This first chapter was originally a submission for Day 7 - Envy, for Prompts in Panem round four Seven Deadly Sins, on Tumblr.

The hum of the hovercraft was subtle, a soft drone that wasn't unpleasant - he was used to it by now. Travelling across Panem on a regular basis had desensitised him from most of the idiosyncrasies of flying, had made the thrill of the feeling of lifting into the air, the slight jump he'd always used to feel in his stomach, all but disappear.

The flight itself had been smooth so far, uneventful. He appreciated the fact that the weather was fine despite the dark and foreboding clouds that surrounded them, because the last thing he wanted right now was to be airsick. He needed to be smart, professional, and he certainly didn't need the faint taste and smell of vomit lingering when he arrived.

He studied the small communication device that fit in the palm of his hand, outlining his schedule for the next four weeks. Meet, and photograph, the Victor known as Katniss Everdeen. Follow her, capture her in her natural environment, show District 12 in as positive light as possible, and then follow her progress along the Victory Tour trail. There was no question - his images, his pictures during this time had to be perfect. This was his big break, after three years of agreeing to work with the production crew who travelled to District 4 for their annual Reaping. His hard work, persistence, tenacity and talent had paid off. Peeta Mellark was no longer small time; now he was Peeta Mellark, photographer for the Presidential office. And he was going to meet the woman who had mesmerised him from the first time he'd seen her.

He hadn't been able to take his eyes off the screen of his comm device as she'd volunteered for her sister, her grey eyes wide and shocked, her dark hair mussed by the frantic blonde girl who wouldn't let go.

He'd watched, his breath caught in his throat, as she was carried in a chariot of flames, its fiery orange and yellow and red fingers twisting around her body, even as they reached out for him through the screen, twirling and tangling around his heart until he knew he was a goner.

He'd spent the next 6 months working every possible hour of every day, desperate to land this assignment, and when Cressida had given him the good news a month ago, he knew it wasn't by chance. He was meant to go to District 12. He was meant to do this job. He was meant to meet Katniss Everdeen.

He stepped from the Hovercraft, declining an escort from the Co-Pilot to her home in Victor's Village. It was only at the end of the street, he reasoned, and his camera equipment wasn't heavy. He'd grown up carrying bags of flour around, after all, at the artisan bakery his parents ran in the most fashionable quarter in the Capitol.

The air smelt different in this part of Panem. In the Capitol, the air was heavy, full of scents that were foreign and fake - musky perfume, artificially grown flowers, the powders and paints and inks that decorated citizens' bodies. He'd always hated it, had found it cloying and suffocating. Here, it was light, fresh, somehow the scent of grass lingering even though his feet crunched over layers of snow. He envied them that - the open spaces, the crisp air, the sun that seemed so much brighter and real here. He supposed it might be different in the poorer parts of the town - where he knew Katniss Everdeen had grown up - with a thin layer of coal dust permeating the air, but he wasn't here to photograph that. That had been Katniss Everdeen, resident of the Seam, daughter of Alice and James Everdeen. Now she was Katniss Everdeen, resident of Victor's Village, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. And that was who he was here to photograph.

Peeta hitched the strap of his camera case more securely onto his shoulder, eyeing the ground warily - he wasn't used to weather like this in the Capitol, where their streets would be lucky to have a millimetre of snow dusting their street before it was discreetly swept away. And this camera was worth more than his life, Cressida had reminded him on more than one occasion before he'd departed. So he was even more careful than usual as he made his way under the fanciful wrought iron sign that announced his arrival in the Capitol designed part of town.

The street ahead of him was barren, lifeless, a sea of white and grey. He was surprised, to say the least. He knew the village had at least 4 residents now - Katniss, her mother and sister, and Haymitch Abernathy, the drunk and laughing stock of the Capitol that everyone had heard of. But, as a cool wind swept past played havoc with his blonde waves and made him hug his pale blue jacket closer to his body, he didn't expect it to feel dead.

