Apparently today is a year to the date since I first began posting this fic! So here's a new update to mark the occasion.
My ribs are still hurting quite a bit when we leave District 12, though it's much more manageable now than it was a few days after my fall. We travel by train and it's a slow, uneventful journey. Peeta is on edge about whatever awaits us in the Capitol, internalizing most of his discomfort but making it obvious to me by the way he keeps to himself and seems to fidget and be unable to sit still for more than five minutes at a time. For my own part, I am worried but also feeling strangely calm. I know there can't be good reasons for us to have been summoned to the Capitol early but there's something strangely relaxing about knowing that it's out of our hands now. Whatever Snow plans to do to us he's already planning, we can't change his mind or change his plans, so we might as well accept it.
When we arrive at the train station there's no crowd awaiting us, however when we reach the Training Centre there are a lot of people around. I feel uneasy going out into a crowd when my body is still hurting, worried they might push and pull us, and Peeta seems to read it on my face. When we step out of our car he wraps both arms around me and holds me protectively while we walk, both of us keeping our heads down as if that might help grant us anonymity. Thankfully it's a short walk and we're soon inside the building.
It's strange being here with no tributes, no victors and very few staff members. Effie is there to greet us but even she is somewhat subdued in her demeanour. She might not know any details of what Snow has planned for us but she knows that being summoned to the Capitol a few weeks early is never a good thing.
Our first evening back we sit quietly together, the three of us, having dinner. It's creepy to be just us three at the large table where we're used to seeing Haymitch, Cinna and Portia. I get the funny idea into my head that Effie might sit here and eat every day of the year, all by her lonesome except for during Hunger Games events. I know that's ludicrous and that she has her own flashy apartment somewhere in the Capitol but I realize I don't know much else about her. I don't even know if there's a Mr. Trinket.
"It's so lovely to have you here so soon" she says halfway through the meal, her voice forced and her smile far from genuine. "What a generous, generous surprise from President Snow!"
"Yeah he's a regular old Santa Clause" says Peeta dryly, though the reference goes over my head.
"Tone" admonishes Effie.
"Do you happen to know what's on our schedule?" asks Peeta, blowing lightly on his spoonful of soup before putting it in his mouth.
It's almost entertaining, watching Effie squirm as she is clearly not happy about not having that information.
"Nothing has been officially scheduled for you yet" she says at last.
"Guess they want to keep us on our toes" I say dryly.
"Who doesn't like a surprise?" adds Peeta in a tone that matches mine.
Effie looks like she's about to say something else, but quickly gives up. The rest of the meal is eaten in uncomfortable silence and once it's done Peeta and I retreat to our bedroom to try and get some rest. We'll need it for whatever Snow has in store for us.
A persistent knocking on the door wakes me up and groggily I lift my head from my pillow. I've got my hair plastered to my face and at some point during the night Peeta's arm has ended up wrapped across my back. The bed we share here is smaller than the one at home, the room made for one mentor not two, so we inevitably end up sleeping closer together. I hear Peeta mumble something and roll away, burying his face in his pillow.
"Is it Effie?" I ask, my voice a touch hoarse.
"Are you awake?" comes Effie's voice half a second later. "Are you decent?" She opens the door and carefully peeks inside. "Time to get up!"
"Is it another big, big day?" Peeta asks into his pillow.
If Effie picks up on his words, or his tone, she doesn't acknowledge it. Her usual cheerfulness has been replaced with sombreness and a touch of nervousness.
"President Snow wants to see you."
I sit up straight, feeling my pulse quickening. I look down at Peeta who shifts to his side and gives me a tense look. This can't be good, being summoned our very first morning in the Capitol. We had both figured he would either just keep tabs on us until the festivities or that he would let us fret for a few days before speaking to us.
"We'll be up in a minute, Effie" says Peeta, not breaking eye-contact with me.
"Portia and Cinna left some clothes for you to wear" says Effie in a tone that tries to be upbeat but can't mask her discomfort. "I'll have an avox bring them by while you're washing up."
"Cinna's here?" I ask.
"No, he and Portia are in their office in the south end of the city, working on your wardrobe for the big party!"
The fleeting hope of having Cinna here to support me almost makes me feel worse when it fades. It's very unsettling being here without Haymitch and the thought of Cinna being here to help was comforting. It seems though that Peeta and I have only Effie to look to and although I've come to realize she has more heart and depth than I used to believe she's still not a person to cling to in a difficult situation.
