Chapter 29

"The girl on fire and her Protector." Caesar calls out, loud and proud. The crowd roars in the large square. Above all the splendour of the celebration hoovers enormous screens. Each glows with the Capitols golden symbol.

Snow was soon to hold his speech, but before then Peeta and I had to smile for our viewers. It was something we had gotten used to during the week leading up to this. I doubt we ever kissed as much in our marriage as we've done before the cameras ever since being released from the hospital. Today was a relief from that game. Now it was all about staying subdued ad meek.

Taking a large breath I lock arms with my lover and step into the sunlight. The roars explodes. With Haymitch and Effie trailing behind us we stop to wave, fake smiles split across our faces. Dressed in a soft yellow summer dress with a peacock-feathered belt I match Peeta beautifully while also coming across as a toothless sweetheart.

Portia has put the recouping hero in a three piece suit made out of blue silk. Much to my joy he got to keep all limbs, but some of the fractured bones in his arm and chest was replaced with high-tech titanium. The loose silk helped cover the still-healing wounds.

"Aren't they lovely? How fortuities that they survived. Our hearts would have broken otherwise, that's for sure." Caesar was on fire. He never lets the mask of utter joy crack or allow the cheers to settle. To award him Peeta lifts up my fingers and kiss each tip lovingly as we walk.

Caesar makes a big show of it, as he has all our intimate acts, and keeps it going for so long that most of the speech we were too hold needs to be cut short. I send him a grateful nod even as Peeta stands before the speaker-set. With the ease of someone born to it he thank the citizens for their support and love. He effortlessly keeps up with the cheery mood and brush over the trauma we both suffered. Then it was my turn.

From the corner of an eye I see Haymitch grimace. Annoyed I sweep hawk-like eyes over the colourful mass. Even from the tall balcony I could spots their ecstatic faces. On the screen my stiff smile turns into something vile. None were here to do well, only to get a closer look on their new favourites: This month's flavour. We're are little else then toys.

Hurriedly Peeta pinch my side, rousing me from the darkness wanting to spill out. Taking a large breath I start my speech with an apology.

"Talking isn't my strong suit," the crowd laughs, already familiar with it, "especially in front of so many supporters and adoring fans." A wave of cheers goes off. "But from the bottom off my heart I want to thank you all!" My name and declarations of love is echoed at this. "If not for you I would never had survived or gotten the chance to grow old with the man I love. From the both of us – Thank you!"

The pampered citizens weeps at this, yelling well-wished at the both of us. Effie rapidly claps her hands even as the Capitol anthem starts up. Haymitch is the one to get me off the podium. The live-feed is cut off and soon highlights from 73 Hunger Games starts playing. I take Peeta's offer hand and lets them lead me to the victors' thrones.

It dawns on me then, even as the sound of dying children echoes over the stadium, how we have been made to stand out from the rest. Rows of the powerful elite pans out behind two silver seat and a towering golden one. They are all clothed in dark or bold colours, not soft tones like us. Portia and Cinna was making us into a unique symbol. Hope.

An ill omen settles like chains around my neck at the idea as I sit down. The chair is made out of cold steel. It felt alien and uncomfortable. We sit with straight backs and unchanging expressions for the whole twenty minutes of the recap. Then the anthem changes, grows louder and more strict. Snow was about to make an entrance.

All rise as he steps out from the shadowed halls. As always the old man is dressed in white. The colour of peace and innocence. He is anything but. Penetrating blue orbs pierce each person seated before turning with a smile to the crowd. Like Peeta he is a natural, but unlike the Protector this man has had training and knows how to use it to a deadly affect.

It isn't long before most of what is known is masterfully twisted into capitol-propaganda. With Snow's grandfatherly voice he turns our sacrificing act into more, something that is owned by the government. The urge to clap the ploy makes my hands sweat. The man is better than Coin.

When the crowning begins we rise. My will to fight burns under the skin, but I hold it back. As Snow takes one of the halves and crowns Peeta I will my face to soften into something smitten. When it's my turn I go one step further, curtsying in order to do the crowning easier for the president.

It's in hopes that it will quell his anger and distrust. A show of weakness in order to spare the other victors' from the 75th Hunger Game. Snow's eyes is a shrouded sea as he steps away, but I stays in my lowered position with eyes trained on the presidents polished shoes.

