Roses and Pearls Author: HalfHope Summary: Peeta's life is going as he wants it: a great job, a beautiful fiance, and high social standing in the Capitol. But as his life comes together, rebels and an ex-lover threaten to take it apart, if not by force, then by the truth. Who can he really trust, and what really happened in the past? Post-CF AU.

Complete: No (Ch. 1 – Ch. 27) Disclaimer/Notes: This is a work of purely speculative fiction. It is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of the companies and/or individuals involved in the production of The Hunger Games series. The text is property of HalfHope – don’t plagiarize her amazing work! This PDF has been shared by fandom member Diane and is available through the Nightlock Recs Google Drive.

Chapter One I wait behind the stage as Caesar Flickerman makes jokes about his age, the audience roaring with laughter as he impersonates a hobbling old man with a sour attitude. After forty-six years of hosting the Hunger Games, Caesar is retiring. The audience quiets, and Caesar says, "While I have bittersweet feelings about leaving, I'm excited to announce the host of the Eighty-First Hunger Games: Peeta Mellark!" My cue. I come on the stage, waving and smiling at the cheering people. Caesar reaches out his hand, then jerks it back before I can grab it. I put my hands on my hips and shake my head as if jilted, raising titters among the crowd. Caesar and I shake hands this time, slapping each other's backs. "Who would have thought when you were a tribute seven years ago, that you'd be replacing me?" Caesar asks. "I certainly didn't!" I grin. "I wouldn't either, Caesar. But so much has happened since then, and I'm so grateful for all of it. For the people of the Capitol to accept me after the Quarter Quell and those rebels destroyed my home. That I've been chosen for this job, and of course, to find love again." "That's right, you're engaged! We haven't had a chance to talk since it's happened," Caesar says. His face grows solemn. "You must get this all the time, Peeta, but I have to ask: how do you think Katniss would feel about this recent turn in your life?"

Katniss again. I wish I could just get through one interview without that whore's name brought up. But as she planned it, I can't escape her, even with her dead and gone for six years now. Even with another woman in my arms. Even with the rebellion squashed under the Capitol for a second time. "I know Katniss wanted me to live a full life, even without her," I say, my voice soft. "She's not gone from my heart, she never will be, but Rosalia Snow has found a place with me. I think Katniss would be happy for us. If our fates had been switched, I know I would have been for her." I've said something similar to this so many times I'm surprised the audience still sighs. Their heart breaks more for her loss than mine ever did. I let a slow, easy smile crawl back up my face. "But what I think what the audience wants to know, Caesar, is what you'll be doing now," I say. "Absolutely nothing!" Caesar says, and the crowd applauds. "Watch your figure," I say. "You wouldn't want to lose it." "But my dear Peeta, that's what retirement is for." We continue our banter about body image, diets, and golf until time comes for us to sign off. We say goodnight, the camera's red light stops blinking, and the audience stands up. Rosalia's in the front row and climbs up the stage to come kiss me. Her rosy-pink curls brush against my cheeks. She pulls back a little, her green eyes fluttering open, and puts her left hand on my face. From the corner of my eye, I notice the sparkle of her engagement ring. "How did I do?" I ask. "Charming as always," Rosalia says. "Except…" "I know. But I can't help it that they bring her up so much," I say. Rosalia's the only person alive who knows about the truth about Katniss and I. Of how she twisted the first game so we were stuck with each other, how she abused me, how she never really loved me and only used me to get ahead in the games. Only she knew of my relief to find that when Katniss blasted the force field in the Quarter Quell, she died. Rosalia brushes my blonde hair back. "Now that you're a host, will you please let me give you a make-over? I know I said blue before, but I think since you're taking Caesar's place you should have a style of your own. How about purple? Of course, though, we won't even touch your eyes. They're perfect as they are." I shake my head. "I'm sticking with the way I am for now."

Rosalia pouts, but contends as she always does when she wants me to get tattoos or dye my hair or try on lipstick. Caesar walks away from his crowd of fans at the edge of the stage toward the two of us. "Are you lovebirds coming to my party tonight?" "Wouldn't miss it," Rosalia says. I pull her closer into my chest, breathing in her flowery perfume. "Perfect," Caesar flashes us his pearly smile. We slip out the back and into Rosalia's car, kissing in the back while the chauffer maneuvers through the traffic toward Caesar's party. I take to her petal-soft neck, holding her tighter to me. "Let me come over tonight," she says, sighing. I pause, the tip of my nose near her earlobe. "I'm moving out tomorrow. It's a mess." "I don't care. I want you." How can I argue with that? I kiss her again, letting her tongue slip into my mouth. The car comes to a stop and we're at Caesar's place, where the best of the Capitol has come to wish him well in his old age. I pull away, but Rosalia grabs my necktie and plants a last kiss on me before we get out. I straighten my jacket while she smoothes her hair and butter-yellow gown. As we come in the ballroom, everyone stares at us. We're the "it" couple in the Capitol, possessing both money, power, and charm: the late president's granddaughter and the only person ever to win two Hunger Games. We could have anything we wanted with all of the connections we have. Or, rather, almost anything. Nothing will bring District 12 back, as much as I might want it. "Do you see those cakes?" I ask Rosalia as we near the food table. One section is devoted just to desserts, a few of them decorated with such fine detail. "What do you think of the border on this one?" I ask, pointing to a butter cream frosting with a swirling edge. "I'm leaving our wedding cake up to you," Rosalia says with a laugh. "I've been sketching out designs for it," I say as we continue down the line of food. She picks up a slice of purple melon to eat. I continue, "Maybe you could take a look at them tonight when you come over and see which one you like the best." "Just be sure there are roses on it. I don't care about anything else."

"So I can use sawdust as flour?" "Peeta!" "You said you only wanted roses on it and nothing else mattered." She smacks me playfully, and I squeeze her tighter to my side. We fill up our plates and eat until we're full. A lot of people throw up to eat more, but that part of the Capitol never seeped into me. Rosalia eats and throws up twice. I hold her hair while she makes herself sick, the putrid vomit curling around my nose, almost making me ill without that ghastly drink. We dance the rest of the time, wrapped in each other's embrace. "Do you remember the first time we danced?" Rosalia asks, lifting her head up from my chest. "It was your birthday party, wasn't it?" She sighs. "No. It was during your first victory tour." "Ah. That's why I don't remember. Suppressing bad memories," I say. Of what I remember from that victory tour, Katniss threw vases at me in District 11 and forced me to propose to her against my will. "I'd begged Grandpapa to let me come because I knew you'd be there," Rosalia says. "I had a crush on you." "You did?" I ask. She blushes like she's just admitting to her feelings. It's adorable. "The first time I saw you I liked you," she says. "Well, Grandpapa let me come to the party at his house, but said I could only stay until midnight. I waited and waited, watching the clock, but you were never free. Then someone else claimed her for a dance and I asked you. We danced until she became jealous and claimed you back from me." My eyebrows furrow. "I don't remember that." She brushes my hair with her long, white-tipped nails. "Poor baby. The experience of her might have made you forget. I knew she was awful for you that night. Someone as sweet and funny as you should never be with someone like her." I kiss her, so grateful that she came into my life. Someone who cared about me for once, someone I'd want to sacrifice everything for.

At midnight, we take an early leave. We had a few other plans for the night, and I had to be moved out by tomorrow. The Capitol had placed the victors in the Training Center, to protect us from rebels six years ago. Although no one but me ever lives on my floor because there is no District 12 anymore, with my new hosting gig everyone thought it best that I don't mix too much with tributes before the Games. Rosalia's driver drops us off. As we ride up the elevator, she says, "I don't know why you won't move in with me. We spend the night at each other's places often enough." "You can put me in the Capitol," I say. "But I won't ever leave District 12." At home, things were different. Couples didn't live with each other until they got married, or else it created a scandal. In the Capitol, though, couples lived together without any of those restrictions. Rather, it was odd when they didn't. After a few fights, Rosalia and I gave into compromise. We wouldn't live together, but we would spend some nights together. A blending of our two worlds. "So," I say, stepping out of the elevator, "Snack or bed?" Rosalia lunges for me, matching our lips and bodies together. "Right," I gasp. "Bed it is."

My eyes snap open, my heart pounds with fear. She's gone, I keep thinking, she's gone. In the dark, Rosalia sleeps beside me, cheek against my shoulder. It's not her I'm searching for, then. But who? And why can I never remember this dream, this person who's gone? It always leaves me in a sweat, my fear never really leaving. It's sweltering in here. I need air. I need to escape this place. I slide out from under Rosalia, but she wakes up. "Peeta?" She says. "Shhh, go back to sleep. I just need some air," I say. "Bad dream again?" "Yeah." "Did you find it?" I didn't have the heart to tell Rosalia I was looking for someone, for a her, so after my nightmares I'd tell her I'd lost something.

"No," I say. "I didn't find it." She hums and puts her head back on the pillow. I dress and leave the room, heading for the one place that seems to calm me. The roof. It must be the plants that remind me of the nature outside of District 12 and the fresh air that does it for me up there. I climb up the stairs and the tinkling of wind chimes gets me before the air or the sight of the city below. Rows of plants grow, some swinging from baskets above. The tile of the walkway cools my bare feet. I lean over the railing, looking at the people of the Capitol, going to and from their parties. I love the Capitol, with how they've taken me in and adored me. I love Rosalia, and the two months until our wedding will never go fast enough. But now and again, I remember District 12, at least the little of it that I can after the Quarter Quell. Most of my good thoughts have my dad in them, teaching me about baking and sheltering me from my mother. There are my brothers, the three of us wrestling together on the floor of our bedroom. My friends Hans, Delly, and Josy racing each other home from school. I miss them. But they're all dead, and there's no point in wishing that life could come back, because it's not. The only thing to do now is move forward. "Peeta?" I pause when I realize that the female voice who said my name isn't Rosalia. I shiver at the voice, certain it has to be a sick prank. I turn to see who called me, and my gut drops onto the floor. Katniss Everdeen stands in front of me, my name on her lips.

 

Chapter Two My limbs harden like clay, and I can't move. She's here. She's alive. This can't be. She's supposed to be dead. Yet here she stands on the roof, a smile covering her face, wide and almost giddy. "Peeta," Katniss says. Then she launches at me, taking three steps, her arms outreached. I curl my hand into a fist and punch her in the jaw before she can strangle me. Katniss staggers backward, knocking a fern over. The pot breaks, spilling soil across the cement. She holds a hand to her face, eyes round. "What the hell, Peeta?" "Don't come near me," I say. "I'm a man now, and I'm not going to be pushed around and abused by you like before." "Abused?" She gives me a wild look. "What are you talking about?" "You know." She shakes her head and holds out her arms. "Obviously I don't." "I don't know how you managed to come back from the dead," I say, side-shuffling away from her and closer to the exit. "But go back and stay there. I'm not going to have you coming here and screwing up my life. Not now." "Screwing up your life?" Katniss says, one eyebrow cocked. She takes a step toward me. I try to move back, but I'm pressed against the railing. "I'll give you credit that you have enough food and water, not to mention the comforts of a warm shower and a bed. But you've been forced to take Caesar Flickerman's sick job of parading children for the slaughter, along with being wrangled into marrying President Snow's bratty granddaughter. How could I ever screw up your life more than the Capitol already has?" Typical Katniss. Always trying to manipulate how I feel with how she feels. It's not happening this time. "I want my life this way," I say, puffing my chest and moving forward so as to not shrink back and letting her have the satisfaction of watching me cower. Her mouth plops open and she blinks a few times. "What?" "I like my job," I say. "I like being in front of audiences, making them laugh. And if I can help those kids with their interviews, getting sponsors, I'd say my job is worthwhile. Also, don't ever say a word against Rosalia. I love her. Which is more than I can say about how I ever felt about you." "Are you sick?" Katniss asks. "Did you crack your head in the games? What is going on?"

I laugh and push my hair back, tugging hard against my scalp. "You're trying to mess with me again." "No, I'm trying to figure what the hell is going on," Katniss says. "I thought things would be different if I ever got a chance to speak to you again, but I never expected you to be like this." "What? Defending myself from you?" "Why do you keep making it out like I'm the villain here?" "You're sick," I say, taking steps closer to her. I'm not a boy anymore. I can handle her. "Like you don't remember your rages, your determination to control what I did and how I felt. It was always about you, wasn't it? Threatening me until I agreed to pretend to love you so you'd get sponsors and not die out there. And then when I wasn't disposed of like you expected, when the Capitol saved me, you turned it all on me like it was my fault we were shackled together for life. And then how you made me lie up there to the country, say that you were pregnant, all so you had a better chance of getting out alive." By the time I finish, we're inches apart. Her face had transformed from confusion to stone, set and unreadable. "That's what you think happened?" Katniss asks. "I know it did." She nods and folds her arms. "You became their piece. I should have realized, seeing you on TV like that. I just always thought you were keeping yourself alive and doing what they wanted, but never really believed in it. I see I was wrong now." "Yeah, you were, about everything," I say. "Now what are you doing here?" "Waiting for a team member," she says. Of course. This has something to do with the rebellion. Why else would Katniss be here in the Capitol? That means whatever she's doing, it needs to be stopped. She's small, but I remember her strength. I haven't bothered fighting or wrestling for the past six years. I've never needed to. Katniss has probably been fighting and training in whatever hole she's lived in. I need security, which means I have to get to the phone near the door and call them. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then," I say. She blocks my path to the exit. "You're not leaving," she says.

"I'll fight you this time," I say. She snorts. "And you've been keeping up with your wrestling skills, have you?" I push off, trying to get enough momentum to surge past her, but she knocks me hard in the stomach. I bend over for a moment, but right myself quickly. I try again, hands out to defend myself and push her away, but she grabs them and throws me back. I wait for her to keep on hitting me, but she puts her hands on her hips. "What, that's it?" I ask. "We were told to prevent as much injury as possible to those we're rescuing," Katniss says. "But I'm not very good at following instructions, so don't tempt me to break these ones." "Rescuing?" She can't mean rescuing me? If she takes me, that'll be kidnapping, not rescuing. Before she says anything more, something clatters on the roof. Behind Katniss, between two rows of flowers, an air duct's vent lays on the ground. Out of it comes first a man with a dark beard, and it only takes me a second to remember the face behind it. Gale. Once he's out, he helps Annie Cresta, Lyme Sharp, and Electra Bates out of the air duct. Three of the other victors who live in this building. They're kidnapping us all. But the three women don't struggle. They smile at Gale and Katniss, as if they are saving us. Am I the only one who has his loyalties right here? "Peeta," Annie says. "I hoped that they'd be getting you, too." "Why? He obviously loves the Capitol more than anyone else," Electra says, pushing her glasses up her nose. "I doubt he'll be any help in the long run." This can't be happening. All of these victors who should love the Capitol for protecting them are leaving with two rebels who I thought were dead until ten minutes ago. "You're not taking me," I say. "If they want to squander their life for some pointless rebellion, they can go ahead but I'm not leaving." "I've always said he went loopy," Lyme says, head turned toward Annie and Electra. "Peeta?" I look to who said my name. Rosalia steps out of the door to the roof, inching closer like a wrong step will make her explode. She's wrapped in a silky white robe, her legs bare from the mid-thigh down.

"Rose," I say. "Go back inside and get help." Katniss lurches out and grabs Rosalia's wrist. "Oh, no. All of you are coming with us. As far as the Capitol is concerned, we're dead and the rebellion is with us. No one's blowing our cover, our chance of surprise." "Let go of her!" I try to pry Katniss off of Rosalia by grabbing her arm, but Gale gets involved. He grabs my upper arms to pull me back. I swing fist and connect with his nose. Blood pours out, but that doesn't stop him. We dance around for a minute, as I avoid his hold. Katniss pins Rosalia's arms behind her back, and while Rosalia struggles, she can't slip out. Gale jabs a punch at me, but I block the follow-up. He blocks my blow at him, and then gets me in the jaw. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind, but by then Gale has me in the same hold as Katniss has Rosalia. I jerk as hard as I can, but his grip is strong. "Peeta, I thought she was dead," Rosalia says, her voice in a panic. "Why is she alive?" "I don't know." "Where are they taking us?" "Shut up!" Katniss says. A hovercraft moves toward us, and then stops. The door opens, and a man with short gray hair helps Annie, Lyme, and Electra into the hovercraft. Then Katniss shoves Rosalia in, following herself. Any slim chance of avoiding that hovercraft jumps off the roof with Rosalia in there. I can't leave her, especially with the mutt Katniss is. Gale doesn't have to force me in. I go willingly where my fiancé does. When all of us are inside, the door closes and from the window, I see the lights of the Capitol fading as we gain altitude. "Peeta's held like a prisoner and Rosalia Snow's with us," the gray-haired man says. "I take it things didn't go as expected." "Your plan didn't account for either of them, Boggs. She just showed up and saw us," Katniss says while she handcuffs Rosalia. Cold metal meets my own wrists as Gale secures me from behind. "And Peeta's crazy now." "I'm not crazy," I say. "He punched me when I first saw him," Katniss says. "Because you were going to strangle me!"

"No I wasn't." "Then what where you doing with your hands out in front of you like that, charging at me?" Katniss firms her mouth, her olive skin pinking. She mumbles, "Trying to hug you." I laugh. "Nice cover-up, but no one will believe that." "See what I mean? He says he wants that job and to marry her." She jerks her head to Rosalia. "And why wouldn't he want to marry me?" Rosalia asks. As if to illustrate her point, her robe slips open. She has her small nightgown on underneath, her curvy body exposing itself to everyone. I grin. Katniss compresses her arms to her side, glaring between Rosalia and me. She hates that I've found love and happiness, and she hates it more that my girl's beautiful. I'd brush her off as pathetic if she didn't have the potential power to do who knows what to Rosalia and me. "Someone get her clothes," Katniss says. Her eyes turn to Gale, who finally blinks away from Rosalia. He turns, saying, "Yeah. Right. Clothes." "We won't be able to tell anything about Peeta's mental state until we get back to District 13," Boggs says. My mental state. Because I'm the crazy one, here among people convinced it's in their best survival to continue with this rebellion. "Grandpapa destroyed District 13," Rosalia says. "Not all of it," Katniss says. Gale comes back with a jumpsuit. She snatches it from him and unlocks Rosalia's handcuffs. Once her hands are free, Katniss gives her the jumpsuit. "What will the arrangement for this trip?" Rosalia asks, smiling and batting her eyelashes. "Because if Peeta and I can get our own room, I won't need this." "You're staying very far away from Peeta," Katniss says. "You and anyone else who did this to him." "What? No," I say. "I go where she does." Katniss crinkles her nose. "This is more disgusting than I thought." She storms down the hall, and Gale follows after her. The Boggs clears his throat. "Well Rosalia, I think you made your point to Katniss. Now put on your jumpsuit. We'll all be travelling right here. We didn't prepare for any prisoners."

I cross the floor to stand by Rosalia, while the rest of the group finds their seats. Annie hums to herself. Electra examines an electrical box, and Lyme sits straight, tall even sitting. Rosalia pulls the jumpsuit over her figure and zips it up. Once she does, Boggs handcuffs her again. We sit down together, her head on my shoulders. "They're going to separate us," Rosalia says. Her voice wavers with emotion. "No they're not," I say, and kiss the top of her head. "Peeta, they think you're crazy. That you're crazy for loving me," she says. "They're going to try and convince you that you don't love me. She's going to take you back, she's going to force it. I can tell. I'm going to lose you." I slip back to look her in the eyes, rimmed with her tears. "Hey. That won't happen. I promise. You're the only person I could ever love. No matter what she does, she won't be able to take away our feelings for each other." She sniffs, misery darkening her face. I lean over and kiss her tenderly, trying to reassure her. But when I pull back to look at her, doubts fill her eyes, and then she kisses me like we won't ever kiss again.

 

Chapter Three Rosalia falls asleep on my shoulder, and I soon follow. By the time I wake up, the sun eases into the sky with pinks and golds. We fly over a forest, without so much as a train track in sight. It's as if civilization is gone and we're all that's left of it. Rosalia still sleeps on my shoulder. Annie and Electra have fallen asleep as well, curled up in awkward positions, sure to leave them sore when they wake up. Lyme talks with Boggs in a hushed voice, whether to keep their conversation private or out of courtesy to the sleeping I'm not sure. I hear catches of words— "equipment," "soldiers," "supplies." When I swing my gaze to Katniss, sitting in the seat across from me, she grows stiff, stands up, and walks into the back of the hovercraft. Maybe she's tricked the rebels this whole time into thinking that she's a good person, and she's worried what kind of damage I can do to her reputation. She should worry, with everything I know. Gale remains in his seat, cleaning out some sort of tool—the size of a screwdriver but with a lot more lights and wires. "If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it," Gale says. "What?" I ask. "You. A Capitol-lover." He looks over to Rosalia. "In more ways than one, it seems." "I never felt any animosity toward the Capitol," I say. "And living there made me realize how wonderful they've been to us, to all of us." Gale snorts. "I'll let you pass on that one, since we all know something's going on with you." There's no point in arguing with these people. Whatever point I bring up, or evidence I produce, they'll just call me crazy and act like that's the end and they've won. Why did I have to be kidnapped by such ingrates? "So, six years," I say. "And this time I thought you all were dead." "The Capitol underestimates its people," Gale says. "When the Capitol bombed District 12—" "The Capitol didn't do that, District 13 did. They wanted to destroy Panem," I say. "Why would District 13 want to eliminate a potential ally?" "Why would the Capitol want to destroy one of its districts?"

"District 12 meant nothing to them," Gale says. He scrubs at his instrument with even more vigor. "We were the poorest district for a reason. The Capitol runs on solar energy, not coal. The coal goes to other districts. We had no use to them. Didn't you ever wonder why the Capitol never cared about us? Do you not even remember life in District 12 at all?" "Of course I do," I say. Yet as I say it, I press back into my memory. The first seventeen years of my life doesn't come up as clearly as it should. The memories I often revist of people come up. Yet as I turn into thinking about my district, details aren't as clear. I shake it out of my mind. Probably just from the explosion in the Quarter Quell. When I came out of it, the doctors had told me my memory wouldn't be as clear from before. "Well, the Capitol could spare it and they did," Gale says. "But some of us were able to get out and live in the woods for a few days. The hovercraft from the Games came and rescued the ones of us who were left." "The Games?" I ask. "Yeah. Plutarch, you remember him, the Gamemaker? Well, he'd been on the rebellion's side for a while, and he arranged for some of the district's tributes to escape. Of course, things didn't go as planned, so only Katniss, Finnick, and Beetee made it out, along with some others, like Haymitch." I groan. "Haymitch is still alive? The Capitol said he died with the rebels." Haymitch. That worthless drunk. Telling me to go along with Katniss, to stop acting like a child, to just suck it up. On the list of people I hate, he comes ranked number three after Katniss and my mother. Gale shakes his head. "You should get used to the fact now that a lot of what the Capitol told you, they either lied or were mistaken." "Ok, so they pick you up. And?" "And the Capitol bombed District 13. Some people got down to safety before their grid was bombed, others didn't. The Capitol investigated and thought that they'd killed everyone, only they didn't dig deep enough to find the safe houses. Since then, the survivors of District 12 and 13, along with some other random rebels like the victors and Plutarch, have been salvaging and working to rebuild. Now that we have, we're looking to moving forward with the rebellion." In the past five hours, I've found out Katniss, Gale, Haymitch, Finnick, and Beetee, who I all thought were dead, are actually alive. This situation might be the worst I've ever been in, but with this realization, part of me hopes some good came out of it. "Gale, do you know if any of my family made it?" I ask. "My parents, my brothers?"

He frowns, and for a second, a touch of sympathy meets his face. He even sets down the instrument he's been cleaning this whole time. "No, Peeta. I'm sorry. Few people from the town made it out. It was the first place they bombed and the furthest from the woods." For a moment, I've lost them all over again. Behind my back in their cuffs, my hands ball up, and tears well in my eyes. Of course everyone I hated lived, while the people that I ache for, that I have good memories with, are dead. Gone. And officially never coming back. "Your friend Delly made it out," Gale says, like a lame attempt to cheer me up. And for a moment, it does, a little bit. I can call Delly a friend. She obviously got mixed up with this rebellion foolishness because it was that or death. Maybe she'll help me and Rosalia escape. Gale continues, "Other than Katniss, she was the most gungho about trying to arrange a rescue for you. Probably would have come herself if she didn't trip over her own two feet so much." Okay, so her intentions are misplaced. But once I talk to her, get her ear out of the rebel's words, she'll come around. Katniss, on the other hand, probably wanted to rescue me for some other stupid reason. Messing with the Capitol by stealing their victor, their best victor at that, too. Or to parade me around and make speeches for them, convince people to join them with my words. Well, she'll get frustrated to learn that I won't help them in any way. But she can't be looking for a fake romance again. She messed around with Gale behind my back all those years ago; she must have gotten together with him. Only…what if she didn't? Gale wasn't stupid, I know that, and maybe he started to see Katniss for who she was. He's not the kindest person himself, but who would take the type of things Katniss says to people, what she demands of them? And what if she needed me to romance it up with her, to make her look desirable like in our first games? It would explain her loathing Rosalia so much. No one seeing the way I look at Rosalia would for a second believe I loved Katniss. I back-up a bit. First, I have to be sure that she's even single before I can assume what she means to do with me. "In the six years that you've been gone," I say, "did you and Katniss ever get together?" Gale grins. "I knew they couldn't have taken away all of you." "What?" "Katniss. You want to know if you can make a move on her without me killing you." I shake my head. "No. Definitely not. I just want to prove that I knew all along she wanted you." Gale sighs. "We never had anything very…official. Still don't."

"What? Why not?" I ask. He doesn't seem too put-off at the idea of being with Katniss, only that it never happened. "Honestly…I think it was you," Gale says. He snatches up a clean rag and wipes off his hands, full of grease. "She couldn't start anything substantial with me because she felt guilty leaving you at the mercy of the Capitol." "No, I just think she's incapable of loving anyone," I say. Gale leans forward, elbows on his knees. "If you weren't crazy, I'd punch you for that." "Take it from someone who did have to be with her…sort of," I say. "You're better off without her. I am. Or was, I guess now." A bleeping sound fills the hovercraft. Rosalia jumps awake, murmuring, "Whazzthat?" Annie and Electra wake up as well, blinking with confusion. Gale stands up. "It means we're landing." I don't see anything outside that indicates anyone living. There's just ashes and piles of charred metal. Then the ground opens up, and we descend into it. Underneath the ground, everything's gray. The walls, the equipment, the people in their uniforms have a standard dull steel color. The hovercraft lands with a thud, and the ground closes over us again. Yellow light illuminates the garage, casting the only other color in this monochrome world. Rosalia stays pressed close to me, her heartbeat pulsing against my arm. Katniss emerges from the back of the hovercraft, never once glancing at Rosalia or me. She opens the door and jumps out, then offering a hand to Annie. I walk to the opposite side of Katniss and shuffle down on my own, Rosalia following me closely. The whole group makes it out of the hovercraft when I hear someone shout, "Annie!" In the entryway to the underground hanger, a man in baggy clothes, with long bronze hair and a beard stands for a moment before sprinting into the hanger. Annie smiles and runs toward him, arms stretched out. As they collide together, I realize that the man's Finnick Odair. Dazzling, bright colors of turquoise sky and green plants fill my memory, and I harvest a nugget of something I'd forgotten. Finnick loves Annie. At the Quarter Quell, he'd nearly gone insane listening to jabberjays impersonate her screams. In my memory, something's pressed into my arms, warm and shaking… I blink, and Finnick and Annie have sunk into the floor, sobbing and holding each other closer than I've ever seen any two people embrace. I doubt anyone will try to tear the two apart right now. They might spend their entire lives there on the floor, filled with relief and bliss to be together again.

I wish we didn't have these handcuffs on, because I want to hold Rosalia as Finnick holds Annie, with a determination to never be separated. "Well, I'll be damned," a gruff voice says. "Peeta Mellark." Haymitch, sporting a gray beard of his own, walks into the hanger. Rosalia presses into my side even more. "Oh, and of course Panem's very own princess," Haymitch says with his mocking tone. "Just get the hell away from us Haymitch," I say. "Lock us up in whatever prison you guys have in mind, as long as I don't have to see any of you again." Haymitch looks past us. "You weren't kidding, sweetheart." Behind us, Katniss walks forward. "When do I ever kid?" She stops a step away from us. "Rosalia will be going to our prison and questioned. Peeta, you're getting your head examined." "Will I get to see him again?" Rosalia asks, remaining close to me. "If it were up to me, you'd never see him again," Katniss says. "Unfortunately I won't be making any calls about what happens to you or Peeta." "Who will then?" Rosalia asks. Haymitch smirks. "That'd be me, princess." "Come on," Katniss says, grabbing hold of Rosalia's arm. "No! Wait!" She says, and gives me a full kiss, not withholding anything (even tongue) back. Her lips come off of mine as Katniss hauls her away. "Don't let them change you!" Rosalia says as she slips into the hallway. "Peeta!" "Rose," I whisper, my body's strength slipping from me. What if they hurt her, or I never see her again? As the place at my side warmed from her cools, I vow to get back to her, and never let her leave my side again.

 

Chapter Four Haymitch gestures to the hallway where Katniss has just taken Rosalia. "Well, let's get your crazy looked at." I guess I should get used to being called crazy by these people, but it still rubs me. I walk beside Haymitch into the hallway away from the hanger. The walls, the doors, the floor, the uniforms, everything here looks salvaged and reworked. Nothing fits together seamlessly. Instead, the whole structure's like a patchwork quilt. Different pieces of material threaded together for one bigger whole. After a few turns, Haymitch enters a code into a door and opens it, motioning for me to come inside. Inside, a dark-skinned man and a young woman wait, both in white coats. I pause when I see the young woman, and then realize I'm looking at Prim Everdeen. She's gone from a child small for her age to a full-grown woman since the last time I saw her six years ago. She smiles as I come in, and I remember that I liked Prim. Regardless of her sister's cruel ways, Prim had been the opposite of Katniss, the sun to her moon. "Peeta," Prim says. "It's so great to see you." "I can honestly say you're the first person who I've seen here that I don't hate," I say. Her smile turns to plaster, and she doesn't seem too flattered. "Peeta, I'm Dr. Watson," the man says. "And it seems you already know my assistant, Prim. She was eager to be assigned to your case." A flash of paranoia jolts through me. Could Prim be here for Katniss? But the way she stands perked up, the earnestness about her dissolves it. Dr. Watson continues, "Today we're going to be taking a blood sample, a brain scan, and asking you some questions." I don't fight because I want to prove that I'm not crazy. And besides, they'll get it out of me one way or another. Best to be as uninjured as possible in case I ever get to escape. When my handcuffs come off, I massage my skin, relieved. Prim draws the blood from the crook of my elbow as Dr. Watson prepares a machine. While nothing compared to the Capitol's health system, District 13 looks to have gotten at least rudimentary equipment: X-ray machine, ultra-sound, and an MRI. After sitting in the bright lights of the machine for a half an hour, I'm pulled out and Prim enters the room, holding a clipboard to her chest. "Here, let's get comfortable for this part," Prim says, patting a chair. I sit in it, and she settles in another across from me. She clicks a pen open and holds it to the ready.

"First, basics," she says. "What's your name?" "Peeta Mellark." Prim scribbles against the clipboard. "And your parents' names?" "Kelton and Rudy Mellark." "When is your birthday?" "March fourteenth." "How old are you?" "Twenty-three." "Where are you from?" I pause, unsure of how to answer. Then I say, "I was born and raised in District 12. I've lived in the Capitol for the past six years." Prim continues writing, this time taking longer than before to make notes. After a minute she says, "Can you tell me anything about your childhood? Your family, friends, crushes?" "I had two brothers, Jam and Jonah. We lived in town, above the bakery my parents owned. I worked there for a long time with my family, and as I got older I took over the cakes. My best friends were Hans, Delly, and Josy. We had all of our classes at school together and lived in town together." Prim doesn't look up from her clipboard for a few minutes. She holds her pen up, waiting for me to continue, but not asking any other questions. "Is that it?" she asks. "Nothing about any girls?" I shake my head. "I must have liked some girls. I can't remember, though. I think…I kissed Luce Becket on a dare when I was thirteen. That's all I can remember." Prim tucks a strand of blonde hair that's fallen in front of her face. She looks up and says, "Do you remember being in the Hunger Games?" I nod. "Yeah. I was reaped when I was sixteen. Same year as your sister." Prim pauses, pen not scratching for a moment. "Peeta, do you remember how the reaping went that year?"

"Of course. Same as every year. The treaty was read, Haymitch was dead drunk, and Effie Trinket pulled out the girls' name first and it was Katniss Everdeen. Then she pulled my name." A dent forms between Prim's eyes and her lips press together in a line. Then she writes again. "Now, tell me everything you can remember about the Games," Prim says. I tell her about Katniss's attitude toward me, how she huffed and glowered when we were told to act as a team. Then about how she came up with the idea of the star-crossed lovers, and that she pushed me into a vase, cutting up my hands, when I didn't want to do it. Fearing more injury, I agreed and told Panem I loved her. I went into the Games and figured the best way to survive would be to stick with the Careers and get them from the inside. Only after a fight with Cato, I laid in a stream, dying and covered with mud, until they announced the rule-change and Katniss found me. "She only did it because no one would send her food or medication until we were together. That's why she took care of me and acted like we were in love," I say. I continue, and tell Prim about waiting in the cave, pretending to love someone I couldn't stomach, while everyone killed each other off, except for Foxface who fell for my berries. "When we got back, Katniss told me she wished I'd eaten them on accident instead of Foxface," I say. "She could have handled Foxface, she said, but she couldn't kill me without being made a pariah." I recount the battle with Cato, and how the Capitol picked us up once the battle was over. "Then after the Games—" Prim snaps her head up for the first time in this long speech. "Wait. You're saying that once Cato was dead, that's it?" I nod. "Of course. You must have been watching it. I don't really know why I need to tell you all of this." "Continue." I finish off with telling Prim about the threats Katniss made to me, her anger that we both made it out, and how she needed to pretend to be in love with me. "She said I was supposed to be the only one who looked like an idiot," I say. "Then we went home." "Tell me more about your relationship with Katniss," Prim says.