"How much time do we have to get ready?" asks Peeta, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Be dressed and ready to leave in thirty minutes" says Effie before giving us a smile that I think is meant to be encouraging but fails spectacularly. She closes the door and leaves us alone to shower and get dressed.
"What do you think Snow wants?" asks Peeta in a low voice.
"Nothing to our benefit" I answer.
He sighs heavily.
"Do you want to shower first, or should I?"
"Perhaps we shouldn't shower at all" I grumble. "Snow doesn't deserve our personal grooming. Besides, he reeks of roses. He won't be able to tell we're smelling like sweat and dirt."
"I'll go first then" sighs Peeta and scoots to the side of the bed. He wore his prosthetic to bed and gets up and heads for the bathroom.
"Mind if I brush my teeth while you're in the shower?"
He shrugs and I swing my legs over the side of the bed to stand up. Time to jump right in to whatever punishment the president has in mind for us.
I half expected them to make a big show of Peeta and me going to the palace to see the president. Instead we're taken to a room in the Training Centre, one I've never seen before, located down the hall from the mentors' dining area. It appears they don't want it to be public knowledge that Peeta and I are brought before the president like two naughty students being shown to the principal's office.
"How do you want to play this?" asks Peeta in a whisper so low I can barely hear him, as we're being lead to the room. "Do you want to play it honest or try to come up with a cover story?"
I don't have time to formulate an answer since a pair of peacekeepers open up the door ahead of us. In a quick move Peeta grabs my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, then we're being more or less shoved inside the room where President Snow waits for us. The doors close behind us and we're left alone with him, the pair of us standing frozen with pounding hearts.
Snow looks as calm as ever, standing with his back to us looking at what appears to be a collection of maps of previous arenas. The smell of blood and roses fill the chilly room, making me uncomfortable. Almost a full minute passes before the old man turns around and gives us a smile that is in no way friendly or inviting.
"Mr. and Mrs. Mellark" he says. "My favourite young lovebirds. Why don't you have a seat?"
He nods at a pair of green leather chairs standing by a desk. We oblige him and sit down while he remains standing. I'm reminded of the time he came to visit me in my first Victors' Village house before our Victory Tour, almost exactly three years ago. The same feeling of dread fills me now. In a way it's comforting to have Peeta here with me, to not be facing this alone, yet in another way I wish he wasn't here. We have our problems but this particular one is not his fault and he shouldn't have to be reprimanded or punished on my account.
"How are you feeling, Mrs. Mellark?" asks Snow kindly, though naturally there's not an ounce of actual kindness behind the words.
"I'm fine" I say, my voice hoarse.
"Have you fully healed from your unfortunate fall?"
"Almost."
"You gave us all quite the scare when the news came" says Snow, walking over to the chair on the other side of the desk but remaining standing. "No doubt you scared your husband, too."
There's a moment of silence and Peeta harks his voice.
"It was distressing" he manages.
"You shouldn't frighten us that way" admonishes Snow, still in that kind tone that is so false it aggravates me. He pulls out his chair but doesn't sit down. "Once you make it out of the arena alive we prefer to keep you that way. I must say I'm a bit surprised at the accident you had. I wasn't aware District 12 had such tall trees. We must find these trees and have them cut down, lest you should fall again."
I fidget uncomfortably in my chair. Is that a veiled warning that they mean to cut down the entire forest? Can they actually do that? I'm tempted to look over at Peeta for some reassurance but for some reason I don't think that would be a good idea.
"I wasn't actually that high up in the tree" I say lamely, unable to think of something better to say to cover my tracks.
"Don't lie!" says Snow, his tone a touch harder but then it softens again. "The deal was we do not lie to each other."
"I was in the woods" I admit in a mumble, fidgeting even worse.
"I know you were."
"Let's cut to the chase" says Peeta, surprising me a bit. "How much trouble are we in here?"
The president's eyebrows go up and he gives Peeta an entertained look.