"I give you the victors of the 74th Hunger Game. Their love will echoed through the ages and give posterity to Panem."

"Panem."

"Panem."

"Panem."

"Panem."

And with that chant Snow steals the show. I rise and turn shyly to Peeta, hiding my face in his neck while he kisses me curled hair. The crowns clonk as they make contact, but only we hear it. As we sit down to relive our days in the arena I use the same trick as in the former timeline. Sitting in Peeta's lap offers both comfort and escape from the real world.

While our fellow tributes dies one after the other a lullaby is hummed against Peeta's collarbone, distracting us both from the real world and all its horrors. Haymitch sits a few rows back, drinking deep from his flask. Sometimes he shares it with fellow tributes.

On the train ride home I spend a lot of time away from the others. For hours I sit under cold shower-spray with the lights turned off and just allow tears to flow. The stress of what has happened and what still might turning me into a mess. I feel no more centred now than when I first came back. If it had been anyone else… they would have done a better job, I was sure of it. Banging my head against the mosaic tile I spit out some of the water pouring down my face. It is reused water and has an odd sand-like taste.

A distant knock comes from the hallway. I know who it is before the caller even use the speakerphone. "Katniss?"

Like two times before the visit is ignored. I'm not up for company. Only this time Peeta doesn't leave. Uninvited he breech the door and finds me in a curled positon at the very end of the elongated shower stall. He shows neither pity nor sorrow. Instead there's understanding and respect. Shrugging of a brown vest and a cotton shirt he enters, yelping at the cold spray.

"Shit! Are you trying to freeze to death?"

He don't get an answer. Sighing he sits down. We barely fit, but that doesn't matter. The moment his bum is on the floor I am crawling into his lap to seek comfort and safety. There was a time the mere idea of showing vulnerability felt impossible, but with him it came naturally. Peeta welcomes me and use his free hand to make the water warmer.

"There, much better."

"Ugh."

"Eloquent as always." He chuckles before whipping long dark strands from my face. He kiss each cheek. "I wish you would talk to me about this. You aren't alone in this."

"…" He had no idea!

"Haymitch is possible glowing at your absence. No one has had the gall to glare at him since the door closed."

"… The tragedy." Dam the man for making me talk. I love him more for it.

"At dinner I thought of using the wrong fork just to see if Effie would stop talking about all her future socialising. She's turning blue from the lack of oxygen."

"Good."

Peeta sighs again. "You are going to make us stay here for a good while aren't you?"

"Yes." That wasn't even a question.

"Lovely." There was tone there that wasn't teasing or luring, but almost… salivating. The nerve.

"Eyes up mister." I snap at him, already guessing where his minds going.

"It is dark in here, not like I can see." He reminds me. The grin on his face is felt more than seen. Both his hands stay in proper places.

"Not that dark apparently!" I drawl, not moving an inch despite his subtly probing.

"Well..! As your Protector it is only natural that I keep an eye open and pay attention."

"One more word and you get hurt." To punctuate the threat I move a knee to a very sensitive area. The following gulp is loud. A true smirk slowly grows on me. It feels odd after a weeks of acting.

"It would almost be worth it." He snorts, but tries to inch away. Stuck in a corner with me on top of him there wasn't much space.

This would have been an opening for some fun times of it had been the Old Peeta, but as he wasn't my husband I back off, allowing him to gain more freedom. The teasing settles quickly and for a while we sit in silence, both lost in our own pain.

That night we slept in the same bed, but with several pillows between us. Neither could bare feeling skin of another, it gave a sense of death and pain. But the mere essence of him was enough to allow for a few hours of dreamless sleep before a nightmare stole the calm.

Peeta wakes for a moment, but with some insistence and promise of return, I manage to slip out into the narrowed hallway unescorted. It takes two turns from one end of the train to the other before my rushing pulse calms. Each time a avox or peacekeeper passed it had skyrocket.

Entering the back end I sit down on the large skin-covered coach and gaze up at a starry sky. There was barely a cloud to mask the miracle. For a moment I think back on nights spend out on a field together with my children, doing this, just looking. Grief and longing breaks the peace. Thinking about them was foolish, all it brought was pain.

