Hi welcome to this multipart fic. I will not be reenacting scenes exactly how they played out int the movies/books. I will not be repeating conversations exactly how they were spoken. This fic is aimed mostly at an audience who already has an understanding of the books. This fic is an adaption of Catching Fire. Thx for reading!
The atmosphere was tense as they were loaded into the train car. No final waves of goodbye or glimpses back in the direction of District 11. Occasional gunshots caused Katniss to wince as she attempted to suppress the urge to run back to the square. To offer her life over the thousands she’d just put in jeopardy. Peeta’s hand graced her shoulder. The familiar sensation brought her back to reality and she squinted as the dimly lit dining room appeared. Haymitch was the first to sit. He ran a slightly nervous hand through his already dishevelled hair and patted his breast pocket to assure that no one had swiped his almost completely concealed flask. As if anyone would come between Haymitch and his liquor.
“What on earth were you both thinking?” His voice cut like a knife and Katniss winced. Though he wasn’t one to sugar coat, he usually gave her the benefit of the doubt. He knew how close she was to Rue. Still brimming with emotion from their conversation in the attic of the town’s hall she glared at him before muttering something about not feeling up to a lecture and storming out of the dining room. No one uttered a word in response.
Usually it wasn’t the falling asleep that plagued her, but the nightmares that made closing her eyes unbearable. On this particular night sleep wasn’t worth it. Her eyes traced the grooves in the ceiling, the train rocking back and forth. The tracks between District 11 and 10 were always the most unpredictable. Something, despite the two trips on this train she’d previously taken, she hadn’t yet gotten used to. It was past midnight when Peeta finally appeared in the doorway. She was almost angry with him that he’d taken so long before silently cursing at the realization that she’d become fully reliant on his presence every night in order to stay sane. She wouldn’t have this same privilege once they returned. Once everything was back to normal. The thought of this made her want to turn him away but her body mimicked otherwise.
“What took you so long?” The weakness in her voice made her want to crawl out of her skin. Peeta’s eyes softened and he tugged off the white button down that had begun to hug him in ways that looked almost uncomfortable. He’d been training lately as if they were bound to end up back in the games, which was an irrational but understandable fear. Peeta was the farthest thing from weak but she could tell that his lack of ineptness during those weeks was starting to gnaw on him. Especially when the clips were constantly being broadcasted on every screen and hologram in Panem. This had resulted in him being routinely absent from every train car but the one carrying all the weights. She assumed it was the result of his tardiness.
“Talking to Haymitch,” Peeta shrugged, climbing into bed beside her and wrapping his arms around her. She could tell by his expression that his mind was elsewhere. She didn’t expect him to elaborate but he did. “I think…” she could tell he was choosing his words carefully, “to keep everyone safe we should just stick to the cards. I can do most of the talking.” He glanced down at her, relieved to find that she wasn’t glaring up at him in defiance. “I don’t want any more blood on our hands.” Katniss nodded, resting her chin on his chest and squeezing her eyes shut as the image of Rue’s family flashed in her mind for what seemed like the thousandth time today. “We’re going to get through this tour, Katniss. Less than two weeks now.”
“Haymitch was right,” She shook her head, trying to avoid eye contact. “We never get off this train, Peeta. This is our life now. We’re the Capitol’s puppets, their entertainment. We’ll have their big white wedding, and once they start to get bored of that, President Snow made it clear that we’d have kids and then we’ll spend the rest of our lives praying that they won’t be picked. Which they will. I’m not sure how but there’s no way…”
“Katniss,” his voice stilled her, she wasn’t aware she’d been shuddering. “Can we talk about this later?” She glanced up at him to find his jaw locked shut and his eyebrows creased. She hadn’t noticed she’d hit a nerve in him as well. She dropped her head and nodded, pressing her temple into his chest and let out a long, shaky exhale. He ran his hair through her dark curls, separating the tangles at the bottom caused by her tossing and turning for hours before he’d arrived.
“Stay with me?” She said quietly enough that he might’ve not heard it. The words were uttered softly and frequently enough that they’d become a symbol of reassurance, not only to him but to her as well.