"Alright Mr. Mellark, if you are that impatient…" His eyes turn to me. "The fences in the district were switched back on the same evening you fell. They will remain on at all times. You can consider yourselves lucky – I do not wish to implement some severe punishment to your district that will only serve to alert your fellow Twelvians of your failure to behave, Mrs. Mellark. However do not think for a second that I will be as lenient if further transgressions occur. Rather you should be under the assumption that any new transgression will result in punishment for that incident as well as for this one. With interest. Now, during the remainder of your stay here we had planned to make sure the pair of you are occupied. Idle hands make for misbehaving victors, I have found. But, in light of your admission of guilt perhaps we should let you have a bit of… vacation instead. We shall also require the pleasure of your company, and that of your fellow mentor, for a little longer than just over the festivities. I suggest you enjoy said festivities as much as you can because you won't be home in time for the harvest festival."
I close my eyes for a second and swallow hard. I quickly open them again when all I see behind my closed eyelids is Gale and his mother and siblings, starving. With Gale unable to go hunt and me away from the district they'll have a hard time feeding themselves. Not only that, if Peeta, Haymitch and I are away from the district during the harvest festival the yearly "donation" from the Capitol will not happen. Each year a small, but still noticeable, handing out of food takes place during the festival, the Capitol's way of rewarding the district for having Hunger Games victors. With no victors in the district there will be no food given out. Many people will be looking forward to that meal, counting on it even, and now they'll have to do without.
"That will be all" Snow says to me with a self-satisfied glint in his eyes. Of course he's enjoying this. Without a word I rise from my seat but as Peeta does the same the president protests. "Not you, Mr. Mellark."
I share an alarmed look with Peeta. What is this about? What does he want with Peeta that he can't talk about with me in the room? Is he going to dish out further punishment on him for yet another thing that's entirely my fault?
I want to protest, to tell Snow that I will stay and Peeta can go, but the door behind me opens and a peacekeeper walks in and grabs me by the arm. I realize that protesting is futile so I give an apologetic look to Peeta, feeling a touch of fear in my heart. Oh how I wish Haymitch were here so I could talk to him when I get back to our quarters and perhaps get an idea what Snow might be wanting to talk to Peeta about. Instead all I can do is allow the peacekeeper to drag me out of the room and watch as Snow takes a seat opposite Peeta.
The peacekeeper escorts me to the elevator, holding me by the arm the entire time, and follows me into the car. He presses the button for me and then steps out, leaving me all alone. It's a short ride up to the penthouse floor but it feels like an eternity. Every second takes me further away from Peeta and I don't like it one bit. We're supposed to face Snow and his goons together, not by ourselves.
When the elevator reaches the twelfth floor I step out of the car and look around me, wondering what I should do to keep myself from fretting while I wait for Peeta to return. Mere seconds after I've arrived Effie comes walking in, a forced positive smile plastered on her face but it goes away when she sees that I'm alone.
"Peeta did not come with you?"
"No" I say.
Effie seems at war with herself for a few moments, as if unable to decide if she should throw a nervous fit, offer me comfort or pretend like everything is peachy keen. Then she seems to give up her inner battle, walks up to me and grabs my arm gently.
"Come" she says. "Let's go have breakfast. Breakfast always cheers you up, doesn't it?" Then she lowers her voice and finishes with a dry remark. "We can have our tea with a splash of white liquor, the way Haymitch prefers it."
We haven't finished our breakfast by the time Peeta returns. When I hear the sound of the elevator arriving I jump to my feet and toss my half-eaten piece of toast on the table, hurrying to see him. He looks pale and quite rattled and his smile when he sees me is even more forced than the ones Effie has been sporting since we arrived. A knot of dread forms in my stomach. Whatever the president had to say to him it cannot have been good.
"Breakfast?" I say weakly, knowing we need to act like everything is normal and that I can't ask him all the questions I want to ask when we don't know if we're being listened to.
"Sounds lovely" he says, his voice telling me he probably won't be able to eat a bite.
To my surprise me rests his hand on my waist as he comes up to me and presses a kiss to my brow. Then his hand leaves me and he walks towards the dining area, me in tow. He gives Effie a small nod and pulls out his chair to sit down. I take my seat beside him and try not to give him nervous looks as he absent-mindedly reaches for the large plate of scrambled eggs and scoops a spoonful or two over to his own plate.
"So," says Effie finally, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin, "what do you two lovebirds have planned for the day? A nice, romantic rooftop picnic perhaps? Or maybe spending the day on the couch watching old Games? They released a Top Ten series right after the Quarter Quell that is quite exciting! Top Ten kills, Top Ten victories, Top Ten sponsor gifts…" Even though her babble suggests that she's nervously rambling I feel abject horror at hearing her even suggest such a thing. "Perhaps you'd like to get massages? There's a wonderful spa facility on the main floor, mostly for us escorts and the stylists, but we do permit mentors from time to time."
