"That was good," Haymitch said in a deadpan manner as soon as the elevator doors opened into the penthouse. He'd been standing just outside the doors, seemingly waiting for us with a drink in hand. "You'd think we planned it."

I raised my brows at him. "You saw? I figured you ditched us."

"Not in this lifetime, sweetheart." He replied mockingly, I walked past him without sparing him a second glance. Peeta followed a step behind me.

If I said that I wasn't struck by the penthouses' absolute luxury that would have been a bold-faced lie. Really, I should expect anything involving the Capitol to be an incomprehensible waste. How am I to perceive the polished piano over by the corner of the room, expensive, no doubt, and useless without a skilled player, as anything other than an insult?

"You got people talking about you, girl." Haymitch said. When I looked at him, he was walking in the opposite direction, his back to us. "Keep it up."

"Come with me, children." Effie thrilled as she breezed past us. "I'll show you to your rooms," she smiled as she walked, surprisingly happy as if something had changed somewhere between the train ride and the Tribute parade.

Peeta and I followed her down a long hallway; Haymitch stayed behind, doing who knows what. She was chattering away about how wonderful we were during the parade and how excited everyone was to get to know more about us, District Twelve's most exciting tributes in ages.

"I've been very mysterious, though." She insisted, turning to give us a look over her shoulder. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How Peeta bravely followed. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your District." She stopped before a doorway, gloved hands clasped before her chest, seemingly unable to contain her glee.

"Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!'" She paused, smiling, as is she were rather proud of her words. "Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsorship deals for you, only Haymitch can do that. But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary."

My lips twitched. Peeta actually smiled.

"Thank you, Effie. We appreciate it." He said genuinely.

"Now, these are the tribute quarters." She opened the door behind her. "Please take this time to shower and dress for dinner. Our meal will be served in an hour. Do not delay." She finished her sentence with flourish, tittering away on her high heels.

Peeta gave me a wide-eyed did-you-see-that face as he walked into the room, and I, with a snort, followed.

I walked across the room, "why do they have little apartments in every bedroom?"

"What?" Peeta's voice drifted towards me from a distance. "I can't hear you! Did you say something?"

I shook my head, "nothing!" I walked past the double doors before me, leaving a small sitting room behind. It was a bedroom, thankfully. I was half worried I'd walk into a larger, more complicatedly furnished living space. I threw myself face down on the bed. It was wonderfully soft.

"Mm," I moaned. My back had been tensed, and I hadn't even realized it. I was still fighting the constant anxious nausea, but it was still a nice bed.

"There's just the one bathroom, if you can believe it." I looked up as Peeta strode into the room from a doorway I hadn't noticed. "What are these other doors for?"

I watched him as he answered his own question by pulling the nearest one open. He poked his head in and made an amused sound.

"Look at that, a room for a bunch of clothes no one's gonna wear." I stretched my neck out to see and whistled. Damn.

"I can't say I'm surprised." I rolled over and settled into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. "Do they have any clothes for you in there?"

He raised his eyebrows and turned back around to check. He shook his head but walked towards the closed doorway to the right and pulled it open. "Well, there you have it."

I must have reached a new height of apathy because I didn't react. "I wonder how many clothes each tribute typically has. We're the first ones ever to share a room, I'm sure."

Peeta nodded but didn't reply, craning his neck around the door to check the size of the closet. I jumped off the bed and landed easily on my feet.

"I'm showering first. Where's the bathroom?" Peeta pointed at the doorway he'd come in from. I turned away.

"Watch out, everything has a thousand buttons!" He called after me as I shut the door between us.

As I undressed and stepped into the shower, my nausea worsened. I couldn't help it; it wasn't as if I wanted to be here. Nobody did. Everything around me was constant reminder of the Capitols cruelty and it left a bitter taste in my mouth. How dare they shower us, lambs marked for slaughter, in everything we'd yearned for our entire lives? How dare they provide more than enough for us, the dead, when people in the Districts were starving? Ill? Dying?