Of course, that's exactly how he felt when he reached the edge of the path leading to the Everdeen's home and found the Mockingjay herself guarding the door, her arms folded and lips formed in a perfect scowl. He'd never seen a more piercing and hate-filled gaze in his life.

He wondered if this was going to be a harder assignment than he'd first thought.

Primrose Everdeen was more welcoming than her sister, which wasn't a hard feat to accomplish. They were polar opposites in every possible way, except maybe for their obvious love for the other.

He realised Prim, as she'd insisted on being called, might be a bigger ally through all of this than he first thought.

Conversation was stilted as they sat in the Everdeen's sitting room, delicate china cups balanced on their laps. Katniss had elected to stand by the fireplace, and didn't utter a word, her arms folded across her chest and her tea cooling in her untouched cup. He wasn't sure what it said of him that he found the heat of her glare so surprisingly tempting.

"So in short, Mrs Everdeen," he finished, as he placed his cup back on the smooth wooden coffee table, "I'm here to trail Katniss for a few days. The stylists and crew will be here the day the train is due to leave and I'm certain they will capture some more stylised images. But the Capitol loves their Victors, and they can never have enough - they're always curious about their everyday lives. That's why I'm here. Basically, I'm just looking to photograph the three of you in your natural environment, very casual, very laid back." He laughed as Prim's eyes lit up. "Mostly Katniss of course, but the two of you as well, if you'll allow it."

He heard Katniss snort, and glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "Like you need our permission anyway. You'll do it regardless," she snapped, her silver eyes icy and cold. He heard Alice Everdeen's sharp intake of breath and held a hand up in her direction, never taking his eyes off the fiery woman in front of him.

"You're right," he acquiesced. "I'll take photos of you regardless, Katniss, because as Victor, it's your duty. Out of respect for your family, however, I will ask them. They can say no, I have no problems with that." She eyed him sceptically, and he couldn't blame her. Peeta knew what she saw when she looked at him. But he, unlike so many in the Capitol, understood that there was something inherently wrong with the games, that it was something no-one should have to endure. That's why he was here.

But in the meantime, he had a job to do and bills to pay.

"So I'll only ask once, and I won't bother your family again if the answer is no. Will you allow it, Katniss?" He waited for her to argue, as he expected her to; he'd done his homework after all. But he watched, fascinated, as her fingers clutched tightly against the polished ledge of the fireplace, her knuckles pale against her olive skin and the dark wood. They stared at each other intently, gazes locked, neither willing to back down. Her jaw was set, but he could see the slight quiver in her chin. Her eyes were furious and cold, but lost. Then confused, and he could see the way her foot began to tap, the way her fingers flexed and strained. He felt the wave of awkwardness settle over him, and wondered how and when the shift between them had occurred, how on earth it had crept up on him so unexpectedly. And if Alice and Prim noticed it, or whether it was only blindingly obvious to him. It crackled like the fire in the grate, a snapping and sparking he hadn't really expected to be so fierce. Being preoccupied by someone from afar was one thing. Having their eyes bore into you while you suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe was another.

"Fine. I'll allow it," she finally snapped, and looked away, her cheeks flushed, awkwardly clearing her throat. He looked back at the friendlier Everdeen's, and smiled, determined to make it as easy as possible despite the twisting of his gut and the fire in his blood.

"So," he asked. "Who wants to be first?"

Peeta Fucking Mellark.

She could hear Prim's giggles from the kitchen, as she and their mother obviously played to the camera. It was absurd, ridiculous, and a thousand other adjectives she couldn't even begin to think of. All she'd wanted was a final four days of peace before she was paraded about the country, waving and smiling while she continued to splinter and die on the inside. Instead she had some pretty boy from the Capitol invading her space, their space, with his blonde hair that perfectly framed his chiselled cheeks and jaw, and the eyes that were as bright and stunning as the sapphire jewels she'd seen in the Capitol. As he was surprisingly free of the usual Capitolite adornments, she supposed these obviously fake blue eyes were his concession to whatever current fashion was popular.