"Actually I think I'm going to spend the way working on my talent" says Peeta, reaching for the carafe of milk.
There's an arts and crafts room in the basement for the victors who have chosen talents in that particular field, though hardly anyone ever uses it. Our first year as mentors it was the only thing that seemed to get any genuine excitement out of Peeta and I know he was hoping to check it out more closely but there hasn't been much time for it. Also a pair of District 6 mentors have more or less staked claim of it and seem to be using it mostly for finger painting, which I don't think bothers Peeta per se but the fact that they're quite loud while they "work" is a distraction.
"Katniss, what about you?" asks Effie.
"I… think I'll just stay here and rest" I mumble.
"A fine idea" nods Effie. "You're still recuperating from your accident."
I nod and reach for another slice of bacon even though I'm not hungry. Beside me Peeta chews mechanically on his scrambled eggs, washing it down with a gulp of milk here and there. I would very much like to have a moment alone with him to hear all about what Snow said to him but I can't figure out the proper time and place for us to have that conversation. I don't feel safe talking about it anywhere in this building and it's highly unlikely that they'll let us out without the escort of not only Effie but at least a handful of peacekeepers.
Peeta glances up at me and I guess my worry is written on my face because his hand comes up and lands on top of mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. I turn to him and we look at each other for a few seconds. He looks worried too but underneath that there's the familiar steadiness that seems to want to tell me that I shouldn't be too concerned, that somehow we'll find a way out of whatever Snow has cooked up for us now.
Effie begins to blabber again and the moment between us is gone. Peeta's hand leaves mine and reaches for a bread roll. He eats the rest of his breakfast in silence while I make a half-hearted attempt at communicating with Effie.
When he is done eating Peeta stands up and leans down to kiss the top of my head. His mouth ends up right by my ear.
"Just pretend everything's okay" he whispers. "We're being watched. We'll talk back in Twelve."
I nod, knowing there's no way we can talk here. Peeta leaves to go paint and I look over at Effie who has got her best fake-excitement look on her face.
"Well" she says. "How about us girls go have a nice pedicure? Goodness knows your feet could use one…"
The days go by so very slowly. President Snow holds true to his word and give us a vacation, meaning nothing on our schedule for days on end. There's nothing to do and nowhere to go except for the roof. Peeta and I head up there one afternoon but we've only been there for about half an hour before deciding that while it may be a lovely place around Games season it's definitely not as lovely during winter. The Capitol does not get heavy snowfall like our home district but it's only a few degrees above freezing and the rain that falls feels colder than snow. Shivering and shaking we hurry back down to our quarters where I call dibs on the shower and Peeta curls up on the couch, wrapped in at least three blankets.
The subject of Snow and his unpleasant plans hangs over our heads and becomes the elephant in the room. We know we can't talk about it but we also know we have to talk about it. The victory tour has finally begun so at least we know this will all come to an end fairly soon but Jade and her crew still have to travel through all the districts before coming here for the finale party. With each day my anxiety grows. We have been left alone by Snow after that first day and I'm concerned he's planning some unpleasant surprise for us at the party.
"Katniss, at least stop biting your nails" admonishes Effie one afternoon, five days before the tour reaches the Capitol. "Your prep team will cry blood when they see the state of your once so beautiful, delicate fingers!"
I only glare at her, tempted to remind her of how beautiful and delicate my fingers did not look when I got out of the arena. I keep quiet though. Effie is growing just as restless as we are and nervous, high-strung Effie is not a person I wish to get riled up further.
"I'm sure they can work magic with my nails" I say instead, trying my best to sound like I mean it.
"Even magicians needs something to work with" she replies in a polite yet also icy tone of voice.
I hear the elevator ring and turn my head in that direction, thankful that Peeta is back from the massage Effie insisted that he should get. When he comes walking in to the sitting room his face is pale and he's got the same kind of look in his eyes that he had after speaking to Snow in private. This makes me nervous and I sit up straight on the couch, leaning forward over the back of it to look at him.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Did you not enjoy your massage?" asks Effie, sounding incredulous.
"Not really, no."