"We didn't spend much time together after the Games, only when we had to, for the victory tour and other public events," I say. "But whenever she did, she made sure to blame me for our situation. She'd always talk about how an overthrow of the government would be the only way for us to escape each other. She didn't realize that without the Capitol, though, we'd all be dead. The Capitol connects all of Panem together, and without it, we'll lose all security and connection. It'll be chaos, anarchy." "What do you remember about the Quarter Quell, the events leading up to it and what happened?" I tell her about Katniss being happy I was going in with her, because my death meant her freedom from me. Katniss trained like a Career with Haymitch and Gale while I watched from my house. Then she threatened to find a way to kill me with it looking like an accident as soon as we got into the arena if I didn't tell Panem she was pregnant with my baby. I then describe going into the arena, and all of the deaths and alliances we made up until finally we had Beetee's plan. I'd been on guard while Beetee worked, and got drawn out for a fight with Brutus. Once I killed him, everything lit on fire. "The next thing I knew, it was a few weeks later and I was in the Capitol," I say. "Every other tribute had been consumed by a fire, except for me. I'd been out of it for so long because I had to recover from some awful burns." "From transmission of Capitol television, you kept up the charade that you loved Katniss and mourned losing her. Why do that when you don't feel that way?" "The Capitol had pity on Katniss and I because they thought we loved each other, so we both made it out of the Games," I say. "To come out and tell everyone the Capitol had been wrong would make the Capitol look foolish and easy to manipulate. I couldn't let people thinking they have the ability to rebel against our government. For their own safety. Nothing can penetrate the Capitol." Prim dots her paper and sets her pen down. She's the first person who hasn't told me I'm mistaken or crazy, and that relaxes me a little bit. "I'm going to speak with Dr. Watson," Prim says. "Then a few more people will come in and we'll explain our conclusions." "People?" I ask. "Who?" Prim stands up and gives me a small smile. "People who care about you, whether you believe it or not." I end up waiting another thirty minutes in the room, walking around, tugging at locked cabinets and pulling apart cotton balls. Then, finally Dr. Watson and Prim come back in, followed by Katniss and Haymitch. "So doc, how bad is it?" Haymitch asks. "Severe case of crazy, or just moderate?"

"Haymitch." Prim purses her lips. "We went through this before. You don't use words like crazy around patients." He snorts. Katniss leans back against a counter, watching me like a cat watches a mouse. She's determined to play with me before she finishes me off. "Peeta, we have a theory of what happened to you, although we'll never be sure unless we get record from the Capitol," Dr. Watson says. "Peeta, have you ever heard of hijacking?" I shake my head, the word completely unfamiliar to me. Hijacking? And they think I'm the crazy one. "It's a tool the Capitol started using fairly recently before the Quarter Quell," Dr. Watson says. "By inserting tracker jacker venom into the bloodstream, and then showing selected images and sounds, the Capitol has been able to turn people's memories completely upside down, and lead them to hate things and even people they loved." "That's ridiculous," I say. "That didn't happen, not to me anyway." Dr. Watson taps his finger to his lip and says, "You're right. Because all of the examples of hijacking we've encountered, the person has been unable to function with other people, and with the thing or person they've been hijacked against always turns violent." "He punched me," Katniss says. "But he never tried to kill you, which is what a hijacked victim would have done, if our hunch is to be believed and Peeta's been hijacked against you," Prim says. "Then I'm supposed to believe that Peeta's come to this own state by himself?" Katniss asks. "The MRI shows that his brain's not in the same pattern as a typical human," Dr. Watson says. "His brain has been messed with, although with what and how, we can't determine. He's the first case of it we've seen and whatever happened to him, it's been years since. His blood shows no traces of tracker jacker venom, or anything else unnatural to human blood." "You can't find any proof that I'm crazy," I say. A vindicated feeling spreads into me. I knew they were wrong about me. "You're grasping at straws because you believe what Katniss wants you to, not what's true. You said it yourself, there's nothing in my blood, and I don't act like other hijacked people." "That's not entirely true," Prim says. "You may not believe me when I say I know you loved my sister before. If we show you video, you'll claim you two did it all for show. But something has happened to you Peeta,

something to make you hate Katniss. In our interview, you told me Katniss was reaped for the same games as you." "She was. We went in together," I say. "I was reaped that year, Peeta," Prim says. "Katniss volunteered for me." I shake my head. "No. I remember, Katniss's name was called and she went up there, all stony-faced and expressionless." Katniss wears that same mask now, unfeeling and calculated as always. Prim unlocks a cabinet and reveals a TV set, an old one, banged up and out of style. She turns some nobs, and District 12 on Reaping Day fills it, just as I remember. Haymitch stumbles around, drunk as usual. Effie's wig goes crooked when he tries to hug her. Everything I remember from that day. Then, Effie calls the girl's name, and she says, "Primrose Everdeen." My eyebrows shoot down. No, that's no right. Katniss was called. Katniss, not Prim. This must be some trick, something… On the TV, twelve-year-old Prim starts to move forward, small and frightened as a rabbit, when Katniss lets out a strangled, "Prim!" Then, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" From there, Katniss goes on stage, Haymitch falls off the stage, and District 12 gives her the parting salute, three fingers to the lips and then outreached to her. They give her the ultimate sign of respect, of good-bye, for taking her sister's place. The TV darkens, and I blink. "So you see, Peeta, not everything you remember is accurate," Prim says. "There are other points we could bring up, but this is the most obvious. Whatever happened to you, the Capitol didn't want you to like Katniss, to see any good part of her." But there wasn't a good part of her. I'd seen her more intimately than anyone has, apparently. I'd been the only person to gather so much hatred from her to receive the full wrath of her loathing. I shake my head. "A slip of my memory. It happens. I must have made it up because of everything else I've seen about her." Dr. Watson scribbles a note at this comment, Prim's shoulders sag, Haymitch's face contorts in rage, while Katniss folds her arms.

"I'm guessing he needs treatment," Haymitch says. "How much of it will he need?" "We'll start him out three hours a day with us," Dr. Watson says. "But he'll need to do things, things that will remind him what happened before." Haymitch nods. "I've already found a place in the bakery open for him. He'll be put there. And Katniss will guard him." We all look at him with shock and alarm, that after all of this, he'd make the two of us be together, with her guarding me. With that control over me, she could do anything she wanted. She could kill me. "No," I say. "Absolutely not," Katniss affirms. "I'm the best shot of the hunting group. We can't afford to have me stuck here babysitting." "And I don't want to die," I say. "You can arrange hunts during the time Peeta's getting treated," Haymitch says. "Besides, it's not like you need to train. Short of Boggs and Gale, you're our best soldier." "Fine then. I don't want to," Katniss says, glaring. "I don't want to either," I say. "Too bad," Haymitch says. Katniss storms out of the room, face ready for murder. Haymitch rolls his eyes, but I can't take things like this lightly. She'll be in control of me, of what I do, free to punish me. My stomach bubbles with dread. What if she hurts Rosalia? Could she do that? Does she already know that's the lowest way of getting me? "Here, I'll show Peeta to his suite," Haymitch says. I'm shackled up again, and led further into District 13 until we come to a row of doors with heavy locks and bolts on them. Haymitch undoes them all and leads me inside. The room's small, with a tiny bed and toilet inside, and not much else. Haymitch unchains me, and looks at my disgusted face. "Would you believe me if I told you I got you the best cell?" Haymitch asks. "No," I say. When did Haymitch ever care about my comfort?

He sighs. "I really miss the old you."

 

Chapter Five After a night with more time spent trying to get comfortable than sleeping, Katniss opens the door to my prison. I rub my eyes, the last thing I want to do is follow her out to start my sentence. "Come on," Katniss says with impatient foot-tapping. My arms heavier than a sack of flour, I manage to push the covers back and get up. I shuffle to the door, and stick out my arms for the cuffs. The time will come for me to fight, but it's not now. Instead of cuffs, Katniss jams my hand to the wall, underneath a box. Something presses against the inside of my forearm, and when I pull it away, it has writing on it. 0600: Breakfast 0630: Bakery 1230: Lunch 1300: Bakery 1500: Therapy 1800: Reflection 1900: Dinner 2000: Shower 2200: Bed "My…schedule? On my arm?" I ask. "Yeah. Thirteen's all about organization," Katniss says. She snaps the cuffs on me, this time in front instead of around my back. "Don't think about trying to wash it off until shower time, either. It won't work." "Sounds like you might have tried," I say. "A long time ago." Katniss secures my upper arm and drags me into a more open space, where tables clutter together with different shapes and sizes but the same gray hue. Workers hand people trays with mush in a bowl and a glass of an amber liquid. Katniss steers me toward it, we get our portions, and then sit down.

The mush has a dusty scent to it. I manage a nibble, and regret it. The mush's plainness is so disgusting it's offensive, and sticks to my mouth like glue. I push it away and take my drink, which turns out to be apple juice, and while not the wine Rosalia sneaks from the President's Mansion for us, it's not bad. "You have to finish that," Katniss says, spooning a bite into her mouth. She eats without grimacing, a feat even for her, I'd imagine. "No I don't, it's disgusting," I say. "You're not in the Capitol anymore," Katniss says. "You aren't going to get hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Get used to it." I crinkle my nose. I think about waiting until lunch until I eat, and then wonder what they have for that. "We can't leave the dining hall until you finish," Katniss says. She's already halfway done and shoveling in more. "Or what?" I ask. "You're late to work, and then you're punished." "So they'll lock me up in a cell?" I scoff. These rebels can't punish me much worse than they already have. "For you, no," Katniss says. "They'll demote you, probably." "I'm not in your ranks." "You're working for us. You'll go from the bakery to something like plumbing," Katniss says. "Which is just a nicer way of saying dealing with all of our waste." My bowl of mush becomes more manageable in the face of switching jobs to that. I haven't had a chance to work in a real bakery for a long time. I still baked in the Capitol in my apartment, but something about it was never the same. Maybe it was the absence of my brothers' banter, or the ding of the bell as a customer came in, or the quiet instructions from my father. Being alone, baking a loaf of bread, and knowing I didn't have anyone to share the experience with. When Rosalia came into my life, she liked eating the bread, but said the work to make it exhausted her. I take the mush in big gulps, and I think I know why Katniss eats it so fast, too. The sooner it's over, the better. I finish by drinking the apple juice. After we dump our trays, Katniss leads me to the kitchen, already busy with clattering trays and whirling mixers. Something inside of me, long dormant, awakes with this flurry. This was my life before. My life by the

glow of an oven, the smell of bread rising, the dusty flour and soft dough, and family and friends and…and…I shake my head. That life's gone. And this is my prison, not my home. As if to challenge this statement, a woman turns around from putting two loaves in the oven. Yellow hair drops across her blue eyes and over her ruddy complexion. She's thinner than from when I knew her, but I recognize Delly once her unforgettable smile appears. "Peeta," she says, and hurries over, hugging me, awkward with my handcuffs, but still appreciated. She pulls away. "They said you were back, but I…I guess it just seemed too good to be true. I'm so, so happy to see you." "Well, I wish it were under different circumstances," I say, lifting up my cuffed wrists. "But if I have to go through this, I might as well see one person I like." Her smile dwindles into confusion. "I told you," Katniss says from behind me. "You mean…all of it?" Delly asks, addressing Katniss. "He hates you?" "Yes." Delly struggles to regain a smile that usually comes to quickly to her face. I guess I did a better job of pretending to love Katniss than I thought. Then again, Delly was always gullible. "Is this him?" A man walks over. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, well-built, with medium brown hair and blue eyes. His hands are covered with flour and he has an apron on. "Do you see anyone else in handcuffs?" Katniss asks. "He'll need those off if he's going to work," the man says. Katniss moves in front of me, unlocking the cuffs. Once I'm free, the man sticks out his hand. As he pumps my hand up and down, he says, "My name's Bron. I'm in charge of the bakery staff. Which is now you, me, and Delly." "That's it?" I ask. "How many people are we baking for?" "Oh, about a thousand. That's why we have Big Beth here." Bron pats a big mixer that's slowly but steadily turning thick dough. "Beth mixes it, we set the dough away to rise for an hour, knead, and put it in loaves. We cut these ones for lunch's sandwiches and in the afternoon we make the dinner rolls."

Very basic. We'd done more in the family bakery in Twelve. "Here. This batch's ready to rise." Bron stops the mixer and pulls back the bowl. "You and Delly start kneading that bowl over there and make the loaves, I'll start on the next mix." Delly's eyes follow Bron with a wistful look. I raise an eyebrow at her when she turns back to me. Her neck flushes. "Come on, this is our table." She leads me to a wooden table, the only wood I've seen in Thirteen. Together, we take globs of dough and knead the bread. Katniss sits on a stool, her gaze flitting from Delly and I to other workers in the kitchen. "You know, I think I was drawn to work in the bakery because of all the time I spent at your place when we were younger," Delly says. "Sure it wasn't something else?" I ask. "Of course not," she says, but her cheeks deepen into a deep crimson. I smirk. "Just a little bonus?" "And what about you?" Delly asks. I throw the dough onto the table and stretch it out into the right shape for a loaf. "What about me?" "I heard you're engaged," Delly says. "Yeah, I am." I slide the shaped dough into a loaf pan. "To Rosalia Snow. Delly, you have to meet her. She's great. Beautiful, cultured. She paints and even sculpts. She's so graceful, and just…amazing." "Wow, she sounds like something," Delly says, voice tight. I sigh. "You've never met anyone from the Capitol. They're great people, and Rosalia's the best of them." "I didn't say anything." Delly dusts more flour on the table. "I know how everyone here feels about it, so you don't need to say anything." I ram my knuckles into the dough. "I'm glad you're back," Delly says. I slump my shoulders. No one can ever stay mad at Delly for long. Besides, who knows what lies they've been telling her? We work the morning through, baking the loaves and then slicing them. Other workers take the slices and spread peanut butter and jam across them. Katniss stays quiet as she cuffs me and we go out to eat. Lunch is less

revolting than breakfast. We have our peanut butter and jam sandwiches, a glass of water, and a carrot. Gale sits in the seat next to Katniss a few seconds after we settle. "Hunt's off," he says. "What?" Katniss asks, dropping a carrot. "Come on, four victors and Rosalia Snow goes missing, and you think the Capitol isn't going to check things out? Everyone has to lay low for a while, and for a hunting team wouldn't exactly be discreet." A seed of hope plants itself in my chest. Maybe the Capitol will find us. I wish I knew Thirteen's set-up better, so I could get a message out or send some kind of signal, alerting them where we are. Katniss scowls. "How long are we stuck underground?" "I'm not sure," Gale says. "Boggs is thinking at least two weeks, just in case." "Two weeks?" "They're going to be keeping an eye on us for a while. They'd expect us to come out soon after pulling our stunt." Katniss sighs. "We've been waiting for six years. I just want to go get it over with." "Our best chance is waiting and making sure we have the upperhand with surprise," Gale says. "It'll never work," I say. "Of course. Let's hear what our Capitol-lover has to say." Katniss crunches on her carrot, glaring at me. "With the Peacemakers, the Avoxes, and the paid army the Capitol has, a group of less than a thousand soldiers will never be able to take over," I say. "You're all on a suicide mission." Gale grins. "And that's exactly what we want the Capitol to think." Fear pricks me. They have had six years to get things together, without the Capitol watching over them. I push my chair back and stand up, fists clenched together. "You're all despicable!" I say. "Do you know what a war will do? It'll kill everyone in Panem. You're starting this with no good reason. No good reason at all!" The entire hall stares at me with wide eyes, except for Gale and Katniss, who narrow theirs.

"Sit down Peeta," Katniss says. "You might think you have a silver tongue, but you won't be able to change our minds at all. Save your energy." I do sit, seething, the heels of my hands pressed into my eyes. I can't do anything. I know about this rebellion coming, and I can't warn my friends, or save my fiancé. It's maddening. After a minute, I pick my sandwich back up and shove it into my mouth, not tasting my food as I put it into me. Back in the kitchen, I help with the dinner rolls until Katniss puts my handcuffs back on and drags me to my therapy. Dr. Watson and Prim are already in the room. "We don't need the handcuffs here," Prim says. "Are you sure?" Katniss asks, her frown more prominent. "I know you said he isn't violent like a hijacked victim would be, but he did get angry today and he did punch me." "I'd never punch Prim," I say. Katniss's shoulders relax a little hearing this. "We'll be fine," Prim assures. Katniss undoes my cuffs and then leaves. Prim leads me to a seat, the kind the dentist in the Capitol puts me in: comfortable, until he starts drilling and poking around my mouth. "For your therapy, we'll be starting out by showing you film," Dr. Watson says. "Starting from where we left off at your reaping. We believe that through showing you proof of what really happened, you might uncover your real memories." But I have my real memories, I think. Prim bounces on her toes so hopefully, though, I don't bother. They'll find out soon enough, anyway.

Chapter Six Life in District 13 remains static for two weeks. Katniss guards me as I eat, work at the bakery, and go to my therapy. We barely speak to each other. Gale usually joins us for dinner, updating Katniss on when they'll likely be able to go out and hunt again. Delly keeps me sane through all of this. We don't talk about our current predicament much. She won't hear a word against the rebellion or praising the Capitol. Instead, our conversations usually revolve around the past. Before the bombings, before my Games. Katniss sits on a stool as we work, arms crossed and silent. "I'll never forget when you dared Hans to eat a whole bowl of frosting," Delly says once as she kneads. I laugh. "He didn't realize too many sweets could make you sick. Most kids in Twelve wouldn't, though." "I'd never seen pink throw up before or since." I smile at the memory. With Delly, things were coming back to me I'd lost in the Quell. Not on their own, but with gentle prodding. Our seventh grade math teacher's habit of picking at his underwear. Making gingerbread men with my father in the winter. Playing hide and seek between our two yards. The new litter of pigs we got every year and for the most part, ended up selling to the butcher. In therapy, I watched video from our first Games. Somehow they had even managed to get surveillance tape of our training. Katniss and I stick together, going to different stations. One shadow of a girl follows us, and I remember her name. Rue. A wisp of a child from District Eleven. I can't remember how she dies, though, so I think it must have been in at the Cornucopia. A few days later, though, when we start the Games, I see she doesn't die in the Cornucopia. After I watch the footage they have for me, Prim always sits down and talks with me. Although she's ditched the clipboard, I know that they're recording my response, looking for ways to conform me. After I watch the interview I declared my love for Katniss, Prim starts off with the same question as the other sessions. "Thoughts?" "This whole thing is a charade," I say. "What you're seeing isn't real, none of it is. You might have me on tape saying that I've liked Katniss for a long time, but it's not true. None of it is. If you could see the behind the scenes, what's really going on, you'd know this was all fake." "We've only just started Peeta," Prim says. "Of course, before the Games there's a lot of acting and deceiving. But in the Games, I think you'll find that your true self comes out." She ended the session early that day.

The worst part about it all was that I couldn't see Rosalia. I asked Delly after her, but she didn't know anything. Then I asked Prim. "They're having trouble placing her," Prim said. "She's not strong enough for hard labor, and keeps screwing up the simplest assignments given to her." "Of course, it's not like this place is very nurturing to someone as creative as she is," I said. "You people have a need for culture but no desire to get it." Now I ask her every session we have, although Prim's answers always strike me as too calm for how Rosalia must really be feeling. Each day, I pick up more details about Thirteen. Like the fact that their leader six years ago, some woman named Coin, died in the bombings. Her brother-in-law, Patrick White, took control of Thirteen and the refugees from Twelve after she died. I've never seen him, though, because he's supposed to be finalizing the strategy against the Capitol and too important to dwell with the little folk. When I've begun to lose track of the days and how long I've been here, Katniss walks me to therapy as always, not saying a word. She takes my handcuffs off and leaves again, and she won't be back until my three hours is up. "How are you today, Peeta?" Prim asks. "Well, how's Rosalia?" "She's keeping up on her new cleaning job," Prim says. "It looks like they've finally found a place for her here." As a slave, I think. This must be crushing her, having to work for people out to destroy her family, her home, the two of us. If we could see each other at least, know for sure that we're all right. I've been meaning to ask Haymitch about arranging visiting time, but I never see him and don't think he'd listen to anyone's message for me. Prim fiddles with the TV until the image comes up. I remember this part of the Games well, when Katniss tried to kill me by dropping a tracker jacker's nest on me, then runs away to safety while I fight a crazed Cato and end up injured at the stream. On screen, I sleep below with the Careers. Katniss saws at the branch holding up the tracker jacker nest. She pushes it away, down to us, and it crashes on the ground, the mutant wasps zooming from their nest, stinging us, waking us up.

"To the lake! To the lake!" Marvel shouts. We all follow after him, except for two of the Careers, Glimmer and Cora. They're stung so much they become bloated and disfigured, unable to move. Katniss jumps down from the tree and staggers. She's been stung. But she doesn't run away. She moves toward Glimmer and struggles, hands clumsy, to get the bow and arrow. The camera cuts back to the lake, where Cato, Clove, Marvel and I float. I drift near the edge, while the rest swam in far. Once the cannons fire for Glimmer and Cora, I stumble out of the lake, blinking, with a determined look on my face. What am I doing? "Lover Boy!" Cato shouts after me on screen. I push forward like I can't hear him through the bushes to where I ran from, my spear raised. I don't remember this. I don't remember this part. Katniss has wrenched the arrows off from Glimmer's back and kneels on the ground as I come in. I drop the spear to my side when I see her. What am I doing? Why don't I kill her? "What are you still doing here? Are you mad?" I ask, pushing her with the end of the spear. "Get up! Get up!" She stumbles onto her feet. "Run!" I shout. "Run!" She turns and runs away. I rub my eyes after her, swaying, water still dripping off my face. From behind me, Cato smashes the bushes, brandishing his sword and growling. I hold up my spear, but I'm unsteady. "Proud of yourself, Lover Boy?" Cato asks. "Yes," I say. I lunge my spear at Cato, but he blocks it with his sword and then hits me so I fly backwards. He stands over me, sword above his head. He totters, though. He's been affected by the venom just as we all had. Cato brings his sword down, arc aimed for my middle, but halfway through he falters and pierces my thigh instead. He groans and falls forward, knocked out. I press a hand to my bleeding thigh and crawl away, fighting the venom as I get away as far as I can, until I fall into the mud of a stream.

Back in District Thirteen, watching this, I want to deny everything. That this video is a fake, made up. But those tributes are dead. And I'm in there. This can't be fake. Then why did I save Katniss's life? My hand falls on my prosthetic leg. I lost it for her, the nightmare lingering in my daytime. The video keeps rolling, but I jump up, tearing at my hair and pacing the small room. Prim turns off the TV, frowning. "Peeta? Peeta what is it?" she asks. "That can't be true," I say, glaring at her as I walk back and forth. "I would have left her to die. I'd never risk my life for her. Tell me what really happened!" "This is what I saw seven years ago, and it hasn't changed," Prim says. "You saved Katniss." "NO!" I slam my hands down on the counters, ignoring the sting. "There's something more to it! Don't you see? I was happy all these years I thought she was dead. Now I'm miserable because she's alive. I wouldn't give up my happiness for that slut!" I grab a glass jar full of cotton balls and throw it at the wall, away from Prim. There are more jars with bandages and wooden sticks. I grab each one and throw them at the same spot against the wall. My vision dots with red, fiery and spreading into my limbs and my core. Prim rushes to me, a needle in her hand. I struggle, but she catches my exposed neck and everything goes black.

I wake up to Katniss putting the handcuffs back on me. My eyes focus and I see Prim standing behind her sister, biting her nails, worried. I want to push Katniss away, but I'm still groggy and weak from whatever Prim stabbed into me. And in a snap, everything I saw today flashes in my mind. My anger's gone now. Though I'm not sure if it's because of the drug or the natural diffusion of heat. Instead, fear plants itself. What does it mean that I saved Katniss's life? Could…could I have been wrong? But I couldn't be wrong. Could I? "I hate you," I manage to mumble, more to convince myself than her.

"I know," Katniss says. She straightens from bending over me in the chair. She turns to Prim. "He won't be able to move for a while." "I didn't know what else to do," Prim says. "I've never seen someone act so…so…" "Crazy," Katniss finishes for her. Prim frowns, but doesn't disagree. I watch Katniss with more scrutiny as she boosts herself on the counter and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair's so long in the braid, it's hard to imagine any part of it would fall in front of her eyes. I let out a growl and glare at the ceiling.I need Rose. She's the only one who I can trust. The rest of this, it's just a bunch of lies. Messing with my head. I can't trust Katniss. I just watched her try to kill me with those tracker jackers, and Prim's her sister. Sweet as she is, I never should have trusted her. "I want to see Rosalia," I say. "No," Katniss says. "Let me see her." I've lost my strength, completely defeated. I know Katniss will never allow it, but I have to try. To not even try to see her now is impossible. "Please." Although Katniss has been at my side for days and days, this time I look her in the eyes for the first time, her eyes of granite. The piece of hair falls back down. She ducks her head as she tucks it away. "You have to do one thing," Katniss says. Part of me lifts up, but still wary. This is Katniss, after all. "What?" "Talk to me. Five minutes with me for five with her," Katniss says. "I see you every day." "And we never really talk," Katniss says. How different will this be from every day this life has been so far? And I'll get to see Rosalia. "Fine," I say. Katniss straightens like she's surprised, even alarmed and unsure. Prim coughs. "Well, I guess I'll just excuse myself then."

She totters away. When the door shuts, we're quiet for a few heartbeats. Katniss drums her fingers against the countertop and wets her lips. "Well, now that you have me obligated to talk to you for five minutes, what do you have to say?" I ask. She shrugs, head down. "I'm not sure. That's been my problem all this time. I don't know what to say to you anymore." "Well, I want to know one thing." She tilts her chin up. I continue, "Do you really think you can make me believe I ever loved you?" "Maybe," Katniss says, a drop of hope in her voice. Delusional as well as cruel. They'd have to hijack me—or whatever they called it—if I'd ever think I loved her. And even then, I'd find my way back to Rosalia. Nothing could make me stay away from the girl I love forever. "But I know no matter what, even if you did remember, things wouldn't be like before," Katniss says. "You love her now. And she loves you. I have no place with you anymore. That's what Haymitch doesn't get." "You're right that you have no place with me," I say. "But you can drop whatever 'before' crap you keep going on about. I know we weren't in love." Her lips pucker for a moment, like she's eaten a pie that had salt put in it instead of sugar. "No, we weren't," Katniss says. "At least, not like we pretended in front of other people. But we…we did...we were friends." I don't know which idea is more ridiculous, Katniss being my lover or my friend. In the Capitol, a lot of couples couldn't stand each other, but stayed together because they turned each other on. But a friend, talking, laughing, trusting, that seemed a more ridiculous thought than kissing her. "Your five minutes are up," I say. Katniss nods and slides off of the counter. At the door she pauses, one hand on the knob and face to the wall. "I didn't want you to die. When I dropped that tracker jacker nest on you. I had thought you turned on me, were working with the Careers to kill me. I didn't know then you were trying to protect me. Maybe we've both been wrong about each other."

She leaves before I can say a word, before I can tell her I got into the Career crowd to take them out from the inside, not to protect her. Typical. She might get the last word, but she didn't get to change my mind because of it. A few minutes later, Katniss opens the door and Rosalia comes in, handcuffed and dirty, with her hair dull and the roots growing back brown, but still beautiful. The most beautiful sight I've ever seen. In a moment, she runs to me and jumps on my lap, ramming her mouth into mine, then kisses my face, neck, ear, everything and anything she can reach. I hear the door slam. Katniss has left us alone. "Rose," I say as she gets to work on the hollow of my collarbone. "I've missed you like crazy," she says between kisses. "I've been dying without you." "I need to talk to you," I say. She hums, but doesn't give up on kissing me. I say, "They've been showing me stuff from my Games. The first one I was in. Do you remember the part with the tracker jackers?" "I remember everything about you," Rosalia says by my ear, and then puts it in her mouth. "Why did I save Katniss?" Her lips freeze on my earlobe, and she pulls away slowly. "Peeta, you don't think what they're saying is true, do you? That you could have ever loved her?" "No, no, of course not." I take her handcuffed hands in mine. Two jailbirds in love. "I just don't know why I did it. Why would I fight Cato for her?" She strokes my wrists underneath the cuffs. "You'd been stung by tracker jackers. They mess with your mind and make you delusional. You might have been thinking you were saving your brother or your father. Your head wasn't right then." With a sigh, I realize what she's saying is true. The venom. I do remember stumbling around the woods that morning, thinking I was bleeding worms from my legs and the leaves were moths, fluttering all over my face and eating me. I smile. "You're right. Of course you're right." She leans in and kisses me. We spend the rest of our time with each other's lips and tongues until Katniss comes in and takes Rosalia away from me again.

Chapter Seven At lunch the next day, Gale sits down next to Katniss as usual, but this time he has a small grin on his face. "They've given the okay for us to go out and hunt," he says, tearing into his sandwich. Katniss lets out a breath. "Finally. I've been antsy for the past few weeks." "And it means the Capitol's officially off our tail," Gale says. I sigh. As long as Gale came back and said they couldn't hunt, I hoped the Capitol would find us, take us away from all of this and end the rebellion. I wouldn't admit it to anyone here besides Rosalia, but I worried the rebels might win. From observing how scrupulous and careful District 13 was about food and safety regulations, they'd never rebel if they didn't believe they had a good chance of succeeding. And with the Capitol remaining oblivious to everything, they might be able to get enough leg up to win. At the bakery after lunch, Bron puts a small cake, unfrosted, in front of me. "Delly says you're a master at icing." "I'm pretty good," I say. "But what's this for?" "When a couple gets married, they're allotted one cake for the two of them to share," Bron says. "We used to be able to make one for their families, but we only have enough supplies for these small cakes." This piece of information gives me some hope as I set to work on frosting a cake. If they lack supplies, then the Capitol, with no end to their materials, has the upper hand in the end. The rebels can surprise attack, but once their surprise is off, they're still weaker. The rebels will die for nothing all over again, will kill people for a delusional dream. I can only hope enough for Rosalia and I to escape before our lives come to danger here in rebellion headquarters. When I settle into the dentist chair for my therapy, Prim pulls a needle out, and I flinch away from it. "It's okay," Prim says. "This is morphine. After yesterday, we don't want you freaking out again. This will just calm your nerves for you." "Calm my nerves?" I ask. "Or poison me?" "Do you trust me?" It's hard not to trust Prim. I try to remember she's my worst enemy's sister and a rebel. But in the end, her big eyes make me cave.

"Yes." She smiles, sticks the needle into my arm, and plunges the medicine into me. Slowly, from the spot on my arm and spreading into the rest of me, things move with a sluggish pace. My heartbeat, my breathing, all of it becomes like floating, peaceful. Someone could come in here and tell me Rosalia's dead and I'd probably still feel weightless and content. The video picks up where we ended yesterday. There's a lot cut, although it shows my feverish sleep in the river and Rue guarding Katniss as she slumbers off the tracker jacker venom. It also cuts into Cato, Clove, and Marvel in their own comas. After a few days, we both wake up. I'm sick and can't move, so I just eat some plants near the stream, drink water, and disguise myself with mud until I blend in. The Careers gather together and catch up on what's happened. Katniss wakes up, and our shadow from the Training Center, Rue, tends to her. Then Katniss offers an alliance to Rue. And right then, I'm sure I know how this sweet, innocent little girl dies. Katniss. Katniss must have seen Rue wasn't to be underestimated and took advantage of the girl's naiveté, luring her into a sense of security and killed her. Why else would she align herself with Rue? The water I float in with this morphine suppresses the rage I'd feel in my limbs and my veins, but they don't block the knowledge to my mind that Katniss is messed up, more than I ever thought. Manipulate and abuse me, fine. I'm bigger than her and the same age as her. But Rue? This little girl? How could Katniss have killed her? I'm so focused on my anger at Katniss that I almost miss the plan she and Rue devise to take out the Career's food supply. Prim stops it right before they're about to split apart, each with their assignments and the whistle code. Prim sits on a stool beside me. "Thoughts?" "This might have been the worst one yet," I say. Prim seems surprised. "Good thing you got the morphine, then. Why is this the worst one?" "Katniss. Just talking to Rue that way, when she's going to kill her." "You think Katniss killed Rue?" "Why else would she align with Rue?" "The only person who can really answer that is Katniss."

I shake my head. "I'm never talking to her again. I can't. I have to talk to Haymitch now and get a new guard. I got through it before, but after this? There's no one in this world I hate more than her." "Do you remember Katniss killing Rue?" Prim asks, eyebrows pushed together. I pause, thinking. "No. But there's no other explanation for why she aligned with Rue. It just makes sense, given Katniss's character. She doesn't care about anyone but herself." "So, volunteering for the Games, huh? Pretty selfish of her," Prim says, a bit of pink flushed in her cheeks. I chew on her words. I'd almost forgotten that I'd seen that, her volunteering for Prim. The one noble thing she ever did. "You're her sister. And it's different in the Games, where everyone is the enemy. You don't have any room for compassion, not if you want to live." It all bubbles out of me, before I can stop it, like I did for so long in the Capitol. Every year, the thought came back of killing people by my own hand, guilt as each of their faces pressed into my mind. Then Rosalia would kiss me and make me forget, with all of her toys and her touch. That's part of the reason why I love her. She helps me forget the bad, and gives me the good. "You did it, too," Prim says. "You killed like Katniss did." "Not Rue," I say. As if finishing off a girl who's already halfway gone or Brutus could compare to killing a little girl full of life and promise. "You haven't seen it yet," Prim says. "If there's any advice I'd give you, Peeta, it's to keep from judging before you have the proof."

I don't talk to Katniss at all the next day, but nothing about that is new. My stomach crunches into a ball of disgust whenever I look up from a meal or my work and see her there, collected and guilt-free of the lives she ended and the families she hurt. In therapy, I watch Katniss and Rue's plan go to action. Rue lights wood so the three Careers head off to hunt. Katniss observes, and after the red-haired girl pinches a bit of food, seems to understand it's trapped. She cuts open a sack of arrows with her arrows and the food blows up. While Katniss crawls away from the wreckage, Rue makes a run for the third fire she's to light, only to be caught in a net, one that I remember Marvel set up. Great. Just makes her an easier target for Katniss. The Careers run back to camp as soon as they hear the explosion, and Cato kills the boy from District 3 for letting down his guard and blowing up their food.