She threw herself on her bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing she were anywhere but here. No, not anywhere, she clarified to herself. She wished she were in the woods, where she could think and feel, and was the only place she could feel remotely like her, not a puppet. But while Peeta was here - and what kind of damned name was Peeta anyway? - she would have to stay out of the woods. After all, that was the last place she needed to be photographed, the last place the Capitol needed to know about.

But it was the one place that was still, undoubtedly, hers.

She heard a shutter snap, and with a start she sat up quickly, glancing towards the door. He stood there, leaning against the jam, the fancy silver camera clutched in his hands as he lowered it from his face. "Sorry," he said, though there was very little apology in his tone. "I had to. It was the first time I've seen you off guard today."

Pushing herself off the bed, she scowled; stalking over to her cupboard and yanking out the ancient jacket she refused to give up. "What do you want?"

He shrugged, holding his hands up in a motion of peace offering. "I think we got off on the wrong foot-"

"Oh really?" She retorted. She couldn't help it, it was automatic. She'd felt her back go up, her teeth set on edge the minute she'd seen him trudging up the snow lined street, his blonde hair and blue jacket like a beacon in a darkened sea.

Or so she imagined. She'd never seen the sea. Not yet, anyway.

He sighed. "Look, I'm aware you only found out about me coming last week and I know you would prefer to spend this time with your family. But if you just work with me, we can make this as painless as possible, it doesn't have to be hard."

"Nothings going to be as hard as that arena was," she spat, and she watched his face harden. Katniss wondered if she'd gone too far, if she'd overstepped the mark. He was from the Capitol after all, and she'd already done enough to put President Snow and the Gamemakers offside. But she had to watch with admiration as he took one deep breath and schooled his features back into an unreadable mask.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested suddenly, as though she hadn't snapped at him for about the tenth time already. She stared at him, to see his angle, but all she could see was those eyes and the firm set of his jaw.

"Fine," she replied after a long beat of silence, and brushed past him, stomping down the stairs.

If she felt a shiver run up her arm as she did so, it was surely only static electricity from her jacket coming into contact with his.

"Mom, Prim, we're going out," she called from the back door, as she yanked her boots from the closet and tugged them on her feet, not even bothering to lace them. She didn't wait for an answer as she stalked out the door, or for Peeta to catch up.

She trudged over the snow, her feet moving surprisingly nimbly over the sodden ground. She could hear his heavy footsteps and heaving of breath as he tried to catch up with her.

"Katniss, wait," he called. "I have to be careful with this camera equipment, it's expensive."

"Don't care," she tossed over her shoulder. She didn't know what it was, but everything about him made her want to bite his head off every time he spoke, while her stomach twisted into nervous knots. She supposed she should be more polite, more agreeable, as was befitting a Victor. But they were two things she rarely was. And if he was so offended by her behaviour, he would have called her on it by now.

Or called a Peacekeeper.

So she figured she was safe.

She continued to make her way towards the centre of town, but at the last minute circumvented around it. She was going to take him to the meadow. She didn't want him in the Seam, where it still felt like home and he had no right to be, and she didn't want him in Town, where nosy busybodies would likely see him and make a fuss.

No, if she had to do this, she was going to dictate it on her terms, and the meadow it was going to be.

As she reached the meadow - covered in snow, not a strip of green or wildflower in sight - she turned to him and shrugged her shoulders. While he wasn't huffing and puffing - for a Capitol bore, he was at least a little fit - he was definitely glowering at her as he drew closer.

"Where the hell are we?" He snapped, and she couldn't help the perverse satisfaction she felt at his annoyance.

"My natural environment," she replied simply. She sat down on a large rock that sat on the edge of the meadow and looked up at him. "Take your photos then."