"I thought Effie said massages were supposed to be relaxing" I frown, wondering to myself if he actually got one to begin with or if Snow had another private meeting with him. He most definitely doesn't look relaxed, as I assume one would after getting a massage.
He turns his eyes to me, looking unsettled.
"It was a full body massage. Literally."
"Well of course it was, dear" chuckles Effie. "What else would you expect?"
"I'm going to go take a shower" says Peeta without answering her further, giving me another look that seems to say his experience was anything but nice and relaxing.
"I don't know what's bothering him" says Effie as he walks off towards our room. "Everybody knows they are the best massages to get. You really ought to try one too, Katniss. I can book you in for one tomorrow morning. How's that?"
"You know, no thanks" I say, biting my nails again. "I'm not sure they're something a simple District 12 person would enjoy."
Effie sighs theatrically and gets up from her seat.
"Why do they saddle me with the most boring district in the country?" she muses to herself as she walks off, presumably to book a massage for herself.
A few days later I'm so bored I'm actually considering watching the "Hunger Games Top Ten" series, telling myself that it could give me some useful tips for future mentoring. At least I know tomorrow the Victory Tour will reach the Capitol which means Peeta and I won't be the only victors in town, we will get to socialize at the parties – something that actually sounds tempting to me under current conditions – and once the party is over we will at least have Haymitch to keep us company until we return home.
President Snow continues to leave us alone for the most part and at this point I think he wants us here mainly to make sure we, or rather I, don't get into further mischief. With so much time on my hands I can't stop thinking about, and worrying about, Gale and his family back home. How are they feeding themselves? There's meat in Peeta's and my freezer box but I doubt he'd go knocking on my mother's door and ask for access to the food supply I share with the husband he doesn't really care to acknowledge.
Speaking of my husband, he spends most of his time in the arts and crafts room. Two days ago he finished a painting of a chipmunk on a tree branch, though the animal itself looked more like the cartoon version in our school books than the actual creature. Not that anyone in the Capitol would know the difference. The painting has already been put up on auction and from what Effie tells me people are bidding on it like crazy. Ostensibly the money will go to orphaned children. In actuality they'll go to the president's pockets.
I lounge around in the sitting room for an hour or two after breakfast, watching the clock tick and trying to force my mind not to worry about Gale and his family. Even more than that I try not to worry about my own family. If Snow made any veiled threats about them to Peeta, or direct ones for that matter, Peeta would have found a way to tell me by now. Still I'm no idiot and I know that my misadventures in the woods can't bode well for my mother and sister.
Suddenly I hear the elevator ring and I look up, hoping that it's not Effie coming to drag me off on another fun, fun afternoon of watching her order new clothes or getting our nails done. I smile with relief when I see Peeta. It's probably a good thing Effie isn't here because she'd throw a fit seeing that he's got stains of paint not only on his cheek but on his trousers as well. Personally I kind of like that look on him. It's something genuinely Peeta in the midst of all this Capitol veneer idiocy.
He comes walking up to me and looks around.
"This place is awfully quiet. Is Effie napping or something?"
"No she left to have lunch with the other escorts. Tradition on the day before the big party, apparently."
"Huh" says Peeta, walking around the couch and stopping right in front of me. "Somehow I've never pictured her… hanging out with people before."
"Can you imagine what it must sound like, all those escorts at one table?"
He chuckles and looks around again.
"No avoxes either?"
"No, not as it would seem."
"So we're all alone, then?"
"Yeah."
He gives me a crooked smile and there's something in his eyes I can't quite read. He sits down beside me, places his hand high up on my thigh and before I can react he leans in and kisses me. His lips stay pressed against mine, giving me no room to really react or question what he's doing, and I find I don't really want to either. It feels good to be kissed by him this way. I feel a familiar tingling in my belly and a warmth that spreads through my body. Before I know it he's manoeuvred me so that I'm lying on my back and he's on top of me, cradled between my legs, still kissing me. It passes through my mind that this is the oddest place imaginable for us to be doing this but I can't seem to focus my mind on anything other than the feel of him.
His lips leave my mouth and travel along my cheek down to my jawline and up to my ear. I feel his hot breath on my skin as he nuzzles his face into my hair, his mouth staying right by my ear. That's when I realize what he's doing.
"Sorry about this" he mumbles quietly. "Pretend like you enjoy what I'm doing. You can slap me later if you want to."