After a night of separation, with Rue in the net, Katniss hikes back to the place she and Rue planned as a rendezvous point. Now that Rue's usefulness has run out, Katniss will kill her for sure. When Katniss approaches the third unlit fire, her stony face flickers with worry, no doubt that her victim had the good sense to escape. But then she cocks her head to the sound of their melody and grins. I shudder. She's enjoying the prospect of killing Rue. Then camera the shows Marvel stumbling on Rue in her net, and she lets out a blood-curdling scream. Katniss hears, and runs to the sound. "Katniss! Katniss!" Rue screams. "Rue!" Katniss yells back. "Rue! I'm coming!" Marvel has dropped the net to the ground, staring down at Rue and takes his aim as Katniss runs in. Rue screams her name one last time, before Marvel's spear enters her stomach. Not a moment later, and Katniss sends an arrow into his neck. After being made sure he's the only one, Katniss drops to Rue's side, cutting her free of the net, taking her hand, putting her head in her lap. She talks with Rue, promising to win. Then, on Rue's request, she sings for her. Katniss sings her a lullaby, more beautiful and full of emotion than I've ever heard anyone sing. And she cries. This cold, selfish, hateful girl cries. She never meant to kill Rue. She was never going to. This whole time, she'd actually been genuine about aligning with Rue, talking with her. Katniss didn't play games with her. When Rue's cannon fires, Katniss kisses her temple, and then lays her head down. But she doesn't stop there. She gathers wildflowers, of violet and yellow and white, and decorates Rue with them, as if she were a princess. She sends Rue off with the signal of respect from our district: three fingers pressed to her lips and then outstretched. And this time, Katniss's empty face isn't to keep others from seeing what she's feeling. It's empty of everything because of grief. I was wrong. Katniss didn't kill Rue. She didn't want to. And she sent her off with more respect than anyone else I've seen. Prim, Rue. She does care for more than herself. She hated me, she abused me, but she…she has a heart. She feels sorrow for others. And when Rue was threatened, she ran to her. When her sister's life went up to the Games, Katniss volunteered.

Katniss protects others. She protects those she loves. After all of these years, I'd been wrong. And for a brief, flitting moment, I wonder if I'm wrong about anything else. Prim turns off the TV and sits in her regular chair. "Thoughts?" "I was wrong," I say. "Yes. You were." I shake my head. "Everything…everything is different than from how I remember it. But it has to be from when I hit my head in the Quell. That's what made me forget." "It is a possibility," Prim says. "But you should also consider the idea that something else happened. Something the Capitol did." "They wouldn't do that," I say. I might have some things mixed around, but the Capitol was only kind and gracious to me. They couldn't have done this. A knock on the door lets us know Katniss is waiting outside for us to finish. "Well, I hope that you'll continue keeping an open mind as we continue," Prim says. I stand up, wobbly from the morphine, as Prim lets Katniss in. She's dressed in camouflage for their hunting trip, a shock of brown and green in this sea of grey. As she puts my hands back in the cuffs, I observe her more as a person, capable of feelings. Few things penetrate her mask she's put up, but she does treat me gently, careful as she puts the cuffs on and steady as she leads me to my cell. "I saw Rue's death today," I say. Her mask falls for a moment and the girl I saw on the screen today flickers on her face, grief-stricken. "Proud of your Capitol now?" Katniss asks, her voice low and sticky. "It was the rebels who did it to all of us," I say. "We had to be punished. If our ancestors hadn't rebelled—" "Shut the hell up," Katniss says, her sadness now fiery. "I've been told that same trash by the Capitol for years, and I've never believed it, and neither did you. You painted a picture of her, Rue, covered in those flowers for the Gamemakers, but I'm sure your precious Capitol sucked that out from your memories, too." "I didn't do that." Her grip on me turns to iron. "Yes you did, for the Gamemakers before the Quell. You said you wanted them to face what they've done, killing her like that."

I don't remember doing that, however I can't remember what I did for the Gamemakers before the Quell, so I can't disprove it. But I couldn't have done something so rebellious. "We don't deserve this. Everyone from that rebellion is dead. Rue never did anything to deserve being caught in a net and speared down like a wild animal," Katniss says. "No, she didn't," I whisper. I know she didn't. But, I also know the Capitol is good, and generous to all of us. Yet these two ideas collide against each other, my heart wrestling with itself between my benefactor and a little girl who should be a beautiful woman now. We're silent until we reach my cell. Katniss clears her throat and digs around a knapsack. Then she hands me a few sheets of paper and two stubby pencils. "What's this?" I ask. She keeps her gaze down. "I thought you're probably pretty bored in there. I nagged the guy in charge of supplies until he finally caved and gave me this. He didn't go for it until I got my bow back. Then he was more than willing." "Thank you," I say, confused. Why would she give me this? She just nods, unlocks the door and then my handcuffs. I sit on my bed, staring at the paper with a greyish hue to it, wondering if this is what it feels like to be brainwashed.

 

Chapter Eight I wake in a sweat, thinking the same thing I always do after a nightmare. She's gone. She's gone. Coming to District 13 changes nothing about the frequency of this. But as I breathe hard and wipe the moisture from my forehead, flashes of the dream stay in my memory. It's mostly dark, and I have to push past long leaves, blocking me from her. I know I have to get to her, before it's too late. But blinding light strikes me, and I wake up. I remain laying down, regaining my breath. I don't get back to sleep by the time Katniss makes the round to come get me. In the dining hall for breakfast, I expect the normal silence between us. But then she says, "Tomorrow I won't be guarding you." I should feel relieved, but I don't. I'm apathetic. Maybe Katniss has just learned to handle herself in the past six years, but she's not as horrible a person as I expected. I'd never consider her a friend, but I could deal with her. "Where are you going?" I shovel in a glob of the mush. I barely taste it now. She shrugs. "Rebellion stuff." And then she says things like this, and I hate her again. "Going to go murder innocent people then?" "Hardly," Katniss says, the deepest scowl I've ever seen on her face. She sighs. "I'm going to be…filmed." "Filmed?" "Yeah. You know, to rally the troops and all of that. Once we make our move, they're going to air them, to inspire people to join the rebellion." Katniss moves her spoon up and down in her mush that turns harder and harder the longer it sits out. "Then you're attacking soon?" I lean forward, eager for information. She smirks. "Nice try. But actually—" Someone plops their tray beside me, and then squeals in my ear and brings her handcuffed hands over my head and around my neck. Rosalia.

She kisses my neck and hair before I can turn around and get her full on the lips. She slides into the seat next to me, pressing as close as she can get to me. I've only seen her once before without her makeup on, the last time I saw her, but she never needs it. She's beautiful just sitting there, with a bare face. "What are you doing here?" I ask, overwhelmed at seeing her. "I found out our work schedules were different. Your meals were earlier than mine, which is why we never saw each other." She smiles. "I arranged to change my schedule, and so now we can eat together every day." "Yay." Katniss glares at Rosalia. A thin woman with straw-colored hair has sat beside Katniss, who I figure is Rose's guard. I ignore Katniss, and instead drink in the sight of my fiancé. This is who I need, to remind me of what's important. To not let them change me. "You're so beautiful," I say. The handcuffs make everything awkward, but I manage to take her face between my hands. She rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. I don't have a bit of makeup on me, and you can see the roots in my hair. If we don't get out soon, my dye will be completely gone!" I finger a strand. "I think you'd look amazing as a brunette." "Ugh! Or poor," Rosalia says. "So you know, we only have ten minutes left of breakfast," Katniss says. Her bowl's half-full still. I put another scoop in my mouth, unable to stop grinning. I'm losing Katniss for tomorrow and gaining Rosalia. It's not having the Capitol rescue us, but I'll take it.

"Get up sunshine," someone booms into my cell. I wake up startled to find Haymitch at the door of the cell. Great. Part of me wishes for Katniss back. At least I could count on her being quiet. "Long time," I say as I hold out my hands for Haymitch to cuff. He secures the metal around me. "Miss me?" "Hardly." At breakfast, I give Rosalia one kiss and Haymitch gags on his breakfast. "Not while I'm eating you two."

"Yet you could stomach watching Katniss and me making out?" I ask. Yesterday at my therapy, we'd covered Katniss finding me in the mud and working on my leg. At the end, she'd enticed me to drink broth by kissing me. A lot. I wondered how I could have stood it then, and how much more I'd have to stand of seeing. "I sure could. Your making out meant both of you would get out of their alive," Haymitch says. "The two of you just do it because you've gone funny. And besides, I like Katniss." "Yeah, well I don't," I say, securing Rosalia's hand in mine. She squeezes. In the bakery, Delly and I do our normal jobs of kneading the dough and putting them in the pans. There's two differences today, though: Haymitch replaced Katniss, and he talks. "How did you land with that bimbo anyway, Peeta?" Haymitch asks. "She's not a bimbo." "Fine. How did you land with that slut anyway, Peeta?" I don't dare tell him. He's blinded like everyone else in this place is with the rebellion. He wouldn't understand. The loneliness after the Quell, with my district gone and all of the Capitol thinking I was mourning the loss of my bride and child. I had friends enough, but no one sought me romantically. To them, I'd forever belong to Katniss Everdeen. And knowing the truth about her and my feelings for her, I thought I'd be crushed under it. Then after three years, I'd received an invitation to Rosalia Snow's eighteenth birthday party. I went even though I barely knew her. That night, she asked me to dance. She flirted with me. And behind a curtain, she kissed me. For the first time in my life, someone wanted me. She sought me out, made herself vulnerable to get me. It didn't take long to fall in love with Rosalia. Beautiful, intelligent, and interested in art—it was like the pain of the past five years turned on itself and rewarded me for putting up with it all. "Fine, fine," Haymitch says. "I have to know, though, what were your plans for taking over Caesar's job? I mean, did you plan on wearing his twinkle suit? Dye your hair blue?" "Don't be ridiculous." I pound the dough. "You're the one taking the job from the Capitol." "Taking a job from them doesn't mean becoming one of them," I say before thinking. Haymitch grins a little. I fumble, "Not that I'm not like them. I just don't care for how they dress. That's all." "If you say so," Haymitch pinches a bit of the dough and pops it in his mouth.

"You're not supposed to do that," Delly says. "No one will notice." We work with a few seconds of precious silence. But this time, I'm the one who breaks it. "You don't drink anymore," I say. "Hard to do when the only alcohol is for the hospital and would kill me before it made me hit a buzz," Haymitch says. "I want it every day. I just can't get it." "Rosalia's an expert in wine." Some afternoons, we'd stay in and I'd give her a glass with her blindfolded. She could nail everything about the wine—the brand, the name, even got close to the year. Haymitch laughs. "All I care about is if it'll get me drunk." Disgusting alcoholic. Even sober sometimes it's like he's drunk. By the time my therapy comes around, I'm looking forward to Prim's company in exchange for Haymitch to leave me for a few hours. Hell, I'd be looking forward to Katniss's company. Prim puts the morphine in and then says, "I found what you asked about yesterday." I'd asked her if she could find any video of my session with the Gamemakers. It had nagged at me, what Katniss said to me about what I did. It couldn't be true. But I had to make sure. "I'm not sure if I should show it now though," Prim says. "This is out of chronological order." "It's one clip," I say. "What'll it hurt?" Prim bites her lip, but takes out the tape and puts in a different one. In the scene, Seeder leaves the area. I come in, and before I do anything but look at the Gamemakers, my stomach plummets. There's a glint in my eye, one I've seen in the eyes of everyone here. A self-righteousness that will end up killing Panem. On screen, I extract supplies of paints and a few brushes. Brown, black, green, violet, yellow, white, and red. I douse my brush in brown paint and start working. After only a few strokes, I know Katniss had been telling the truth.

I paint Rue. I paint her like she's sleeping, but with the way the flowers are arranged around her and in her hair, I know she's dead. A beautiful, innocent dead girl. The painting seems to be done, but then I dip my fingers in the red paint and splatter it across her stomach. I face the camera, my loathing for the Gamemakers like a heat radiating from my body. I bow and take my own leave. The screen goes black. I close my eyes, and another screen opens up, a memory of something long ago, something I'd forgotten. Haymitch and Effie Trinket stare at me with disgust and disbelief. Katniss looks at me as well, but she's admiring. In my head, I hear my own voice. "I just wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment. For killing that little girl." The morphine keeps me from panicking in my body, but my mind does it enough for me. I was a rebel. Before the Quell, before everything changed. I hated the Capitol. What does this mean for who I've become? Who am I, really? A rebel or a Capitol-lover? Because now, it's like I've entered a mirror, where everything's the same, but flipped opposite of the original. Which one's the real world, and which is the mirror? "Peeta." Prim puts a hand on my shoulder and I open my eyes. "Do you need to talk?" I shake my head. I don't have the words, for once. "Okay, then I'm going to put on what we had scheduled for today," Prim says. I half-watch Katniss and me in a cave, taking turns sleeping and eating. She looks at my leg, and discovers blood poisoning, which we're both worried about. I couldn't care less about it right now. I'm alive but my leg's gone. Katniss tells a story about getting a goat for Prim. Then Claudius Templesmith announces a feast. I already know we don't go, but for the fourth time now, my memory falters. We argue about whether or not she's going to the feast, which will have medicine for my leg. She wants to go. I threaten to follow her, ensuring both of our deaths with how loud I'd be.

And I'm more confused than ever. Confused about why Katniss would go to get medicine for me. No one would blame her for not going to a feast in which she'd probably die at. But she's pigheaded, even when she agrees not to go, her expression is still scheming. Confused about why I don't want Katniss to go. At this point, it seems like my death is coming without that medicine. If Katniss doesn't go, I die. Why bother refusing to risk her life in order to save mine? But the confusion doesn't end there. While Katniss is outside, she gets a vial of sleep syrup from Haymitch, and by putting it in some berries, ends up tricking me into eating it. Haymitch, who sent medicine to Katniss for some burns and ignored me while I died in the mud, who criticizes me, is now suddenly concerned with my life. Why sacrifice Katniss at the chance of saving me? Prim ends it when I'm knocked out on the cave floor, Katniss wiping some berry juice from my chin. "Thoughts?" she says. I shake my head. Everything jumbles around inside of me, pieces of a puzzle I haven't put together yet, and the picture is completely different than what I'd thought it had been before. There's a knock on the door and Prim says, "That's fine, we're out of time anyway. The painting took up our time to talk." She opens up the door and lets in Haymitch. "What's wrong with him?" Haymitch asks. "Today has been especially draining for him," Prim says, pointing a finger at him. "So be nice." "I have no idea why you're reminding me of this." He puts a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. Within a few steps into my trip back to my cell, I say, "Why did you do it? Why did you give Katniss the sleep syrup?" "Because you were being a stubborn idiot," Haymitch says. "Why did you risk her life? You helped her the entire Games and ignored me. Then the feast shows up, and you let her go to save me. Why?"

"Before, I could only save one of you," Haymitch says. His sarcasm and biting tone evaporate from his voice. "You wanted Katniss to be saved, and she had the best chance of the two of you to win anyway. But then the rule change happened. And I could save both of you. So I did. I wasn't going to let you die, not after all of the stupid, noble sacrifices you made for Katniss." Our steps echo in the grey hallway. Either Haymitch didn't give two craps about what happened to Katniss and I, or he cared more than our sponsors combined. I don't ask him, because everything's already confusing enough as it is.

 

Chapter Nine I try harder than usual to ignore Katniss. At breakfast, with Rosalia there, it was easy enough. Rose brushed her fingers through my hair and commanded my attention. In the bakery, with Katniss sitting in her normal stool and Delly and I working together, I manage, listening to Delly talk. "Although I always thought it was mean of Lig to do even if Trissy cheated on him," she says, finishing reminiscing about when a boy a year older than us dumped slop onto his cheating girlfriend. "Hey Delly," Bron calls from across the baking area, struggling with a bag of flour larger than a preteen. "Can you help me?" "Oh, yes, of course," Delly hurries from shaping the loaves of dough in order to help Bron, her cheeks bright pink. Now nothing's there to distract me from Katniss. Who saved my life. Who risked her own life to save mine, and isn't this simple black figure in my life anymore. Who I can't figure out, and it's bugging me more than I like to admit. "Are you okay?" she asks. "Your hands are shaking." "Fine," I lie. I plop the dough into a pan and break apart another set of dough to knead. After a few seconds, though, words come out without my permission. "You went to that feast to get medicine for me." "Guilty." I concentrate on the dough squishing between my fingers. "But you hate me." "I think you know now that isn't true." I don't, though. I don't know anything anymore, except what I see on the TV every day. But I can never make sense of what I see, and that's the problem. "Why did you go? You could have died." I pause and look up. I have to read her expression, see any trickery or lies. She takes a few moments to answer, quiet when she finally does. "I couldn't be alone. Not in there." It wasn't for me then, after all. Selfish, just like always. Just as I always knew she'd been. But the resolution of it rings half-true now. Risking her life for my medicine doesn't seem as selfish as going on safely for her. "Do you remember it?" Katniss asks. "Being in the arena?"

I shake my head. "Not really. I'd forgotten a lot after the Quell and I never wanted to remember." "Then you wouldn't remember the nights, all alone," Katniss says. "And the days, going on and on before you ever had to use your voice. Being so far from everyone and everything you love, with only the terror of your situation to keep you company. Of the Capitol taking away everyone's humanity, forcing us to kill." I close my eyes, and images streak in my vision. They're from our arena, I recognize them from the camera, but this time, they're from my eyes and not the lens. Cold water runs over me. Mud weighs me down. Faces flash in the night sky and I silently pray, Not her. Not her. I take in a sharp breath, the scent of flour grounding me to now, to Thirteen. "I remember," I whisper. "The fear. The gut-twisting fear." "Then we didn't have to be alone," Katniss says. "Suddenly, knowing we could both live…it was like spring coming early, when you thought you'd die before winter was over. It saved me. And I couldn't let you go." My hands, covered in flour, reach out for her, but can't cross the distance of the table alone. Katniss hesitates a split second, and then extends her hands to me. I hold them in mine, measuring how they feel. Strong. Calloused. But soft, and protecting. Hands I didn't understand, but in a deep part of me, right in the center of my chest, I knew. I knew them, not only as hands that bruised me. They healed, too. Comforted. Hands that had killed, and had saved. I released them suddenly, overcome by everything. "I don't understand," I say. "I don't understand who you are or what we are or what we were." "Do you remember anything besides the fear?" Katniss asks, hands tucked in her lap, but leaning forward. I close my eyes again. The fear always lurks there, in my memories of the Games. But most of what I feel, it's not for me. It's for someone else. And there's soaring, like the most impossible of dreams happened. "It's all just…confusing," I say. "Do you still have nightmares?" Katniss asks me. I nod. "What are they about?" I hesitate. I haven't even told Rosalia the truth about my nightmares, not the whole of them anyway. I don't know much of what happens before the seconds of terror as I wake up. Can I trust Katniss?

"I'm not sure," I say. "I just wake up in terror, like I've lost something I can't find." "The mutts always come back for me," Katniss says. "And the poisonous fog. And all of the dead tributes, all of them…" Her voice trembles, and for the first time, she breaks. She weakens. The horrors of her nights come to face now in her day, and I know. Back in the Capitol, sometimes a dreadful feeling would come over me, that feeling of loss, that I'd lost the most important thing in the world. The nightmares don't reserve themselves for just sleep. "I used to talk to Finnick about this," Katniss says. "But he's been busy lately, with Annie and everything." "Finnick has them, too?" He'd always appeared so suave and put together. "I think most victors do," Katniss says. "But Beetee was always so focused on fixing everything and Haymitch is so prickly, it didn't feel comfortable with anyone but Finnick. Well, not since we lost you." "We would talk about nightmares?" I ask her. And I don't doubt her now. Because despite all my effort to blend with Rosalia and the Capitol, part of me marched to a slightly different beat than them. I'd always try to chalk it up to being raised in District 12, but Katniss had so many of the same difficulties I did. Because of the Games. "We'd talk about them, more or less." A touch of a smile comes to her lips. "More or less?" She shakes her head. "We just…understood." I want to press her more, to uncover more of our similarities and be able to finally talk and figure all of this out, but then Delly comes bustling back to the table, still flushed and flustered. "You were gone for a while." I let a little playful curiosity in my voice. "Yes, well, Bron needed some help and then we just started talking." Delly beams brighter than I'd seen her smile before, a real feat since this is Delly. I smirk, catching Katniss crack a smile of her own. And it's now, right here, I know that I don't hate Katniss Everdeen anymore.

Chapter Ten I reach a place where I don't hate anyone. It's a surprisingly light, buoyant feeling, one I haven't experienced before. Well, I experience it as long as I don't think about this rebellion. Once the rebellion comes to mind, everything jumbles itself again and I don't know what to think. These rebels, they're not bad people. But neither is the Capitol. My younger self identified with the rebels, but since then I've seen so much more, experienced more. I'd seen Rosalia's grandfather labor until he drew his last breath to govern the people of Panem. Rosalia's father, the new President Snow, works just as intensely to be sure every citizen had what was needed. Take the Capitol away, and anarchy would come. But things go fine, overall. Katniss talks with Delly and I now, even helps with the baking. I instruct her, teasing her about how her dinner rolls always end up lopsided. "It's like you haven't been watching me do this for weeks now," I say. "Well then, why don't you just go out and hunt? You've been watching me shoot that bow for weeks now," Katniss says. "Rolling dough into a ball and hunting aren't the same at all." She takes a bit of flour and draws two lines across each of her cheeks, like someone going into a warzone. I laugh, and she bubbles out a few chuckles of her own. "The dough will think you're one of them, they won't be expecting your attack at all." "That's the plan." During meals with Rosalia, things slip back to what they had been. Katniss doesn't say a word while Rosalia and I converse in our own little bubble. I want to reconcile these two. Whatever had messed with my memory, it had everything wrong about Katniss. Watching us fight through the Games together in the cave, I believe her when she said we were friends. How else could we both look so comfortable with each other? She didn't perform as well with the romance angle, but made it work. Together, we pulled it off more believably than I'd thought before. In the end, I want Rosalia to like Katniss. At lunch, I decide to bring it up. Rosalia snuggles close to me as usual, her guard quiet and more like the walls than a person. Katniss talks with Gale about the current weather conditions in the Capitol. Although I never see the thrill of their conversations, Katniss and Gale never seem bored by them. "Rose," I say. "We haven't had a chance to talk much about what I've learned since coming here." Rosalia becomes serious and earnest. She nestles closer to me, and whispers in my ear, "How to escape?"

"Oh, uh, no," I say. "More like about things I forgot. And remembered wrong." Alarm spreads across her features, from her paralyzed face to stiff body. "You haven't remembered anything wrong. And what did you remember?" "Just that I used to be like these people. They were—they are—my friends. Including Katniss," I say. By now, we have both Katniss and Gale's attention. "No, baby, no," Rosalia says, stroking my arms and my chest. "They're changing you. Remember what you told me when we came here? You said they wouldn't change you." "Maybe they're just changing me back," I say. Her fingers and hands smother me, like a cat digging her claws deeper into her kill, refusing to release. "You can't trust them. They're rebels and liars, selfish and heartless." "Hey now, don't go and tell him everything that's wrong with you," Gale says, glaring at Rosalia. "He might break up with you." She ignores him, though, clutching at the fabric at my chest. "I just don't want to lose you to them. They hate me. And if they could, they'd get you to believe that you should leave me. Leave me and—and—" Rose shudders, slumping against me. I sigh, lift her chin up, and give her one quick kiss. "I'm not talking about them changing my feelings about you. Just my feelings about them. I don't care who's right or who wins this war, I love you Rosalia Snow, and that's one thing they'll never change." She pounces on me, smashing her lips to mine. While we kiss, I hear Gale say, "That was possibly the most disgusting thing I've ever seen." "And it's not even over," Katniss says. We've kissed enough, but Rosalia clutches to me, and pulling away would involve struggling, which might make her self-conscious about us again. When she breaks apart from me, she rubs her head and says, "Ow." Katniss grabs a carrot on the table, right in front of Rosalia. "We only have five minutes left and Peeta still needs to finish his sandwich. I'm not going to follow him to waste duty because you're a horny toad." "Maybe if you'd let us be together more than once a month," Rosalia pouts. I stuff my sandwich in my mouth, knowing I have to get out of this soon, before one of them kills each other. And as much as I love Rose, I'd put my money on Katniss to come out the winner. "You and Peeta don't get that privilege," Katniss says. "That's only for prisoners who are married."

"But I was told—" "Whatever low-ranking idiot told you that would happen should go take a look at our prisoner regulations. You two aren't getting it on for a very long time," Katniss says and stands. I chew and swallow the last of my sandwich. She grabs at the chain between my hands and pulls me away, before I can so much as glance at Rosalia again. I swallow the final bit of my sticky peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Katniss still looks like she could set this whole place blazing. "What was that?" I ask. "That thing you and Rosalia talked about?" "Nothing." Katniss slams her palm against the kitchen doors, dragging me in. "It doesn't seem like nothing, getting you all worked up like this," I say. She flings the handcuffs off of me. "What did it sound like to you?" "Like Rosalia and I can't sleep together here until we're married," I say. I never thought they'd let us here, so it didn't come as a greater disappointment to me than it already was. "But why are you so mad?" "Because…she was told false information." Katniss crosses her arms and stretches out her neck. "We can't win a war with the way some people remember, or rather, forget, the regulations around here." I roll my eyes. "You are way too strung out about this. And so what if there had been a mix-up?" Katniss growls. "I'm not in the mood to talk right now. Just make your stupid bread." Even Bron, usually as still as a pond, stirs uneasily today. I've noticed these days with him, though, when Katniss tapping her foot gets her glares from him, or he pounds on the machines harder than necessary. Whenever I ask Delly, she just frowns and says that there's more pressure in Thirteen than I realize. Of course I see the pressure, though. They're preparing for a huge battle. And Bron, an able young man, must surely feel the pressure now. "We have two cakes for today," Bron says to me, frowning. "Wow, that makes five this week," I say. Love must be in the air with the war coming soon, everybody getting married before the possibility of death comes. It's romantic, in a barbaric kind of way. Bron grumbles and walks off. Even Delly seems a little down today. She still smiles, but it isn't her fullest, and she's quiet while she rolls the dough and I mix the cake batter together.

I finish frosting both cakes just in time for my therapy. Prim does the normal job: chair, morphine, and video. Katniss and I walk toward the lake, knowing we'll have to face Cato. He comes, but so do the mutts. The mutts who look like the other tributes, the ones we watched die. The ones we couldn't save. In the end, we all get up the Cornucopia. Cato grabs me, cutting off my air supply, and Katniss aims and arrow at him. But kill him, and we both topple over. Wait too long, and he'll strangle me. I mark his hand with an X in blood, and Katniss shoots there, causing Cato to fall back and the two of us to huddle together on the Cornucopia. My leg's wounded again, and bleeding. They've edited a lot on this tape, collapsing an entire night of Cato's screams into a few minutes, but it's enough to bring the memories for me. The cold, endless, most horrifying night of my life. Clutching onto Katniss, all of my energy draining as my blood empties from my body. Shaking against her as we held each other tight. Closing my eyes but never blocking out Cato's cries. Katniss finally has mercy on him and shoots an arrow to finish him off. The mutts leave, and we've won. I expect the Capitol to pick us up now, and just sitting here reliving this both in front of and behind my eyes exhausts me. Prim needs to hurry up and talk about this, so we can finally move on. But we stand there, confused. We move to the lake, guessing we need to distance ourselves before they can take the body and we win. Then, Claudius Templesmith, "Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor." Of everything I've seen, everything proved wrong to me, this is the biggest shock. Because the Capitol promised to take us both home. Like a forgiving, loving parent, it had allowed for both of us to win. It didn't, though. It had lied to us, given us hope where it had no intention on delivering grace. I wait, though. Katniss and I both made it out. Maybe this was to test us, to see if we were worthy of this gift. Maybe they'd called our bluff, and wanted to be sure our love was genuine. We argue over who's to go. Then Katniss brings out the berries that killed Foxface. A suicide pact. We'll both die together, a twisted, tragic romance. With a last kiss and a count to three, we throw the berries in our mouths. Only then does the Capitol revoke its decision. Only then do we both win. The morphine keeps my body calm, but it can't stop this swelling sickness inside of me, this betrayal. Because no matter what they'd shown me, I'd believed in the core of the Capitol. Maybe it had flaws it could work on, yet I still loved it, believed in it. And now? Now? Everything's a lie.

Prim speaks to me, but I can't understand her. They set us up. They promised us both life so we'd fight through to the end. And they turned it all around for a show. A show. The final drama to their masterpiece year. To tear apart our hearts even more, to make one of us do the unthinkable and kill the one we loved. Make the other live on without the other half. Cursing us with the worst nightmare imaginable. The morphine wears off. I feel myself sinking back into my body, and I shake. My whole body quivers as tears come down my cheeks. Everything I believed in, wrong. Everything I believed in, a betrayal. I curl into a ball on the chair, huddling into myself as I let the parts of me I'd grown these past six years shatter. The edges cut into me, my trust and faith broken. Water wets my cheeks and my hands, while the rest of me falls to pieces and bleeds. When I think I'll never be put back. When I think I'll bleed out my heart, and wring my eyes of tears. She comes. "Peeta?" Katniss whispers, softer than I've ever heard her before. She puts a hand in my hair. "They lied," I say. "They're using us for their own games, their own twisted…and it hurts. The memories. The memories." It presses into me, Cato's screams. My own fear. The nightmares of all the dead, their angry eyes in the mutts, animals and stripped of their humanity. The Capitol's betrayal, the Games, my realization of it, it's all too much. Too much, too much, too much. I let out a sob, ducking my head against my forearms. She makes shushing noises, strokes my hair, rubs my arms, whispers my name. I lift up my head and see her there, the one other person who's gone through this with me. And before I realize I'm doing it, I wrap my arms around her, and pull her toward me. She opens to my embrace more quickly than I expected, fitting into a spot on my chest as if it had been carved out just for her. "I don't want to be alone," I whisper in her ear.

"You aren't." I pace my breathing, the tears fading. It doesn't make sense, how once she's in my arms, the shards of my broken trust dull. That once her heart beats with mine, my anger and hurt subside, opening up a hope I've never felt before. It doesn't make sense, this connection I have with Katniss. But after everything I've seen these past few weeks, it's the only thing I understand.

 

Chapter Eleven "Katniss," I say as we walk to breakfast the next morning, "you won't tell Rosalia about, you know, what happened yesterday, will you?" I watch the halls to see if there's any eavesdroppers, even though I don't go into detail about what happened. I can't have Rosalia finding out about it, though. Not that anything for me to be ashamed of happened. "I wasn't planning on it," she says. I let out a breath. "Good. She can blow things out of proportion sometimes. She'd probably think you were trying to seduce me into leaving her or something ridiculous like that." We enter the dining room and wait in the line for the same meal of mush and apple juice. Katniss concentrates on the floor. Over the past few weeks, I've been able to match the subtle changes of Katniss's face with emotions. Long ago, I must have known how to read her, because one twitch of the mouth or shine in the eye says more than I'd ever thought could be said. Today she's uptight, although about what's another question. I've attuned myself to her emotions, but not her mind. For breakfast, Rosalia and her guard join us, but there's no Gale. Katniss says nothing, only rolls her eyes at Rosalia when she says that even Thirteen must have some kind of holiday when everyone can stop working. At the bakery, things haven't improved much since yesterday with Bron's mood. If anything, he's more on edge. While Katniss takes off my handcuffs, he yells, "Stupid dough! We've been rising it for an hour now! And just look at it! We'll never get everything made by lunch!" I take my place next to Delly, and Katniss at her stool. I dig into the dough and knead. "What's wrong with Bron?" I ask Delly. "Gale got engaged yesterday," Delly whispers. I look straight at Katniss, sure it has to be her, and wondering why she never said anything yesterday or today. It was great news, wasn't it? I don't know why Bron would be upset about it, though, unless he loved Katniss. Or maybe he loved Gale. Since Delly liked Bron I assumed he liked women, but maybe she's been wrong to put her attention on him. I look at Katniss. "You?" She shakes her head. "No." A tension I didn't realize knotted in my chest comes undone.

"Who?" I ask. "Do you remember Aspen March?" Delly asks. "She's two years younger than us, from the Seam, but she had an older brother in our class, Fawk." "I don't remember either of them." "Well, he's getting married to her." "I didn't know Gale was seeing anyone. He always sat with us at meals." I didn't see him outside of that, but I always thought he'd stay loyal to Katniss and fight for her. "They've been seeing each other for three months now." Katniss traces patterns in some of the flour that drifted to her side of the counter. "That's a fast engagement," I say. "Is that why Bron's upset?" Delly sighs sadly. "No. Gale was the one young man his age who hasn't gotten married. Not for lack of trying, though." Katniss doesn't meet the loaded look Delly gives her. "So…what? Now he doesn't have any bachelor buddies? Hey, I'd hang out with him. I might be engaged, but mine and Rose's wedding won't happen for a long time. Being a prisoner might complicate things, but according to Haymitch, I have the best cell." "No. Bron doesn't want to get married, and President White has been pressuring everyone to, especially the men," Delly says. "Not all of them." Katniss tucks a loose strand behind her ear. Some of the flour from her fingers powders the piece by her ear. She lifts her eyes up to me. "Some years ago, before we came here, District 13 had a plague. Most people lost their ability to have children. Bron's one of the few who can reproduce, of men and women. President White has made it a mission to marry everyone off who can have children, so that they will." Bron's deep tones come from behind Delly and I. "And he's an idiot for doing it so soon." I jump. Delly turns to Bron, that desperate look of love in her eye. "We do need children." "Not like this," Bron says. "We're about to go to a war, and all President White wants to do is repopulate. That's what should happen after the war. Instead, girls will get pregnant, their husbands will die in the war, and we'll have widows and fatherless children we can't feed. That's why I'm not going to marry, not until after the war, if I survive. I thought Gale felt the same, and now here he is, participating in this breeding."

"He's always been on board for it," Katniss says. "One of the many things we've disagreed about over the past few years." "You know they've been encouraging sixteen year olds to get married?" Bron leans between Delly and I, focused on Katniss. "One of the cakes we're making this week, the bride's fifteen. Fifteen! She'll be a widow by the time this war's over, before she's lost her acne." In the past, I might have demanded for them to call off this war at this point, at the idea of all the dead, the fatherless and widowed. But yesterday changed me. I don't know how I ever defended the Capitol, with their Games and abuse. I thought of telling Katniss I want to declare loyalty to the rebellion, but I knew I couldn't until I talked with Rosalia. Above all, I had to stay faithful to her. While she's a Capitol citizen, she didn't do any of this to me, and I still love her. If I promised to fight for the rebellion, would I have to break my engagement to Rosalia, the "enemy"? Would they pressure me to marry someone in the rebellion to help reproduce before they sent me to war and got me killed? I didn't risk it for the loss of handcuffs. "I'm glad Prim's a doctor," Katniss says. "They focus her on her practice and not having babies." "Not for long," Bron says. "She's twenty, yeah?" "Nineteen." "They want all women to have seven kids, you know that, right? One every two years, if she doesn't lose her husband. They want them starting by the time they're twenty, twenty-two, so they have a higher chance of survival, and so do the offspring. Prim's free pass is almost up." "But…what if two people really do love each other?" Delly asks, as if she's pleading for a puppy to be spared of a kicking. Bron's intensity softens, and he even smiles at Delly. "For that, and only that, would I support a marriage here. Like Finnick and Annie. We've got their order for a cake in just a few days. For them, I hope the best." "I do, too," Katniss says. "Finnick was so distraught losing Annie like that, for six years. Never knowing if he'd ever get to see her again, let alone hold her…" She bites her lip like she's holding back a cry. "Katniss, I never knew you were such a romantic," I say, grinning at her. She's been such a mystery to unfold all this time, always surprising me. "When it's the right people," Katniss says. "Agh! This conversation delayed me from putting the yeast in the next batch," Bron says. "Delly, a hand?"

