A/N: "Mortified" doesn't even begin to describe how I feel, ya'll. I apologize for just disappearing but I found myself incredibly uninspired (despite knowing what I want to happen after this chapter) and felt mildly disheartened at the writer's block that took over me. That said, I'll be sure to update at least twice a month. As much as I've enjoyed writing this story, I'm kinda looking forward to be over. XD Although I'd been re-reading the earlier chapters and I'm thinking of editing those... we shall see.

As always, thanks for the continued support. Enjoy!

"Cinna," I gasp, surprised to see him enter the stark room.

"Hello Peeta," he greets me in his soothing voice.

"I wasn't expecting you. Where's Portia?" I ask, feeling my stomach clench with worry.

"Fret not, Portia's well. We decided to shake things up a little this year and swap tributes. As I'm sure you know, she loved working with you but she told me she was itching to sketch some pretty dresses and well… I couldn't tell that face no," he chuckles, stepping closer to me.

"Oh."

Part of me was terrified that they'd punished her on my behalf but there are no words to describe the relief that fills me.

"I hope you don't mind," he says, arching a brow.

"Oh, not at all. Katniss…" I pause, swallowing the knot in my throat. "Katniss had nothing but the highest praise for you and your designs."

A corner of his lips quirks up as he watches me.

"Perhaps, but I always did have the most difficult time cajoling her to wear all those dresses. There was nothing she would accept in exchange for wearing them."

"She looked lovely," I smile, thinking of the plum velvet dress she wore once. "You certainly have an eye for beauty."

He nods his head in quiet thanks.

"Of course, if you're planning on making me wear dresses like hers… you can bet I won't give in without putting up a fight first," I joke, hoping to break the air of awkwardness between us.

He laughs quietly, white teeth contrasting with his caramel skin.

"I see what Katniss meant about you. I like you, Peeta Mellark," he nods approvingly.

I feel my cheeks burn as I marvel what on earth Katniss could have possibly told him about me. Curiosity piques at me but I deem it bad manners to ask; Effie would be proud of me, I'm sure.

"I'm guessing you already have our costumes for the parade, am I right?" I grin.

"That is correct."

"We're not going to be naked, are we?" I chuckle nervously, clasping my hands behind my back.

Cinna gives me a reprimanding glare, crossing his arms disapprovingly across his chest.

"Have you so little faith in me?"

I can't help but smile at his tone.

"Not at all. As a matter of fact, when it comes to my body, I trust you blindly."

As soon as I hear that come out of my mouth, I want nothing more than to crumble into dust, hoping a gust of wind carries me away.

Foot, meet mouth.

I feel myself blush from head to toe and watch as Cinna watches me impassively. However, his mask abruptly breaks and he reveals a kind smile. I feel myself become at ease despite wearing nothing but a thin robe in this absurdly cold room.

"I see they've cut your hair a little too short for my liking, but I suppose that's alright. It certainly doesn't detract from your features. Stand up and do a turn, would you Peeta?"

I do as he asks and turn around slowly, trying not to blush when Cinna grips my bicep or bends down to do the same to my calf.

"I do apologize, Peeta, for poking you as though you're a cut a meat," Cinna offers, looking genuinely apologetic as he rises to his feet once again.

"It's fine," I nod quickly, needing no apology. "Portia did that to me last year. Needless to say, I was more embarrassed then."

To my surprise, Cinna chuckles.

"Yes, she's certainly intimidating when she wants to be. Especially with those talons of hers."

I smile and quietly agree.

I was always worried that she'd poke my eye out inadvertently or scratch me. Not even once.

"Okay, we're all done here Peeta. Thank you for being so cooperative," he says, nodding approvingly.

"It's not a problem, really. Anything to make your job easier," I tell him earnestly.

"Hmm."

I tilt my head curiously, raising my eyebrows at him when he doesn't elaborate further.

"I've never had many doubts about you, Peeta Mellark," he offers in his soft voice. "In the instances that Katniss has spoken to me about you, I figured that she was either exaggerating or that she had you high up on a pedestal. Of course, it had also occurred to me that perhaps she was in—"

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath in anticipation to his next words until I started to grow lightheaded. Strangely enough, my knees grow weak as I become unsteady on my feet, wobbling.

"Peeta, are you alright?" Cinna asks me, hazel eyes flashing with concern.

I let out a shaky breath and cough, feeling a fierce blush rise in my face.

"I'm fine, I just…" I hesitate, fidgeting under his intense gaze. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Good, I'd hate to go back to Katniss with news of your death under my supervision. As the First Lady of Panem, she would probably have me executed."

