The more I think about it, the more I actually think Catching Fire might be my favorite book in the series, and I kinda love all the blank spaces there are to fill in during the Victory Tour. So here's an attempt at filling one of those spaces, about the nights on the train.

"Good morning, Katniss," Effie chirps. "It's nice to see you up bright and early."

"Thanks," I mumble, sliding into a seat at the opposite end of the table. The truth is, I've barely slept in the four nights we've spent on this train, and I didn't see much point in laying in bed another morning, doing nothing while sleep eludes me.

"We've got big, big plans for the two of you today," she continues, sipping daintily at her cup of tea. "We'll be arriving in District 9 at about noon, and we'll need to move quickly because your speech is scheduled for one o'clock..."

I'm not sure if Effie actually trails off, or if I've just stopped paying attention, but the next words I hear are clear and sharp: "Katniss. You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

I blink stupidly, taking too long to process the question. "How'd you tell?"

"How could I tell?" Effie sniffs. "My god, the bags under your eyes could fit Junia Silka's entire shoe collection." I guess she's making some sort of Capitol-celebrity reference I don't understand, so I just narrow my eyes in response. She rifles through her ever-present handbag and places a small blue bottle between us on the table, her long, silvery-pink fingernail tapping lightly on the lid.

I eye the bottle suspiciously. "What's that?"

"Take two every night right before bed, and you'll feel much better." She pushes the bottle towards me across the table with her index finger.

I take the bottle and examine it, looking for any indication of the medication's name or dosage, but it's blank. "So, what - they're sleeping pills?" Effie nods. "And you just carry them around with you all day?"

Her expression changes instantly from sympathetic to guarded. "I...no, of course not. As your escort, it's - prudent - that I...am ready with anything you two might need. And that includes sleep aids." I don't press it. Even Effie Trinket has issues, I guess.

The compartment door slides open and I slip the bottle quickly into my pocket. "Thanks," I mutter, and Effie gives me a tight-lipped smile in return. She turns to greet Peeta, who's just entered the room.

"Well, good morning Peeta! I hope you're ready for a big, big day..."

The pills only make it worse.

I can fall asleep now - the problem is, I can't wake up. I find myself drowning in dreams, sucked under a riptide of mutts and blood and dirt and bones. I try to break away to the surface but they grab me, drag me down, the nightmares clawing at my ankles so deeply that they tear through the skin and sinew until they're hooked into my muscles, crawling like worms up into my stomach and heart and lungs.

When I finally come to, Peeta is leaning over me, his face ashen and terrified. His fingers are wrapped firmly around my upper arm, his other hand brushing the sweaty hair back off of my forehead. But in the split second between sleep and waking, I don't recognize his touch as a comfort. It's a threat. I scramble away from him, pressing myself into the corner where the bed's heardboard meets the wall.

Peeta backs away quickly, holding his hands up for me to see. "Whoa, it's okay," he says soothingly. "Katniss, it's just me. You were having a nightmare. It's just me."

My heart's pounding painfully in my chest, but as my eyes adjust to the dark room the primitive part of my brain - the part that's in control right now - can see that he's right. It's just Peeta.

I nod, but I can't stop trembling. "Peeta?" I croak out.

He hesitates, then bends down to slip off his shoes, and climbs clumsily into the bed beside me. "C'mere." He pulls me gently by the wrist back to the center of the bed, and I let him wrap his arms around me.

Peeta holds me like that, ever patient, until I finally stop shaking. Over his shoulder I can see the green glow of the clock on the wall - it's well after 3 a.m. "Why are you awake?" I whisper.

Peeta shrugs. "Couldn't sleep," he says, pulling away. I feel cold without his warm skin pressed against mine. "I've been taking walks around the train at night. I heard you screaming."

"Effie gave me pills," I explain. "To help me sleep. But they just mean I can't wake up from the nightmares."

Peeta's hand reaches out as though he's going to touch my cheek, but he pauses and rests it over my own hand instead. He swallows hard, keeping his eyes trained on the bedspread. "I could stay with you, if you want. Like we did in the cave."

"Okay." I look at him, but he won't meet my eyes, so I turn my hand beneath his, entwining our fingers together.

The next night we go our separate ways, and I take the pills again, figuring they're better than nothing. But I wake to my own screams and sweaty sheets once more, Peeta's worried face hovering over me. He crawls into my bed again and I cling to him, feeling the slow, steady heartbeat deep in his chest.

On the third night, we don't bother pretending. Peeta follows me into my room at bedtime. I don't take the pills. And I sleep just fine.

"Katniss, hold back a moment," Effie says as we finish up lunch. We're somewhere between Districts 7 and 6. "I'd like to have a word."

I try to hide a smile as Peeta widens his eyes at me in mock worry. Ooh, someone's in trouble.

Effie waits until Peeta and Haymitch have gone before taking a seat on one of the plush sofas. She pats the cushion next to her. "Go ahead, sit."

I take a seat on the sofa beside her, uneasy.

Effie sighs, folding her hands in her lap. Her fingernails are bright blue today, like a robin's egg. "Now it pains me to have to say this, Katniss, because I know how much you and Peeta have been through together, and how dear you are to one another," she says very seriously. "But there has been chatter about the sleeping arrangements the two of you have adopted recently, and frankly, they're inappropriate."

Good, I think, maybe that'll get back to President Snow. But her concern strikes me as unfair.

"Shouldn't Peeta be hearing this, too?" I point out. "This is just as much about him as it is about me."

"Haymitch is discussing the issue with Peeta as we speak," she tells me primly. Yeah right, I think. More likely he's giving him a pat on the back and a tumbler of whiskey.

"I was young once, too, Katniss," Effie says mistily, patting my hand. "I understand, I do. But you're a public figure now, and you've got to be on your best behavior during this tour. You're a role model for thousands of children all over Panem! You and Peeta have been given an amazing opportunity to show this nation's young people how a healthy relationship should work, and I would hate to see you waste that opportunity for a few stolen nights on a train."

There's no point in arguing with her - either way, I'm not giving up the relief I've found sharing my bed with Peeta. "You're absolutely right, Effie," I say, nodding. "I hadn't thought about it that way, but we are role models, and we obviously wouldn't want to jeopardize that."

Effie smiles warmly. "I'm so glad you agree." She leans in to give me an awkward hug, patting me lightly on the back. She smells like peaches, and it's not unpleasant.

"Of course." I stand up, ready to escape back to my room. "We'll be sure to be more discreet from now on."

I turn away quickly so she can't see the grin that's spreading ove my face, but I catch her look of confusion for just a second. "I'm not sure you understood me -"

"Thanks, Effie!" I cut her off, slipping through the door into the next compartment.

That night Peeta keeps walking past my room as we head off to bed. I grab his hand and meet his eyes questioningly.

"I thought you said we were being discreet," he whispers.

"That's what I said," I whisper back, tugging him through the doorway behind me. But there's no hope for discretion tonight - not with the way Peeta's smile lights up the small, dark room.