She skips to follow him. I suppose the conversation has given her a bit of hope about Bron. Delly's twentythree, and Bron said they wanted women married and having babies younger than Delly. "Do you know much about Delly?" I ask Katniss. "Better than most people here," she says. "Is she waiting for Bron?" Katniss sighs. "She hasn't talked to me about it, but Delly's never really been approached by men much. Most single men around here are infertile or younger than her. Bron's not. She's had her eye on him for a while now, but I think her crush has really stuck with her the fewer men she has to choose from." Poor Delly. She's the most loving person I know, any guy would be lucky to have her, especially Bron. I eye Katniss now. "Well, what about you?" "Me?" Katniss asks. "If Bron's right, you're past your prime. Did no one ask you because they thought you and I actually loved each other like that?" I ask. It happened to me in the Capitol, I could see it happening here, too. Katniss gives one short, flat laugh. "No. I wish." Curiosity perks inside of me. No? They didn't leave her alone? "Thirteen's also big on the strongest of the species reproducing first," Katniss says. "They gave us a physical examination once, and handed the ranks of the fittest to all of the men. I was ranked number one, and so a lot of men tried to get me to marry them." "I take it their tactics didn't work," I say. Her braid swings behind her neck as she shakes her head. I fit a loaf of dough into a pan and dust my board with a little more flour before kneading the next set. "Gale asked me," she whispers, her fingers twisted into a jumble on her lap. Something in me jumps and only stops when I remember that Gale's engaged to someone else. "Two years ago. He hadn't done much before then, but he thought we should do our part and what President White asked of us to help the long-lasting effort of the human species. But I didn't want it, marriage and children. No matter what the president says." "He must love you," I say, my stomach hollow. "He waited two years before marrying someone else. Are you sure you want to give him up?"

"You sound like him. A few days ago he asked if I was sure about not getting married, if I'd always be sure. I said I was, and he got engaged." "You could tell him if you love him. It's not too late." She cocks her head to the side. "I do love Gale, not quite as a friend but not quite as a lover either. It just didn't work out for the two of us." Katniss fingers the end of her braid, a bit of longing in her face as she watches me pound on the dough. I don't believe that she doesn't want him. For all of the bits of Katniss I've uncovered, there's still so much that I don't know. "Well, you never know," I say, trying to come up with something to comfort her. "I thought I'd never get a chance at real love, but then I found Rosalia. Or, really, she found me. Love hits you when you aren't expecting it, with the person you never thought you could love." "And you love her?" Katniss whispers. I nod. "More than anything." Katniss closes her eyes and lets out a breath through her nose. Now I've upset her. Single people tend to become jealous of couples, I've noticed that since my days in the Capitol, so talking about my love life probably didn't help her. "You'll find him." I put the last loaf of dough into the pan and peel back some pilling scraps from my hands. "Don't worry, you will."

Chapter Twelve Roots from the ground try to catch my legs and trip me. I push thick, long leaves out of my way, smearing blood across them. Panic builds up in me, like if I fail, the world will explode. I have to find her. I have to find her. Something yanks me out of the jungle, away from the blood and the most important thing in the world, grabbing my shirt. My eyes open, and Katniss stares down at me. "You're dreaming," she says. "Looks more like a nightmare, though." She lets go of my shirt and straightens. I gasp for breath, pushing my hair back and rubbing my face. Same nightmare, no more details about who I've lost. I wonder if I'll ever find her. Katniss nudges my foot. "Come on, we need to head out." I pull myself out of bed and the routine happens again. I wonder how these people can stand it. For the people of Twelve, to have their lives the same once coming here. And those who grew up in Thirteen, they've never known anything different. Part of me isn't surprised they want a rebellion, just to get out of this restrictive life. The day goes on as normal: breakfast, bakery, lunch, bakery. Then, a half an hour before my session (which has been covering the victory tour) I pull out a batch of the dinner rolls, all baked on a flat sheet, and put on the bottom rack of the oven. I maneuver around getting burned, but in doing so, a roll on the last row knocks against the rack on top of it, and tumbles into the fire. The smell of burned bread rushes at me, and in a moment, I'm in a different bakery. I hold two loaves of bread with black marks scorched across the top. My eye stings from a hard hand across it. Rain slaps against my face as I leave the warm glow of the bakery. I eye the pigs, but my real focus is on the small huddle under our apple tree, two wide eyes and a face thin with hunger. Katniss. I throw a chunk of the bread to the pigs, and look behind my shoulder. My mother bustles to the front for a customer. Without one glance, I throw the loaves at Katniss, and go back inside. From the window in the streaking rain, I watch her shove the loaves in her jacket and run off, feet slow and weak. Fear, the same I felt in the arena, dims somewhat at the sight of her with the bread. She'll live, for at least another day, so I'll live, too.

"Peeta! Peeta!" For a second time that day, I open my eyes to Katniss's face, but this time she's upside down. I lay on the floor of the bakery, my head on Katniss's lap and her hands cradling me. A line creases between her eyebrows, the same expression she wore when we were in the cave and I was delirious with fever and having her near me. Why haven't I noticed until now how beautiful she is? She's sharp, but full and graceful. A stray piece hair falls away from her head as she leans over me, and I reach out to touch it, her silky dark hair. It's so nice, being here with her. "I think he hit his head," Katniss says, tilting her face up and away from me. Delly crouches near me, her voice soft. "Peeta, how does your head feel?" "My head?" "You fell, when you were taking the rolls out of the oven," Delly says. "Do you feel hurt, or dizzy?" The oven. The bread. The bread. I sit up, and while nothing seems to be out of place, I press the heel of my hand to my head. It didn't feel like a dream. As I press back on it, more details come up. Seeing my mother yell at her. Pushing the bread into the flames. Bracing myself for my mother's hand. Fear that Katniss would die, because I…I…I loved her. Katniss holds me up again, and I'm aware of her hand on my elbow, on my shoulder. I'm aware of the heat from her chest hitting my back. I'm aware that if I turn around right now and lean forward, I'd kiss her. No. No, stop. I can't think like this. This…this is Katniss Everdeen. Then recollection of what I said in the Games comes back to me. The girl in the red dress who made the birds fall silent. I'd thought before I'd made it up, to extend the romance as much as I could. But brief images, emotions rise in me. Katniss, standing on a stool, her hair in two braids, her melody carrying through the whole room. And knowing then, knowing I loved her, and I'd do anything for her. "I should take him to therapy early, have Prim check him out." Katniss puts both of her hands on my elbows and pulls me up to my feet.

"That sounds good." Delly gives me a concerned look. In a moment, I'm fourteen again and unable to talk to Katniss as she leads me to the hospital. My nerves jolt like they've been hit by lightning, and my tongue feels too big for my mouth. How could I have not noticed it before, everything about her? Her eyes, her confidence, the way she survives and protects? At therapy, Katniss tells Prim about the fall, and then leaves to go do her normal hunting. Prim checks my eyes, asks me if I have any headaches or dizziness. "No," I say. "I don't think you have a concussion," Prim says. "But you do seem distant, and out there right now." I open my mouth to confess everything, but I close it again. I want Katniss to be the first to hear it from me, if I can get over these nerves and tell her that I remember. "I'm fine," I say. Prim shrugs. "If you're sure." I get the morphine put in, and Prim starts the video. Katniss and I are on stage at the Capitol, being interviewed by Caesar. Katniss tenses beside me, answering with short replies and letting me take most of the responses. Then, Caesar asks us about our future together. I turn to face Katniss, and get down on one knee. "Katniss Everdeen," I say. "I love you. I've loved you since the first day I saw you, and I've loved you every day since, and I will love you forever. I know to some, our time together has been short. But I know it's you I want. I know with every fiber of my body that we were meant to be together. I want you to be my wife. Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?" She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She says "yes" but she doesn't mean it. She puts her lips on mine, but she doesn't really kiss me. And among the reawakened love I feel for Katniss, the hard knowledge of our true relationship hits me as well. Katniss doesn't love me. It's just like what she said about Gale. Not quite a friend, but not quite a lover, either. She's too filled with passion to never marry, never have children, to allow any man to come close to her. She doesn't love me or anyone like a man and woman love each other. Another memory comes back to me. Of train tracks. Flowers taken with a half-hearted smile. The realization that all through the Games, she didn't return one kiss or word of affection in her heart. All for the Games. All for the Capitol.

You still have Rosalia, I think. And I do have her, just like Gale has Aspen March. Our second choices to the girl made of fire and arrows. No, I still love Rosalia. I can love both of them at once. Rosalia's done more for me than anyone else could have. She's listened to me, soothed me, given me more love than I'd ever received before. I'm happy with her. I love her more than my own life. I stare at a blank screen and realize the last few minutes of that video I didn't take in. Prim sits down next to me. "Thoughts?" "They were right," I say. "I did love Katniss." Prim's professional demeanor drops, and the sun rises on her face. She hugs the clipboard to her chest and holds in a squeal. "I knew it! I knew sooner or later you'd have to remember that you love her—" "Loved." "Excuse me?" "Loved her. I used to be in love with Katniss. But I'm not anymore. You said it in present tense, like I still do. But I don't. I love Rosalia Snow. Not Katniss." Maybe if I say it enough, my chest will get sewn back together, and it'll come true. The sun disappears from Prim's face and she twitches to regain her neutral expression. "I'm sorry. I assumed too much. You remember that you loved her." "And she didn't love me." "Why do you say that?" "It's obvious. When I proposed to Rosalia, she cried and clapped and I'd never seen her so excited. Nothing about it was forced. But Katniss? She's acting. This whole time she's been acting. She doesn't love me. Never has." I swallow my heart. "Never will." Prim squeezes my hand. "That's not true." "You're just saying that." "I've never heard her say it, but Katniss isn't one to talk about feelings much." "Exactly. You don't know."

"I know that after the Quell and she lost you, she wouldn't get out of bed." "District 12 had just been bombed." "She fought to get you back, she wanted to do it sooner." "So did Delly." "You make her smile." I shake my head. "Prim, she doesn't love me. It's fine. I'm not heartbroken over it. I only meant to say I remember how it used to be. That's what you want, isn't it? To know what I remember? Well, I had a boyish crush on Katniss and I thought I loved her. She didn't feel the same. That's all. No tragic story here." "Okay," Prim says in a small voice. Katniss comes, and for Prim's sake, I try to act normal as she puts the handcuffs on me, even though every time her skin brushes mine it's as if my heart will jump into hers. In my room for reflection, I take out the paper and pencil Katniss got for me a while ago. I've only used two sheets so far, doing a sketch of Rosalia on one side and doodles of flowers and fruit on another. On the second, I'd attempted to capture Katniss. I trace my fingers over the graphite, the curve of her neck, the wisp of her hair, the bow on her lips. While I drew this days ago, did something in me, deep down, know my past feelings for her? A recognition has always been there, I'd just never seen it. After reflection hour, Katniss gets me for dinner. Rosalia cuddles into me again, demanding my lips and attention. "What's wrong, baby?" She asks after a forced kiss. "Nothing," I say. "Tired, I guess." She strokes my hair. "I know. This place is exhausting. What we need is one of those jacuzzis we have at my place. Where we can just relax and…" She giggles. I smile at her laugh, remembering the good times we had together. It's what made me love her, the way she distracted me from my misery and gave me life again. After dinner comes my shower, which is the time that Katniss hands me over to a male guard, usually someone I don't know, sometimes Gale or Haymitch. Today is a man who's guarded me a few times, Boggs. He's nice, with a calm and focused personality around him. He does his duty with no-nonsense, getting me in and out and back into my room in ample time.

Other than the shock of finding out I've loved, and for now still do love, Katniss Everdeen, the day's been normal. Then my door opens up, and I hear a familiar giggle. I sit up in my bed and squint at the door, Rosalia rushing to me, her handcuffs off. "One hour," a man's voice says. The door shuts, and Rosalia's on top of me, her shirt already off and her hands going to mine as she kisses me. "Rose, what's going on?" I ask as she rips the shirt off of me. "We have one hour." Off go the pants. An uncomfortable, strange sensation crawls in my stomach. I'm tired. I've found out that I love another woman, and now here I am and I…I can't handle it right now. Before Rosalia can go any further and take her hands in mine and press them to my chest. She's surprised, then grins. "Oh, you want the teeth, huh?" "No. I—I just…" How can I explain it to her? Rosalia, who's never understood the concept about a wrong time to go at it. Once, she pulled me into the closet in a crowded kitchen at a state dinner after I'd come back from touring District 4 and we'd been separated for a week. I had to pull the skirt to her dress back over her knees and remind her that her grandfather's staff was at the other side of the door and could hear us. She claimed no one would care. "Look, you know how you asked me what I was worried about? Well…things today, they've just…I want to talk about them with you. Instead of this." Rosalia rips her hands away from mine, letting out a frustrated cry. "We talk every day! You could have told me at dinner, but no. Now you're feeling all open? The one hour we have to be together? No, Peeta. I don't want to talk." She lunges in, kissing me with more ferocity than even that time I tried on that awful cologne with animal pheromones put in it. She pushes her body against me, rocking her hips into mine, and I can't help it. I respond. I let her win.

A knock accompanies the shout of, "Hour's up! You have one minute to get dressed, then I'm coming in." Rosalia curses and slides off of me, picking up her clothes and fumbling back into them. I don't move as she steps on one of my drawings, jumping back into her pants.

"Too bad you were so tired today," Rosalia says. "Still, better than nothing, I guess." She leans over the bed and kisses me one last time. I watch the ceiling as she leaves and the door shuts again. There's one tile I stared at the whole hour and I continue to stare at, until the lights turn off for bed. My eyes stay open, fixed on that spot now lost in the dark. And I feel empty. More alone than ever before. Because what I haven't realized these past few days, is that in that one moment when I held Katniss to me, four layers of clothes between us, I felt closer to her than I ever felt to Rosalia in what should be the most intimate, emotional experience two people can have together. And tonight? I was in her, but we might as well have been on two different planets. There she was, moaning, while I wanted to pull away and just talk. Reassure me that this revelation will fade, that I'll come to grips with the fact that I can't love Katniss anymore. Rosalia used to banish away my bad thoughts, my nightmares with her body. This time, she only increased them. When I close my eyes, I imagine Katniss coming to me in the night. But she doesn't have a time limit, and I tell her everything, about remembering how much I loved her, and despite myself, still do. She kisses away my tears and holds my head in her lap again, stroking my hair, down my neck, over my collarbone. I turn around and press my face against her stomach, and she laughs so that I can feel it in her belly. She lifts up my head and kisses me on the lips, and then… I gasp for air, even the imagination of having Katniss with me more overwhelming than I can bear. I don't know what I'm going to do for the rest of my life. This girl's going to kill me, in a way I never expected her to.

Chapter Thirteen Although I hear the pounding, I ignore it, partly because I slept poorly last night, and partly because I don't want to move anymore. I drift in the comfort of oblivious sleep, dark and safe. "Peeta you're naked!" This grabs my attention, because I know it's Katniss, even before I sit up, rubbing my eyes to clear my vision. She faces the door, her neck pink on her olive skin. One of my legs dangles out of the sheet, giving away the fact I'm in my birthday suit, but my package and other leg is covered with my blanket. "Sorry," I say. "Just stay turned around, I'll get my clothes on." "What are you doing sleeping nude, anyway?" "How do you know this isn't how I usually sleep?" I untangle myself from the sheets and stand up, wondering where Rosalia had flung my clothes. "Well, you didn't before," Katniss says. I find my boxers and pants. "You've only woken me up twice. Those might have been flukes, you know. Cold nights." "Well, whatever. Either don't sleep in the buff or don't make me come in to wake you up when you do." I laugh as I zip up my pants. It's just like when she was cleaning my leg and clothes in the Games. I didn't get why it was such a big deal to her, but I thought it was sort of…adorable. She's maintained more purity than most people. Or maybe I really disgust her. The thought makes me sigh. It's not as if I expected her to jump into bed seeing me laying there, but still, nothing important had been showing. "What is it?" Katniss turns her head a bit to the side, still flushed with…what? Embarrassment? Innocence? But when she notices I have my pants on, she turns her body. I snatch my shirt up and put it on. Could I tell her that last night I had ached so much for it to be her with me, that still these few feet between us made me hurt more than any imagined abuse? I opened my mouth, but my throat tightened. "What?" She asks.

"I'm just…I'm…not feeling well." Close enough to the truth. "Is it your head? I knew Prim must have missed something when she said the fall didn't do any harm. You've been acting strange ever since the bakery." "It's not that," I say. "Then what?" Before I throw myself onto my knees and hug her, squeeze myself to her stomach, I manage a imagine what would happen if I tell her. She refuses me again, and the friendship we've built crumbles into awkward ruins. Every time I kiss Rosalia, Katniss will know I've settled for second-best. "Don't you ever get sick of this place?" I ask instead. "The same stupid jobs, the same stupid meals, the same stupid rooms? Don't you ever want to do something different?" "Yes," she says. "Do you ever do it?" "Thirteen gives everyone one sick day without needing a doctor to excuse you. I always play hookie with the day they give me." Katniss's eyes smile. I grin and fall back onto my bed, tucking my hands under my head. "Give me my sick day." "You won't be able to do much, being a prisoner and all." "Will you be able to stay with me?" I ask. More than Katniss's eyes betray her this time. The corners of her mouth twitch upward. "I'm your guard. I have to go wherever you do." "Then we're doing it." She nods. "Just let me report to the bakery you'll be down today, and I'll get our breakfasts." I groan. "We still have to eat their crap?" "Being sick will only get you so far." After about twenty minutes, she returns with our stomach-churning breakfast. I cross my legs and she sits on the bed with me, and we eat together.

"You mentioned earlier that you didn't believe Prim when she said I didn't have a head injury," I say as I swirl my breakfast around. "Do you two usually talk about me?" Katniss shakes her head violently. "Oh, no. No. I just said to her that something must have gotten knocked around because you'd seemed off yesterday. She told me it wasn't your head." Great. Talking about me isn't a topic of conversation for them. Not being talked of implied not being thought of, either. Then Katniss continues, "Prim gave herself a hard time for even letting that slip." "What do you mean?" "Patient-doctor confidentiality," Katniss says. "Prim isn't allowed to say anything about her patients. If I hadn't been there for your first check-in, I wouldn't know anything about what happened to you." Well, maybe there is hope that I'm being talked about after all. "Do you think the Capitol did this to me?" I ask. "Who else would have done it? And how else could you hate the rebellion?" "Make me hate you, my friend?" She nods and doesn't correct me. I hadn't missed a piece of my memory. We'd never been more than friends. "Do you still love them? The Capitol?" I consider my answer. I don't, but if I tell her how much I hate them, what will happen? Rosalia will never switch sides. She's all I have left. My family's gone, and Katniss will never make a life with me, not like I've dreamed of it. With Rose, I can have it. Wife, kids. All she wants is someone who's loyal to the Capitol. I'll lose her if I change colors. Then I'll have nobody. And with how bent President White seems to be on reproducing, I doubt the rebellion would kill me, who could father several children. "I don't support what they do," I say. "But I don't think war's the answer. I don't want any part in it." "They're not just going to stop because we ask. They'd have a riot from their own citizens if their lives changed because of our demands. They won't change until we've won." "I'm just tired of it…all the killing." Katniss whispers, "So am I."

We stare at each other for a long time. I want to kiss her, but I know how that would ruin everything, so I keep back and end up pushing away a bowl half-full of the mush. "I'm sick. Can't keep it down," I say. Katniss laughs and takes our dishes back to the washroom. When she comes back, one of my drawings crinkles under her foot as she steps on it. I lean forward off the bed when she picks that up. The back side is blank, which means it isn't the one of Rosalia and all the fruits and flowers. It's the one of her. "You drew me." A layer of happiness coats her voice. "Uh, yeah. I wanted to try something different, and um, you know, we spend a lot of time together since you're my guard and I could remember what you look like." Her fingers trace over the sketch. I clear my throat. "I have another one of Rosalia. Do you want to look at that?" The light on her face dims. I get out of bed and scramble underneath it until I find the drawing of my fiancé. I hold it out for Katniss to see, but she doesn't take it. "It's good," she says. Katniss bends her head to look at the drawing of herself again, then stretches out her arm to give it back to me. "Do you like it?" I ask. "Yes." "Then keep it." She hesitates, but drops her arm. "Wait, give it back," I say, an idea coming to me. Katniss seems reluctant to give it. I snatch it from her, retrieve a pencil, and put the paper against the wall so the back side faces me. "Give me someone to draw," I say. She takes a few steps closer. "Prim."

I do quick strokes, not bothering to make it clean. I draw Prim as I know her now: a slim woman with her hair in a ponytail all the time, dressed in a white coat. I add a syringe with a needle in her hand. When I pull back, I realize Katniss had scooted closer to me, and I almost back into her. She smiles. "That's good." "Who else?" "Haymitch." I draw Haymitch like I remember him from before: disheveled, drunk, and overweight. Katniss laughs at his. "That's how I'll always think of him," she says. We go through and do Delly and Bron as well. I draw little hearts around Delly as she stares at Bron. "We ran out of room," I say. "Do we have more paper?" Katniss asks. "Yeah. Under the bed." She crotches down to get them, and when she returns we trade. "Who now?" I ask. "Do me." I decide to keep the caricature-like illustrations I'd done of the others, and sketch out Katniss with her unreadable face, braid, and bow and arrows. I tilt my head away when I'm finished so she can look at it. "What do you think?" I ask. "Accurate." But she doesn't sound happy. Not like when she found my other drawing of her. "Do you want me to draw anyone else?" I'd noticed she hadn't asked for Gale yet, and wondered if she meant to or if they were in some sort of silent fight. "Rosalia." I startle with surprise. "You don't like her." "No, but I see her every day and so do you."

I let out a breath and hold my pencil to the paper, but it takes me a few moments before I start sketching. I draw Rosalia as she is now, no make-up, her roots growing in. But her face holds a strong possession over me, an intensity hard to break free from. With a final stroke to her hips, I hand it to Katniss. She observes it, then hands it back. "Well? What do you think?" I ask. "She does look at you like that," Katniss says. "Like what?" She swallows. "Like there's no one else in the room. No one else in the world." I gaze at my paper and graphite Rosalia, eyes all for me, and Katniss, cold and distant. I run my thumb over it and smudge the pencil. "Guess that's what happens when you're in love." In the afternoon, after lunch, Katniss brings back a ball. We play a game where we throw it at one wall, and the other has to catch it before it hits the ground after hitting the wall. We try to trick each other by throwing softly or hard, in a corner or down low. An hour into the game, Haymitch unlocks the door, and the ball hits a few inches from his face. "What are you two doing? I thought Peeta's sick." Katniss and I stare at each other, smiles creeping up both our faces. I shrug. "I got better." Katniss sniggers, and my serious face falls apart, and we both double over in laughter. "Well whatever you're doing," Haymitch says, then grins. "Keep it up." But once he leaves, Katniss falls back onto my bed, still holding her side, happier than I've seen her since coming to Thirteen. I imagine going over to her, stroking her hair, and letting ourselves get caught up in each other… Ugh. I'm not used to holding back. With Rosalia, everything is do and any idea that comes into my head about her, she'd have no problem with carrying out. But I can't even imagine the most innocent of kisses with Katniss that will come true. I sit down on the floor against the bed, near her face. A strange sense of déjà vu comes over me. "We've done this before, haven't we?" I ask. "Just…doing nothing together."

"A few times," Katniss says. "When we weren't planning a rebellion or training for the Quell, we did have our moments." "I wish it could always be like this," I whisper, leaning my head back against the mattress. Katniss gives the tiniest smile of satisfaction. Katniss has to go and hunt, so I agree to go to therapy. Prim plays President Snow's announcement of the third Quarter Quell, and then Opening Ceremonies to the Seventy-Fifth Games, with Katniss and I in our glowing coal suits, hands linked together and faces cold to the audience. We had no love for them. The evening and dinner we stay in my room, too, so there's no Rosalia in my day at all. But our day of hookie has to end, and the drudgery of every other day comes smacking into me the next day. Until Rosalia sets down her tray of food and instead of kissing me, slaps me in the face. I hold my stinging face. Did she find out I'm in love with Katniss? Crap, oh crap, what gave it away? "What was that for?" I ask. "You spent all day with her." Rosalia points at Katniss, irritation clear on her face. "She's my guard, I can't help that." "All day with her in your room. I saw her yesterday when she was getting your dinner. She practically threw it in my face that you're cheating on me with her!" Rosalia's voice goes shrill. "I was sick, did she tell you that?" It was kind of the truth. Well, the lie we were going with. Rosalia's angry face slips a little bit. "No." "Well, I was. She was making sure I didn't die. Absolutely nothing like that happened. It couldn't." She slips her handcuffed hands over my neck and squeezes me tight. "Oh, my poor baby. I didn't know! I thought you were…because I didn't want to talk and I…oh, Peeta, I'm so sorry." She kisses my cheek where she slapped me, over and over. I move my mouth and kiss her on the lips. I pull back sooner than she'd like, and say, "You know I'd never cheat on you, don't you Rose?" That much I could promise her. Two-timers always disgusted me, and besides, Katniss would have to be willing, which she isn't.

Rosalia blinks back tears. "Yes, I'm sorry. I do love you Peeta, that's why I'm so crazy jealous when I think of someone else with you." "I love you, too, but you have to trust me." And trust that Katniss will never feel the same about me. But I don't tell her that.

 

Chapter Fourteen My hell has six rings. The first: Not knowing exactly when or how the war will start. More and more people grow restless. I spin out more cakes in the bakery for couples rushing to marry, and a few days Haymitch opens up my cell door instead of Katniss, who gets called away to do…something. I don't see Gale at all after I make his wedding cake. The war's coming. But I don't know when or how or what repercussions will come into my life. I have several friends in the Capitol who, despite everything, I still call friends. My enemies in that worldly city lay in the government, but the rest are blameless. They don't know better, and I worry about how far the attacks will go and how much destruction the world will face. The second: I want Katniss Everdeen. More than I want a Capitol meal or to be free. At night, I imagine kissing her, having her pressed to me, our breathing together. Then, when I drop my gaze from hers or Rosalia nestles into me at meals, I know it can never ever happen again. In the past, I held and kissed her because we had to act that way. With the impending war and my recent actions, no one expects it from us, and I have no excuse or permission. Which brings me to: The third: I still love Rosalia. I never understood it, to love two people at once. She's still the one who saved me from loneliness, who thinks of me, who makes me laugh. And every time I wish for Katniss in my arms, I hate myself. I hate that I still love Katniss, when Rose and I are in love. Our relationship goes both ways, while my feelings for Katniss only goes one way. It's unfair of me to want Katniss while I still have Rosalia. But what can I do? Take back the ring and leave Rose without anyone in this place? Alone and in the heart of the enemy? The fourth: The food in Thirteen only gets worse. It's the same every day, and wasn't that great-tasting to start with. It's worthy of its own circle. The fifth: I've had bad nightmares for years. But now they accompany every night and each time they grow worse. In them, everyone I know dies. Rosalia, Katniss, Delly, Prim, Bron, Haymitch, Gale, Caesar Flickerman, Finnick and Annie, my friends from the Capitol. I scream and run through smoking ruins of the Capitol, the only soul alive. Bodies, bloody and broken, pile up on top of each other, a mess of limbs and torsos and heads. With the recurrence of this nightmare, I welcome the dream of running through the jungle, trying to find her, but being unsuccessful. The sixth: I don't know which flag to set my loyalty to. Right now everyone thinks I still support the Capitol. In a therapy, I told Prim I didn't like the Capitol, which made her smile and think I favor the rebellion. I then had to explain to her I didn't like either. I didn't want war or death. But here, there's no middle ground. And as I watch Thirteen prepare for their attack, I know that the line I'm straddling will grow thinner and thinner until I can no longer stand on it, and I'll fall to one side or the other.

For the past two weeks, though, I have enough to stand in the middle. I maintain my routine while the rest of Thirteen changes. Bron has to leave to train for the army, and Delly falls into the deepest sadness I've ever seen her in before. "Come on, Del, it's not as if you won't see him again," I say. A young boy, about thirteen years old, has taken Bron's spot on our team and Delly leads us now. "You can't say that, a war's going to happen," Delly says, blinking back tears. "I might not see him ever again, or talk to him, or…oh I can't even say we might never kiss again because we haven't before." "Then why not do it?" I ask. "Go up and tell him how you feel." The blood rises in her cheeks immediately, making her face turn red. "Oh, I couldn't do that. He doesn't like me." "And how do you know? You won't until you ask." Delly squishes the dough, sighing. In therapy, I review the tapes from the training and pre-Games festivities, as well as the first day of the Quell with Prim. With her listening, I reason that Katniss had been so upset at my heart stopping because she wanted me to live for the rebellion. She thought without my words, they'd never convince the other districts to join. My useful skill was lost, and perhaps with it, the rebellion. A cause she believed in so much, she'd dedicate the next six years of her life to it. "Peeta, don't you think that after everything you and Katniss went through together, a part of her was crying because she thought she had lost you?" Prim asks. I curl a loose thread at the hem of my shirt around my finger. "A part of her. We were friends, and I'm sad at the thought of all of friends lost in District 12, my friends in the Capitol who might die." "Friends. You and Katniss are friends? That's it?" I nod. Prim sometimes tries to convince me otherwise, but I know the truth. All we were, all we are, and all we'll ever be is friends. I watch the second day in the arena over the next few days, from the fog, the monkey attacks, Wiress's death, our realization of the arena being a clock, and the jabberjay attacks on Katniss and Finnick. All of it, every bloody moment. With only two hours to watch a day, it stretches out even with editing. Unlike the first Games, there's no rest for us. We're always fighting and figuring things out.

Over two weeks since my realization of my past, something different happens on screen. It's Katniss and I, sitting on the beach together at night, and the sight isn't anything unique. But it's different. This conversation of ours, it isn't for others. I don't mention the fake baby as I attempt to convince her to live, as we're both bent on keeping the other alive. For her, I'm a key to the rebellion. For me, I can't stand the thought of living with Katniss dead. "No one really needs me," I say as Katniss looks up from the locket I gave her with pictures of her family and Gale. Her voice thickens. "I do. I need you." I take in a deep breath, but she doesn't let me finish. Instead, she kisses me. I think this tactic isn't very fair, kissing me when I think my death's fast approaching. She's just manipulating me, making sure I don't use my words and her love for the people she left behind. Then I notice how she kisses me. I try to pull back, to talk, but she doesn't let me. She holds me fast to her, arms around my neck and fingers buried in my hair. She pursues me, pushing her lips into mine, drinking it in with eagerness I've never seen her kiss me with before. I close my eyes, and the memory of this comes back. I remember her sudden passion, and lapping up as much as I could, every part of me swelling with how much I loved her, how much I ached for her survival. Either way, I'd come out of the Quell dead, but I wanted to die knowing she was safe. My eyes remaining closed, I listen to the TV and revisit this in my mind. Lightning strikes; Katniss and I pull away. While her eyes wander to the place where everyone else sleeps, I don't want to let any of my attention drift away from her. Finnick comes up to us. "I can't sleep anymore. One of you should rest. Or both of you. I can watch alone." "It's too dangerous," I say. "I'm not tired. You lie down, Katniss." Her hand in mine, I walk with her back to where the rest sleep. I pause, not ready to let her go yet. I take in her face, from the hair fringing her frame, to her eyes, to her lips. When I die, I want to remember her like this, beautiful and loving. On impulse, I put my hand to her stomach, not imagining the lie of a child I told the world was in there, but the potential child. The one from another man, probably Gale, with a smiling face and hope for his life. "You're going to make a great mother, you know," I say. I give her a kiss, and then walk away, back to the sea with the moon striking across it. I'm ready to die now.

The room goes silent, and I open my eyes. Prim cocks her head to the side, squinting like I'm a complicated puzzle. "You closed your eyes." "I was remembering it. Not what it looked like from the TV. What it looked like, felt like, while I lived it." "What do you remember?" "I was ready to die for her. Do anything for her." This feeling isn't new to me, I've been willing to die for Rosalia since we were captured, but had Katniss died in the Quell, it felt as if my life would have ended. That nothing worse could happen to me. Had I ever felt that strongly toward Rosalia? Perhaps, yes, in the beginning. But since then my world's grown so much. Despite my friends, she was the only person I loved in the Capitol. Then I found Delly alive, and my love for Katniss. I've even grown to love Prim and, in a strange way, even Haymitch. "Anything else?" I shake my head. "Not much I can recall." "You closed your eyes when you saw Katniss kissing you. Not because you wanted to forget that kiss then, but remember it?" Prim tries to hold back a smirk. "It was a nice kiss," I say. "Nice? You call that kiss nice? She could have gotten pregnant from that kiss." "She was already pregnant." Prim sighs, tapping her pen against her clipboard. "How do you think Katniss felt about that kiss?" "Like she was saying good-bye to a good friend and trying to keep him alive." That's all it had to mean. Prim leans in closer to me. "I'm her sister, and I know her pretty well. I think at this point, you know her better." "What do you want me to say?" I ask, my volume growing. "That Katniss enjoyed it? That it uncovers a truth that she loves me? Fine, maybe. But that was six years ago and a lot of things have happened since then. I'm engaged, for one thing. And second, your sister has had six years to get over me, forget about me, and a lot of reason to come to the conclusion I'm a lunatic and she's better off without me." Prim nods and scribbles.