Is he joking or is he serious? Sometimes there is no way of telling with him unless he smiles.

"I'm joking, relax," he smiles.

I chuckle weakly and take a seat once more.

"What was I saying? Oh, yes. Katniss usually has little to say but when she does, it's often about you. I see that goodness she sees and it's impossible to fake that innate integrity you possess. Sure, people can try but there's something in their eyes that betrays the truth of their actions. But you, it's written all over your face. No wonder she likes you so much, she was probably hoping some of your virtues would rub off on her. How little she thinks of herself sometimes."

"As they say, we are our own toughest critic."

"That sounds about right," he agrees.

A moment of silence passes between us and I cannot control the question that bursts forth from me.

"Is she okay?" I whisper, biting my lip worriedly.

"She's… breathing," he answers after a long pause. "She misses everybody."

What, did you really think he would say that she only misses you? Be real, Mellark, Katniss isn't that kind of person.

"I miss her too," I breathe out, swallowing heavily.

I shut my eyes, hoping in vain that the force of that stops the never-ending ache for her. Cinna knows that nothing he can say will take my pain away, so he just stands there quietly. Oddly enough, I find his presence comforting.

Perhaps it's because he's the closest thing I have to her right now. He's our only connection.

"Can you do me a favor? Next time you see her, would you please tell her…" I trail off, brain thinking a hundred miles a second.

That I miss her so much that it actually feels like she took a part of me with her. To please take care of herself because there's still people who love her. To be strong and to close her eyes or look away when I die. To continue being the brave and beautiful woman she is. That I'll always love her.

"…that I say hello?"

Cinna quirks his eyebrow at my choice of words but nods all the same.

"I will."

"Thank you, Cinna," I sigh gratefully.

"You're a good man, Peeta. It's a shame there's not enough of those in the world."

He looks wistful for a moment before turning around and striding out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Although it takes a bit to get used to, his reassuring voice, quiet grace and gentle smiles are calming, like drinking warm tea on a blistering cold day. No wonder Katniss likes him so much. I can only hope he'll like me just as much. I suppose it had never occurred to me just how important it is for me to be accepted by the people she loves.

Back in our penthouse, I sit in the living room and wait for Madge, Haymitch and Effie to reappear. I'm extremely surprised Effie wasn't there to escort me back up here, fussing over me but I expect that she's probably with Madge since it's her first time.

I lean back against the couch and run my fingers through my hair, privately agreeing with Cinna about its unusually short length.

No matter, it's just hair. It'll grow back.

In that moment, I hear Effie's sprightly voice and Haymitch's groans.

"Peeta?" Effie calls out.

"In the living room."

I hear Effie's heels clacking against the marble floor and somehow even manage to smell the liquor that Haymitch always carries with him in his flask; I feel surprised but then a bit nostalgic. I don't have time to ponder upon it any further because Madge appears before me, blushing prettily.

"Madge!" I sit up, grinning.

Madge is quite beautiful and there isn't much they could have done to improve her looks, but there's a certain glow to her skin that makes her eyes look brighter and somehow her hair looks shinier and softer.

"Not bad," I joke, nodding my head in approval.

She makes a face at me and laughs, taking a seat next to me.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she jokes back. "Your hair, though…"

"Yeah, it's a little short," I say, sighing inwardly.

"You both look great," Haymitch interrupts, plopping down next to me. "They're about to show the other reapings, so you better sit tight and pay attention."

Effie takes a seat next to Madge and we all sit there, staring at the blank television in solemn and tense silence.

Madge raises a skeptical brow and glances at me, as if asking me what exactly we're waiting for. But before I get a chance to answer, the television blinks to life. With no preamble needed, the reaping of District 1 starts to play.

Although I know it's vital that I watch this, I can't help but let my mind wander since I don't know anybody from there. Of course, once they begin broadcasting the reaping from District 4 I'm all eyes and ears. My heart thumps loudly in my chest and I know in my heart that Finnick's name is going to be the one printed in that slip of paper. The camera pans to the male victors and Finnick stands there quietly; the tallest and easily the most handsome. He doesn't flinch when his name gets called but instead breaks out into a wide smile and even goes as far as winking to the camera, as though it were some kind of pageant.

The camera pans to the two female victors and I find myself hoping that the older woman with the grey hair isn't the one to get chosen. Still, the young woman standing next to her catches my attention and although she's very pretty, there's a skittish look about her that gives the air of instability.

Hang on... isn't that Annie Cresta? The girl Johanna questioned Finnick about back at the wedding? Well, damn. I hope it's not her either…Why am I so worried about this? It's not like I have any real say in this. Besides, why would she ask Finnick about her? Unless they...

