Catching Fire in Peeta's Point of View
I know you've all been wondering and asking, so I will confirm for you all that I WILL be writing Mockingjay in Peeta's Point of View! I've had a few ideas floating in my head and really want to see what I can do with them.
Also, thank you so, so much for all of your reviews! I can't thank you enough, but every review that you guys write for me always makes my day, so thank you!
Chapter Four
Portia leads me downstairs where we meet the others, and it's obvious that Effie is extremely distressed. She doesn't seem as excited by the meal like she usually is, but rather already set a minute by minute plan to the moment where we get back on the train.
"Is something wrong, Effie?" Cinna asks her.
"I don't like the way we've been treated. Being stuffed into trucks and barred from the platform. And then, about an hour ago, I decided to look around the Justice Building. I'm something of an expert in architectural design, you know." Effie says, and everyone pauses.
"Oh, yes, I've heard that." Portia says, in what I think is an attempt to stop the pause going on too long.
"So, I was just having a peek around because District ruins are going to be all the rage this year, when two Peacemakers showed up and ordered me back to our quarters. One of them actually poked me with her gun," Effie carries on. I wonder if this has something to with our disappearing act to the dome. Katniss suddenly hugs Effie, which is a little surprising. She seems intent on surprising me with these odd outbursts. First, she exploded and shouted at Effie, now she's suddenly hugging her.
"That's awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn't go to the dinner at all. At least until they've apologised," I quirk an eyebrow, but Katniss isn't turned to me to see my confused expression. Effie seems to brighten up, though.
"No, I'll manage. It's part of my job to weather the ups and downs. And we can't let you two miss your dinner. But thank you for the offer, Katniss." Effie is all business again and ordering us into a formation ready to enter for the dinner. Music starts playing and the Prep teams disappear. Katniss and I both reach for the other's hand at the same time. I start counting in my head, as instructed by Effie.
"Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions. And it isn't as if I haven't kept things from you in the past." Like my being in love with you.
"I think I broke a few things myself after that interview," she says and I remember her pushing me.
"Just an urn." I reply.
"And your hands. There's no point to it any more, though, is there? Not being straight with each other?" She asks.
"No point." I say, waiting for our turn to step up. I know it's an odd time, but I have to ask her. The thought has been running through my mind ever since she told me. "Was that the only time you kissed Gale?" I ask her, knowing she can't lie now that we'd agreed to be straight with one another.
"Yes," Katniss says, sounding shocked I'd brought it up. I finish up the counting in my head.
"That's fifteen. Let's do it." We fix the smiles on our faces and step out into the spotlight.
The next few days become a blur of train rides, dinners, speeches in our honour and thank you speeches in return. Katniss and I are always united in front of the cameras, and step up the romance; kissing and unable to keep our hands off one another at dinners, often caught trying to sneak off. I wonder how Katniss and Haymitch had planned to play the romance with my unknowing. Our nights on the train are sombre, picking apart our every action and word, wondering if they were any help.
The stress really starts to get to Katniss and I. We both endure sleepless nights, food isn't as gratifying as it once was, and the Capitol's food doesn't taste as rich as before. During nights, I often walk up and down the train in an attempt to wear myself out. It never really works, and there are still dark circles under my eyes that the Prep team have to work to cover up. I don't remember exactly when it started, but each night I have to rush in to Katniss' room, to wake her from her nightmares. She screams and thrashes around, but each night I'm able to rouse her from the sleep. The first night, I am about to leave but when I turn, Katniss reaches out to take my hand.
"Peeta, will you stay with me?" she murmurs quietly. I glance down at her tired eyes, her tight expression, and nod my head.
"Of course." Always, I will always stay with you. I add in my head. I climb into the bed and wrap my arms around Katniss, stroking her hair and sometimes murmuring soft tunes in her ear until she falls into a more peaceful sleep. Once she's asleep, I tend to stay with her for a while, holding her to me and pretending things are different. At some point, my visits to her become a nightly occurrence, and the rest of the train gossips about us.
We finally reach the Capitol, where the crowd adores us and don't need convincing that we are children madly in love. But there are still people out there who do need convincing.
"You've done very well for the cameras." Haymitch says after another mouthful of clear liquor.