My stomach sinks with what I've said and its truth. Katniss said "I need you" to me that night, but she didn't. If I'd been the one taken in by the rebels instead of her, I would've gone to any length to rescue her from the Capitol. It took Katniss six years, and even then it was a group rescue. When Katniss comes to get me, I don't say much to her. During reflection hour, I mostly sulk laying on my back on my bed. If Katniss and I had both been rescued in the Quell, what would have happened? Would that scene on the beach, with our devotion to each other and our desire-filled kiss, have become part of our lives? Would our forced engagement become willing, and the false child replaced with a true one? That's what kills me the most. It could have been, but it never will. I mull over this toward the end of the hour. Could it never happen? I saw with my eyes today that something had lit inside of Katniss six years ago. It might take a while, but maybe with some time… I flip onto my stomach and groan into my flat pillow. I'm contemplating wooing a woman while I'm engaged to another one. I can't do this. I can't become one of those jerks who cheats. Even if I don't kiss Katniss until I take the ring back, I'm having wrong motives now. But how can I break up with Rose when I'm all she has left, and I run the chance of Katniss laughing in my face, or hitting me? In my six circles of hell, only one grows dimmer. I can't declare myself a rebel, because if I do, I won't be a prisoner and Katniss will have no reason to stay around me. While this builds upon my desire for her, and my guilt toward Rosalia, it's the simplest way to weaken one of my circles. At dinner, Rosalia smiles when she sees me, wider than usual in this gloomy, grey place that's sucked out so much of her life. She kisses me before she even sits down. When she does take her seat, she ignores her food and instead takes her mouth to my throat. Katniss keeps her eyes on her food, her jaw clenched. Rosalia travels up to my ear and whispers, "Today I cleaned the communication station. The people there went on break when I cleaned, and I spilled some of the cleaner so my guard had to get more water to dilute it and towels to mop it up. While they were gone I sent a message, to the Capitol. They know we're here and they're coming." My gut jerked. If the Capitol knew where we were, they knew Thirteen was alive and perhaps even knew they were ready to rebel. I turned my head, kissed Rosalia a few times before whispering, "How long ago?" She leans her forehead against my hair and says, "An hour and a half. After dinner, get away from your guard and meet me in the hanger. We'll escape together." I pull back and shake my head. "We can't. Don't you think if there was a way to escape, we would have found it by now? We're trapped here."

Rosalia bobbles her head around, but the only people to notice what's happened is Katniss and Rosalia's eversilent guard. "Peeta, what are you two talking about?" Katniss asks. Rosalia warns me with her look. Tell her and we're dead. But I don't care to escape anymore. "Rosalia came into contact with the Capitol today," I say. "They know we're here." Her hands curl into balls and her face puffs with anger. "What? How?" "The communication station," I say. "She was cleaning it today…I don't know much, just what she told me." Katniss stands. She turns to Rose's guard. "You. Take Peeta to his cell. I'll take Rosalia to President White, and this will get settled." Rosalia's guard takes me back, her face as if she's about to throw up. No doubt she's recalling what she did, how she shouldn't have left Rosalia alone. For the next twenty minutes, I pace in my cell. Would they hurt Rose? I don't want that, I never wanted that, but the Capitol won't take this opportunity to send Thirteen flowers. Many more people could be hurt. Did Rosalia hate it here so much, she's willing to see everyone dead? And what if we couldn't escape and they attacked? We would have died here as well. Then the alarms go off, loud and shrilling so I have to cover my ears. I can't escape, and obviously something's wrong. They wouldn't just leave me here, would they? Katniss wouldn't. I hope she wouldn't. I'm relieved when Katniss opens my door, both to not be forgotten and that she's the one who remembered me. "Come on," she says. Katniss, instead of holding onto my upper arm like she usually does, takes one of my cuffed hands in hers. She leads me through the halls, with people filing down like they do this every day. I'll give Thirteen one thing, they know how to keep people from panicking. We march down a ramp, and once we get so far down we could dig for coal, people start branching off. Katniss leads me into a big cavern where our schedules stamped on our arms are scanned, accounting for everyone. Letters hover above different areas, in alphabetical order. We head toward E.

"You'll be staying with me," Katniss says. "I don't think there's a place for prisoners, and I'm your guard. I'm supposed to care for you." "Care for me. Not generally what you think about guards," I say. "But you do seem the exception." Prim and Mrs. Everdeen meet us. They already have packs, but they only got three, so Prim goes back to get me one. We all sit down together while large steel doors come down and lock us into the cavern. So this is what it must have been like, then, during the first bomb attack. I hope they can survive this one, too. "What's going on, Katniss?" Mrs. Everdeen asks. "We know this is Level 5, but why? What's going on?" Katniss measures me, her eyebrows heavy. She says, "We have reason to suspect the Capitol will be bombing us. They wanted us dead before, and now they've found out we're alive." "How?" Prim asks. "Rosalia Snow. She was left alone in the communication station and sent out a message to the Capitol that she and Peeta are trapped in Thirteen. We checked the records, it was received." "Then our plans to surprise attack…they've failed," Prim says. Katniss shakes her head. "Not all of them. President White has activated the Districts to overthrow the Peacekeepers. All of them." She pauses. "The war starts tonight."

Chapter Fifteen Within hours, the attacks start. Although Katniss promises me no one will get hurt as long as they stay in the shelter, I can't believe it. The walls tremble and vibrations shiver up into my core. I sit handcuffed on the floor of the Everdeen's tent, sick and worried. "I can't believe she did this," I whisper. "Really? You can't believe it?" Katniss frowns. Would I have done this weeks and weeks ago, before I found out the truth, before I became friends with these people here? Yes. I would have. Rosalia still sees Thirteen as the enemy, the way I saw it when I first came here. She thought this would save her, set right what went awry that night on the rooftop garden. "I guess…I guess I can believe it." The walls rumble with the impact of another bomb. "You sure picked a real winner, Peeta." Katniss draws her knees up to her chest and continues scowling. "She's not…she's—" "Are you defending her?" "I'm not approving of what she did, but she's not a mutt like you're trying to make her out to be." She makes a disgusted sound from deep in her throat. "Not a mutt? She has mutt in her blood from her grandfather, from the Capitol. And she proved that she has it by letting them know about us!" "She's a prisoner! She's scared! She's been taken from her home, her life turned upside down, and she wants to go back to the way things were before. That's why she told them about us. Don't act like you wouldn't do the same if the Capitol captured you." Katniss stiffens. "No, I wouldn't. Because the Capitol would brainwash me before I even got the chance, and they'd make me believe in things I didn't." Her words sting like a slap on the face. She thinks I'm still a puppet for the Capitol. And why would she think any differently? I'm still handcuffed as a prisoner and defending Rosalia. I haven't told her that I remember anything about the past, even the slightest recognition that I loved her.

"I'm not saying what she did was right. I'm just trying to look at it from her shoes. If I thought it was right, I never would have warned you." She drops her gaze from mine and runs her fingers over the metal floor. I sigh. It feels like we'll never be able to understand each other about this. "Do you want to go to bed soon?" she asks. "I can make up your bed." I shake my head. "I won't be able to sleep through the attack." "Me either." "Stay with me?" I ask her. She jerks her head up at me, eyes round. "You remember?" "Remember what?" I have no idea, but suddenly, I wish I did. She droops again. "Never mind."

The bombs continue through the night. President White issues one week in the shelter, allowing for the debris to cool and the Capitol to believe we didn't survive the bombs. After that, we'll head out for refuge. When the bombs cease, I sleep for the first time in over twenty-four hours, so exhausted I probably could sleep through another attack. I wake up a few hours later, not ready to get out of bed and deal with our situation. I keep my eyes closed, but I notice two people talking in the Everdeens' area. Katniss and Gale. "Eleven will be able to get us food once we get to Twelve," Gale says. "The Capitol will try to rein them in first, though. They'll die without Eleven supplying them," Katniss says. "They're not stupid. Ever since you won and the small rebellions started, the Capitol has stocked up on food. They have a year's worth of it. Not exactly the extent of Thirteen's planning, but still good considering." "I can't imagine those precious Capitol people eating canned food." Katniss's tone leaks acid. "Woah, I thought I'm the one who gets to rag on the rich people, while you remind me of your precious prep team and that Effie woman."

"Just because there are some good but confused people in the Capitol doesn't mean they won't complain about their food. And not all of them are so great, either." I count two breaths. "What?" Katniss asks. "You really hate Rosalia Snow." "Don't you?" "Yeah, but I think our reasons are probably different." "Gale, she blew our cover, almost got us killed." "Besides One and Two, all of the rebellions succeeded and none of us are dead. And anyway, did you expect anything else from her? She's an idiot." "I don't trust her, and I don't think she's completely an idiot. Peeta…he acts like he's still in love with her, defending what she did. What did she do to him to make him think like that? Why would he love her, even after all of this?" Did I still love her? A little, I guess. A small piece of me held onto what she'd been to me before, a refuge for the loneliness and pain, someone to make me forget about it all. But we'd grown to apart now, our goals too dissimilar. "She is beautiful," Gale says. After a moment, he continues, "Well, she is. If you get past her freaky hair, she has a great body, and her face isn't too bad either. Huge lips and big eyes." "But after everything she did. She can't be that beautiful." "Look, I can tell you more about what I know as far as the rebellion goes, or we can keep going on about your hatred and Peeta's love for this girl." "Fine. What else is important?" "Like I said before, One and Two are still firm in the Capitol's hold. They're sending out back-ups to the other districts from them, because we never had a strong hold of the rebellion there, anyway." "But Lyme knows Two," Katniss says. "She does, which is why we had to break her out of the Capitol. Still, she can't do it alone."

"One shouldn't be hard to break, should it?" "They've been taking up more kids to train as Careers. They practically have their own army now." "We have all but those two districts. We're going to win, aren't we?" "We should," Gale says. "But Two will be difficult to crack, and without doing so, we'll never be able to get to the Capitol. They could reassemble and take back the districts again. Just because we're winning now doesn't mean we will be in a few months." "We've been going so long with this. I just want it to be over." "I know." Gale's voice is so understanding, even nurturing, that I can't lay down low anymore. I open my eyes and sit up in bed. Katniss and Gale sit a foot apart, not touching. I rub my eyes, remembering that Gale's married and Katniss told me she didn't love him more than a friend. I shouldn't worry about them. But I still do, a little bit. "Good morning. Or afternoon. Nighttime?" I say, uncertain here underground and without my schedule what time it is. Gale checks his watch. "Afternoon." "Here, I'll get you some food," Katniss says, standing up to get it. While I eat, Katniss and Gale don't say anything else to each other, probably because I'm not supposed to know much, in case I spill their secrets to the Capitol in some way. There's not much to do in the shelter. Most people wander around, visit other people. Delly comes to see us, her cheeks a little flushed. "I did it," she says once she sits down, but still straight with excitement. "I told Bron how I felt." "And…?" She smiles and lets out a giggle. "He kissed me." I have to admit, I'm shocked. Bron had seemed so distant, I didn't expect him to react so immediately to Delly's declaration. I grin, though, at seeing Delly finally getting what she's deserved for so long. "What did he say?" I ask.

"That he's liked me for a long time, but he didn't say anything because he knew the war would be happening, and if he died or got hurt, he didn't want me to hurt, either. But once I let him know I was already crazy about him…well, why not enjoy what we have now, right?" "I told you to just tell him." Delly nods. "I think it was the bombs that really made me do it. We all might die any day now. Might as well live while we can." Other people come to visit, mostly for Katniss and Prim. Quite a few young men come for Prim, actually. They all pay her close attention, but most of the time her answers are polite, and not interested. Katniss keeps a close eye on those boys and looms into their conversations to intimidate them. I think she might be doing it to help out Prim, but the way she glares at those boys might prove she has a different motive. After the fourth day, Katniss asks me, with a sour look on her face, if I want to see Rosalia. "No," I say. "I'm not ready." And I'm not. I know what I'm going to do when I see her next. I'm going to take back the ring, once and for all. Not because of Katniss. I still doubt Katniss cares for me more than she cares for Gale. I'm going to break up with her because it's what the both of us need. I don't love her enough anymore. And if she lives through this war, she deserves for someone to love her like I used to. But I'm not relishing going to her and telling her we're done, watching her heart break in front of me and her sobbing. She'll get over me, although it might take a while. And she will find someone else to love her and marry her. As I fall asleep that night with Katniss's pallet beside mine, I wonder if I'll ever stop loving Katniss like I've stopped loving Rosalia. If I'll move on and fall in love with someone else. Or will my childhood dream always follow me, always come back to me, no matter what brainwashing it goes through? There, on the border of day and night, I realize what Katniss thought I remembered. "Always." This, my whole romantic life, has been made up of two things. Roses and pearls. Rosalia's love had been a sudden bloom in my life, fragrant and entrancing. A beautiful sight to brighten up a gloomy day. But like all flowers, hers wilted, lost its scent, and died. A brief love affair, considering the whole of my life. But Katniss was no rose. My love for her started out small, a few speckles of sand. Irritating, a little, with my frustration of being unable to talk to her and her closed nature. But still, I rubbed at it like an oyster. And

through it all, the bread, the Games, even this hellhole in Thirteen, my love had transformed into the pearl. Beautiful, rare, and lasting. Something I'll always treasure.

Chapter Sixteen A week after the bombs, Thirteen packs everything together to make the week's journey to District 12. Sure, it's bombed, but the trains can still get there, which means there'll be food from Eleven. Because I'm with Katniss and she's a soldier, I march out (in handcuffs, of course) with the squad of soldiers at the front to make sure the Capitol doesn't attack us. The civilians (or the closest Thirteen has to civilians) will walk next, then the rest of the soldiers will bring up and protect the rear. For the first time in two months, I walk underneath the sun and breathe in fresh air. The ground still smokes from the bombs, but it isn't too hot. The earth has turned black and full of holes, everything shattered and in pieces. To make sure I don't run off, Katniss has a length of rope and ties the ends to both our belt loops. I can only go a few feet away from her. It's rudimentary, and with another prisoner it might cause trouble. But really, me, run from Katniss? Not anymore. Rosalia's being guarded by someone in the back of the group. I saw her this morning in passing, the first time since the bombs went off. When she noticed me, her features became of loss, anger, and betrayal. I ducked away fast after that. We crunch through the debris and then with a deep breath, go into the woods. The soldiers don't walk close together; there's at least ten feet between us and the closest soldier. Katniss has a gun out, ready, and I'm tied to her left side so grabbing her gun is less likely. It amuses me that they take all this precaution against me, when I won't do anything to hurt them, least of all Katniss. "Are you ready for it?" I ask. She gives me a sidewise glance. "What?" "Going back to District 12," I say. "I've always wanted to go back. But now I'm a little nervous." "Why didn't you go back?" I step on a twig, making her jump. She lets out a calming breath. "Too risky. The Capitol thought we were dead. If they caught any sign of someone going back to Twelve, it would have sent the bombs back to us before we could get things settled." "Is that why it took you so long to get me?"

A flicker of pain across her features. She nods. We crunch across the first sprinkling of dead leaves the autumn has to offer. At least with the season turning it isn't too warm, although I bet Katniss is hot under all of the equipment and protection. I still just have on my prison clothes. Because if a bullet kills me, who cares, right? I take in Katniss's uniform, which is black, elegant, and stylish. Not at all the same baggy, dragging clothes everyone else is in. "Why are you dressed in that?" I ask. She shifts in the uniform, rolling her shoulders. "I'm the Mockingjay. It's supposed to empower me or something. Make me a leader. I probably would have protested, but Cinna made it for me." She tries to hide, but I recognize the pain. She always masks that emotion the most, so that's when I know she feels it. "He always helped," I say. "I—I heard reports he'd been killed." She swallows. "Do you know anything?" "No, I'm sorry." We continue on. Lunch is a quick affair, no more than ten minutes to get the food down. We have to keep up walking to keep pace and get to Twelve in time. After lunch, the woods seem to get denser, although the trees are thinner. None of them are too old, there's just a lot of them. "So what have you guys been doing the past six years?" I ask. Somehow, walking with their army, I feel more a part of them, like I have the right to know. "Surviving. Most of the time we were keeping our heads up above water. The past two years is when we've worked more intensely on the rebellion. Starting up groups in the districts. Getting and making weapons, finding ways to distribute them. Planning everything, preparing for every possible situation." "And…was I in this plan?" I ask. This is the question I've dreaded. Katniss didn't rescue me until years later. Was taking me something she decided to do on her own, or something they had to do? I know better than to hope for her to love me, but I want even the slightest feeling that she cares.

"Lyme and Electra were who the plan demanded we retrieve," Katniss says. "Lyme has extensive military knowledge, as well as information on Two. Beetee's been worn out with all of the technological work, and that's why we wanted Electra. You and Annie were something Gale and I decided to do on our own." I scuffle across the forest floor, hiding my smile. It was better than I'd hoped. Finnick loved Annie, that's why they got her. My rescue was the same mission as that. One stemming from love rather than usefulness. "Sorry I've made everything so difficult," I say. Katniss laughs. "You bet you do." "Anything I can do to make it up to you?" "Just stop doing it. Stop making me so worried about you." I open my mouth, unsure yet if I should tell her how I feel, what I've remembered. This could just be our friendship still. But what if it was something more? A crack rings through the wood, the sound of a gun going off. Katniss grabs at the rope and we slam into the nearest tree. Only this tree and the trees around it aren't thick enough for both of us to hide behind, so I'm smushed between Katniss and the tree. More gunfire goes off. Katniss peeks her head out and then brings it back in. "The Capitol. Damn," she says. A bullet slices through the air and almost hits Katniss in the head. My stomach rolls. She looks at the rope between us and the next closest tree. Not close enough. We can't both hide behind the same tree, either. She unties us and leaps to the next tree. Gunfire goes off all around. I have no idea what's going on. I just try to keep behind the tree, which is difficult because of how thin it is. Katniss kneels and aims her gun, letting the bullets fly. Around us, other soldiers do the same, although we're so spread out, it feels as if it's only Katniss and I. Then, there's a sharp stinging on my upper arm. I grab it, crying in pain, and my hand comes back bloody. "Peeta!" Katniss shrieks. I turn to her horrified face, staring at my wet, red hand. A voice comes from ahead of us. "Peeta?" A man calls. I don't answer. "Peeta, if you can make it over here, we can take you back to the Capitol. You can go home."

The Capitol. Home. I want to laugh, but the pain in my arm makes it impossible. Katniss holds her gun up again and shoots, but nothing comes out. She curses and fumbles to refill her bullets. I'm untied from her. She can't shoot me. I could go back to the Capitol. Weeks ago, I would have jumped at this opportunity to escape. But I remain where I am. A hovercraft whirrs down a few feet ahead, then leaves again. When the sound fades, the bullets stop, too. I've slumped against the tree, feeling lightheaded as I press my fingers to my wound. Katniss swims in front of me, crouched and peeling my fingers back to look at the wound. She presses a hand to her mouth. "Never were one for blood," I say. "This…I can't. We need a doctor." Katniss touches something at her ear, then talks. "We have an injured man here, shot to the arm. We need medical assistance now." She digs through her bag and retrieves some bandages and presses them to both sides of my arm, since the bullet went through. The pain dulls, or maybe it's just from Katniss being around. "You could have left," Katniss says. "Why didn't you?" "You're not getting rid of me that easily." I give a weak smile. She's not in the mood for kidding. "Was it for Rosalia?" I could do it. I could tell her I'm over Rosalia, and I could never leave her. That I've remembered, and I love her. So many words that I have to consider before saying them, if I even want to admit it now. Prim runs up to us, pulling off her medic kit and crouching down near my injured arm. "I've got him now," Prim says. Katniss nods and lets go of my injury, but doesn't seem ready to leave, either. She sits back on her heels, keeping a watch on me. Prim dabs a cloth with alcohol and pats down on the open flesh. And the pain opens up again. I bite back a scream, turning my gaze away from the source of the pain. Katniss grabs my left hand, the one attached to the good arm. I squeeze out the pain, giving her some of it in return. "It missed your bone," Prim says. "That's good." I grunt in reply. Katniss keeps her hand in mine as Prim takes out a needle and starts stitching everything together. But it still hurts. I almost want to drink the alcohol she has to ebb away the stabbing.

"Tell me a story," I say to Katniss. "Something to get my mind off of this." "I—I don't know what to say." The needle stabs me again. "Anything." She bites her lip, thinks for a moment, then says, "When we were sixteen, just before the Hunger Games, our school had a sport tournament. For a whole day we had to either participate in a sport or watch them. Gale and I never saw the point in participating. We needed to save our energy for hunting. Gale wanted to watch the footraces, but I talked him into watching the wrestling. I never told him or anyone else until now that I went because I wanted to watch you. I could never bring myself to ever thank you for the bread, but I noticed you after that, and I wanted to cheer for you. "You kept on winning match after match. You were strong, and you knew how to attack and defend yourself. You came to the final match, which was against your brother. It was a tight, but you two knew each other well, and he had the advantage of age and size. You didn't care that he won, though, you kept smiling and congratulating him. It never mattered to you if you won first, when the person ahead of you was someone you cared about." I barely notice Prim sewing me back up as Katniss tells me this. I remember this happening with the story to help me. She painted a much more gracious picture of me. I did want to win and show up my brother, but in the end I was happy for him. Prim finishes and wraps up my arm. "There you go. It'll heal just fine." "Thanks," I say and stand. "You'll need to come with me, to make sure that you don't faint or get too weak," Prim says. Katniss hesitates, the situation laying out in front of her. She's supposed to march on with the other soldiers, while I'll come up behind. She's my guard. "Here, this is stupid." She digs out a key from her pocket and releases me from the handcuffs. I stare up at her, amazed. "You could have run. You didn't. Just tell me you support the rebellion now." Before, I kept up the charade so Katniss would stay with me. I don't need to do that anymore. Maybe I never needed to. Maybe Katniss would have always stayed by me. "I do support the rebellion," I say. She nods. "I thought so."

Chapter Seventeen Throughout the rest of our march, I keep rubbing my wrist with my good arm. The handcuffs were gone. Gone. I'm a rebel now. It's a little thrilling, turning on those bastards who took me away from who I was. Delly gasps when she sees me and asks a million questions at once. "What happened? Where's Katniss? Your handcuffs are gone, why's that? You aren't hurting too much, are you?" I tell her everything that happened. She gasps at the shooting and smiles at the fact that I didn't run, and I've become a rebel. A skip even comes into her step. Delly always makes a great audience. "I knew they couldn't keep you changed for long. Whatever they did to you in the Capitol, it's gone now. You're back." Delly considers this for a moment. "Well, almost back that is." "Aw, come on, I'm on your side now. I'm bringing down the Capitol just like the rest of you," I say. "What more do I have to do?" Delly licks her lips. "It's just that, well, the Peeta I grew up with, he'd never be engaged to someone like Rosalia Snow." As if anticipating that I'd be offended, she keeps going, her words slipping out like water. "Now, she's beautiful Peeta, she really is, and she does have that sort of intelligent attitude to her. But she doesn't seem to really understand the world, at least not our world, the one you grew up in. She's not a rebel like us. She's one of them. Peeta, you'd never have loved her before." I nod. "I know. And I don't anymore." Delly stops walking for a moment. I pause for her to continue. She picks up her pace again. "You're still engaged to her." "I know." "Why?" I sigh. "I've never really been good at confronting girls about my feelings. You know? I don't like the idea of a negative reaction. And I'm pretty sure Rosalia won't be too happy about this." "Are you going to marry her?" "Of course not!" "Well, it has to happen." "I know."

Delly takes her arm through my uninjured one. "Tonight. Tell her tonight, okay?" "Ummm…" I gulp. "Come on, I told Bron how I felt about him. You can do the same." I laugh. "Yeah, only Bron would never murder you." "Rosalia's a prisoner. She can't hurt you. That much." "Geez, thanks Del." She smiles. "You should just be happy. And Rosalia isn't making you happy." No, she isn't. I do need to get it over with. The sooner I do, the faster we can both move on. Why do I have to be such a coward about stuff like this, though? It's worse than when I decided I'd announce my crush on Katniss to all of Panem. When it's too dark to walk, we make camp. Only, I don't know where to go now. As a prisoner, I was supposed to stay in the same tent as the Everdeens. But now, free, I don't know where I'm supposed to go. I find Prim bandaging a five-year-old's scraped knee and ask her. "Oh, you can still room with us," Prim says as she sends the child on his way. She stands. "Really? That won't mess up any of Thirteen's meticulous plans?" I ask, tone biting. "Actually, you're Thirteen's last chance when it comes to Katniss," she says. "They're hoping you can convince her to marry you and have your children." Fire flames up my neck and cheeks. "Uh…" She giggles. "No pressure." Katniss has the site staked out ahead of us, but Mrs. Everdeen carries the tent. I help set it up, roll out our mats, and get a fire going. Sometimes, I swing my arms far apart to feel how much distance I can put between them now. Everything I can do with them now amazes me. "Enjoying your freedom?" Katniss asks as she watches me swing my arms in circles. She doesn't smile, but her eyes suggest one. "Yeah. It feels great." "I'm glad you're back."

I tingle with pleasure. "Did you think I'd ever come back?" "No," Katniss says. "But I don't usually anticipate the happy side of things. When the bad happens, it makes it that much worse." "You can always anticipate happiness with me," I say. Wow. Way to say something totally goofy and stupid. But her lips tug up. After dinner, Katniss goes to bed early. I stare at the fire, recalling what I'd told Delly earlier today. That I have to just finish off my relationship with Rosalia once and for all. I take in a deep breath and stand to find her. After making a few inquiries, I get to the tent where Rosalia's being guarded in. The soldiers outside don't move when I come up to them. "I'm here to see Rosalia Snow," I say. "Hey, aren't you a prisoner?" One asks. "What are you doing here?" "I'm not a prisoner anymore. Katniss Everdeen let me go. I'm one of you now." The same guard shakes his head. "I don't believe it. You're here to conspire with her." "Are you doubting the Mockingjay?" He shifts uncomfortably. "Fine. Five minutes." He lets me in. Rosalia's laying down, still handcuffed and dirty from the hike, looking worse than ever. There's not really enough room to stand, so I kneel by her. She's sleeping, and I almost go back. But I don't know if I'll be able to come here again. "Rose," I whisper. She blinks her eyes open and smiles at me. She pushes herself up. "You came back for me." Before she can fall into my arms, I stop her from coming any closer, my hands on her upper arms, far from an affectionate gesture. She stiffens. "I came to get your ring," I say, unable to look her in the eye. "No." The word comes out hard as stone. "Rosalia, I'm done."

"No, you're not. You're mine. You gave me this ring to me, you promised to marry me. You can't go back now." I thrust my handcuff-free hands in front of her. "I'm not a prisoner here. I'm a rebel, I'm just like them. I don't believe in the Capitol anymore." "My grandpapa made me read books from before the Dark Days," Rosalia said. "One was about a boy and a girl who fell in love, but their families warred with each other. It didn't matter to them, just like it doesn't matter for us, because we love each other. If I have to denounce the Capitol, my family, I will." "But I don't love you," I whisper. "Not anymore." "Before you told me you'd always love me, no matter what they told you or made you believe. You told me." Stupid! Sometimes it amazes me how stupid I've been the past few years. Why did I have to promise her all of these things? "I know, I'm sorry, but things change. I've changed. I can't love you anymore." She blinks rapidly, the tears spilling over anyway. "Don't say that." "It's true. And I have to break this off, because otherwise, we'll both be unhappy. You deserve for someone to love you." "No. I deserve for you to love me," Rosalia says, fierce. "But I don't." "Is this about her? Have you…do you love her now?" Fire ignites behind the tears in her eyes, a slow and steady burning. I know who she's talking about. Katniss. "It doesn't matter how I feel about her. I don't love you, and it would never work out between us anyway." Rosalia laughs, a maniac sound. "She never loved you. You're going to spend your life mooning after her, and she'll never even give you a thought. Why do that? Why chase after a rainbow when you can paint with what's in front of you?" I move to stand up. "We're done. Keep the ring, fine, but I'm never marrying you." "You can't do this to me!" Rosalia screeches, tugging my arm down so I can't stand. "You'd be dead if it weren't for me. You owe me your life."

I freeze. "What are you talking about?" "The Quell. After your precious Katniss blew apart the force field, we took you, Enobaria, and Johanna. Grandpapa had a decision to make. Who to crown his victor, and who to kill. He wanted to take Enobaria, someone always loyal to us. But I knew that meant your death, and I couldn't let that happen. So I reasoned with him. What, after all, would destroy the rebellion more quickly than seeing you on our side? To have your words, your charisma? All we had to do was show you the way." I pull my hand back. "You did this to me? You took away my memories, made me hate Katniss?" "I saved your life," she hisses. "Your hatred for Katniss was a means to get it, although admittedly a pleasure. I always hated watching you love her, when she obviously never felt the same way for you." She moves to stroke my cheek, but I jerk away. "We were happy together, Peeta, don't you remember? I make you happy. She only brought you grief. And you'll never be happy trying to find love in that heartless whore." "I'll never be happy with you," I say. "I don't know how I ever fell for you. Because you're the heartless whore, not Katniss." I get away before she can trap me again. In the chilly night air, I gasp for understanding. How could I have trusted her? She manipulated me, just like the Capitol. All that time hating Katniss and fearing her abuse, I should have been running from Rosalia. It spins me around, until I'm amazed that I can even find our burnt-out campfire and the tent where the Everdeens sleep. I stumble onto the cot next to Katniss, laying face up in the dark. Katniss sighs in her sleep and rotates toward me. A loose strand from her braid hangs down. I brush it back. She smiles. Rosalia's probably right, and Katniss never will love me. But she'll always care for me, which is something Rosalia never did.

Chapter Eighteen I wake up to screams. Katniss's eyes stay shut tight, even though she erupts with shouts and cries. In a moment, memories come back to me, and I know what to do. I jostle her a little and say, "Katniss! Katniss!" She opens her eyes, disoriented and still in the nightmare. I push the hair back from her forehead and shush her. "It's okay Katniss, it was a nightmare. You're safe." She shudders and holds me fast around my middle, face pressed to my chest. I stroke her head, continuing to make my hushing sounds. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen stare at us for a minute, but they both end up slumping down into sleep again. They've probably been helping her through this for the past six years. Another reason to hate the Capitol. They took me away from Katniss when she needed me. "There were mutts," she gasps into my shirt. "It was a dream," I say. I lean back down on my pillow, wrapping my arms around Katniss's waist. She hums and nestles a little closer to my chest, holding onto the fabric of my shirt. "Keep them away…" She breathes a sleepy breath. "I will." We have a few more hours to sleep, and they pass peacefully. I wake up to a tent empty of everyone but me and Katniss, who still sleeps on my chest. I rub her back, enjoying this simple moment we've been given, laying together as the golden morning sun strains through the canvas of the tent. It was something we did before as friends, so I try not to get too excited over it, even though I already imagine a different scenario, where last night was more than chasing away nightmares. Stop it. I tell myself. Katniss blinks awake and looks down the length of my body before turning up to look at my face. "Oh!" She says, and pushes away from me. "Sorry, I'm sorry." I sit up so I'm level with her. "Why are you sorry?" "I know that you're engaged to Rosalia, and while I don't really like it, you're still her fiancé. It's not right for me to do that when I'm not—and you don't…"

She glares down at the floor and pushes away to leave. I jump up and say, "I'm not engaged anymore." Katniss pauses at the tent flap and turns around. I can't read her face. She's trying to mask her emotion from me. "When did this happen?" She asks. "Last night. After you went to bed, I went to break it off with Rosalia. She refused to give me the ring back, but I told her. I'm not marrying her. I don't love her." She nods, swallowing. "That's great. I never thought she was good enough for you." "Katniss, she told me something," I say. "She told me that that night of the Quell, she convinced President Snow to make me the victor, I didn't just win it. But to let me live, they changed my memory and made me hate you and the rebellion." "She did that?" Katniss asks, her voice a calm before the storm. I nod. "She took you away from me? She's the one who did that to you, and then made you think you loved her?" Katniss clenches her fists. "I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill her right now." She starts to turn her back to me, like she's really going to go and kill my ex-fiancé. The stopper in my heart that keeps contained all of my desires to touch Katniss, to let her know how I feel, bursts out at her anger for what Rose did. I don't let Katniss turn away. I grab her wrist and pull her back into me, kissing her like I've been dreaming of for weeks. I hold her tight around the waist, and after a moment of shock, she slips her arms around my neck, and kisses me back. We try to cram six years' worth of missed kisses into one, as well as everything we felt during that time and feel now, so naturally it goes for a long time, until we have to catch our breath. I keep hold of her, though. I don't know how I could ever let her go now. "This isn't another nightmare, is it?" she asks, fingers touching her mouth. My stomach twists. "Am I that bad at kissing?" She laughs. "No. It's just, when I wake up from these dreams, it's the worst kind. Because I had you, but then you're gone again. I go into the nightmare, rather than escape it."

I push away her stray hair and caress her cheek, lightly. Am I really doing this? Am I actually holding Katniss, stroking the line of her jaw over to her lips? "I'm not leaving you. Not like a dream does," I say. She ducks her head into my chest, squeezing me tight. "I've been waiting so long to do this." "Sorry I punched you, when you first tried," I say. "Just don't do it again." Again. I smiled and pulled back. "Can we redo it?" "Redo it?" I take a few steps back, to the other side of the tent, and turn around so I don't see her, just like I was on the roof that night. She has to get it. Won't she? "Peeta?" she says. This time, I catch excitement and hope in her tone. I wonder if that's what was in her voice the first time. I'd been too shocked and afraid to note any if there were. I turn, feigning surprise, to her wide eyes and wider smile. We both run now, our arms around each other, her nose to my neck, breath tickling me. And I want to cry. Because we missed it. Not just six years together (six years. We could have gotten married, had a few kids by now). We missed this first sweet moment of reunion. But at the same time, it feels right. It feels like maybe, without this time apart, Katniss would never have missed me and found out how much she loved me. I never would have found Rosalia, which in the end, has made me see that the love I have for Katniss is real. It hurt, yes. But I can't imagine that we would love each other as much as we do if we didn't go through it. We sink to our knees, and I kiss her again. And again. And again. "I love you," she says. I nearly stop living, hearing her say that. I've never been so happy to be so wrong about something in my life. "I love you, too," I say. When we emerge from the tent, Haymitch sits with Mrs. Everdeen and Prim with his back to us. Prim smiles, and Mrs. Everdeen looks pleased. Right. The tent only offered us privacy from sight, not sound. They must have heard us making out.

As if to confirm it, without even turning around to see our entwined hands, Haymitch says, "Well it's about time, you two." I agree.

