. I pause at one of the windows, looking out to where the silhouettes of Katniss and Haymitch are outside talking in the snow. More secrets? I swallow my bitterness and lock myself in my room. After stripping down and unstrapping my leg, I roll into the bed and make an attempt at sleep.
I must have eventually fallen into a slumber, because Portia is shaking me awake. I blink up at her through heavy eyes and groan.
"No, go away." I mutter, covering my face with my pillow.
"Get up, get dressed. It's almost dinner time!" She says in her usual chipper tone. I frown and glance at her again.
"It is? Why didn't you wake me before?" I ask. Portia tuts, pulling the pillow away from my face.
"There was no need to, we'll mostly be travelling today." I sigh and sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I see her eyes wander to my artificial leg sitting beside my bed, the conflict evident in her expression. Deciding whether or not she should try and help me, when she doesn't want to touch it. I can't say I blame her, and I'm used to the looks people give me when they either find out, or see it.
"It's okay, I don't need help." I quirk an eyebrow at her and she nods, looking relieved.
"Well, I'll see you at dinner." Her cheer returns to her voice and I nod. I manage to manoeuvre across the room with the cane I had brought with me. I step gratefully into the hot shower, wondering what the chances would be of getting a shower installed into my home back in the Victor's Village. Once I'm all strapped in and dressed, I make my way to dinner. Katniss isn't there at first but joins us a few minutes in, and I can tell that her Prep team have been preening her that morning. I feel quite smug that I had been allowed to sleep in.
The dinner is quite pleasant, and everybody is talking together, except a hungover Haymitch and a quiet Katniss. Others continuously try to get her to join in but she remains stubborn and sullen. I join in the conversation as much as I can, trying to keep up my spirits.
This is going to be a long Tour. Just as the thought enters my mind the train stops, and somebody reports to us that part of the train has malfunctioned. Of course, Effie gets quite hysterical and is trying to solve how much this will affect our schedule.
"No one cares, Effie!" Katniss suddenly snaps, making us all stop and stare at her. She isn't exactly one for such outbursts, and to attack Effie in such a manner seems to shock us all. Katniss looks around us all, "well, no one does!" She huffs and gets up to leave. Effie just stares after her, a dainty covering her mouth and her eyes wide in surprise and hurt.
Cinna starts to rise from his chair but I stand and shake my head. "It's okay, I'll go." Nobody says anything, and I wonder what they're thinking. I'm certain they all know about Katniss and I, or rather that there is no Katniss and I. I step out of the dinging room and hear the alarm going off, and the open door. I follow Katniss outside, where there is no snow on the ground, meaning we have travelled quite a way. I see her a little ways in the distance, falling into a sitting position. I head off in the direction, and when I'm close by she speaks without even looking at me. Obviously expecting someone else.
"I'm not in the mood for a lecture," she says.
"I'll try to keep it brief." I answer as I carefully sit down beside her.
"I thought you were Haymitch."
"No, he's still working on that muffin." I have to move my fake leg into a more comfortable position. "Bad day, huh?"
"It's nothing," she instantly replies. My mood slumps a little. Of course she isn't willing to talk to me. I take a deep breath to calm my thoughts.
"Look, Katniss, I've been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale." As much as I don't want to admit it. "I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn't fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I'm sorry." I tell her. Thoughts that had been running through my mind, mixing in with all the hurt, anger, jealousy.
"I'm sorry, too." She replies, and I wonder what for.
"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You were keeping us alive. But I don't want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there's a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at being just friends." Just friends, I'm sure I can handle that. I just have to push all those other feelings to the back burner. Easy.
"Okay," Katniss says.
"So what's wrong?" She doesn't answer, picks at some grass. I try again. "Let's start with something more basic. Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine … but I don't know what your favourite colour is?" Getting to know one another a bit more, something friends do. She actually smiles at my question.
"Green. What's yours?"
"Orange," I reply.
"Orange? Like Effie's hair?" I grimace a little.
"A bit more muted. More like … sunset." I say, picturing the scene in my head. It's a peaceful, settling scene of soft colours.
"You know, everyone's always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven't seen them."
"Well, I've got a whole train car full," I answer, because Portia had insisted we bring some along. I stand up and offer out my hand to Katniss. "Come on." She takes my hand and our fingers interlock immediately, and it feels nice. We walk back to the train with our hands clasped together. As we reach the door, Katniss remembers her outburst.
"I've got to apologise to Effie first," she says and I nod, with a slight smile.
"Don't be afraid to lay it on thick." We return to the dinner car, and Katniss does a grand job in apologising to Effie. Of course, Effie accepts the apology, managing to fit in a few minutes lecture of how someone must attend to the schedule. I lead Katniss to the room with my paintings, stepping back as she steps forward to take them in. I keep my gaze on her back.
"What do you think?"
"I hate them," she replies and I'm not surprised. They're all of the games, and no doubt bring up all of the terrible memories for Katniss like they do for me. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?" She asks, turning to look at me.
"I see them every night." And then I wake and paint them, in the hopes they'll go away.
"Me, too." Katniss admits, and I look at her fully. Again, it's not surprising. "Does it help? To paint them out?" It's a complicated question.
"I don't know. I think I'm a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am. But they haven't gone anywhere." Always waiting for me.
"Maybe they won't. Haymitch's haven't." The thought doesn't fill me with joy.
"No. But for me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand," I pause. "So you really hate them?" It still hurts a little, even though I understand.
"Yes. But they're extraordinary. Really." She turns away from the paintings fully. "Want to see my talent? Cinna did a great job on it." Katniss says, and I laugh.
"Later." The train starts up again, but I manage to keep on my feet. "Come on, we're almost at District Eleven. Let's go take a look at it."
We sit in the last car, where the view is best. The train slows as we reach District Eleven and I raise my eyebrows in surprise. There are fences ten metres tall, with towers of armed guards. It makes me suddenly glad to live in Twelve, where the electric fence is never turned on and the Peacekeepers greet everyone in a friendly manner.
"That's something different," I comment. Katniss doesn't answer and I wonder if she's thinking of little Rue, who had once lived here. We keep our attention on the District passing by. It seems to carry on for a lifetime, a lot larger than the size of District Twelve. "How many people do you think live here?" Katniss just shakes her head in response. We sit in silence for a while longer, and then Effie comes in and tells us to get dressed. We both return to our rooms.
Portia is waiting with the Prep team and I go into my usual quiet, let them do what they wish mode. They begin glooping my hair, shaving the few bristles from my chin that have started to sprout, and dress me in black trousers and a soft, orange shirt. It reminds me of telling Katniss about my favourite colour, and for a moment I wish they'd chosen a green one. I push the thought aside, because I'm not supposed to be dressing in Katniss' favourite colours and trying to impress her. We're just friends. They don't give me large, clumpy boots like when I had been prepared for the Games. Rather, some sturdy plain shoes.
I return to where Katniss and Effie are waiting, and listen intently to the plan that Effie has produced, with timing and all. It's then time to make our appearance.