It took me a moment to turn on the shower, but when I did, warm water fell around me like summer rain. Unbidden, I remembered my grandmother boiling pots of water for Prim and I on the morning of the reaping, and the impotence that overcame me was so intense I cried.

"It's strong, huh?" Peeta was asking as we stepped into the dining room.

"I don't think so," I sidestepped around the table, stopping at a free chair. "It doesn't bother me, really."

"I can't smell anything else. It's inside me." He complained, sitting down at my side.

"What's the matter?" Cinna, who was already seated, asked.

"I took a shower," Peeta said sheepishly. "And it didn't go well."

"He was attacked by flowery soap," I added.

"It was everywhere," Peeta emphasized to me. "It came out of the walls! Got in my eyes."

"At least you're clean."

"Yeah, but I smell like my grandmother's purse." He offered his wrist, "see?"

Cinna leaned over to smell it; I just rolled my eyes.

"You smell like roses!" Cinna said with a smile.

"Old lady," Peeta insisted.

"I showered fine." I took a drink out of my glass of water. "No problems here."

"Well, seeing as you're Katniss Everdeen and all, I bet the shower was too scared to do anything to you."

Cinna laughed at my side; I shook my head. "Mellark." I insisted.

"Oh right, I was there for that one!"

"You two are funny," Cinna shook his head with a smile.

"I don't think I've ever heard of two Tributes who came in as friends. How long have you known each other?" Portia asked from further down the table.

"Too long." Peeta pipped up.

"Everyone in Twelve kind of knows each other," I added. "Peeta and I have been in the same class since nursery school."

"Oh, I don't think I still know anyone from then myself," Portia said.

"Well, as Katniss said, District Twelve is rather small, dear," Effie said, pulling open her complicatedly folded cloth napkin and laying it out across her lap. "Its rather quaint, I must say." She added.

I blinked. I couldn't say I ever expected Effie Trinket of all people to say something mildly positive about my District, even if she was only doing it to be polite.

"District Twelve, ten thousand people and counting." Peeta quipped, filling the silence.

"We might even hit ten thousand and one someday," I replied.

"If only," he smiled.

Just as on the train, attendants arrived with our meals. Several entered at once, each dressed in simple white tunics. I looked down as a bowl of soup was placed in front of me. It was pink. Odd, how do you make pink soup?

Just then, Haymitch entered the room with nothing more than an intelligible grumble as a greeting, an ill-fitting brown suit, and half-a-days stubble doting his chin.

I half-expected Effie to say something snippy in return, but she didn't. Cinna and Portia, surprisingly, brought out the best of Effie and Haymitch. They talked about the parade, our costumes, our performance. Haymitch even praised Cinna. The conversation was perfectly civilized, boring even.

One of the attendants, silent and somber, stopped at my side and offered me a tall flute filled with what must have been wine. I was just about to reject it when I thought, why not?

"Thank you," I nodded. He stepped away.

I took a sip. I wasn't one to drink alcohol although I'd had it before. Once, with Peeta and his friends, and another time with just Peeta and Delly. Both were disastrously embarrassing events. As usual, it tasted awful.

"Bleh," I said under my breath and set the glass down.

"Pfft, give me." Peeta took my wineglass and set it next to his water. "I don't know why you bother, lightweight."

I made a fake offended face and turned away from him just in time to catch Haymitch refusing an offer of wine. I watched him for a moment, astonished, as he began to eat. That had to be the first time I'd ever seen him eat anything at all. He was also surprisingly groomed, his hair somewhat damp from a recent shower.

He's really trying. He's going to help us.

Some time later, the next course was brought out. It was a beautifully rare roast beef on a bed of creamy mushrooms, surrounded by round, red potatoes, and long thick-stemmed vegetables with a pleasant crunch.

For murderous maniacs, the Capitol sure knows how to eat.