On a reflex I close my eyes, realizing I'm a better actress when you can't read anything in them, and I let my hands wander over his broad back.
"You're awfully frisky" I mumble in what I hope is a sexy kind of voice.
"There's no time to go into detail, and possibly not even the need to, but please Katniss, you have to stay out of the woods for a while now. I don't think Snow wants you to know this at all but I have to warn you." He moves his face and his lips sloppily make their way back to my mouth. I return his kiss, realizing that right now we're just kissing to uphold the façade, and after a few seconds he moves back to my ear. "If you displease him again he's going to have somebody other than me try and impregnate you. I think he enjoys the thought of you having a baby against your will and me having to help raise your kid by somebody else, passing it off as mine."
It feels like the blood freezes to ice in my veins. Peeta quickly moves his mouth back to mine to help conceal my reaction to his words. I don't have to wonder whether or not Snow means business with this particular threat. He's made similar ones before. Only this time it seems he doesn't want me to know about it and hopes I will walk into the trap.
"You okay?" asks Peeta gently, resting his brow against mine and gently brushing our noses together. "I'm sorry, are you not comfortable doing this out here? Do your ribs hurt? God, I'm crushing you, aren't I?"
I nod and then realize the correct response is probably to shake my head. I'm trembling and my hands are digging into Peeta's shoulders. I know he's wrapping up the act right now, that I'm supposed to pretend that what makes me uncomfortable is the thought of making out with my husband in a room where anyone can walk in on us, but I don't want him to move off of me just yet. His weight, his steadiness, his closeness, all of that helps ground me right now and I need it to lean on.
He lifts his head up and I open my eyes to look at him.
"I'm sorry" he says, apologising for more than the sake of keeping up our pretend situation.
"Don't be" I mumble.
He closes his eyes for a second and sighs. Then he lifts himself off of me and gives me a hand to help me sit up. I lean into him immediately and he wraps his arms around me, cradling me in his embrace. We sit like that until Effie arrives and, full of excitement, tells us we need to start getting ready for the big, big day tomorrow.
The party at Snow's mansion in honour of our latest victor Jade goes off without any dramatic events. President Snow and everyone close to him all but ignores Peeta and me, making us nothing but extras at the feast. Under normal circumstances we wouldn't mind one bit but in our current situation we're both on edge the whole night through, wondering if there's something unpleasant waiting for us at the next turn.
Instead nothing happens at all. We eat, we dance together, we mingle. We play our usual parts well, though not as well as we actually can. Both Peeta and I are a bit too unsettled to be able to pull the charade off perfectly. It rattles me a little that steady, reliable Peeta seems as unnerved as I am. He readily agrees when I suggest we draw back to a corner, kiss for a minute or two and then excuse ourselves to have some private time. It's a trick we've pulled one or two times since our wedding and it usually works like a charm, though both of us find it quite degrading. So long as it gets us away from the party I can accept it though and neither one of us could be more relieved when we leave the victory party two hours after dinner has been eaten.
When we return to our rooms in the Training Centre we head for the couch and spend the rest of the evening wrapped in blankets, drinking hot chocolate and making forced small talk about the party. We're both pretty high strung at this point and the endless boredom of being kept here is driving us both crazy. At least now we have Haymitch here to keep us company but the knowledge that the three of us will be stuck here a while longer and the people back home won't get any free food during the harvest feast makes it hard to feel happy.
The rest of our time in the Capitol my mind keeps being occupied by worries about my family, about Gale and his family, about the starving people back home and, increasingly, about my relationship to Peeta. I can't make sense of the twists and turns we're going through. We seem to be going from growing closer to awkwardness to back to normal over and over and over. Something about all of this just doesn't make any sense.
Together with Haymitch and Peeta I quietly count down the days until we are allowed to go back home. Finally we receive a letter from the president, telling Peeta and I to behave ourselves or pay the consequences. It also informs us that for the following four years all three of us will be spending the time between the Victory Party and the harvest feast here in the Capitol. It's hard to feel happy about getting to return to the district when you have that hanging over your head.
A mere few days after returning home boredom sets in again. I've been longing for my own house and my own surroundings the entire time we've been away but now that I can't go out into the woods, and I don't dare go to see Gale in case Snow will find out about it and fret, I seem to have an awful lot of time on my hands. That's not good because it makes me think about how starved people looked when we came back to the district and how guilty I feel about it. The thought of going to the Hob has passed through my mind several times but I don't know if I feel good about coming there without fresh meat when I'm the reason none of them got to have a meal on the Capitol's expense during the harvest feast, and won't be getting it for four more years.