 

Chapter Nineteen I dream again that I lost her, and I can't find her. But when I wake up, with Katniss asleep in my arms, I know that I've found her, the girl I've been searching for. It took me years, but I found her, and I have no reason to let this nightmare haunt my daytime. I walk with Delly. Katniss and Bron march with the soldiers, and Prim and Mrs. Everdeen with the nurses and doctors to help the injured. The thrill of being in the fresh, open air again loses its savor. Especially because while we walk I'm separated from Katniss, which has become more unbearable since we kissed two days ago. At the close of our travel, we meet up with Katniss and set the tent up. When she goes off to find firewood, I follow her. Once we're far enough away from everyone else, I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her hair. "Peeta," she sighs, leaning back into me. I spin her around so I can kiss her full on the mouth. I put so much force into it she backs up into a tree, a perfect place to press her against so we can come closer together, our bodies lined up. Her cheek's warm to my fingertips. She breaks away, gasping. I kiss her neck. "We need to get the firewood," she says. I'd rather do this, but she pushes me back gently. I step aside and together we gather up the wood. We get back to our tent and set down the wood we collected. "Peeta, you need to get your bundle," Prim says. They give us our food for the night, breakfast, and lunch, because we need our supplies to last for the week of our journey and they don't want people overeating. Three bundles already sit by the ring of stones for the fire. Prim notices my gaze. "They wouldn't give yours to me when I went, since you're not officially part of our family. They don't want people stealing food from others." "Oh. That's okay, thanks," I say. Katniss grabs my hand. "I'll walk with you." People wave and wink at us as we wind our way through the tents to find the distribution area. After a cat call from someone I don't know, I say to Katniss, "Everyone seem to be pretty excited we're together." "Well, almost everyone," Katniss says, eyes trained beyond me.

Rosalia sits handcuffed on the ground, her guard trying to start up a fire. Her stare at the sparks flying from the flint looks like one a corpse would give, empty and dead. She slumps, the complete opposite from her normal confidence. But then she lifts her eyes and finds me, holding hands with Katniss, and she straightens. Her face contorts into an enraged pain, and she blinks rapidly. "Let's find a different way to get back," I say. "So we don't have to see her again." "I wouldn't mind eating in front of her, and then making out while she watches," Katniss says. "She wasn't trying to hurt you with that." She barks out one laugh. "She knew what she was doing that whole time." "No, I mean, she really didn't think you cared about me in that way. She told me when I was breaking up with her that we'd never happen." We reach the line to get my food bundle for the next day. Katniss stops and faces me, her eyebrows pushed together. "She knew what she was saying. She doesn't want us together, and maybe she thought you'd come back eventually if I wasn't in the way," she says. "Whatever she meant, it doesn't matter now. But let's not antagonize her about us, okay?" Katniss nods and I get my bundle. We loop around behind Rosalia's tent so she doesn't see us again. Mostly, I'm afraid of retaliation if we were to flaunt our relationship in front of her. She might attack. I don't know what Rosalia's going to do about this. We cook our dinner of packaged, dry soup with the water we heat from the fire. Before the fire burns out, a man runs to our site in the dress of a soldier. He's younger than me, and possibly Prim as well. "My wife's gone into labor," he says. "Please, please come." Prim frowns. "Your wife's Robin, isn't she?" The man nods. "Mother, you should come with me," Prim says. Concern marks between her eyebrows.

After gathering supplies, Prim and Mrs. Everdeen leave Katniss and I alone, probably for the night and at least for several hours. It's as if our stars are finally aligning together. Katniss, leaning against my shoulder, stifles a yawn. "I'm going to go to bed. You coming?" Playing up being tired. Heading off to bed before our fire dies out on its own makes things a little obvious. Not that I mind at all. I want all the time we can get together. "Yeah," I say. We smother the rest of the flames and then go into the tent. I take off my boots and she does, too. We sit down on our cots that we'd pushed together. I hold her face in one of my hands, my thumb skimming her cheek. "I love you," I say. She smiles. I kiss her lips, tipping her onto her back. She holds onto my hair, growing long since we haven't had time to cut it. My hands find their way on her hips and under her shirt, her skin warm. I feel up the curves to her waist. I break from her lips to nestle into her neck, and her chest rises and falls higher than usual. I kiss down her neck, to her collarbone, and start climbing down further to her chest, just above where her breast starts to swell. Before I can take off her shirt, though, Katniss slips backwards and up, her cheeks flushed. "This is a lot more intense than it used to be," Katniss says. She shakes her hair loose from its braid. Oh man. I'd love to run my hands through her hair, kiss her while I…and she braids it again. "Well, things are different now," I say, straightening up. She gives me a peck. "We have to get up early. Let's go to sleep." And this refusal—intentional or not—hits me like rocks to the stomach. I have to take deep breaths, trying to settle down for the moment I thought we'd make love for the first time. I lay down next to her, and she settles on my chest. I can feel the heat from her, can imagine how her skin would be so smooth, how easily we'd fit together. I shake my thoughts of this. She'd stopped us from going any further. I have to calm down. Only, I've never had to calm down after getting worked up like this. Rosalia never made me. Rosalia. The thought of her turns me off immediately. Katniss shifts closer to me, and her breasts press to my side. If only our clothes weren't here, and we'd— Rosalia. Rosalia. Think of her, not Katniss. Start from the beginning.

After her birthday party, dancing and kissing me, Rosalia invited me up to her room. I'd been to enough Capitol parties to know what she was asking, although it'd never happened to me. I declined, even though I did like her. I just didn't love her, not yet. The next day, she invited me over for dinner. I accepted. She kissed me again there, harder and longer this time, and I let her for a while, but broke away before she got too many ideas. I didn't want things to go too far. I went over to her place every day. We talked art. She showed me around her grandfather's exhibits, all of the great artists of our time hung up there. We tried out different styles. She knew more than me, since she took formal lessons and I just experimented. And of course, she kissed me a lot. And I stopped them from going where she wanted them. Then one day, she brought me to the end of the art gallery with a smile, where a locked door waited. "What's this?" I asked. "My favorite part. Grandpapa doesn't like other people seeing it, but I know you'll love it," Rosalia said. She brought out a key and unlocked the door. With my hand in hers, she led me further in. It smelled old. More paintings covered the walls, statues stood on pedestals. "It's all of the art from before the Dark Days," Rosalia said when she saw my puzzled expression. "We have some pieces from the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Romans, the French." I shake my head. "Never heard of them." "They lived a long, long time ago. But they were brilliant." The art went from being on stone and pottery to wood and canvas. I drank in the technique of the old world. The area with the art Rosalia called the Renaissance I loved the most. The paintings and sculptures seemed to be alive. One sculpture of a young woman holding a dead man in her arms stirred me especially. Their anguish and sadness seemed real, probably because of the detail in the stone. And not just in his dead face and her poignant expression, but the folds in her skirts and headpiece, the lines of his body. "Who are they?" I asked. "Oh, I don't know. All of these people had so many gods and rulers they liked to make art from, it's hard to keep track of them all. Here, come look at this one," Rosalia said. She tugged me to a painting of a woman standing on a beach, her hands caught up in her hair, and without any clothes on at all. She's not ashamed, though, as she looks to the side. The skill that the artist had to have in order to blend the paints just right, highlight the flesh to make her look real, is amazing.

"Why's she naked?" I asked. "It's art. They reveled in the human form. Isn't painting a beautiful woman enough?" "But what's happening? Why wouldn't she be wearing anything?" "Oh, Peeta." She laughed. "If you must know, the painting was called Birth of Venus." "But there isn't a baby in this picture," I said. "I think Venus is the woman." It must be a metaphor. Maybe a re-birth of sorts. Beautiful, but weird. I paused to examine a painting of a woman with an entrancing smile, but Rosalia said, "Come here, I want to show you another one." She placed me in front of the largest statue in the room. A nude man holds one hand to his face, and one relaxes by his side. Young, curly-haired, and muscular, with a determined look on his face, it's as if he staring down an enemy. I think these artists before our time really liked the nudes. "His name's David," Rosalia said. "Isn't he magnificent?" Almost too perfect to describe. The detail! The sculpture even has veins running up his hand and arm. It made my art puny in comparison. "Is this one your favorite?" I asked. "No, my favorite's down farther, and it's not as big," Rosalia said. "Show me." She took me to a much smaller statue, one of a man with wings behind a woman, his hands cupped around her breasts. She reaches up, her hands on above his head and mouth tilted up to his, as if they'd just kissed. "Cupid and Psyche," Rosalia said. "I cared enough to learn their story." "And what is it?" I asked. "He was a god and she was a beautiful mortal. They fell in love and married, but she betrayed his trust, and he had to leave her. After years of arduous tasks, she fell on the brink of death, but he forgave her, brought her back to life, and made her his goddess. This is when he comes back to her."

The next day, I went over to Rosalia's apartment as usual. She lived in her grandfather's mansion, in her own private quarters. Everything was open, with the bedroom and living room and kitchen all together without any walls between them. Her bed was placed a few steps higher than the rest, and her bathroom was closed off. She let me in and said, "Peeta, we need an art revolution." "Huh?" "Have you seen the art people make now? They're abstract. They're nothing. Going into the gallery yesterday, didn't it stir you?" She stood so close to me her chest almost touched mine. If we expanded our lungs with one big breath, they would. I nodded. "The skill those people had—" "We have just as much talent as them. But the art of the human form has been suppressed. No one makes art of humans anymore, at least not the way we saw it yesterday. Remember Venus and David, Cupid and Psyche? They're art. Imagine bringing that to Panem." She climbed up the stairs to her bed. I followed, unsure at first. She gave me a sketch pad and pencil. "We're going to change everything," she said. She wriggled her arms out of the straps of her dress, letting it drop to the floor. She hadn't bothered to put anything on underneath. Wow, she was beautiful. Curves in her hips and soft, large breasts—she was made to be a model. Rosalia leaned back on her bed and laid across it, one hand over her head and the other across her stomach. "Well, draw me," she purred. I took a seat and started on just that. Where I usually clothed the human body, instead I revealed it. While several of the nude artwork I'd seen in the gallery the day before had covered some of the breast or private area of the female, Rosalia kept it all in fair view for me to see. My drawing of Rosalia didn't match the beauty of Venus at all, but a decent first attempt. Rosalia smiled at it. She took the pencil from me. "Now you." "What?" I asked. "I'll draw you." I shook my head. "No. You can find someone else to model. I'm sure someone would love to."

"But Peeta, we're going to change this. As models and artists." I sighed. "I don't like people seeing my leg. My fake one." Rosalia slid off the bed and sauntered over to me. I couldn't help noticing how differently the body moves without clothes to cover the hips. Rosalia unbuttoned my pants. I caught her hands. "Please, don't." "It's just me here." I let go. She pushed my pants down, exposing the leg that had been taken from me. She stepped back, admiring it. "Why don't you like it?" she asked. I shrugged. "I'm—I'm not David, Rosalia. I'm not art. I'm broken." "You're brave. Your lost leg shows your bravery. Come on." The passion she had for this revolution caught hold of me, and my usual embarrassment escaped. I took off the rest of my clothes, standing there for her to draw me. Most of the male nudes in the gallery had been fighting, showing off muscles and a perfect body. Who was I to model for something like this? I imitated David's more relaxed pose, focusing instead on my facial expression than what I did with my arms and legs. Once, while she drew, I asked, "Why aren't you putting your clothes back on?" "I'm just a body, Peeta. There's nothing I have to hide." And she did very little hiding, maneuvering the pad so it didn't block my sight of her. As I waited, the rest of my body still, my eyes wandered over her, and I could understand the appeal of bringing this back, if I could ever capture her beauty on canvas. "I'm done. Come here to see," Rosalia said. She lounged in the middle of the large bed, so I had to climb on it to see. I stayed sitting up and examined her sketch. In my surprise, I liked it. I was no David, that's certain, but her hand had given me a strength, a determination, like him. "It's amazing," I said. "That's because you are," she said.

I shook my head. "You are. You're more handsome than David. You're brave and true and kind." She pushed herself up on her elbows, closer to me. Then she jumped forward and kissed me, close and fierce. It felt good, her smooth skin against mine and her tongue dancing in my mouth. But I pulled back. "Rose," I whispered. "Not yet." "Why not?" She demanded. "I love you, Peeta." It had been years since I'd ever heard anyone tell me this, and the first time a woman said it to me. And for a moment, I wondered why not. Because of some old-fashioned notion held onto by District 12? Because people thought I should be in love with Katniss Everdeen? But still, I hesitated. Rosalia tried again. She sat up and kissed me while her hands explored my face, my neck, my chest. My hands stayed at my sides. I didn't know what to do yet. It felt so good, having her touch me, but was that enough to allow this? My body said yes, yes, yes. Something deeper in me resisted that pull in my loins that wanted her. "Do you mean it?" I asked. "When you said you loved me?" "Of course I do." She ran her fingers through my hair. "Peeta, there's no one else like you in all the Capitol, in all of Panem. You're sweet and charming, you make me laugh. You understand my passion for art, and you're kind to everyone. You're brave enough to live through two Hunger Games and you're loyal to your friends. How could I not love you?" Rosalia blazed in her words, so I knew she meant them. She kissed from my collar, up my neck, and to my ear, where she whispered, "Touch me." I let her pull me closer, pull me into her, that resistance dying as she guided me and my body took over. And it was done. All the while, she said over and over, "Oh! Oh, Peeta, Peeta, I love you. I love you. I love you." She filled me, places in my heart left void after everyone I loved died, when I thought no one could care for me. After years of emptiness, I craved those words, said by anyone. "Have I been your first since Katniss died?" Rosalia asked when we finished (for the time being). "You were my first ever," I told her. "But I thought Katniss was pregnant?"

And I told her what I thought then was the truth. About Katniss's cruelty to me and my hatred toward her. I resent Rosalia even more when I realize now that she knew these were lies and kept prompting me with "poor baby" and "that slut," holding me to her while I gave her my pain. She kissed me and said, "I'll never do that to you, Peeta. I'll never hurt you." I love you. I'll never hurt you. I believed her, and I wanted them to be true, so much. I started kissing her passionately, and we did it again. This time, I was the one to say, "I love you. Rose, Rose, I love you." After, we lay on her bed, our limbs still tangled. "You know you're my first," I said, tracing her face with my fingertips. "But what about you? How many other men have you trapped?" "Two," Rosalia said. "One was a mistake. The other I was drunk." "The mistake?" I asked. "Did you love him?" Was I going to be a mistake, too? Would she throw me off again? Maybe I'd indulged her too much, let her have too much of me at once. "I was naïve." Her tone turned cold. "I thought I loved him, but I didn't. I didn't understand love yet, not like I do now with you." "How do you know you get it now?" I asked. Rosalia left my arms for a moment to crawl to the end of the bed where our drawings had been discarded. She held out the drawings we had done of each other and said, "We're art, on our own, separate. But together? We're a masterpiece, Peeta, the two of us together. A masterpiece. I felt it. Didn't you feel it, too?" A masterpiece. I nodded. After that our days became a roll of drawing each other and having sex. We never did get around to revolutionizing the art world, and saved our drawings for ourselves. They're still locked away in her room, hundreds of them. I wonder now if that was all just to get our clothes off. Rosalia didn't rape me. I knew what was going on and I let it happen. But looking back, I didn't want that step going into her apartment that morning. We'd only known each other two weeks. But I'd been so neglected, so lonely, I let her words capture me before I really loved her. As a result, I had thought that I loved her, when really I just gave into her companionship. If I had waited, would I have seen who she really was? Instead, she caught me, and she didn't let me go. She believed those words she told me, but at the price of manipulating my feelings for her.

The reason my thoughts keep on going back to this is I worry I'll do the same to Katniss as Rosalia did to me. I've loved my Everdeen girl for years. I've been with a woman before, although the thought of being with Katniss still makes me nervous. If she let me, I'd take her up now and find out what love really feels like. But I don't want to be Rosalia, so caught up in my own feelings and desires that I don't see what Katniss needs. Katniss sighs in her sleep, and I rub her shoulders. I will make love to her, one day. I just need to figure out the day that will be right. A/N: If you know all of the art work that I mention in this chapter then you're pretty much awesome, and you get a gold star.

Chapter Twenty

In the morning, Prim and Mrs. Everdeen return with bags under their eyes and frowns on their lips. Katniss goes to mix the hot water in their breakfast, the same mush as before. We leave District 13 and yet it's as if we still haven't left. I push mine around the bowl. "We lost them," Prim croaks. "The baby was a stillborn, there was nothing we could do, but Robin…" Mrs. Everdeen squeezes her youngest daughter's shoulder. "Nothing we could do with what we had, Prim." Tears fall down her face anyway. "He lost them both. His wife and his baby." Katniss hands them their breakfast, but they have no interest in the food. When Katniss sits back down by me, I wrap an arm around her waist. All of camp is silent as word of the deaths carry through. Pregnant women clutch their bellies, husbands linger in their kisses. Even though Katniss isn't pregnant, I feel the desire to keep her close. I want our packing up to last longer, so she doesn't go off with the soldiers so soon. I get my wish, but at the cost of my annoyance. Everyone else packs up, except for the guard with the one prisoner in the camp. While everyone else finishes bagging up their tents, the prisoner's tent hasn't even been broken down yet. Katniss and I stand together, holding hands, while Boggs approaches the frustrated guard. "She won't get up!" the guard says. "No matter what I do, she won't get up!" Boggs enters the tent, calm especially when compared to the red-faced, stomping guard beside him. My thumb strokes the skin between Katniss's thumb and first finger. "Has she ever acted like this?" Katniss asks, eyes on the tent like everyone else. "No," I say. She sighs with irritation. "Just trying to get attention, make you feel sorry for her. It's pathetic." It is annoying that Rosalia's doing this, but I don't tell Katniss Rosalia isn't acting. If she wanted to make a show of it, she'd make a show. The whole world would hear her sobs as she wandered delirious in grief. The fact she isn't coming out tells me she has no manipulation in this matter.

I almost feel bad, until I remember she kept the truth a secret for so long. Yes, she saved my life and for that I owe her gratitude. But how could she have let me think I hated Katniss, when she knew I loved her? She used my vulnerability against me, to make me think I loved her, to secure her with my trust and adoration. For that, I hold no pity for her in our separation. Boggs leads Rosalia out, and she looks worse than ever. It's not just her overgrown brown roots or lack of make-up, I'd always looked beyond that, but her staggering steps and sallow face instead make her look already dead. She blinks in the sunlight, and then sees Katniss and I together. She grabs at her middle and loses her

balance so that Boggs can't hold her up. Her eyes squeeze shut. "Does she really think she can win you back acting like that?" Katniss nostrils pull up in disgust, even a bit of contempt. "Don't worry about her," I say, sweeping my fingers through the hair falling in front of her face. "I'm in love with you, always." Katniss frowns and jerks back under my touch. "What?" I ask, alarmed. "Don't say that." "I've said it before." She sets her jaw. "No. Always. Don't say always." "Why? It's true. I'll always love you, Katniss." "You told that to her. I heard you, when she thought that we had gotten together, you told her you'd always love her. And…and you made me think the same thing, years ago. Then you came back and you hated me." "That's different. I was hijacked, I didn't remember our past, how I really felt. And I told Rosalia that because I thought it would have been true." I pause. "But if you want, I'll stop saying that." "You can tell me that you love me, but don't promise me forever," Katniss says. "We can't know what's going to happen. And I can't take it if you promise me forever and then it's ripped away again." I kiss her forehead. "Then I'll just have to show you I mean forever." They've moved Rosalia onto the medic cart, which means we'll head out soon. Katniss and I kiss good-bye, as she goes with the soldiers and I walk with Delly. As we go on through the day, I really think about what Katniss experienced, beyond watching me with Rosalia and my hatred for her. Because I had told her before I'd always stay with her. My every action before promised everlasting devotion, then with one punch of the face, it all disappeared. She had gotten me back, but she really didn't. I'm back though now, aren't I? Almost the same as before, just with more experience. My "always" from before still holds, even if it got off-track for a while. At the end of the day, by the time I catch up to Katniss, Prim, and Mrs. Everdeen, the last two are already eating, so exhausted the soup almost falls onto their laps instead of their mouths. "Boggs said he'd be coming by for you," Katniss says when I sit down, and take to rubbing her back. I'll get my food bundle later. "What for?" I ask. "Probably about making you into a soldier." Everyone fourteen or older was a soldier (except for pregnant women), so I should have seen it coming. Still, it's an adjustment to go from the rebellion's prisoner to fighting for the rebellion in a few days.

And sure enough, within a few minutes Boggs comes to our circle, his hands behind his back and face as solemn as ever. "Peeta, would you take a walk with me?" he asks.

I squeeze Katniss's shoulder and stand, walking toward Boggs. He turns as I come up even with him, but doesn't say anything until we're among the trees and out of the earshot of anyone else in camp. "Peeta, what is your relationship with Rosalia Snow?" Boggs asks. Not a question I was expecting. "We dated for a few years, and we were engaged a few months ago. But then I came here and discovered the truth and we're done now. Absolutely done. I'm with Katniss." "How is your relationship now? Do you consider yourself friends?" I laugh. "Oh no. Never. She messed up too bad for that to ever happen." "Then you have an assignment Peeta," Boggs says. "You're to be Rosalia's night guard." "What?" He can't be serious. I can't guard her. "Look, we realize that this might be difficult for you, but we need you to do this," Boggs says. "Ever since yesterday, apparently when she found out you and Katniss are now together, she's been impossible. She won't eat, she wouldn't get up this morning. She took up room in the medic cart, so pregnant women had to walk while she just laid there. President White believes that if you're in contact with her, she might have reason to live. To hope that this is her chance to win you back." "I'm not getting back with her," I say. The thought makes me ill. "No, we don't want that. In fact, that's why I made sure you weren't sympathetic to her, so you wouldn't let her go. But even your presence will just get her walking again." I shake my head. "This is ridiculous. I don't want to spend my nights with her, that's the only time I have with Katniss!" "Soldier, this is not a request." Soldier. I'm a soldier now, and they're making me guard my ex. At night, in the same tent as her. Knowing Rosalia, I can already feel how bad an idea this is. "You'll go back, collect your things, and spend the night at Rosalia's tent with her until morning and her day guard comes. Do you understand?" He gives me a severe look. "Yes, sir," I mutter. He nods and we go our separate ways. Although he told me to pack up and leave, I sit back down beside Katniss. Her sister and mother seem to have gone to bed already. She threads her arm through mine. "So, Soldier Mellark now?" she asks.

I nod and swallow. "He gave me prison guard duty." "But the only prisoner here now is Rosalia," Katniss says after a moment. "Yeah, I know. I'm supposed to be her night guard." She pulls back from me, as if I asked to be alone with Rosalia in a tent at night. "This is messed up. You haven't gone to any training, and your previous relationship makes this against policy. Damn Thirteen! They always keep their own rules to a T until it suits them to change it. What do they want? Do they want you to get her pregnant or something?" I shudder. "Ugh, I hope not. Boggs just said something about my presence making her feel better or something." "This is just because she's a Snow. We can barter her if we have to, otherwise they'd leave her out here in the woods to die."

Katniss fumes, her arms crossed and face turned away from me. I lean forward and put two fingers under her chin until I can see her face again. I kiss her, gently. "I want to be with you," I say. "I'd definitely prefer you here as well." Her warm breath hits my lips. "Maybe once we get to Twelve, they won't need me to guard her." She nods, but the frown doesn't leave her face, and it's worse than usual. I guess if the situation were reversed, I wouldn't be too happy, either. But she has to know that I don't have even a slight attraction to Rosalia now, and love is out of the question. "I love you," I say to remind her. She doesn't respond, so I kiss her deep one last time before grabbing my pack and finding first my food bundle and second the prisoner tent. Her guard from this morning sighs in relief at the sight of me. "Finally. I can't take much more of this," he says. "She's handcuffed, so just sleep in front of the flap so if she tries to sneak out she'll trip over you and wake you up. But honestly, she's been a sack of potatoes lately. Shouldn't have any problems." "Right," I say. "Well, see you in the morning," he says and leaves. I get water boiling and mix it into my rationed dinner. It slides down my throat without taste. As I watch the fire flickering up high, images of Rosalia flood my head. Her first electrifying kiss, her laugh, the time she sped through the streets with the windows rolled down, when she discovered my nightmares and hushed me to sleep. Then the fire burns low, only embers, and I remember her possession. She never told me the truth because she wanted my love to herself. She didn't want to share it with a dead girl, and when we discovered Katniss still lived, she sure as hell did her best to keep me from the truth then.

When I can barely keep my eyes open, I know I have to go into that tent with her. I pray she's asleep, but as I lead the soft-glowing lantern inside, her glassy stare meets me. She blinks a few times, then struggles to sit up with her handcuffed hands, licking dry lips. "Peeta? Peeta, what are you doing here? Are you here for me?" She's so desperate, it's pathetic. But the laughing, soothing girl I'd laid everything out for makes me ache, a little bit. I never wanted to hurt her. But she hurt herself, treating me the way she did. "I'm your guard for the night. Only your guard, do you understand?" She nods, but she looks too happy to see me, even if pain glosses over most of her. Boggs had been right. Just being around her gives her hope. I roll out my cot and put a sleeping bag on top of it, right by the flap like her other guard had said. "I'm so happy you're here," she whispers. Then she jumps across the room and smashes her cheek to my chest, her arms unable to wrap around me from the cuffs. I push her away from me, toward her own cot. "Believe me, it's not by choice," I say. "Now get to sleep. I'm tired." Even these words and my refusal don't diminish her. She sees an opportunity, and Rosalia's never been one to give up when she has an opportunity.

At least we'll be unconscious through most of it.  

Chapter Twenty-One I tell myself that we have three more days until we reach Twelve. Just three more days, and then it won't matter if Rosalia will get up and walk or not, because we won't be moving. I can handle two more nights. It wasn't even all that awful, except for being gone from Katniss, which after waking up from a nightmare of losing her, almost drove me crazy when she wasn't there beside me, until I remembered where I was. Rosalia ended up laying down just a foot away from me, but we never touched or talked after our first encounter. By the time she woke up, her day guard came and I left to eat breakfast with the Everdeens. That day I walk with Delly, catch Katniss for a few moments, and then eat dinner at Rosalia's tent, kept company by the prisoner. Before I left for my duty, though, I ask Katniss to join us. "I thought you didn't want to antagonize her," she says. "Yeah, well, that was before I had to guard her overnight." It wouldn't hurt Rosalia to see how dedicated I am to Katniss. "Exactly why I don't want to go." I felt a little stung at this. "Why not?" "If I go with you, I'm claiming you as territory, threatening her to not even look at you. It's what Rosalia did with me in Thirteen, every time we ate together. I'm not going to go in there acting as if I find her a threat, because that will only make her think you're weak." "You aren't threatened by her?" I ask. Even when Gale got married, I still felt he was a bit of a threat to me and Katniss. It's faded now to the point of non-existence, but still, this is my single ex-fiancé we're talking about. "No. I'm really not. I feel more threatened by Delly or Prim than her, after what she did to you." So we part with a kiss. At dinner with Rose, her eyes alive although not yet sparkling, she tries to bring up things for us to talk about. "You'd never guess it was autumn by the heat today." I shrug. "Do you remember Caesar's New Year's party, back when we first started dating?" I don't respond.

Still, she persists. "How much longer until we reach Twelve?" "What will be left of it?" "Can you believe they expect us to keep eating this trash?" The most I do is shrug, but I mostly keep quiet. Eventually, she understands and shuts up. Disheartened, but not defeated, she pushes her cot close to mine. I don't bother to move it, because she'll move it in the middle of the night like last time. On the sixth day of our journey, I keep in sight that I have one more night until we reach District 12. As people begin setting up our last camp out here, I bring Katniss aside and kiss her hard, my hand cupping her neck and my other arm against her back, pressing her close. When we part, breathless, I don't let her go yet. The hand at her neck slides down to her back. "After tonight, I'll try to get out of this. They won't need me if she doesn't have to move," I say. "I hope they listen. Sometimes I can't understand what they'll do until they do it." We kiss a little longer, until Prim calls Katniss for dinner and I go to relieve Rosalia's day guard. She eats without saying anything to me, and I return the silence, but something about her posture doesn't say defeat yet. When the fires die, out, I open the tent and gesture for her to go in, which she does. I expect a quick good night at most, but when I step in, Rosalia sits cross-legged with her handcuffed hands in her lap, and the weight of words on her lips. "Peeta, I think you owe it to me to hear my story. My whole story," she says. I sit down on my cot, not quite across from her, so that way our feet don't ram into each other. I sigh. "And why is that?" "Because you did love me, once. And I love you still. I know you say that you love Katniss and you'll only have her, but you should know the whole truth rather than just what I spilled out in anger that night." She'll hunt me down until she tells me what she wants to say, I can see that in her stare and her persistence. Might as well get it over with now. "Fine." I cross my arms, shifting on my cot. "What do you have to tell me?" She licks her lips. "I know you opened up to me about your past—" I glare, and she quickly corrects, "What you thought was your past. But I didn't find relief in talking about mine. I just wanted to forget and embrace what we had instead. Now, though, you deserve to know." I deserve nothing but to be left alone. Still, I'm stuck.

"I guess, really, it started from the day I was born," she continues. "Grandpapa was always busy running Panem, but he expected me to have the best education. I didn't go to school, rather, I was tutored with more depth and in more subjects than others. You know that after Father dies, I'm to inherit Panem? Or at least, if we get out of this war. But, anyway, I had no siblings or cousins or anyone but my tutors. Father helped Grandpapa, and Mother was always off having affairs with other men. Growing up in the Capitol, I suppose part of you gets used to it, seeing infidelity. But I had a whole library of books from before the Dark Days. I ate up the romance section. It fascinated me to see a man and woman could be so true to each other, it was so different from what I grew up with. But I wanted it. So, so desperately I wanted to love and be loved deeply and constantly, not like my parents. "When I turned thirteen, Grandpapa allowed me to come to a few parties, never too late, but it was there I met him. Maxim. He was older than me, sixteen then, and he was beautiful. He came to visit me, my first real friend. Grandpapa didn't like it and tried to keep him away, but we'd sneak away to be together, and it felt so romantic, just like the books I read. He gave me my first kiss. "I turned fourteen, and Maxim seventeen. Our kisses became deeper and longer. He told me he loved me, and I told him the same. He tried to reach up my skirt then, but I stopped him at the inside of my thigh. I asked him if he would always love me, and he said yes, yes always. I asked him if he would ever love anyone else but me. He said no, he would only love me." Her voice starts trembling now. She comes back with a whisper, "I let him take my virginity, because that's what you do when you're in love. I'd thought we were losing it together, a new, great romance in our modern times. It was so easy to find time alone together, when Mother concerned herself with her own affairs and Grandpapa was concerned with the country. I thought I had found the one for me, my true love. Maxim." Even in her disgust, her tongue seems to caress his name, his memory, while repulsing it at the same time. "But then, I came back from a tutoring lesson early and found Maxim having sex with my mother. I was sick, so sick, and I'm still sick thinking of it now. My mother claimed to have no knowledge of my romantic attachment to him, and admitted this had been going on longer than he and I had. I still hate her for what she did, but I hate Maxim more. When he promised me and he knew he'd break that promise. My true love turned out to be as stupid and false as the others around me. I cried myself dry, and still found more tears. I lost hope for the romance I'd read about and tore apart a copy of what had been my favorite book, one of two people who had been true to each other for eight years, when they both thought the other no longer loved, but they had the whole time. But that book was all false, all of it. "By the time I emerged from my depression, I was able to catch the interviews for the contestants in the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. I'd missed everything else. That's when I first saw you, Peeta. Despite what I'd gone through, I noticed how handsome you were and charming, then of course you already had a girl you liked. And you announced your crush on Katniss Everdeen."

She shakes her head. "I was so sure you were bluffing then, trying to get people to buy into you two. But then I watched the Games. You saved her, protected her, even at the risk of your own life. When you came together, you looked at her, talked to her like I imagined the heroes in the books talked to their loves. "I grew frustrated, then, when Katniss didn't return your affection. I saw through her kisses, her flirtation with you. She didn't love you, not like you loved her. And I kept on thinking of how I would do anything to have someone love me like you loved her. I knew that if you would choose me, I'd never would treat you like she did. "I watched you two more than anyone else in the Capitol. Everything you did, I gained more affection for you, how you painted like me and you had this ideal of love I had as well, and then you were funny and handsome on top of all that. How could I not fall in love with you? While I longed for you, Katniss seemed to keep her distance from you and I hated her for throwing your love away like that. I was heartbroken at the announcement of the Quell, even begged Grandpapa to change it, but he refused. I hoped Katniss and Haymitch would enter the Games, but once again, you volunteered for Haymitch's place. I was distraught, because she would never appreciate you like I would have, and you were going to die for her. "You know, of course, that I convinced Grandpapa to let you live. I knew they would tweak your memories of Katniss, but as far as I was concerned, it was nothing she didn't deserve for throwing away your love like that. Before you told me otherwise, I thought Katniss was pregnant like everyone else, but I thought she forced you to get her pregnant to save her in the Quell. Besides, Grandpapa told me Katniss Everdeen had died. Nothing would bring her back, and telling you the truth, what would that have done? Made you more confused, or broken your heart at the loss of her. I didn't tell you to protect you, Peeta." I work through the tangles of reactions. Pity for Rosalia. I'd never even heard her speak Maxim's name, although she did once mention she thought she had been in love before me, but had been wrong. It came as a shock. I knew she loved stories of committed lovers, but not because of her mother's infidelity. I hurt for her. But no matter what protection she speaks of to me, she still hid the truth. "Maybe, if you had been honest from the beginning, maybe I would have stayed with you. Maybe I could have loved you as deeply as I love Katniss," I say. "But I don't. I'm sorry for what happened to you, but that doesn't make up for what you did." Tears well in her eyes for the first time tonight. "I did it because I love you." "You still did it." She hangs her head. "It was wrong, I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I see that now. Peeta, I would do anything, anything that you wanted me to do. Can't you see that? Can't you see that even still, she doesn't love you as much as I do?"