The attendants returned at the end of the meal, clearing our plates, and wheeling in a glistening brown and gold cake. It wasn't frosted in a manner I was familiar with. It appeared glossy, the frosting itself rather thin. One attendant poured something over it, and another produced a small flame thrower and set it alight.

"Is that one of those liquor cakes?" I was saying. "'Cause I don't think I like those. Do they get you drunk? Oh! I know you!"

The entire table fell silent. Clearly, I'd done something wrong. I was looking at the red-headed attendant standing off to the side of the cake. She looked so familiar, I just couldn't place her. She didn't have the Twelve look at all. How did I know her?

"An Avox? Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" Effie shook her head. "The very thought."

"What's an Avox?" I asked stupidly.

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak," Haymitch said. "She's probably a traitor of some kind. Not likely that you'd know her."

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to them unless it is to give an order," Effie added. "Of course, you don't really know her."

"Oh," I said. Of course, of course that's how I knew her. Why did I have to say anything out loud? "No, I guess not, I just—" I stammered, floundering to find my footing in the conversation.

Peeta snapped his fingers. "Delly Cartwright. Katniss, don't you see? She's a dead ringer for Delly." He patted my hand. "You're terrible with names."

I nodded, "Of course." I feigned realization. "It must be the hair."

Peeta nodded, "The eyes too. It's uncanny." Peeta's hand squeezed my own. I felt my shoulders relax.

The energy at the table shifted. "Oh, well. If that's all is," Cinna said. "And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it especially in honor of your fiery debut."

I nodded with a smile but otherwise kept my mouth shut as the slices were distributed. Peeta maintained his hand over mine throughout the duration of the dessert course, which I appreciated as the gesture of solidarity that it was.

"This is really rather naughty," Effie giggled over her own slice. "But as they say, when in Rome."

I smiled along but didn't speak again. I wanted to keep the attention away from me. But as my eyes briefly glanced past Haymitch I could tell he wasn't convinced.

After dinner, we gathered in the living room, where a viewing screen had been set up. Tribute or not, the parade remained mandatory programming.

Clearly, Cinna had done us a massive favour. We were the darlings of the evening; our image barely left the screen. The only person who beat us for screen time was the president himself. Haymitch was in high spirits over it, even going so far as to slap Cinna's shoulder with hearty excitement.

"Great work," he praised. "Fire. Who'd a 'thought?"

"I did," Cinna smiled in a self-satisfied manner. "But you made it your own, Girl on Fire."

"Oh, this is my favorite part!" Effie reached behind her to grip Haymitch's forearm in her excitement. "Have you seen it?"

Haymitch didn't answer her and looked at Peeta and I instead, a wolfish grin on his face. "Who's idea was it to do the arm thing?"

"We just did it," Peeta said.

"We thought it'd get us more attention," I admitted.

Haymitch clapped his hands. "Very nice," his gaze returned to the projector. "Just the perfect touch of rebellion."

I frowned, but no one else appeared to react negatively. Effie babbled about potential sponsorships and how excited she was to set up our official social channels now that engagement would be at an all time high. Haymitch nodded along, seemingly listening to her for once. Meanwhile, Cinna and Portia drifted away from our group, already discussing our interview outfits.

"Peeta," I said, looking up into his eyes to ensure I had his attention. "About earlier."

"That's alright," he winked. His forefinger and thumb held my chin in place as he dropped a silencing kiss against my lips. "Did you see that door? Down the hall? It looks like we have access to the roof."

"The roof?" I asked dumbly.

"Hmm," he nodded. "Come with me?"

"Okay," I agreed, taking the hand he offered and allowing him to lead the way.

"Hey, hey, training starts tomorrow," Haymitch said from across the room. "I want you up and ready early. You stick together. Work hard, learn something."

We nodded.

"Alright, get out of here." He waved us off. "Oh, and keep it down, will you?" he snickered at our expense.

If there was ever any doubt in my mind, I dashed it then. There was no way I'd ever like this Haymitch Abernathy.