Peeta spends a lot of time painting but unfortunately for me most of my pastimes involve being outdoors. I spend time with Prim and my mother whenever I can but they seem to be awfully busy treating frost bite and colds these days. At least the upside to that is that they are able to give their patients a hot meal, and sometimes send something edible home with them. Peeta bakes every morning to make sure they have bread to give away.
With a steaming hot mug in my hands I walk up the stairs in my house, wondering what I'm going to do to pass the time. I can hear faint sounds coming from Peeta's study and I smile slightly. The awkwardness has faded again and we're back to being friendly roommates, which is frustrating but at least acceptable to me. Perhaps I can convince him to abandon his paintings for a while and come spend time with me. We could play card games downstairs or read aloud to each other or, if he really wants to do something artistic, work on the plant book.
I almost stop to knock when I reach the door. I don't know if he feels like that room is his private sanctuary, like the woods are mine, or if I'm welcome in there. Since the door is slightly ajar I push it open with my foot and use the tips of my fingers to gently tap at the white wood to alert him of my presence.
He looks up from the canvas he's got laid out on the floor in front of him. There are dozens of blank canvases leaned up against the walls and all three of his easels are empty. It looks like the canvas on the floor is empty as well but he's holding a thick pencil so perhaps it's not. He seems surprised to see me, or just surprised in general at being interrupted. I wish I had another mug of tea to offer him but I don't know if he thinks drinking tea and working in here mixes.
"Hi" I say, feeling almost stupid all of a sudden.
"Hey" he says, blowing at a strand of blonde hair to move it from his eyes. "Did you need something?"
"No." I shift my weight from one foot to the other, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "I was just bored. Looking for some company."
"Is Prim not home? No one fun to hang out with at the Hob?"
"It's one o'clock on a school day" I point out. "And it's about twenty-five degrees below freezing out there. I'm bored but not so bored I'll venture outside if it's not entirely necessary."
"Oh." He laughs a little. "I was unaware, on both accounts. I guess I was so wrapped up in here that I failed to notice such details."
"What are you working on?" I ask, taking a few steps into the room, giving him the chance to ask me to stop if he doesn't want me to be there.
"Oh, nothing special really. Just something I had an idea for when I woke up this morning."
He rises from his spot on the floor, appearing to have some difficulties after kneeling for however long and having his prosthetic to deal with. He doesn't protest when I walk all the way up to him and after I've taken a sip of tea for myself I spontaneously hold out the mug to him. He takes it and blows on it carefully before taking a sip.
"Thanks" he says, handing it back. There's plenty of sugar in it, I realize, so he probably won't be wanting more.
My eyes go to the canvas on the floor. It's not empty at all I now realize, it's just that the lines he's sketched are too faint to be seen from the doorway. It's a very basic outline but it seems to be showing a girl with a long braid hanging down her back. She's seen from behind and her face is turned towards a window. It must be me he's sketched. I've seen paintings he's made of me before and I've never known quite what to feel about it.
I realize his eyes are on me and that I'm probably staring at his sketch. I offer a smile, hoping he doesn't think I dislike it.
"So you're bored?" he asks.
"Yeah…" My eyes return to the canvas. "But I won't bother you if you're working on something. I'll find something to do. I was just checking to see if you were bored also."
"You sure? We've had more than our share of boredom lately. The painting can wait if you want some company."
A thought suddenly comes to me and I put it to words before I can overthink it or chicken out.
"Can I watch you work?"
He looks surprised by the request. His hand reaches up and rubs the back of his neck and I wonder if people who paint don't like to be watched while they do it.
"Sure, I guess…" he answers. "But it will be really boring too, I can assure you. I've got to mix the paint first and that's going to take a while and it's nothing interesting to look at, at all."
"I don't mind."
"Okay…" he says sceptically. "If you want to."
I look around for somewhere to be where I won't get in his way. My eyes fall on a small armchair with some paint stains on it.
"Can I sit here?"
"Um, sure."