My hands curl into fists. "That's it. You don't understand a thing about Katniss and I. You don't understand the layers in our relationship, and you don't understand her. You've said what you need to, now get to sleep." A few tears fall down her cheeks. "When you're ready Peeta," she says. "I'll be here, because I'll always love you. It's horrible, isn't it, that I finally find my unconditional love, and you don't feel that same? But you'll come back, I'm sure of that." "I'm sure I won't." "Your anger will cool. Katniss won't be able to commit to you enough. She won't give herself to you, you know that don't you? She screams virginity, and I know you won't be able to live like that forever. When you need a woman and she refuses, just come to me. I won't ask any questions, or tell anyone. We don't even need to be together like we were before, and if you want to keep up your little romance with her. But you'll need to be satisfied, and I know exactly what you need." My stomach churns. "That's not happening. I'm not going to cheat on Katniss." "How can it be cheating if she isn't giving you what you need? If one partner holds back from the other, the one seeking fulfillment somewhere else has every right to do that." "You're disgusting. How can you long for a committed love, and go saying stuff like this?" I'd never heard her even say anything like this when we were together. I couldn't see it, I couldn't believe in it. "I've always wanted, and I still want, what I read about. I want you as we were, in love and making love. But I learned the truth, too, since then. We need sex, and that's why I never denied you and why I always acted on my desires for you, because I knew as long as we fulfilled each other, we wouldn't need anyone else and we would stay together. Why else do you think you left me, when they'd kept us from being with each other for so long?" "That's not why I broke up with you, and I'd never break up with Katniss for that reason, either. And I will not ever sleep with you again." I mean to sound forceful, cold, and final. But Rosalia gives me a gentle look. "Remember the Games, Peeta? When that time of the year rolled around and you'd have nightmares of what you thought she did to you? Do you remember what we did?" She doesn't need to go on about what we did, because it would be impossible to forget those marathons of sex, the distraction from my nightmares. Every year, the hijacking's lies emerged during the Games and to combat the pain, I lived in the ecstasy of Rosalia's body even more than usual. "A war's coming, Peeta. You'll be hurting soon, and you'll need me like you did then."

I know this conversation will be endless if one of us can't give up and let the other have the last word. So with hard words, I say, "Good night" and shut off our lantern. I won't need Rosalia again, though, because I'll have Katniss.

Chapter Twenty-Two In the morning, everyone from District 12 seems more alive; not in a smiling, bouncing kind of way, but aware of everything around them. Even I peer around, seeing if I'll recognize anything, even though we still have half a day to walk. The only people who would know this area are Katniss and Gale. Katniss closes off her sack, everything packed for hopefully the last time. I come back from guarding Rosalia, what she told me heavy on my shoulders. I have to tell somebody about it. "Hey." I lean in and kiss her. "Hi." She takes my hand and nuzzles her head into my shoulder. "Are you ready for today?" Today. We'll see our home again, but it won't be our home. Who know what it'll be like now? What will be left standing, with what the past six years of neglect has done to it? Will it even be District 12 to us? "I'm not sure," I say. "I've wanted to go to it for so long, get some closure on it." "Can we walk together, for today? I don't want to see it alone." She nods and lets go of my hand for a moment so she can put on her pack. Then, together again, we join the rest of the people, hovering between the soldiers and the civilians. The mood of the march seems more solemn than ever before. People talk in low tones and never laugh. Everyone's dealing with our return in their own quiet way. But the mountains we took coal from looks familiar, the same features but farther away from where I usually saw them. "Rosalia had some interesting things to say to me," I say a half hour into our journey. Her features pull taut, unhappy. "I swear as soon as we're in Twelve I'm telling Boggs you can't guard her anymore." "Katniss, I want you to know what she said." "Why? Why would I want to hear anything she has to say?" "Because she told me, and I don't want anything hidden between us." Katniss sighs. "Fine. What did she tell you?"

"She told me that she was a lonely child, and she fell in love, but he let her down. In the middle of her heartbreak were our first Games. She claimed to fall in love with me then and thought…she thought you didn't deserve me." She doesn't look at me throughout this. I think on Rosalia's last words to me. I could tell Katniss the offer, but I stop myself. I don't want Katniss to feel as if I'm threatening to go back to Rosalia if she doesn't go along and have sex with me. But at the same time, I want honesty. So I end with, "She told me she'd always take me back. I told her it would never happen." "I know I told you I don't feel threatened by her, and I'm not, but I don't like you being around her. I don't trust her. Even now she's trying to manipulate you into some sob story about her past." "Believe me, I recognize what she's doing and I'm not going to fall for it," I say. "But I do want to get out of being her night guard. I miss you." "I miss you, too." Right now is when I would pull her in and kiss her hard, but we have to walk, so we end up having a brief lip lock. After we stop for lunch and walk a few more miles, Katniss gasps. "What?" I ask. "I recognize this place. It was one of the farthest places we'd go hunting. We can't be far now, just five miles or so." The forest looks the same to me, but I don't doubt Katniss. She knows the area surrounding District 12 better than anybody else. Five miles. Five miles, and we'll be home. Or will it no longer be home? "I'm nervous," I say. "Is that weird?" "No, I'm a little anxious, too. It's not going to be the same at all." Not at all the same. Everyone's gone now. I realize how few people I knew and loved are actually here, alive, right now. My brothers—gone. My father—gone. Even those stupid pigs whose pen I hated cleaning out— gone. When we see it again, nothing will look the same. How can life turn so quickly? One minute, I'm the baker's son and the next a victor. Then a tribute again, and the Capitol's puppet. Now, I'm…I don't know what I am. A rebel, maybe? But I'm not that boy from District 12 anymore. I need to figure out who I am.

In front of us, everyone stops walking. "What's going on?" I ask. Katniss shakes her head. Several rows ahead, in the front of the soldiers, a man with grey hair and pasty skin stands up on a tree stump. He dresses in a very fine, precise way, even after this week in the woods. He smiles at everyone, making his military uniform seem so out of place. "Who's that?" I ask. Katniss raises an eyebrow. "You haven't seen President White before?" I shake my head. "Well, that's him," she says, unhappy. "He looks nice." "Oh, yes, niceness is all a part of his game. He thinks that if he smiles and asks about your health you'll listen to whatever he wants from you, even if that's completely absurd." "Ah, right. The whole marriage thing." "I can't completely oppose him. Otherwise we'll split apart, which we can't do now with the war. We all have to stay strong with each other. But once it's over, then I'm going to let everyone know what I think of him." I think the only other people Katniss has a bigger problem with is the Snows. "Everyone, please, can I have your attention." President White holds up his hands for silence. "Thank you! Now, we're only a few miles from District 12. However, because we do not know the condition it will be in, the original refugees from District 12 will not enter for another week." A collective gasp of disbelief and protest hits the crowd. President White's expression turns sympathetic, his hand to his heart. "Now I know, I know. But to see it so destroyed might cause a mass break down among you. Those of us originally from District 13 will go down and get everything cleaned up. This way, hopefully the emotional distress you experience will be minimized." Anger wells in me. "No! No!"

A few other voices join, crying against this. White bows his head. "I know. You will want to go home. But we have a war. Time will come to heal. For now, we must minimize the damage." "He can't do this," I say. Katniss sighs. "He can, because when in war, the president of Thirteen has power to command anything." "But it's not fair." I might never be able to find my family's bones, but I have a right to see what they've spent the past six years in. We ought to be the ones cleaning it up, grieving, yes, but also putting it behind us. I can't just sit here for another week. "I've learned since coming here you need to learn how to pick your battles. This isn't a battle of mine," Katniss says. "Come on, let's find a place to set up camp." As I walk back with Katniss, I pass Rosalia walking forward with her guard and all of those from Thirteen. She's away from me for at least a week. Something good will come from this, at least. I'll get to hold Katniss at night again.

Because we're no longer walking, I get my first dose of really being a soldier. We run (as far as White has let us go), we practice hand-to-hand combat, and how to shoot a gun. I can usually concentrate, even when Katniss leans in to position my shoulders for shooting a gun and her lips are so close I can kiss them. Instead, I focus, because if I'm going into a war then I need to learn this stuff. But when Katniss insists I stay behind to practice hand-to-hand combat, my will is worn thin. She gets me pinned on the ground, but I just smile and force myself up and kiss her. My arms escape from her hands and I hold her by her neck and her waist, kissing more deeply until she comes back on the ground with me. "So is this your defense if a Capitol soldier attacks you?" Katniss asks when I take to her neck. "Don't think it'll work?" I ask between kisses. I don't get her answer, though, because she covers her mouth with mine. When it comes to moments like this with Katniss, I've made a rule for myself. What I do will only mirror what she does. If she were to take off my shirt, then I would unzip the top of her Mockingjay uniform. Same with everything else. But Katniss doesn't do much more besides kissing, although a few times her hands have found their way to my hips, clenched there like she's restraining herself.

With training, my nightmares get worse. In them, Katniss and I are plopped in the Hunger Games again, a strange mixture of both our Games with pines and palm trees and mutts and monkeys. When the bloodthirsty Careers come running after us, my leg gets caught up in vines. "Katniss!" I yell at her. She doesn't even turn around. She runs ahead, forgetting about me. Then the Careers leap over me, as if I'm not there. I stumble up and run after them. I catch up to the pack just in time to see them rip Katniss's heart from her chest. I wake up sweaty, Katniss in my arms and stirring with nightmares of her own. I try to forget, but I can't. My two worst fears rolled up into one dream—Katniss leaving me and Katniss dying. Then one day, a woman and a man with a camera come in on the soldiers practicing. Although they have natural hair color and no crazy make-up or clothes, I recognize them as Capitol citizens. They walk too straight and confident to be from anywhere else. In our practice, I work with Bron, since he's technically in the same size division as me, and Katniss works with the smaller soldiers. "Katniss! It's been ages since we've gotten any good shots of you!" the woman says. "Hello Cressida." Katniss wipes some sweat from her temple. "Now. We've heard rumors that you and Peeta have reconnected." With my name drawn into this, I lose my concentration and Bron gets my arm pinned behind my back. "I told you when we were going on the rescue mission, my personal life is no matter to the propos." "Ah! But that's when we were asking about you and Gale. This is Peeta Mellark we're talking about! Your starcrossed lover, who was ripped from you and forced to believe he hated you by the Capitol. But can't you see, by choosing you instead of Rosalia Snow, he chooses the rebellion! It's a perfect tie-in to convince others to join our cause." I grapple around with Bron, but before I can escape Cressida turns around and spots me. "Here, let's ask Peeta what he thinks." She grabs my free hand and yanks me away from Bron. Katniss stands with her hands on her hips, face blank but filled with anger. "Now," Cressida says, "I don't see what's wrong with filming you two together if you are, in fact, together." "I'm not doing it," Katniss says. "Film me training or making speeches or in action. But don't film me with Peeta."

I come back a little stung from this. "Katniss, I don't mind," I say. "It's not like it isn't true, like how it was the first time around. But we really are together now." "I'm not using our relationship for political gain." "Not even if that helps win the war?" "It's not their business! It's ours! And besides, what if something happens?" She might as well have hit me in the stomach with a stick. "What would happen, Katniss?" I ask. For the first time in the conversation, regret flickers in her eyes. "Nothing. I didn't mean that." "But you said it." "I'm sorry. But I don't want our relationship to become what it was before. I feel like if we expose it like that, it'll become the camera again and not us. I wouldn't be able to handle that, and then something might happen." I nod in understanding. Maybe spending so much time in the camera with Rosalia had numbed me from the idea that a relationship on film was not really a relationship at all. After all, hadn't Katniss and I changed since we were sixteen? We were in love now, filming it shouldn't make it any less real. But if Katniss wanted it this way, then I'd have to accept it. The seventh day of the week was District Thirteen's rest day. Of course, chores and such still had to get done, but there was no training. After Katniss and I do our assigned chore duty, we take a walk. "Everything I know is so close." Katniss reaches out to stroke a leaf on a bush. "But they won't let us go anywhere." "Well, why don't we?" I ask. "Why don't we what?" "Go somewhere. You know these woods, we'll be able to find our way back." Katniss gives a sideways grin. "I know just the place." So we run past the edges of camp, as if they'll actually come after us and tackle us to the ground. Katniss smiles when we slow down, her face lifted to the overcast sky.

"I've missed these woods," she says. "I'm glad these are still here, then," I say. "They're so much older than the rest of everything, you know?" Katniss says. "They've seen everything, been around since before the Dark Days. Probably even survived the natural disasters." "Sounds a lot like you, a survivor." She shrugs. "They'll keep on going though, longer than anyone else will." Katniss leads the way until the trail breaks into a lake with a cabin beside it, although it's more like a cement foundation with four walls and a roof to it. "My father used to take me here," Katniss says. "This is where I learned to swim, how to catch fish, and dig up tubers." "It's beautiful," I say, and it is. With the fall weather, the golds and reds in the trees reflect off of the water and scatter the ground. And then it starts to rain. And not a light rain, either, but a splattering, drenched-in-two-minutes kind of rain. "Come on," Katniss says, and drags me to the cabin. We shake off the rain as best we can. Katniss's Mockingjay suit is waterproof, but my normal uniform is not. I wring out the water as best I can, but I don't get dry. "Here, let's start a fire," Katniss says, pointing to a fireplace, where wood is already stacked up beside it. While Katniss gets the fire going, I pull off my shoes and drenched socks, rubbing my feet warm. My wet shirt clings to me, keeping the cold on me as well. So I take it off and put it, with my socks, near the fire. Katniss's eyes get a little bit wider when she sees me. "Sorry, this doesn't bother you, does it?" I ask. "No." I sit down next to her in front of the flames. She takes off her shoes and socks, too, the only part of her that seems to have gotten wet. Her feet turn pale and a little wrinkly, as if they're beginning to prune. I put my hands on her cold toes, and then start massaging warmth back into them.

The fire still mesmerizes me from the corner of my eye, and I think back to the flames in the oven—both back home and in District 13. "I haven't told you yet how I remembered that I love you, have I?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Do you remember that day when I fainted in the bakery, and you thought I'd had a concussion?" I ask. "Yes." "The reason why I fainted, I smelled the burnt bread and I remembered that day in the rain, and that I gave you the bread because I loved you. It wasn't long after I woke up that I realized my feelings had never really gone away, they'd just been repressed by my hijacking." "It was that long ago?" Katniss asks. "I thought it had been more recent." I can hear her unasked question. Why did it take you so long to do anything about it? "I didn't think you felt the same," I say. "Not until you said you wanted to kill Rosalia for making me hate you." "I guess I'm not very good at showing my feelings." "We both didn't want to get hurt." She presses her chin to her knee, then peeks out over her legs and kisses me, briefly at first. But I can sense just how alone we are, and the warmth from the fire seems to grow even hotter. I let go of her feet and scoot closer so that her legs fall over mine, and I hold her face in my hands and kiss her. She doesn't hesitate as she kisses me back, her hands exploring my exposed chest and stomach, then when I press her closer, the lines of my back. Her mouth works harder, more intensely than I ever remember. And her hands keep going over me, all around from my back to my upper arm to my chest again. I try to remember my rule. But my shirt's already off, and she's more passionate about this than ever before. My fingers find the zipper at the bottom of her throat. I move it down slowly, ready at any moment for her to stop it from going down farther. She doesn't.

Instead, when the zipper can't go down any farther, she removes her arms from the sleeves. Her bare arms wrap around my neck, the skin of her stomach on the skin of mine. She kisses under my jaw and around my ear. "I love you, Katniss," I whisper to her. "I love you, too," she says at my ear between kisses. I turn my head to kiss her mouth again, and her fingers trace the lines on my stomach that lead down into my pants. The metal sound of my belt buckle coming loose sounds in my ear, and that's how I know this is it. She unzips, and I maneuver out with her help. I end up on my knees, and lead her down so I'm hovering on top of her. As I put my hands on the lower half of her uniform, lightning flashes in the skies and thunder crashes. Katniss gasps and sits up. I brush hair out of her face. "It's okay," I say. "It's just lightning." This time when she puts her hands to my chest, they're stiff and keeping me away from her, rather than bending with me. Her eyes go from my body to hers, startled. "What?" I ask. "We can't do this," she says. I sit back on my heels. She sits up and scoots away from me, grabbing her uniform and fumbling to get her arms through. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—it just sort of happened and I thought you wanted it to happen, too," I say. She zips her uniform up nice and snug at her neck. "That's the problem, Peeta. I do want it. For the first time in my life, I'm tempted with it. With you." "Then what's wrong? We love each other, we're adults, we're together. If you want it and I want it, then what does it matter?" "I'm not going to get pregnant." Ah. Right, this again. She continues, "District 13 doesn't have any birth control. If we ever get it, it'll be after the war. I'm not risking having a child and screwing up her life because I couldn't control myself."

I put my pants back on. At least I know now, though, where she's coming from. She draws her legs into herself, as if she needs to protect herself from me. I gesture her to me. "Come here." She hesitates. "I hope you trust me enough to know I'm not going to put you through that again," I say. She scoots to me, and I wrap her up in my arms, her cheek to my chest. "I didn't know before. But now that I do, I promise I'll be good." "The war might take a long time to finish, and even then, President White might ban birth control." "Well then that'll be one battle I'll fight for." "So you can have sex with me?" "So you can choose if you want to have sex with whoever you want. Which, admittedly, I would prefer it if it were me." She presses her face to my neck and squeezes me tight. "I can't imagine anyone else," she says. "And I can't imagine anyone but you, either."

Chapter Twenty-Three We're going home. That's what I tell myself when we get the message from President White that we're allowed back to District 12. But walking with Katniss through the woods, it doesn't feel like I'm going home. Home was the smell of bread, the glow of the oven, my brothers' laughter and my dad's patience. It won't be there when we get back. No one says much as we take the trail toward the meadow. I keep stroking Katniss's hand with my thumb, trying to stay grounded, but dread hovers around me, terrified of what I'll see. Of what I won't see. The tree line ends. Stretched out in front of us is rubble and dead grass. Plant life must have stretched out into the ashes of the bombs, and in the spring it might have been beautiful, but in fall with winter coming on, the plant life shrivels and browns between blocks of foundation that used to be our life. The ground's been moved around, the dirt not packed in and settled. "They were removing the bodies," Katniss says. "At least the obvious ones." I become sick. The bodies. My family, my friends, my neighbors, sitting here rotting for years upon years, abandoned and without rest. No one to say words at a funeral, no grave, nothing to close their life with a remembrance of who they were. Despite the ruins, I could still walk the paths of District 12. I knew the town square, the Justice Building, the school. People seem afraid to go anywhere but an area near the Victor's Village (which, for some reason, was not bombed) despite the fact that as we walk, we're passing their very lives. I stay with the pack until I see District 12 as it was—shabby and poor, yes, but built up, and the bakery right there with the rest of the shops in the square. I blink, and all that's left is a huge hunk of metal. My hand loosens on Katniss's as I wander off of the path, toward the metal that's been melted and hardened again. I stand at the bakery, or what was the bakery. I imagine there's steps I have to take up, a door with a bell to ring when a customer comes. I step past the counter with breads and rolls and display and into the back. Jonah frosts cookies. Jam sweeps up the floor, always dirty with the flour and sugar. Mother sits in the corner, punching out our finances as she did every night to make sure we wouldn't go under. Dad pulls bread out of the warm oven. It's home. This is my home, where I came from and where I belong.

Then, the vision turns. Jam points out the window where red streaks light the sky. Dad moves to Mother, telling her in his gentle way to get up. Jonah drops the cookies and they all run past me, but then the light explodes. I collapse, soot rising up around me. I lean against the melted oven, the only thing left of my life before. They're gone, gone, gone. It hits me as fresh and painful as when I woke up in the Capitol, watching the news footage. No survivors, they said. No one left. Nothing left. Just as I did then, now I feel a loss of purpose. Who am I now? No longer the baker's son. No longer the one who decorated the cakes. No longer the baby of the family. The people who for so long held me up and helped defined me, they're dead. Worse, murdered. And I'm left here alone with nothing but a warped oven to show for my life. Pressure falls on my shoulder. "Peeta?" Katniss asks. I look up through blurred vision. Katniss. I still have Katniss, don't I? The girl who I always loved, who I burnt the bread for. Right here, right here is where I burnt that bread for her. She crouches down to my level and strokes my cheek with her thumb. I pull her into me, my mouth on hers. I hold her tight, as if any space between us would give someone the opportunity to tear us apart. And her lips on mine, my embrace around her, her hands in my hair, all remind me I'm not alone. The grief, the loneliness, sinks away with her touch and touching her. Instead, my heart beats out my blood full of heat and my stomach aches with desire. She holds both sides of my head, alighting me with senses. She pulls back. "Peeta. Are you okay?" I give her a kiss. "Yes. I just…it was hard." "I know. But we need to go." I kiss her again, a zing to keep me going. Instead of taking her hand, I wrap an arm around her waist and walk forward with her that way. "Why is Victors Village still there?" I ask. "I don't know," Katniss sighs. "Maybe so if anyone from the Capitol came, they'd have somewhere nice to stay." As we find out, no one's allowed to sleep in the houses of the Victor's Village. They look at the Everdeens, me, and Haymitch as they point this out. There's no enough room for everybody, and so no one will be allowed inside.

We pitch out tent, right where they assign us. No one tells me to guard Rosalia, so I stay with Katniss. I hate all of the people around us. I wish for some birth control, I wish that I could just take Katniss here and now, the desire of it overwhelming me now. The desire only competes with the grief rising up again in me. It stays off whenever I get the opportunity to give her a kiss or feel her arms around me, but after some time without her, it attacks me again. Why does it have to come back? The same gnawing, soul-crushing feeling I had in the Capitol eats me again. They're still gone. But seeing District 12 like this, it brings up the knowledge that they're gone. Jonah never got the chance to marry his sweetheart. Jam never got out of District 12 like he always wanted. Dad's not here to guide me anymore, to make me see the right way. Even those stupid pigs are lost to me. They should be here. My brothers, my dad, they didn't belong in the Capitol or Thirteen. But they belong here in District 12, in the bakery, with me. But they weren't waiting for me. They were burned, their flesh sizzling and clothes on fire, melting down like the oven had, nothing but black, charred bones. Pain. They felt pain. "Peeta, there are some things that I want to get from my house," Katniss says. "Do you want to come with me, or do you want to stay here?" "I'll come with you," I say. We wait until dark, then slip between the tents and over the line they didn't want us to cross. Here, in Victor's Village, everything's the same as before. I don't know if that's worse or better. Because although it looks the same, I know that it isn't the same at all. The door's unlocked, so we come through easily. But the electricity is cut off, so we can only see dark shapes in the room. "Do you know what you're looking for?" I ask. "Yes, but it's been so long, I can't remember where they are." She lets go of my hand for a moment and produces a flashlight. We start in the kitchen and retrieve a book of family remedies, her mother's medicine, then in her mother's room a photograph of her parents' wedding day. "I also want my father's jacket," Katniss says. "It's right in my room." When we open the door, a dry but sickly sweet familiar smell comes through. With so much time spent in the President's mansion and with President Snow before he died, I recognize it immediately. Katniss clutches my arm with her free hand, making me believe that she knows the smell, too.

"Snow," a slight panic edges her voice. "Is dead," I say. "Come on, now. Let's get your father's jacket." We step through together. Katniss goes to retrieve the jacket while I find the source of the smell: a white rose, now shriveled by still emitting the unnaturally strong floral scent. I pick it up and take it to the window, throwing it out and leaving the window open to air out the room. "There," I say, turning around back to Katniss. "It was just a flower, put here long ago." "I thought that the Capitol thought I was dead," Katniss says. "Why would Snow put that here if he thought I was gone?" I rub her arms, then wrap her in my embrace. "Maybe he put it here before he decided to bomb Thirteen. It doesn't matter, because he is dead and you're still here. Don't let him intimidate you." Katniss releases a breath. I tilt her chin up and kiss her. We're both on edge right now, coming back to District 12, but we have each other to help ebb that away. Our kiss deepens, and my tongue slides across her lips, briefly into her mouth. I break the kiss for a moment, our foreheads touching, as I lead her back to the bed. I know she doesn't want to have sex, and I respect that, but that doesn't mean I have to stop touching her. "Peeta." She moves away at little as we sit down. "I know. We'll stay safe, I promise." She doesn't protest as I kiss her again, lead her down on the bed and hover above her. We spend a long time wrapped in each other, twisting around in the bed and touching and just being with one another. We do stay safe, just as I promised, with everything staying on and zipped up. An hour and a half has passed when Katniss brings up the fact that we ought to get back to our tent. "This is your house," I say. "We should be able to stay here if we want." "Close the window," Katniss replies, climbing out of the bed. We spend the night in the tent as usual, and in the morning we have our training. But this time, wrestling in the ashes and posting shot targets on skeleton chimneys brings back to surface the depression I've fought for so long. Every glance at the melted oven, or path without the landmarks I'm used to twists a knife deeper into my heart. And the only way I know how to extract it is Katniss.

That night we go back to her room and we make out again, our uniforms no doubt dirtying her sheets, but I can't care about that. The next day isn't much different. I train, and I break again. When I suggest to Katniss we go to her house again, she sighs. "I have some meetings with White and others." "That's fine. I'll meet you up later, okay?" She nods. With the extra time, in the twilight I go to my own house in Victors Village. I can still see enough without a flashlight, everything just as I left it. My cane I used after losing my leg props itself against the door. The whole place needs a good dusting and airing out after six years of being empty. Then I wander to the mantle, where I'd placed pictures of my family. My brothers and I as little boys all arranged together in a formal pose, but our faces twisting with silliness. My mother standing stiffly as my dad wraps his arm around her waist in front of the bakery. Jam posed with his medal from winning the wrestling championship. A picture taken when I got back from the Hunger Games with my whole family, their smiles of relief and pure joy as we stand together, whole again. I sink to my knees. Dammit, dammit! Of course these pictures of them made it, when they didn't. I'd offered for them to live with me, but they refused. Still had the bakery to run, after all, and they'd have to wake up ten minutes earlier to walk from the Victors Village to the bakery. But if they had been here in my house, they never would have been touched, just like these pictures. It's my fault. I should have protected them, somehow! I should have demanded to know more about the rebellion, warned them to be careful. Katniss and I had talked about running away, I should have asked Gale to hide them in the woods. Why am I the one alive? All because Rosalia's first boyfriend had been a cheat? I should be dead like them, they're my family, Twelve is my home, and it's all dead. I don't deserve to live when they're gone. What have I done these past six years, anyway? Nothing important, nothing I wouldn't erase if given the chance. The sky becomes dark, and I realize that Katniss should be coming to her place soon now. I manage to stand up, my desire for her to help me forget fueling me past this mess I am. I still have to wait a half hour until she comes in. When she does, my body takes over. I take her into me, my mouth pressing hard against hers, pushing her against the wall, our bodies lined up perfectly. But even as I kiss her harder than ever before, I know it's not enough with this re-opened wound.

She said she didn't want to sleep with me because she didn't want to get pregnant. Well, there's plenty we can do without having a baby. I kiss her neck, her arms separating our chests. I whisper, "Do you want to try something new, Katniss?" She stiffens. "I've told you, Peeta, no sex." "There's other things we can do that are just as fun as sex but won't get you pregnant." Her arms push me away. "Fun?" "Well, it might not be as fun as sex, but it'll definitely be fun." Her next push comes as more of a shove, separating us completely. "That's what you think of intimacy? Fun? That's what we've been this whole time? Something to entertain you?" "Crap. No, of course not, Katniss. I didn't—I just meant—" "Because you know, I haven't ever been with anyone like that, so for me, it'll be a lot more serious than that. For me, well, at least what I imagine it, it will be sharing everything I am and feeling love from the other person. It will hopefully be pleasurable, but it won't be fun." She glares at me angrily, and I feel about the size of a bug she could squash. Why did I say fun? "I'm sorry, I used the wrong word. But that's what I want, too. I want to love you and be close to you." I wait. Her head turns to the side, eyes closed. Her mouth tightens with anger and disappointment. "I talked with Rosalia today," she says. No. Not good. She breathes in and continues. "I was the only female soldier around and she needed to bathe. I had to guard her, and she told me things about the two of you. She said whenever you were dealing with depression or bad thoughts, you would use her to forget them. I told her that we were different, but I realized we aren't. I'm no different to you than she was to you. All we've been doing is making out, especially lately since coming back to Twelve." She stares at me now straight on. "Are you using me like you were using her?" "No!" I protest, but think about it. I have been using Katniss's kisses as a way to distract myself from everything else. I correct myself, "Okay, fine, I may have been using you lately, but it's not the same as Rosalia was. She

was the only one there for me in the Capitol and I was just flattered by her attention, I thought I loved her, but I never really did. The difference is that I do love you, Katniss." I take her hands in mine, but she keeps her distance. "Why?" she asks. "Why what?" "Why do you love me?" I lick my lips. I know I have reasons to love her, but as she bears into me with her eyes and that intensely, I realize our relationship might catch on this one question, my mind goes blank. "I just…I know I love you." Katniss sighs and shakes her head. "We went into this too fast. You've been going through a lot and when you broke up with Rosalia, I was there, someone you remembered you loved, but you'd only just gotten over hating a few weeks before. And I…I made mistakes, too. I was jealous of Rosalia, and I knew that by being with you, I'd beaten her, and I just wanted to beat her. But we hadn't even had a real chance to know each other after everything we've been through. We're different people than when we were seventeen. And we came into this not realizing that." "Katniss, we're different, but we still need each other." Her hands slip from mine. "Need each other how? As someone to make out with when things hurt? As someone to fill a loss from years ago? We don't need anyone." She crosses her arms. "Easy for you to say. You have your mother and Prim, and Gale. You're all I have left." I crack at this last sentence. She's all I have, the only thing I love in this world. "Years ago, Peeta, years ago. Since then, you've moved on. You became different. More like the Capitol." "Don't compare me to them." "Why not? You're using lust as a way to cope, just as they do. You learned it from them, because my Peeta from District 12 would never act like this. And when have we really ever even talked about what we've been through the past six years? Not much, just vague details. Not enough to know what the other person really went through."

"Then let's start," I say. Katniss shakes her head. "I need distance from you right now." "You're breaking up with me?" The words seem too impossible. From our first kiss since I came back, I've known Katniss and I were to be together. This can't be happening. "Yes. And I think you should find somewhere else to sleep. Stay in your house tonight, maybe, and figure something out for everything else." Kicking me out, back into my nightmares without her. "I'm sorry, but this is what's best." She turns and leaves, sending me reeling back to being utterly alone.

Chapter Twenty-Four I can't stay here. I can't go to my house. I have no tent. It only takes a minute for Katniss to go before I stumble out, cold from the autumn night and numb from this turn. The only feeling I have is centered deep in my chest, as if a poison is spreading through it. In the dark street, my breath puffs out in clouds. I shiver, searching for a place to just curl up and try to forget everything that's happened. Haymitch's house sits silent and empty in front of me. Good a place as any. I expect to have to put my shoulder in it to take down Haymitch's door, but it's already open when I come in. I shut the door with a slam. They can catch me if they want. I don't care. "This is my house, and I'll live here as much as I please!" A voice thunders from the kitchen. I take a few steps closer. "Haymitch?" "Peeta?" I walk past the living room and into the kitchen. Haymitch sits at his table, one candle casting a yellow light on his face. He clutches a bottle, which isn't too hard to guess what's inside. "You have alcohol?" I ask. A memory buzzes to me. "I thought I got rid of all of yours." "I stocked up on it again before we left for the Quell," Haymitch says. "Been coming here every night, I haven't had a drink in years, and it's impossible to face this without it." I cross the floor and sit down on the chair across from him. "You're telling me." "Katniss coming in, too?" Haymitch asks, taking a swig. Her name makes me curl in like a wilted flower. "No." "Hm. Weird, with how much you've been eating each other's faces." He leans over and draws out another bottle of alcohol that looks like Ripper's homemade brand. He cracks it open and hands it to me. I've never been a heavy drinker, and never more than tipsy. Rose had always been the one of us who would get drunk, and I had to care for her. But I don't have to care for anyone anymore. Not Rosalia, Not Katniss. Me. Just me. And so the question is, do I want to get drunk?

Yes. I put the bottle to my lips and take a gulp. I sputter, the alcohol burning more than I expected it to. Fire ignites in my throat and kindles in my belly. "Well, the eating each other's faces, that's been the problem," I say. "Katniss doesn't like it." Haymitch laughs. "I could have told you that. Been that way since you were in the Games together." I sip my alcohol silently, while Haymitch drinks his. It tastes horrible, so I don't know why I keep on sending it down. It doesn't even help, unless a disgruntled anger's better than numb depression. "I just don't get Katniss," I say. "Kissing, and sex, I mean, that's part of life. Part of being in love. What's so wrong with it? What's wrong about me wanting to love her, huh?" "I really don't want to know about your sex life." It's like my ears have stopped working. Or at least my consideration. I don't care that Haymitch doesn't want to hear it, I want to talk about it. "And it's like she doesn't realize she's all I have left. She's it. The only one. But she doesn't care. She doesn't care about me or what's happened with me." My arms are getting used a lot right now, gesturing between me and space around me. "I could have done something different if she wanted. I'm very good at waiting. I mean, eleven years just to get her to kiss me. Even longer for her to mean it. I'm good at waiting." I swirl the rest of the liquor around, measuring how much I have left. I can get that down in one swallow, no problem. I tip it back, but it is a little more than I can handle and leaves me sputtering and burning. "Amateur," Haymitch laughs, then takes his own long gulp, and none of it ends up on his shirt. I lean my head against my fist. "She's a bitch." "She's always been a bitch." I sit up and glare at him. "Don't call her that!" "You did." "Well, she's not. She's amazing. She can survive anything, and she's never needed anyone because she's strong. And she cares, so much, for other people. Like her sister and mother. Rue. Finnick, Annie, Gale. You." I pull at my hair. "But she's left me alone. She doesn't care about me."

"Okay, Peeta, you need to stop this whole bi-polar thing you have going on. Either hate Katniss or love her, I can't keep up with both of you." "I don't hate her, she hates me. And that's always been the problem with us. I've always loved her more than she loved me. Maybe except for when I was hijacked and wanted to punch her." Haymitch shakes his head. "You're drunk. An emotional drunk." My head does feel like the liquor's gone inside of it rather than in my stomach. For some reason, it feels like more clarity has come to mind, made me see clearer. "Why do I have to love her so much?" I pound my head. The full force of the heartbreak hits me, not numbed from shock. She's gone. I wasn't enough for her, and now I'm alone. Alone except for the alcohol and Haymitch. "I'm never drinking with you again," Haymitch says. Okay, just me and the alcohol now. I take Haymitch's bottle. I let the fire slide down me, trying to concentrate on that instead of this swirling lost feeling inside of me, of not belonging to anyone or anything. "How much do you have to drink before you pass out?" I ask. Just drinking can't get rid of this for me. I want out of it, out of it. "You'll probably be going soon," Haymitch says. "You don't seem to hold much down." "I want to sleep." Haymitch grumbles, staggers up, and gestures to me to do the same. My legs seems to have loose sockets as I shakily stand up and fall into Haymitch. He manages to keep us upright, but we sway. "Have you gotten fat?" Haymitch groans as he supports me. "Don't know. Maybe that's why she doesn't like me." "Shut up about that." I fall beneath my prosthetic and Haymitch goes down with me. He yells out and pushes me off of him. I roll onto the kitchen floor on the cold tile. "That's it. You can figure out where to crash for yourself." Haymitch stands up and walks away, limping slightly.