"I can't believe they'd leave the roof open to us like this," I said, stepping out into the rooftop garden. "Oh, if it weren't for the city, I'd think it was beautiful."

"I think the city's nice to look at. It's everything else that's… not as nice." Peeta replied diplomatically.

"You'd say something like that," I smiled over my shoulder and stepped up to the railing. Peeta joined me, his hand naturally in mine. "I wonder what would happen if we just took another step…" I trailed off, leaning my weight forward onto my toes. There was only a brief zapping sound before I screeched and jumped backward with a hand to my face.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, rubbing at my burned skin. Peeta came to my side. "I guess that's why."

Peeta picked up the end of my braid, "It burned your hair off!"

I looked down at the ragged end of my braid in his hand. It was still smoking. "I guess I'm getting another haircut tomorrow."

"Let me see," Peeta murmured as he moved my hand off my cheek. He hissed, running a finger gently over the burned skin. "Oh, Katniss."

I smiled ruefully at him, my eyes on the spot on his cheek where there should be a healing wound of his own. All I saw was smooth, somewhat freckled skin instead. "We're not the best at this, huh?"

Peeta gathered me against his chest. I allowed myself to be hugged.

I closed my eyes, enjoying Peeta's familiar scent. A cool breeze surrounded us, embellished with the metallic twinkling of wind chimes. It really was a beautiful place, the roof. An oasis among an enormous cityscape.

"I'm scared," Peeta whispered against my ear, like a secret. "I don't know how to fix this."

"I know," I murmured. "Me neither."

"When I… When I die," Peeta's voice trembled.

"Shh," I frowned, pushing my nose deeper into his collarbone. "I don't want to talk about that."

From where I was, I could hear him gulp. "Okay." We were quiet once again.

"I never got to take you dancing," Peeta's voice took on a wistful note. I leaned back slightly to look at him. He smiled. "I always wanted to, you know?"

"We danced at our wedding." I reminded him.

"But never at harvest," he insisted. "I always wanted to dance with you for harvest."

"You never asked. I would have danced with you."

Peeta rolled his eyes, "I didn't want to square dance."

I raised my eyebrows, "Oh really?"

Peeta's smile turned cheeky. "I wanted to slow dance."

I laughed, "You're so cheesy." I patted his shoulders. "Well, I'm all ears right now."

Peeta laughed out loud, "We don't have any music!"

"You wouldn't have been on beat anyways."

He laughed some more. "Alright, alright." He cleared his throat and took a step back, offering me his hand. "Miss Everdeen, would you dance with me?"

I laughed at him, "Not if you're asking like that!"

"Alright, Mrs. Mellark—"

"Peeta," I insisted.

He smiled at me some more, "Katniss." His hand took my own. "Would you please dance with me?"

"Well, if you insist," I rolled my eyes jokingly, but I was happy. "I will."

I placed my hands on his shoulders shyly, and he placed his on my hips. We looked at each other, somehow embarrassed. The Capitol's quiet was different than Twelves; There was noise still, but it wasn't overwhelming just yet. In the distance, a siren echoed across the streets. As the cold air blew around us, we began to sway without a tune.

"Why harvest?" I asked, tilting my head back slightly.

"Well, you know." Peeta's blond curls blew into his eyes, so I pushed them back. "It's a big deal."

"I didn't realize you were that serious about me," I admitted. Slow dancing at harvest was synonymous with telling the entire District you were in a relationship. It was our most widely attended event.

"Well, I was. I am." Peeta said simply. I blushed.

"I would have danced. If you'd asked." I braved eye contact.

Peeta smiled so beautifully, it could have outshined every star in the sky.

"What was that about the Delly look-a-like?" Peeta murmured against my hair sometime later.

I opened my eyes and frowned. We'd moved on from dancing to sitting on a stone bench underneath a tree. I fidgeted with the sleeves of Peeta's large coat which he'd wrapped round me some time ago.

"Do you remember last year when I told you I saw someone in the woods?"