“Always,” his breath was warm by her ear. She lifted her lips to his. The guilt had begun to fade as the nights had more frequently ended this way. At first the regret overcame her, causing her absence at many breakfasts and refusal to make eye contact with him until he’d appear at her doorway each night; however, now the routine was comforting. The idea that they were both using each other for the same purpose. To escape.
Districts 10 through 1 seemed as though they were nothing but a hallucination. She felt as though most of the time she just being shoved to and from the stage and train. The assemblies were mostly a blur. Peeta kept his promise about doing most of the talking and Katniss would usually add a couple of numb words at the end. At points she was so visibly nauseated by the cards she was reading that she could feel Peeta’s blistered hand grip her waist for support. Other times she barely felt as though she understood the context of what she was saying.
“Eat, Katniss.” Effie’s words cut through the silence, sending a shock down the three victor’s spines. She glanced down at her bowl of steaming beef stew and aromatic baguette with butter. Her mother used to make a version of this meal back when her father was still alive. Usually with deer meat and potatoes if the hunting had been plentiful that week, if not squirrel meat was used as a suitable substitute.
“God's sake, sweetheart.” Haymitch lifted his glass of what appeared to be whiskey. “You can’t be arriving at the Capitol looking like a bag of bones.” She felt Peeta’s hand brush her thigh and heat rose to her cheeks. She lifted a numb handful of bread to her lips and tried not to gag as she forced it down. The three others turned their heads back to their lunch.
The first view of the Capitol never got old for Peeta. The city glittered like a diamond on the elevated plains. Water cascading down from the lake that reflected the morning sunrise. Katniss was twitching in his arms and he traced a finger along her arm to soothe her. Haymitch’s remark about her looking like a bag of bones from the day before wasn’t too far off. Her face was sunken, cheekbones and jawline protruding and her ribs poked out like a child in twelve after a long winter. He barely touched her these days, worried she wasn’t exactly aware of what was going on around her. Seeing Cinna would help, he assured himself. It always did.
He untangled himself from her grasp and slid off of the firm mattress, pulling on the sweatpants and plain t-shirt he’d been wearing the night before. He’d have an outfit laying on his bed to change into, as Katniss had one waiting on her couch. Their outfits were always picked out and placed before they awoke, with no explanation about who had set them there. He glanced at Katniss’. Another jumpsuit, an emerald green with a deep grey trim. Slightly more tailored, probably aligned with the current Capitol fashion trend and a pair of simple, black heeled boots. He knew she’d be grumbling about that for the remainder of their day.
“Where are you going?” her voice stopped him from exiting through frosted glass doors.
“To change,” he replied, glancing back to find her eyes tracing the room. “It’s morning, you slept through the night.” Her head cocked to the side as she glanced out the window, her eyes catching the early morning rays of sunlight.
“So for the schedule,” Effie’s voice was filled with bubbly positivity, “we’ll start with wedding preparations. You’ll both have fittings throughout the day and I will be in meetings regarding guest lists, venues and menus. I’ll be sure to fill you all in. Do you have any requests?” She turned to the both of them.
Katniss glared at her bowl of oatmeal in disgust. “A postponement or cancellation.”
“Sweetheart, it’s happening whether you like it or not,” Haymitch shook his head, squinting at the visibly frustrated brunette. “The earlier you accept that–”
“We’ll trust your choices, Effie,” Peeta interrupted as cheerfully as possible, to which Effie clasped her hands together and batted her extravagantly large eyelashes.
“It is my pleasure," she gushed before continuing. "After these quick few appointments there will be a period of downtime. For you to rest, relax and prepare for tonight's events. Though it is a celebration of you, it will be taxing. Everyone who’s anyone wants to meet you and I hear the new head gamemaker will be making an appearance.” Katniss’ head shot up at that, a subtle smirk playing on her lips.
“Why? Because Seneca got the esteemed governmental execution?”
“Katniss!” Effie squawked, looking around in horror. Haymitch choked on his brandy-spiked coffee and coughed out a chuckle. “That is exactly the type of attitude we are trying to avoid on this wonderful vacation.”
“Vacation?” The coldness in Katniss’ voice echoed through the car. Her next move was almost to be expected, she slammed a butter knife directly into the glossed mahogany table and stormed out of the dining room.