Suddenly there was some odd flashing peeking out from the treetops flanking the high-speed train. Calling for the room to mute its lights I try to get a better view. Moving to the left side I press my face up against the glass, using both hands to mask any existent light from the compartment, and wait.

The light is artificial. It's too bright and constant, despite moving about. Ships! There where ships flying over the forest in a search pattern. Someone or something was being hunted. I couldn't gain any clue as to why, but with nothing better to do the study of the lights movement continued.

As the train started to sloop down a turning hill and descend into a tunnel the ships becomes visible. The moon lands behind them and reveals them as more than just scouting vehicles. They're the slick forms of battle-shuttles. Just as the mountain swallowed the train I spot deadly red flashes coming from gun cannons.

Whatever was running had been found. I felt bad, for there was no chance of escape. But then something even odder happened. Beyond the round opening an explosion of green light up the sky, closely followed by a muted roar. The tunnel trembles a little before settling.

My jaw drops. Someone just used a rebelling-bazooka on the shuttles. The green hue was district 13's special brand. Coin was already helping to arm the riots against Snow. A storm of silent cussing follows this revelation. It seems that any attempt to let the boiling rebellion die out was being prevented. Too many wanted a change and Coin was already digging her claws into them.

Peeta wakes to me doodling on his back, shamelessly using him as a canvas. He grumbles a little before tumbling out of bed and going back to his room to fetch new clothes. Effie stops by while he's gone and invites them both to breakfast. With a growling tummy demanding food I follow.

Haymitch points at the bags under my eyes the moment we enter the dining cart. "You are supposed to have survived the games."

"Shut up." I hiss, making him laugh with glee.

Effie tsks, but don't take sides, instead she heads off to urge Peeta get ready. I make myself some strong chocolate and snack on a scone. We can't talk openly, but that doesn't stop me from using our silent language.

Sitting down at the table a brow is lowered. What's new?

Haymitch snorts and shrugs. The same, relax, we are soon in the clear.

I angle my head to the side and tap my fingers against the cup. Truly? Just like that?

The drunkard downs the spiked coffee and pours himself some more. One day at the time. He was saying, urging me to be patient and wait. Snow might let it slip. I doubted it after the night's event, but was willing to accept the lie.

Peeta and Effie enters, followed by two peacekeepers. The soldiers faces are masked, but what little can be seen of their faces isn't comforting. The men are on alert and angry. While my team appears confused I can make assumptions as to why.

"We will stop for fuel is some hours. You are to stay inside and not approach the windows." One of the solders report. This made Haymitch pause in his drinking and study them.

"Why? Might want to stretch my legs a little." He challenges.

"Go outside and we shoot you." The speaker warns only one before leaving. The other guard stays, hands holding an intimidating weapon.

"I'll say, these people are so rude. The academy could stand to have lessons in good manner." Effie exclaims affronted. "One would think that an escort of a victor would be treated with more respect. I have, after all, deserved it after years of tending to… less fortunate tributes."

At this Peeta goes still, not a muscle moving. Slowly he turns around and gives Effie the harshest look I'd ever seen on his face. What comes next shocks them all. "You are truly a horrid person."

Blood drains for Effie's painted face and she appears lost. Haymitch reacts first, sending me an order to get Peeta out of sight – NOW. As I rush to comply, sensing that an epic fight is brewing on the horizon, and drag the shaking boy out of the room. Effie remains silent until the door closes behind us. Then a loud: "I've never…" is heard.

Away from prying ears I halt my raging partner, turning him to face me. His expression is dark and unyielding. Without hesitation I lean in and kiss him on the lips, a soft kiss full of love and respect. It breaks the rage. The kiss deepens. My arms goes around his neck while his wraps around my waist. For several minutes we gladly take what the other is willing to give.

"Effie is going to make my life miserable after this." He notes afterwards, sounding almost hesitant.

"Indeed," I parrot in perfect imitation, resting my forehead against his collarbone. "and I will watch from a safe distance."

The scuff is warm and tender. He lifts my chin and kiss the tip of my nose. "Of course you will."

With that he leads the way back to our rooms, dragging me into his. With some urging he gets us to cuddle in the small coach situated below an aperture. There he starts petting my hair, massaging the roots with soft circular movements. I'm asleep before the train even begins to slow down.