Peeta leaned back slightly, but his arm remained around my shoulders, "Yeah, the couple that scared you half to death."

"I didn't tell you the whole story. They didn't just walk off." And I explained. What happened to the boy. How the girl saw me, tried to speak, tried to ask for help and I… I did nothing.

"There was nothing you could have done. It wasn't your fault." Peeta was quick to insist, running a hand down the back of my head.

"She must hate me."

"That would be rather pointless," Peeta said. "And even if you did help her, nothing would have changed. You'd be dead."

My face must have reflected my feelings because Peeta's face took on a gentler expression, "I'm sorry, Katniss."

I nodded and gulped down my emotions, "you're right."

"You know I'd change everything if I could."

"Yeah, I know." I agreed.

Peeta's fingers brushed my cheek. I met his eyes.

"We have training in the morning," he reminded me. "We should go."

"Okay."

In the morning, the Avox was in the room. I'd just woken up and knew Peeta wasn't beside me. The bed was too cold. I'd heard a sound, something like the rustle of fabric, so assuming it was Peeta, I sat up, rubbing the crud from my eyes.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I yawned, scratching at my messy braid. "I don't think they'll allow us to be… late."

The Avox stood before me, holding a maroon sweater with the number twelve embroidered along the sleeve. She looked apologetic and, with her hands, motioned towards the clothes she was laying out at the foot of the bed.

"Is that for us to wear today?" I clarified, and she nodded, looking agitated. She stepped backward towards the bedroom door, but I pushed myself out from under the bed sheets with difficulty and called her to stop.

"I—" I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," I said reverently.

The Avox girl shook her head and reached out to hold both my hands in hers. Something about her eyes told me not to apologize another time. She squeezed my hands.

"What's your name?" I asked, and she looked uncomfortable with my request, but she sighed. She motioned with her hand as if she were writing, and I hustled across the room for the paper and pen I saw set up by a table the day before.

Lavinia. She wrote in a neat script. I ran my finger along the letters. "Lavinia," I tested the name out loud and looked to her to correct my pronunciation, but she only nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Lavinia."

She offered me a small smile and took a step backward towards the door. I watched her leave, the guilt still rolling around in my stomach. The bathroom door opened behind me, and I turned to see Peeta leaning against the doorframe. He looked at me with understanding.

I hastily wiped my hand against my right eye. "Come on, let's get dressed."

Peeta and I had just made it out onto the hallway when Haymitch whistled at us from the other end. "Come," he motioned with his hand for us to follow as he turned towards the living room.

"I want you to keep a low profile," he directed his words mostly to me. "No getting into fights, no bitchin'"

I grunted and plopped down onto the couch. Effie fluttered into the room, her attention completely monopolized by some object in her hand.

"Don't show off. Learn something new. Tie a knot, throw a spear. Whatever. You need to learn as much as you can." We nodded.

"Oh," Effie gasped. I looked at her curiously. "Oh. This is wonderful."

"What is it, Trinket?" Haymitch took a step towards her. "What happened?"

Effie turned to face us with a happy expression. She started to say something but shook her head. "Showing you might be the easiest option."

She waved her fingers over the device in her hand and a hologram appeared. It looked like the usual Hunger Games news reel. Caesar Flickerman was speaking in a corner, but he was muted. Across the rest of the hologram were tiny videos, words, and pictures.

"What is that?" Peeta asked above me.

"It's the Hunger Game's social media page." Effie explained dismissively. She hurriedly waved her fingers around, focusing the hologram on specific videos, scrolling past blocks of text. "Look! District Twelve is the star of the show."

Slowly, I stood up off the couch, taking in the images before me. There were several pictures and videos of the Tribute parade. There was also a running count of how much certain people were betting on our deaths at different points in the Games: the bloodbath, day two, three, etc.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"What does it mean? Oh Katniss," Effie shook her head at me indulgently. "You two are the most popular Tributes since Finnick Odair!"

Thank you for reading. I'd really appreciate a review!