This floor's uncomfortable. Hard and cold. I should move. But I don't bother anymore. This is where I landed. This is where I'll stay.

I wake up with a pounding headache, splitting down the middle of my forehead. My back pops and cracks as I rise up and twist from side to side. Ugh. Did I get hit by a train last night? Then I see the bottles on the table, and it all comes back to me. The fall. Drinking. Katniss. I manage somehow to stand up, squinting as the morning sun comes in. The light's way too bright for me, it only increases my headache. I have to lean against the counter and press my head to the tiles. "Sleepy's finally up." Haymitch comes in. "And not doing so well hung-over it seems." I want to make a response, but it leaves my mouth as, "Unnghff." "You know they'll make your life hell if you don't get to your training." "I think Katniss already took that job from them." Haymitch hands me a glass of water. I gulp it down, the cold shocking me out of my sluggishness a bit. I wipe my hand across my mouth, wishing it were physically possible to sleep until the pain died down. Not just the hangover, I could handle that part. But the twist in my heart every time I think of her leaving, of being alone. "You caught a bit of luck today being late, because there's a soldier who's undergoing more discipline than your tardiness," Haymitch says, grabbing my arm and leading me forward toward the door. "Really? But I thought District 13 found drinking disgusting and a waste." The full sunlight hurts even more once we're outside. Haymitch swings me toward the tent area. "Yes, but they hate sleeping with the enemy more." "Sleeping with the enemy?" It takes me a moment before it clicks in my brain. "Rosalia?" "Yeah, she and the soldier who's been guarding her since you left got caught early this morning. Won't mean much for her, except her guards will be chosen more carefully and switched more often, but this other guy.

Man, is he going to get it. Knocked down lower on the ranks and disgraced among the people. Doesn't help his case he's an infertile, either." People have left the tents and gathered in the common area, where an officer of high rank sits above in the area where they used to pull out our names from the reaping ball. I catch sight of Rosalia's pink hair, even though it's faded and growing out. Someone else stands beside her, a man, whose face I can't see. Everyone else crowds around, some other soldiers keeping back the curious onlookers. "Soldier Tage, you are hereby stripped of your rank and demoted to foot soldier. You are reassigned to unit 236 and will depart tomorrow for District 2. Any more signs of disobedience and you'll be turned out of this district," the head officer says. The crowd begins murmuring right away, and the man beside Rosalia drops his shoulders, out of defeat or relief I can't tell. One of the other soldiers grabs Rosalia, who looks rather smug and pleased. Of course she is. She's walked away from this without any repercussions. She's already a prisoner, though, I don't see what else they could do to her. Rosalia tosses her hair back over her shoulder as she's led away, noticing me. And she smiles, that smile she gave me long ago after I would tell her I loved her. I don't know if she gives me that look because she's over me through this fling with her guard, or if she knows in my miserable expression that I've lost as much as she has.

Chapter Twenty-Five During training that day as I nurse a hang over, I run slower than anyone else and my fighting is weak. Assembling a gun takes twice as long as it should, and the instructions come to me in a daze. Katniss trains with us, ignoring me and stony to everyone else. She doesn't seem effected by this. She just goes along with everything she's supposed to do. At the end of training, Boggs announces the units that'll be going into District 2 to bring down the last district before we can get through to the Capitol. Katniss is leaving. I'm not. No surprise there, with my performance today. They need some people around to guard the civilians and manage supplies, and those of us staying are the ones whose military performance hasn't been top shape. I might have squeaked into the mission, but with today's heartache and hang over, I flop back down to staying here. I talk to the people in charge of supplies about my new-found solitude. They manage to find a tent for me, and I set mine up away from Katniss's area. I avoid other people, and instead bundle up in my sleeping bag, laying in my tent, wondering how to stop thinking about her, hating myself for wanting her, and trying unsuccessfully to ignore the steady hollowness in my chest. In the morning, the special units team leaves. I don't say good-bye to Katniss. I can't even look at her without wanting to drop to the ground and curl into a ball. I stand by Delly as she watches Bron head off, tears coming down her cheeks as they go. "He'll be all right," she says. Her usual optimism wavers, though, as she covers her mouth with her hand. I bring my arm around her, and she presses her face into my chest, her back trembling from keeping in her cries. That's the first moment my hurt isn't for myself, but for someone else. It isn't any better. Delly and I eat dinner together, the two of us trying to avoid the topics of Bron and Katniss. The war's too touchy as well, and home as it was makes both of us sad as well. So it goes on for a week. I train (with the cream of the crop gone, I'm the best soldier there). Delly helps with supplies and food. We eat together, and spend our free nights keeping one another company to keep from getting lonely. Haymitch sometimes drops by to see me, but he's mostly drunk when he does come by. District 12 hasn't been kind to him.

But it isn't enough. No matter the activity I do or who I'm with, it's never enough to keep me from nightmares and horrors of my past. In all of them, I'm alone. It's dark, and things slither around me, choking me, binding me so I can't move. People will come by and ignore my pleas. Katniss, Haymitch, Rosalia, Prim. Those who would help me, my family, are ghosts, and their hands go right through the snakes that hold me. I suffocate. The thing about loneliness isn't always the matter of being alone. The physical separation can be hard, but it's not as bad as the emotional separation that comes with loneliness. It's the knowledge that in the end, if you go missing or die, no one will notice or care. It's the lack of connection with another human being, of someone knowing you and wanting to be around you anyway. When we first came to District 13, separation from Rosalia didn't hurt as much as I do now, or as much as I did those years before Rosalia came into my life. Because although I was removed from someone I thought I loved and couldn't live without, I knew that she thought about me at night, and as soon as we were in the same room, she'd fall into my arms and it would all be over. But now what? It's back to my dark days in the Capitol, knowing that no one thinks about me as she falls asleep, or worries if I'm all right. And that meaninglessness, that's what kills me. I'm too broken, too horny, too needy, too everything, for any sane person to stick around me. The boy I was before was enough. Katniss loved me before, even if I didn't realize it then. I had dozens of friends from school and the town. I charmed the Capitol. I had a family. I was funny, made beautiful art, was kind and thoughtful and everything anyone wanted from me. Now that's gone, and I'm alone. Delly sticks by me, but she doesn't see anyone's flaws. And as soon as Bron comes back, she'll spend her time with him and not me. Oh, I'll be invited to eat with them, but our relationship will be merely surface friends, forged from home ties and Delly's compulsion to be nice to everyone. The second week with the soldiers out to District 2, the soldiers still at District 13 get their assignments for the following week. And on my schedule tonight is guard duty. Rosalia's guards have changed every night, the assumption that over the course of one night the guard won't fall for her seductions like the other one had over the course of a few weeks. They must still trust me, even without the guarantee that I'm with Katniss now. She could fill you like she did before, a voice reminds me as I run the required three miles a day. It wouldn't be cheating on Katniss, and even Rosalia said it wouldn't mean tying yourself to her again. I argue back with this suggestion, siting the fact it was against the military's protocol to sleep with the enemy, and if I did then I'd be put in handcuffs again and not just sent off to Two. Besides, I don't love Rosalia. Not anymore.

I still eat dinner with Delly, but I have to leave before we have any of our safe, tip-toed conversation in order to take up my post as Rosalia's guard. On my way there, Prim waves at me as she walks in the opposite direction, but I can only manage the smallest of smiles in return. The day guard leaves when I come to relieve him. Rosalia doesn't come out to greet me, and I spend some time outside, but the temperature's dropping by the minute. So I just face it and go in the tent. Rosalia sits up, her knees drawn to her chest, and face hidden behind her legs so just her eyes peek out at me. "Hi," I say after an uncomfortable moment staring at each other. "Hi." I sit down on the guard's cot, right in front of the tent. I take off my shoes, but leave on my socks. It should snow any day now. "Are you mad at me?" Rosalia asks. "Why? What, for sleeping with that guard?" For the first time since I knew her, Rosalia looks down in shame. "We aren't together, Rose. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want and I have no right to get mad at you. District 13 might be mad at you, he might be mad at you, but I'm not." She hugs her legs even tighter, the chain of her handcuffs drooping as her hands fold together. "I'm mad at me. I only did it because he was there, and I had to feel wanted. I had to believe someone wanted me. He did. But it was awful. I felt sick the whole time, and I realized it wasn't me he wanted. Well, it was my body, but he would have taken anyone. Anyone. He came back every night expecting it, and when I couldn't take it anymore I yelled out so someone would catch us and he'd just leave me alone. I hate that I did it. I hate it." "We all do things we regret." "I seem to only do things I regret. Lying to you. Calling home. Sleeping with him. Why am I such a screw-up Peeta? Why can't I just make things so I'm happy?" She lets out a cry, bending her head down to press her forehead to her knees. I move parallel to her, my compassion sending me to act before I think. Once my arm comes around her waist she flings herself onto me, head on my lap, sobbing. I stroke her hair, unable to separate her pain from my own.

She's always been alone, and both times she thought she found someone, it wasn't to happen. For so much of what I can remember clearly, it's been much the same for me. We've always both been alone and found solace in each other. "Hey, hey, shhhh," I rub her back. "Shhh, it's okay." "I just want to be happy," she whispers, letting out a hiccup but no more tears. "Everyone wants that, don't they?" I say. "Problem is, one person's way to happiness always clashes with another and only one of them can get what they want." "I want you, you want Katniss, and she just wants to be left the hell alone, and District 13 wants her as their Mockingjay." I let out a short, dark laugh. "Exactly." Rosalia sits up but leans toward me. I wish I could say I stiffen, move away, but this is the first connection I've had in days with anyone. I stay where I am. "Would it be so impossible to be happy with me, Peeta?" I sigh. "I just…I can't see it happening. Not now. I can't give up on Katniss yet." "But maybe, one day?" "Not as long as she's alive," I say. Rosalia's eyes drop down. "What if…?" She doesn't finish. "If…?" I encourage. She shakes her head. "Nothing. You obviously love her more than you could love anyone else." I nod. "I suppose that's true." She slides away from me, shoulders scrunching close to her neck. "Bed time, do you think?"

Katniss hovers over me, stroking my face.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I can become better, I promise." "I know." She bends down and kisses me, but as soon as I open my eyes I'm in the woods, alone. Mutts howl. I run and fall. I try to get back up, but I can't. I keep slipping down. Suddenly I'm hanging onto a cliff, feet dangling in the air, with a black void below me. Katniss stands in front of me, hand on a hip. "Katniss! Help!" "I can't. You didn't change, or you wouldn't be there." My arms ache. I can't hang on anymore. I try to dig my fingers in some grass, but it won't let me grab onto it. I fall. "Peeta, shhh. It was just a nightmare." I become aware of solid ground beneath me, and Rosalia with her hands on my arm. "A nightmare," she repeats. "No." I put a hand to head. "It wasn't." I prop myself up on my elbows. "I've put myself here. It isn't her, it's me. I'm why we're never together." "That's ridiculous. She rejected you, not the other way around!" "But I drove her to do it. If I hadn't…if I'd just…" I fight back the tears. Because while it was hard in the past to accept fate had dealt me a life to be alone, it's harder to face the fact that I did it. I've put this on myself, and I don't know why I did it. "Peeta." She brings her handcuffed hands over my head and pulls me to her. I let her. I embrace her back, head settling on her shoulder, so exhausted from all I've done wrong. "I know you say that you'll only have her as long as she's alive, but did you ever think that it isn't right? If she doesn't love you for you, then you should be with someone who can. Why change for her?" "Because I love her. And when you love someone, they make you want to be your best. And I haven't been. I haven't been good." That's why I've always loved her. Because she makes me want to do the right thing, to be worth it to her.

"You're perfect," Rosalia says. "If she can't see that, she doesn't deserve you." I move away from her, removing her arms from me. "I'm not. I'm broken and I've screwed up all around. And pretending I'm not doesn't mean you're the person I should be with." She sets her jaw and turns her head away. "Let's just go back to sleep, okay?" She goes back to her cot, and we don't say anything more to each other.

Chapter Twenty-Six The next few days pass by slowly and without incident, except for the fresh layer of snow on the ground. We don't have much communication with the soldiers in Two, just in case the Capitol gets wind of anything. So when a hovercraft comes roaring in at midnight, everyone comes out shivering in their pajamas, wondering what's happened. I pull on my boots and jacket, then hurry to where the hovercraft has landed and several people gather around. From the corner of my eye I notice that Rosalia's guard has come, dragging her along with him. "Move away!" One soldier calls. "Move away, we need to let the injured through! Someone go make sure two doctors and a few nurses are ready!" Another soldier dashes off, and so I wait with frozen breath to see who they're taking off. Please, not Katniss or Bron. Anyone but them. The first who comes out is a soldier, wheeled off on a bed with a lot of gauze on his side, but that doesn't cover up the fact that he's bleeding. I let out a breath of relief, but too soon. Katniss is unconscious, with a few scrapes on her face, but I can't see any blood. At the sight of her, it's as if there's nothing else in this world. No Rosalia, no war, no training. Just Katniss, and if something damages her, then my world will officially dissolve into nothing. I rush ahead of the crowd, pushing my way through as I try to get to Katniss. She lays there peacefully, like she's asleep…or dead. "What wrong with her?" I ask, my voice hitching. "Sir, you are not family. We aren't allowed to disclose that information," the person pushing her says. "But I'm…" Nothing, I realize. I'm nothing to her, even though she's everything to me. My pace slows until I've stopped, watching them hurry to the tents set up as the hospital. A hand falls on my back, right on my shoulder blades, a comforting touch. I turn around expecting Delly, but instead find Rosalia. "I'm sorry," she says. "No you're not," I say. "You're probably hoping that she dies and I fall into your arms in grief."

Her face grows angry at this. "You're so infuriating Peeta Mellark! I may not care for Katniss, I might even hate her, but I love you, and you love her." Her voice catches a sob. "That's the worst part about this, you know? That you'll get hurt if anything happens to her, and your pain is worse than my own." Before I can answer, Rosalia's guard comes and grabs her, as if he's just realized that she's gotten away. I try to stay mad at Rosalia, but I fail to. Maybe it's her words, or more likely I've reached the brim of my emotions with the knowledge that something's wrong with Katniss and I'm not allowed to know about it. I should go to bed, according to protocol. But I won't sleep, I'll just worry about things, as long as I have no idea of what's happening with Katniss. They can't tell me because I'm not family, but surely Prim or Mrs. Everdeen will find out and could tell me? While everyone else heads off to bed, knowing their loved ones are safe, I make a line for the hospital tent. It's larger than everyone else's tent, stretching along a length of land. As I approach the entrance, the warmth from their heaters greet me, even though inside it's still a steady seventy degrees. I step through. Two sides line with beds, not completely filled with people. In the back there's a cluster of medics, although I can't see who it is they're working on. I want to assume they're focusing on the man they brought in, since he had blood covering his middle, but this isn't enough reassurance for Katniss's safety. "Excuse me, but visitors aren't allowed," a nurse says, stepping in front of me. "I know, but I was looking for Prim or Mrs. Everdeen," I say. The nurse puts her hands on my chest and pushes me back. "They're both preoccupied at the moment. Now go back to bed." I'm outside. Before the nurse can turn back to the hospital, I grab her hand. "I'm waiting out here until Prim or Mrs. Everdeen comes out to talk to me." She shakes off my hold, gives an indignant huff, and heads back inside. I stand for a good half an hour, figuring that one of them will come out soon. There's so many doctors and nurses in there already, they can't be that needed. But a half an hour grows into a full hour, and that time doubles again. I'm practically asleep on my feet, shivering from the cold, when I hear, "You're still here." I jump awake and turn. Mrs. Everdeen stands by the entrance, looking even more tired and old than ever before. "I just…have to know. At least tell me if she'll be all right or not."

Mrs. Everdeen sighs. "She'll be fine. She got a few scrapes and a concussion. We can't tell for sure without our machines, but it seems to have been a pretty bad concussion. She'll be resting for the next few weeks. But she's fine." My relief comes out as strangled breath. "Thank you. Thank you for telling me." "I know how hard it can be, waiting for news about someone you love," Mrs. Everdeen says. "Now go get some sleep." I nod and do just that.

News drifts in during training about what happened in Two. Everyone agrees that the rebels blew up the Nut, a mountain that acted as a major defense the Capitol had against us. After that, some people say that the man they brought, Woods, got shot, while Katniss was knocked over by some of the Peacekeepers there, and after that the rebels got control of the enemies. Another popular theory story is that Woods pushed Katniss out of the way and got shot in place of her. While we assemble our guns, two soldiers next to me talk about the theory that Woods saved Katniss's life. "Think what he did'll show them?" One asks the other. "Show who what?" I ask. They looked shocked for a moment, then seem to click together who I am. "Woods is an infertile," he says. "And…?" "Oh, come on. You must have realized that infertiles always have the lowest rank? The most dangerous jobs?" "I haven't." I've been a little self-involved lately, I hate to admit. "It's because there's this crap theory going around that those who escaped the fever without losing their ability to reproduce are the stronger, more able of our species. They say the fertiles are the strong and brave ones, even though they use infertiles as pawns in the war. Guess they don't care about the deaths of people who can't keep our species going." An officer walks between the three of us. We all stop conversation and work on our guns. When he passes, I say, "What does that have to do with Woods?"

"He proved them wrong. He saved the Mockingjay, something none of those fertiles did. Not even Hawthorne." The second soldier finally speaks up. "He's been doing that, anyway. He's been in the top of the soldiers and always said he'd prove all of those theories wrong." And as the stories grow through the rest of the day, it seems as if Woods achieved what he wanted. He saved the Mockingjay, how could the people love him any more than that? After training, I wonder if I ought to see Katniss. I want to see her, desperately, but I don't know how upset she is at me still. I pace around for a few minutes, trying to figure out what I should do, when I finally decide to go and see her. If she wants me to leave, then I will. No one shoos me out since it's visiting hours. It doesn't take long for me to find Katniss, but she's asleep when I get there. I sit down, ready to wait through the rest of the visiting hours in hopes of her waking up. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" someone says. My eyes leave Katniss from the first time finding them, and I see the man on the bed next to her. The same man they brought in with her yesterday. Woods. "I've known that since I was five," I say. He smiles, but not in a friendly way. "Ah, yes. You're Peeta Mellark." "And you're Woods." He gives one deep nod. "I see my reputation proceeds me now." "Did you really save her life?" "I at least saved her a few bullets." "Thank you." "I don't see why you're thanking me," Woods says. "You're not her husband. From what I hear, you aren't even her boyfriend." "I still love her." "That's cute." He picks up his cup and sips through a straw. I stare incredulously at him, wondering why he's acting so condescending to me.

"And I suppose you're enjoying all of this attention and praise. But you wouldn't have saved Katniss if she weren't the Mockingjay. You were just doing it to boost up yourself and infertiles." "Well, someone has to stand up for the underdog." Katniss groans. I try to distinguish if it was pain or just a groan, and whether or not to call a nurse, but then she opens her eyes. She scans the area in front of her before she finds me. "Peeta," she says. "Yeah, hi, I'm here," I say. I want to kiss her, but knowing that would freak her out, I just pick up her hand. "My head hurts." "I know. You got a concussion." She lifts her hand to her head, pressing against her temple. "Where am I?" "District 12." "No, I was in Two. Gale…Gale wanted to attack the Nut." She squints, like even remembering that much was hard. "You were in Two, but you got hurt and you came back here." "My head hurts." I hesitate for a moment, but with my free hand, I brush some hair off of her face. She leans into my touch. "You hit it pretty hard, from what I heard," I say. "Make it stop, Peeta. My head hurts." "I would if I could, but there's nothing I can do. You just need to rest." "I'm tired of hurting. I just want to stop hurting." "That makes two of us." She concentrates on me for a moment. "Did you get a concussion, too, Peeta?" "No."

"Oh. It isn't much fun. My head hurts." She sinks into her pillows a little farther. "So you've said." A nurse comes up to me. "Excuse me, sir, but visiting hours are over now." "Can't I—?" The nurse shakes his head. "No." I sigh and stand up, but Katniss keeps a weak grip on me. "You'll come back, won't you Peeta?" It might just be the concussion talking, but I don't care. Hearing her ask for me to come back sends me soaring. "If that's what you want." She gives a little smile. "Good."

Chapter Twenty-Seven Katniss speaking to me again, like she cares about me, lightens the weight that I've carried the past two weeks. I hum as I eat dinner and fall asleep quickly, without nightmares. The next day, training drags out. I want to see her again, talk to her and get it right this time. I imagine scenarios in my head, of what I'll say to her and how she'd respond. When we finish our training, I run over to the hospital, even though I'd spent the whole day either on chore duty or doing laps in across the snowy ground. I come in, trying to catch my breath from the run but losing it again when I see her. Her head's turned from me, and she's listening to Wood speak. I take a second to calm myself down, then approach her. "…which is why…" Woods says. "Hey Katniss," I say when she hasn't yet noticed me. Woods gives me an annoyed look. After his comments yesterday, I'm not terribly worried about interrupting him. She looks at me, but doesn't turn. Her shoulders still face Woods. "Peeta." "How are you feeling today?" I ask. I don't know why she looks at me like that, with her detachment that shows she's trying very hard to not care about the fact I'm standing right in front of her. She wanted me to come back. She could at least bother to rest back on her pillows, like she's expecting to have a conversation with me. "Better, I guess. My head still hurts." "Yeah, you said that yesterday." "Oh, come off it," Woods says, shaking his head with disproval. "I can't believe you're here, after what happened yesterday." Katniss leans toward him. "What happened?" "Katniss, you were here," I say. "I came to see you, and we talked. Don't you remember?" "I just remember getting knocked out down and some gunshots, then I woke up this morning," Katniss said. "Did something happen before that?"

The concussion. It still rattled her brain around so she didn't remember yesterday, and how she'd asked me to come back to see her. But if it was okay with her then, why not now? So Woods decided it's funny to mess with me. Katniss would know the truth. "Oh, don't try to make things up that didn't happen," Woods says. "You know Katniss asked for you to stay away. After everything I heard about you, I'd think you could at least respect her wishes. She needs to heal, and not to have you bothering her like the crazy ex that you are." "Katniss, that's not true," I say, but she stares down at her blankets. "I came to see how you were doing, and we talked for a little bit, but you were still out of it. But you asked me to come back and see you." She pushes some hair out of her eyes. "Peeta, I'm sorry…but I can't believe you. Woods doesn't have a reason to lie to me, but you do. I know you want to make things better, but forcing yourself in on me isn't going to do it." I blink. She would believe a complete stranger over me? What happened to her yesterday? If she didn't want me around then, why didn't she say so? I wouldn't be here if she told me to go bug off. "Do you want me to leave now?" Despite the swelling bitterness inside of me, I'd do what she wants. She doesn't say anything for a moment and bites her lip. "Yes." My body goes rigid, my jaw clenches. I manage to get out, "Can I ever come visit you?" "Maybe later, when my brain doesn't feel so scrambled. Three days?" I nod. I can do that. Three days, it wouldn't be forever. "I'll see you then," I say. Walking away, leaving her with that liar Woods who hates me for some reason, is one of the hardest things I've done. But I manage it. I walk out and go to have dinner with Delly and Bron, who returned last night with several other soldiers who had been at District 2. When I sit down in a huff, Delly's attention diverts from her boyfriend and lands on me. "Peeta? What's wrong? Weren't you going to visit Katniss today?" She asks. I tell them everything that happened, from Woods's lies to Katniss's siding with him and not believing me. My anger over the situation builds, none of it releasing with my furious words, but instead contributing to the frustration I feel. I just hate lies.

"Why would he do that? Why would she believe him over me?" I ask at the end, throwing my arms open for an answer. "Woods is pretty voiced about infertile rights," Bron says. "I think he might be using Katniss as a symbol in that." "How? He's not going to make her an infertile, is he?" I ask in horror. Sure, she didn't want kids, but that sounds painful. Delly shakes her head. "Oh Bron, that's a horrible thing to think about him!" "No, but don't you remember when they made those lists a few years ago?" Bron asks. "What happened?" I say, no clue to these lists. "District 13 believes that those who are fertile are the stronger of the species, because they held onto their ability to reproduce, which has basis in an old theory in the Dark Days that the fittest pass on their genes," Bron says. I'd heard this yesterday from those soldiers. "The fertile women were tested, and ranked in strength, meaning they would be the best mates. Katniss came ranked out number one." She said something about that, back in District 13. I think now I was a little bit jealous about it, without realizing how much she meant to me. "After the rankings, some infertiles had the idea to woo some of the top-ranking women and try to romance them. The idea of it was to prove that infertiles were as much men as those who can reproduce. By beating out all of the fertiles with the most desirable women, it would supposedly claim their equality," Bron says. "Did it work?" I ask. Bron laughs. "No. Katniss didn't want anything to do with romance, and the other women, well, either they felt the same as Katniss or wanted babies." "It won't work on her," I say. "Katniss doesn't give her heart that easily, and she won't give it to someone like him." "We don't even know if that's what he wants to do," Delly says. Then she frowns. "Although it is strange for him to lie." "Sort of makes sense though, doesn't it?" I ask. "He wouldn't want me around, because he wants a chance to be alone with Katniss, and make her stay angry at me." Delly shrugs. "I'm sure things will end up fine for you, Peeta."

Just like they have been since I was reaped? I want to ask, but don't say anything more. The next three days pass by excruciatingly slow as I wonder what Woods's saying to Katniss, how she's responding to him, what she's thinking about me. I go through my routine as I did when she was in District 2. On the third day, I don't run to Katniss. I worry too much about what I'll find. And it's worse than when I found her just a few days before. Now she gives one of her rare, few smiles to Woods. "Hey," I say. It reassures me a little that while she doesn't smile, her eyes seem pleased to see me. "Hi," she says as I stand awkwardly by her bedside. Woods squints like he hopes to vaporize me behind Katniss's back. "Feeling any better?" I ask. "They're letting me out of the hospital tomorrow, but I'll still have to rest for at least another week to be sure my concussion's fully healed." "Of course, you'll still drop by," Woods says. "For the person who saved your life." For the person using you, I think. That's what angers me the most about Woods, if mine and Bron's theory is right, is that he plans to romanticize Katniss to exhibit his own dominance. I never hated Gale in a non-hijacked state, because even though he was my competition before, he cared about Katniss. But Woods? If she were anyone but the Mockingjay or a highly ranked fertile woman, he'd never go through all of this trouble for her. It's because of who she is to everyone else, not who she is to him. "Of course, Katniss had her Mockingjay suit on, and that's bullet proof," I say. "She wouldn't have died." Katniss puckers her mouth. "It was brave of him, though." "Right," I say. "But we don't need to talk about that." She nods. "How are you doing?" "The best I can, considering." "District 12 still hard for you to adjust to?" She asks, as if she's worried for my well-being. "Yeah. Mostly because it feels wrong, you know? It's home, but it isn't. Too many people are missing for it to be home."

"Sometimes I forget where we are, being shut up in here. Then I look at the ashy floor, and I remember." "Your nightmares?" I ask. "Oh, I've been helping take care of those," Woods says. I've been angry at Woods, but now is the first time I feel sick. Because I've been the one to comfort Katniss in her nightmares. It was always us, because we understood it, and we made it better. How could she have replaced me? I look to her for the answer, unable to hide how much this information hurts me. She turns pink. "He wakes me up, and I always tell him to get back in bed because he's not allowed out," she says. My chest loosens a bit, until Woods says, "But talking about it helps, doesn't it?" "No. No, I'd rather forget," she says. We could never forget, no matter how we tried. But she was right, talking about it never helped, not when you had the same dream over and over again. The only thing that did help was having someone with you who you knew would protect you, and you would protect in return. Will Katniss protect me still? "I'll note that for next time," Woods says. "Tonight, that is. Since you'll be leaving after that." "A good thing, too. I'm done with hospitals," Katniss says. "What will you be doing? You can't go back to training," I say. She shrugs. "They always have something for me." A nurse approaches me. "Excuse me, but visiting hours are over now." I sink, not wanting to leave Katniss, not wanting to give her up to Woods again. But the hospital had the strictest regime here. "I guess I'll see you on the outside, then?" I ask her. "Maybe," she says.

Maybe? What was that, a less harsh way to say 'no'? I take a deep breath and nod, wishing that I could go back and stop myself from making all of the mistakes, to have Katniss trust me again. I'd worked so hard to win it, and it feels like winning it again will be even harder the second time around. I leave, reminding myself she has one more night in there, next to Woods, and after she isn't forced to be by him, she'll hardly talk to him again. The next day I see Katniss in passing, but just wave to her. She waves back and doesn't respond any more than that. I train, do my duties, eat, sleep, and keep an eye out for Katniss. We continue our waving ritual, and it never goes beyond that. Two weeks pass, and Woods is out of the hospital. Still can't train or fight, but he's well enough to be on his own. I know because now when I wave to Katniss, he's sometimes beside her. I feel trapped about this. I can't tell her the theory Bron and I share, because there's not really any proof, and she'd think she knows better. I don't want to come across that I'm only doing this because of jealousy. Yes, that's definitely a factor, but it's more than that. I hate the idea of Woods using Katniss for his own purposes. She'll think she can take care of herself, which she can, but it's worrying me that they seem to be together a lot. I try to get Delly to talk to her about it, but Delly's convinced Woods is a nice man who only has Katniss's best intentions in mind. After a month since the hospital, I decide to talk to her again. I go to the Everdeens' tent at dinner and find the three women and Woods there, taking in their share of soup by the fire, a ring of melted snow around it. "Hi," I say. They all look up at me. Woods' expression has shifted from annoyance to smugness, Prim smiles, Mrs. Everdeen's eyebrows drop in concern, while Katniss has frozen. "Do you mind if I join you?" I ask. "Of course not!" Prim scoots over on the log they've brought up for me to sit down beside her. "Thanks." I sit, holding my bowl of soup in cold hands. "How have you been, Peeta?" Prim asks. I shrug. "All right, I guess. Can't complain there isn't anything to do here."

Prim and I carry the rest of the conversation through dinner. Katniss doesn't look at me, but I'm comforted at the distance she keeps between herself and Woods. When we finish eating, I can tell I've stayed my welcome, and I leave. Walking back to my tent, I know Katniss and I can't tiptoe around this anymore. I have to talk to her and understand what she wants, and I want a chance to speak my piece as well. Just the two of us, communicating clearly. I don't expect her to fall into my arms again, but I'd really, really, love to just have a place in her life other than crazy ex-boyfriend. My training's much earlier than Katniss's propo filming, so the next morning I leave a note attached to her tent that reads: We've had a lot of time apart, and I want to talk to you about things, to apologize. Please meet me at 9:00 tonight at my house. But if you don't want to come, I understand. Peeta I don't know the probability of Katniss coming, but I have to give her a chance. I don't feel that she's shut me out completely yet. I chose my house because I want to prove I'm stronger now. Last time, the night she broke up with me, my house with its memories had sent me spiraling into feeling like I had to use her to forget. I wanted to show her I could be better than before. I arrive at eight thirty, the house still dark and empty. I walk to the mantelpiece, unable to see the pictures, but able to imagine them. The grief washes over me again, and I lean against the wall, weeping into my arm. But instead of trying to push it away, I acknowledge it. I let it hurt me. After a round of tears, the grief becomes an ache, pulsing with my heart, but easier than when I tried to ignore it. All it ever wanted was for me to answer it, to feel it. I close my eyes and keep my forehead pressed to the wall, waiting as the bitterness dripped away, when arms come around me in the dark. My first thoughts assume Katniss has seen my pain and embraced me, and I want to believe it. So when she kisses me, I let her. I kiss her back, even, for a few seconds before I realize how wrong these lips feel, and then that the hair I've wrapped my fingers in are loose and not in a braid. I pull back to see Rosalia staring up at me as a flashlight shines in my eyes. "Looks like you found her." That was Katniss.

When the flashlight drops from my face I see two figures in the doorway become one as the other leaves, and everything around me shakes. Katniss saw me willingly kiss Rosalia, but I didn't know! I thought it was her, and now she thinks… I chase after her, snow falling around her as she stalks away, down the street. "Katniss! Wait!" I call out. "Like hell I'm waiting for you!" She presses forward. I run to catch up to her. "Please, Katniss, I thought it was you, you have to believe me," I beg. She throws me a dirty look. "Me? You think I would do that?" "Well, I had asked you to meet me there tonight—" "You did not." "Yes, I did. I wrote you a note. Didn't you get it?" "You're such a liar, Peeta, you're making all of this up." She won't look at me, and instead focuses on the street ahead of her. "Then what were you doing here?" "Woods got a last-minute duty to guard Rosalia, and she hit him over the head and escaped. He asked me to help him find her before he got in trouble. We found her here with you." I shake my head. "I don't know what happened, but I asked for you to come, not Rosalia. I don't care about her, I haven't talked to her since you got back! Please, Katniss, you have to believe me." "I don't have to believe anything you say, Peeta, now leave me alone. No more hospital visits or dinners or waving or anything. I want to forget you ever existed." I stop following her, sickness swelling up in me. She can't mean that. She can't. After everything, and all the things I've done and not done, this isn't the way things work out. "Peeta?" Rosalia asks from behind me. I have to control myself as I turn around. She stands there tentatively, as if afraid. "Peeta, please, listen to me. I thought—I thought you wanted me there. I thought you were forgiving me, and I didn't see the harm in kissing you. I didn't know she would be there, or that you would care."

I laugh bitterly. "Why the hell would you think that?" "My guard tonight, he gave me this note and let me go to see you." She shakes as she holds out a piece of folded paper. I take it and find the same note I'd written to Katniss this morning, asking for her to join me at my house at 9:00, wanting to apologize. Woods had done this all. He'd found my note, stolen it, and given it to Rosalia so that he'd be able to frame me with her, forever estranging me to Katniss. I look up from my handwriting which had begun to blur, and Woods strides from the house to us, handcuffs in his hand. I hold up the note to him. "You did this. You made Katniss think that I've been with Rosalia." "You're the one who kissed her." Woods shrugs and gets hold of Rosalia, handcuffing her. "It was dark, you knew I was waiting for Katniss." "I have no idea what you're referring to. I'm merely doing my guard job." He grabs Rosalia's upper arm and pushes her past me, shaking and furious in the oncoming snowstorm.