I take a seat, pulling my feet up under me. Peeta walks over to the large table where he keeps all kinds of paints, crayons, brushes, pencils and other tools. He seems to take a long time to study the different tubes of paint before he selects ten of them and puts them on a small tray. I frown a little and crane my neck to see better. From where I'm sitting it looks like two or three of the tubes are the exact same colour yet Peeta selected them all very carefully.
He walks over to the easel nearest to where I'm sitting and sets the tray down on a small table. Then he goes and picks up the canvas, placing it on the easel before sitting down in front of it. I watch as he then pulls the table with the tubes of paint closer and grabs a palate. He picks up a few of the tubes and squirts out small dabs of paint. With a very concentrated expression on his face he then grabs a set of small plastic spatulas and begins to mix the colours in different combinations. I'm guessing that he's trying to find the right nuance of colour or something like that but it all seems incomprehensible to me. He seems to know exactly what he wants it to look like but I can barely tell the difference between some of the paint dabs. They're all in varying shades of yellow, orange or white. Is he going to paint the sunlight coming through the window? Wouldn't it make more sense to paint a blue sky behind it first? It's never occurred to me before how little I know about painting.
If my presence bothers him he doesn't show it. In fact he seems to have forgotten that I'm even in the room. From where I'm sitting I have a good view of both him and the easel and when he turns his face to the table with the colours I see his features clearly. After a while I stop looking at the colours, understanding very little of what he's doing with them anyway, and focus my eyes on his face instead. There's something fascinating about the way his hair curls over his forehead and how blonde his eyebrows and eyelashes are. His eyes seem a different shade of blue in this lighting and the expression in them catches my interest. He looks different when he's focusing like this. There's something very handsome and captivating about his attention being fully on his work. I've rarely seen him this engrossed in something, to the point where he barely seems to know I'm there. He always seems to know when I'm in the room, even when he acts like he would rather be alone or when things are awkward between us. There's almost a bit of freedom in being here and not being the centre of his attention, while at the same time it makes me feel like I'm missing out on something.
Finally he seems satisfied with his mixture of colours and he takes another palette. My eyes leave his face and I watch in fascination as he picks out some of the tubes and, without the slightest hesitation, recreates the colours he's decided on in larger quantities. I haven't got the slightest idea how he's able to do that. It seemed like he spent so much time adding something to this dab of paint or that dab of paint.
I finish my tea and set the mug down carefully so I won't disturb him. I shift on the armchair and cross my arms over the armrest, resting my chin against my forearm. He continues to prepare the exact colours he wants without saying a word and I slowly become more and more mesmerized by the sight of him.
Out of nowhere I'm struck with the thought of what things would have been like if Peeta had died in the Hunger Games. Or even what life would have been like if we had chosen a different solution once the Games were over. We could have played up the angle of teenagers falling on love fast but falling out of love just as quickly. We could have faked an ugly break-up and distanced ourselves from each other. Most likely that would have gotten us into far more trouble than it would have been worth. My mind goes back to something Peeta said during the honeymoon. That he would rather let Snow kill him for refusing to impregnate me than father a child who would be doomed for the arena.
Just like the time Peeta actually said it the memory of his words, and how serious his face was when he said them, grabs my heart like a cold hand. I don't even want to think of what that would be like, living the rest of my life without him. The very thought of it is unbearable. I need him safe and sound and preferably close to me. If President Snow thought my affections for Peeta were entirely feigned then he misjudged me. I'm not sure I know what romantic love is or what it feels like but I know what it's like to not want to lose someone. And I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.
The little bit about Peeta's massage is a combination of plot relevant and a pop culture reference I threw in to amuse myself. Way back when during season one of "Expedition: Robinson" (Swedish reality show that became "Survivor" in the US a year or two later) the guy who eventually won was at one point awarded a massage. Turned out to literally be a full body massage, which the media had a lot of fun with (hey, this is Sweden after all, a little bit of sexuality doesn't freak us out). Rest assured neither that guy nor Peeta found it as enjoyable as intended...
Other comments to make, well, let's see... The last scene kept getting moved back and forth between the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next "past time" one. It feels like it belongs here more, plot wise, but it also feels a little disjointed from the rest since it doesn't take place in the Capitol. Also I should probably mention that I can barely draw stick figures and the last time I "painted" it was probably paint-by-numbers or a coloring book. In other words I apologise to any actual painters if I wrote a completely unrealistic portrayal of the process (though I imagine it's different for every artist so that's my excuse for not doing better research ;) )