But I shake my head, thinking that this is neither the time or place to be thinking about Finnick's love life. Instead, I wait, heart pumping faster at the bleak future of the unknown tribute that's going to have the "honor" of dying along with the rest of us.

"Lavinia Mere!"

I stare at the television, listening to the gasps and shouts erupting from the crowd as the camera becomes focused on her. Her face captures the very definition of surprise: mouth gaping open, wide emerald eyes and skin with a ghost-like pallor.

"That's not right! She wasn't even a victor, what gives?" I burst angrily, feeling my shock begin to fade as my indignation rises.

It seems as though my normally loquacious mentor and chaperone don't have the answer when the woman calling out the names approaches the microphone once more, paper in hand.

"You might be wondering why a tribute not belonging to the female victors was reaped. President Snow had mentioned a twist for the Third Quarter Quell and it so happens to be that a random person would be chosen as tribute; either male or female, never both. It was kept quiet until now because this particular twist wouldn't be effective for all twelve districts. In other words, Districts were chosen at a random. Thank you for your attention."

There's rampant murmuring going through the crowds.

"That is the biggest load bull—" I seethe, closing my hands into tight fists.

"Peeta!" Effie gasps, pressing her hand delicately against her mouth.

"Sorry, Effie. But that is the biggest load of manure I've ever heard. That was the so-called brilliant twist of the Third Quarter Quell? Frankly, I'm disappointed," I huff, crossing my arms.

"It is what it is, boy," Haymitch coughs, the smell of his liquor overwhelming my senses.

"Ugh, Haymitch," I groan, leaning away from him.

"Hush, boy," he commands gruffly.

"—Blight!"

I focus my attention on the television once more and see that a male tribute from District 7 has been reaped.

"Now for the female tribute… Johanna Mason!"

The camera pans to Johanna, who keeps a mask of indifference on her tanned face. She turns to look into the camera and sneers before taking her time to approach the stage.

"I knew it," I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief.

So this is Snow's dastardly plan, eliminating all the people I know. He's not going to be satisfied until a cannon rings upon my death. He'll never stop hounding me or my friends... and he's never going to let Katniss go. He's hitting me where it hurts most and I've got to say, it's working. I knew I should have expected such low-handedness from him, but including innocent people like Madge and Lavinia is just wrong. Not that he strikes me as a man with a moral compass. Hold on... Madge. The twist involved our district as well!

I don't pay attention to the reapings that follow, feeling much too lost in thought.

Only one of us will get out alive... I'm sorry, Lavinia, but I'm determined to get Madge out of this safe and sound. It's what Katniss would want and by God, I'm going to see it through.

I glance at her but discover that she's been watching me all along, eyes wide and full of sorrow. I manage to quirk a corner of my lips in what could pass for a weak smile, hoping to convey to her that she'll be all right.

"Peeta..."

"You'll be fine, Madge. I promise you," I tell her fervently, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

She squeezes back as though my hand were her very lifeline and nods tersely.

"You'll be fine too, Peeta," she whispers, gulping nervously.

"You forget that this isn't my first time, Madge," I tell her, attempting to lighten the dire mood.

She gives me a weak smile and nods yet again.

"I believe in you, Peeta."

That makes one of us. No, I mustn't think like that. Especially since Madge's very existence rests in my hands. I may not be the ideal person to help her but I'm going to give it my all. She doesn't deserve this... none of us do, really. Especially not Katniss. Dear God... I wonder how Katniss is taking all of this. For her sake, I hope she doesn't behave rashly. Pissing off Snow would not bode well for her well-being. Full of fire, that one...

"Thank you, Madge."

"As cozy as this is, I'm afraid I have to interrupt," Haymitch drawled. "The parade takes place tomorrow and there's not much you need to do but keep to yourselves and not fall off the carriage. The interview, however, is a whole different animal. The boy is ready, having excelled at it last year. You girl, on the other hand, will have to suffer... er, go through Effie's session. Etiquette and all that. You'll be working on the personality you want to project to Panem with me. Now, you've got a pretty face so there's little you could say to offend people's sensibilities so you have that going for you."

He paused to draw breath before chuckling.

"What's so amusing, Haymitch?" Effie asked him curiously.

"I remember my session with Katniss. Girl was stiff as a board. I told her she had as much personality as a slug, if I remember correctly. I'm afraid I got a bit nasty at the end but seems like my worrying was for naught since everybody ended up loving her at the end."

"Tough not to," I speak up, smiling fondly. "Impossible to forget just how stunning she was in her dress. Or how vulnerable she looked when Caesar asked about Prim. Although I think my favorite part of her interview was her resoluteness to win the Games for her."