"It's still not enough." I comment, starting to lose hope and wondering what it means. If we fail, what happens then? I think of my mother and father, of Gareth and Lukail.
"What if … you were to propose to me?" Katniss asks, seeming to grow on her own idea. "That could work! If you propose to me on live television, with one of your great speeches. You're good with words, this could be what convinces them."
I want to ground to open up and swallow me right there. Propose, get married, and then what? I wonder if Katniss is willing to live on for the rest of our lives, pretending to love me. A lump builds in my throat but I hold back the emotion.
"Y-yes. Good idea." I manage to murmur, jumping to my feet and leaving the room without another words. I lock my bedroom door behind me and turn to stare at it, not sure what to do now that I've stormed away. There are so many thoughts running through my mind that I don't know where to start in order to sort them. I strip down and unstrap my leg, staring at the contraption and suddenly hating it. I suddenly hate everything and everyone in the Capitol, I hate President Snow, and a part of me hates those who are rebelling, for bringing this upon Katniss and I.
"This is what you wanted," I mutter to myself, with my head in my hands. "To marry Katniss and live your lives together." I try to convince myself. But I want it to be real. I want to propose to Katniss in our future, maybe in the meadow near our house, with my declaration of love and knowing she loves me back. Not here in the Capitol, in front of the cameras, as a means of saving our families. Not as some kind of last resort.
I want to sit and cry for a while, or start smashing up random objects in my room. Anything to express the anger and upset building inside me. Instead, I stand in the shower for an hour and think up my proposal speech. When I hop out of the shower, towel wrapped around my waist, Portia is sitting on my bed. I pause when I see her, leaning against the wall, and it takes me a moment to notice the small box in her hand.
"No proposal would be right without an engagement ring, right?" she asks, and I wonder who told her. I'm frozen to the spot for a moment, not sure what to think.
"A-a ring?" I stutter.
"Yes. It makes it seem more like you … had this planned." She says, and I can't help the half laugh that escapes my lips.
"I did have this planned, Portia." I say, strapping my left leg to the stump of flesh. "I had this planned maybe ten years from now, with a Katniss who actually loves me back." My voice rises a little.
"Oh Peeta, honey." Portia squeaks, her hand flying up to cover her mouth and her eyes wet with tears. I sigh, and rub the bridge of my nose in the hopes it can rub away all the tensions and frustrations. Of course it can't. Portia is suddenly hugging me, and I hold on to her for a minute or two. It feels good, as if she is keeping me grounded, some sort of anchor in all of this madness.
"It's okay, Portia." I untangle myself from her. "Let's just get this over with." She nods furiously, wiping the tears from her cheeks, smudging her make up. She hands me the box and I peek inside. It's certainly a beautiful ring, although a little too extravagant, probably not something I would have picked out.
"Could you – could help me with one more thing, Portia?" I ask, chewing on my lower lip.
"Of course, Peeta – anything!" She answers enthusiastically.
"Could you maybe help me practise getting down on one knee? I'm still not fully used to this damned leg, and I want to make sure I can get down and back up again, without looking like a fool."
"Of course, Peeta." Portia says, and I think there's a catch in her voice and the threat of more tears. I ignore it, because it has been hard enough not letting my own tears fall. But I'm sick of crying.
Portia spends just under an hour with me, helping me down and back up until I'm able to do it own my own. My knees creak less and, my real leg stops aching and my fake one moves more freely.
I have the move perfected, and use it in front of Ceasar Flickerman, Katniss, a live crowd, and the whole of Panem behind the cameras. Katniss is very good at looking the overjoyed, blushing bride to be. For a moment, I can actually pretend that it's all real. Until the cheering of the crowd becomes so overwhelming I cannot ignore them, and President Snow is walking up to congratulate us himself. I manage to plaster a smile on my face when he walks up to me, remembering the danger we are all in and that attempting to punch the President in the face is not a clever option.
It is all your fault, I think to myself silently when he turns away.
The President surprises me when he turns to the crowd, suggesting we have a wedding in the Capitol. Not even a chance to have our own quiet, private wedding. It will be planned and executed by the Capitol, it will be a ridiculous flamboyant event that will feel meaningless. I thought I couldn't hate him more.