Everybody turns to me and I feel blood rush to my face and I look down, repressing the urge to fidget.

"What? There's just something about her that's impossible to resist," I shrug, mumbling.

Madge gives me a sly look as a smile curls at the edge of her lips.

"I think you mean the trouble she ends up stirring no matter where she goes," Haymitch grouses, taking a long drink from his flask.

Effie purses her lips and gives him a sharp look and he has the decency to look abashed; abashed for Haymitch, anyway.

"Anyway... Madge, if you could please accompany me. Peeta, don't look so complacent. You'll have your session with me after I'm done with Madge," she said, arching an eyebrow at me. "Even if the only thing we do is review. You've always had excellent manners."

"Thank you, Effie,"I murmur, knowing there's nothing I could say to dissuade her.

As soon as they leave the room together, Haymitch shoots a smirk at me.

"You know how efficient she is," I sigh, leaning back into the couch.

"'Efficient,' sure," he snorts, shaking his head.

"Haymitch... doesn't it strike you as a bit... fishy that the twist of the Quarter Quell only adhered to two districts?" I ask him in a low voice.

He sobers up immediately and squints at me before glancing around the room suspiciously.

"First thought that came to mind," he nodded, drumming his fingers against his flask.

"It's his way of getting us all out of the way, tied with a neat bow on top. It's just remarkably unfair that Madge and Lavinia have to suffer as well," I scowl.

"I'm sure he involved the redhead because of you, kid. As for Madge... there's no doubt in my mind he knew what went on between her and Katniss. The friendship, the teaching her how to use a bow... he's taunting her by having her reaped. Her punishment comes when... if... the girl dies."

"She won't," I tell him firmly, not breaking eye contact once. "You have to do everything in your power, Haymitch. Move heaven and earth if you have to, but Madge gets out of the arena alive."

My mentor swallows heavily but nods, resignation taking over his weary expression.

"The girl..."

"Katniss will continue living as she has," I finish quietly, looking away.

You'd think I'd get tired of having the same conversation over and over again. Well, wrong.

"She's going to be devastated, kid," Haymitch tells me quietly.

"She lived when her family was torn away from her. Surely she'll keep on living just fine when I'm gone," I tell him stubbornly, ignoring the prickle in my eyes.

"You continue to underestimate just how much you mean to her, boy. But fine, continue being a stubborn jerk," he scoffs, taking a noisy gulp from his flask.

"I have to, Haymitch. Otherwise..." I trail off hesitantly, because once it's said, it can never be taken back. "Otherwise there'd be nothing to stop me from getting her back. From making her safe. Not my safety, nothing at all. This is... the better option, I can assure you."

He's quiet for several minutes although I know he's not done with this conversation yet.

"Of all the children I've met and had to lead to their death, I don't regret meeting anyone more than I do the both of you. Sure, it's an incredibly unfortunate circumstance but the two of you... you're different. The other ones... it's as though they were finished before they even began. One look in their eyes and all you could see was emptiness, weariness. But when I saw the her and then you... the girl, she's a survivor. She's tough as nails and has a fire within her. I saw that fire in her eyes, she had yet to give up, to fold. You, boy, you're the kindest person I've met in all my years. You're honest and you're moral... you're just... the very definition of wholesome. Although I've also seen a fire in your eyes, the fire to put Katniss' safety before your own. In all my years... that had never happened. It's unfair that your lives have been so irrevocably screwed up... although I'm not so sure how the two of you would be faring without the Games. Perhaps some things are meant to be, no matter how terrible they are..."

I watch him in stunned silence. Haymitch has never been one for grand speeches or flowery words, that has always fallen to my lot. But listening to him helps me understand why he takes solace in alcohol. And it just breaks my heart to hear him talk about Katniss and myself like that. I know that he's generally gruff and crude but I've not once have I ever doubted that everything he's done for us, he's done it for our own good. But to hear him...

"Haymitch..."

I'm still speechless.

"Save it boy," he waves his hand lazily. "Better keep that silver tongue of yours sharp for your interview tomorrow."

"Thanks, Haymitch," I tell him gruffly, gratefully.

He nods before rising to his feet and sauntering away while I'm left to ponder what's to become of all of us.

As always, thank you SO much for taking time out of your day to read. Review if you feel compelled to (or if you just want to shout at me, that's cool too). Have a great day/evening and til next time!

PS. Also, the upcoming two (or possibly just one) chapters will be from Katniss' point of view since it'll be the parade and the interview. We'll get to see what's going in her head.

PPS. How many of you watched Mockingjay? I really enjoyed it. What did you think of it?