He sighed, and glanced around him. "Katniss, the idea for these is that I capture you. Not a posed photo of you. You, while you aren't aware. Like your mom and Prim. Yes, they knew I was there, but they didn't pose for me. And I don't want that from you either."

"What do you want from me, then?"

She watched as his throat bobbed, as he bit down on his bottom lip and his fingers clenched around the camera. And despite the frigid winter air that surrounded her, she felt that thing again, the thing that had all but sucked the life out of the room back in Victor's Village.

Katniss wanted to drag her gaze away, wanted to look away and dismiss him. But she couldn't tear her eyes from his. The silence was deafening, and stretched on endlessly. She wasn't sure how long they stared at each other, had no idea how long everything around her stopped. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours; she had no idea. Her heart raced, a sprint that made it hard to breathe, hard to think.

What the hell was this?

She yanked her gaze away and shook her head, scowling - her best line of defence. "Will you just answer me?" She demanded as she stared at the ground.

"I just want your photo, Katniss." The reply was soft. "The sooner you relax and act like you normally would, the better off we'll be."

"Fine." With a shrug and a curt nod, she pulled herself up off the rock and stood in the middle of the meadow. Without her bow and arrow, and her woods, she really had nothing else to give.

The photos, she determined, were going to be the most boring the Capitol had ever seen.

She was the most infuriating subject he'd ever had to capture.

She was the most annoying subject he'd ever had to capture.

She was the most incredible subject he'd ever had to capture.

He'd tried, he really had, over the last three days to get her defences down, to get her to at least talk to him. Talking to her during this time was just as important - if not more - than actually taking her picture. But she was as stubborn as she was prickly, and she shut down any attempt at a conversation. So he'd simply trailed her, not saying a word and just waiting for a moment.

He'd captured her in her snow-packed front yard, mid-argument with Haymitch. He'd snapped her laughing as she watched Prim milk an obstinate Lady, and as she'd longingly looked towards the trees behind her home as she sat on the back porch with the mayor's daughter.

But he still didn't have the shot he wanted, the one who confirmed to him who Katniss Everdeen was.

He exited the house at the end of the street in the Village, the one that had been allocated for Capitol employees during any official visits during the Mockingjay's 'reign'. He'd left her alone while she spent some time with her family, had agreed to a reprieve from being her shadow.

At first he'd taken the time to catch up on some correspondence, to confirm his status, and how the assignment was progressing. He'd scrolled through updates, had read an article in Capitol Couture where Cinna outlined his progress on her outfits for the tour. But he'd still spent most of the 2 hours thinking about her. Being this close to Katniss had done nothing but strengthen his interest in her.

He thought about how strong she was, how aloof she was, how oblivious she was to the effect she had on those around her. Prim came alive, and even the quiet, staid Alice seemed to be a different person in her presence. Haymitch was protective, his Seam grey eyes staring at Peeta beadily until he'd had to avert his gaze guiltily, feeling as though the Mentor could see every impure thought he'd ever had of the dark-haired girl over the last six months. The school friend, Madge, who seemed more like Prim in looks and countenance but could exchange a wicked grin with Katniss that hinted at a joke they'd shared that no one else needed to know. And her friend, the tall, olive-skinned, dark-haired man who was introduced as her best friend, and looked at her a little too much and a little too closely.

The intense jealousy that filled Peeta was overpowering, swallowing him whole and leaving him annoyed and frustrated. And it was ridiculous really; they were just friends.

Apparently.

It wasn't even Gale alone that made him envious, though. It was the tight, close-knit bonds she had, this support group that would do what they could to protect her. She didn't realise it, was quite oblivious to it, but it was obvious to him. Katniss had offered her life to save her sister. These people would do what they could to keep her safe now. And that was something he'd never had, and probably never would. His family was typically Capitol - all show, no substance, and very removed. They didn't need him.

He trudged up the front steps of the Everdeens, annoyed at himself for letting his thoughts roam to a place he normally tried to avoid, and pressed the doorbell that played a tune whose name was but a long forgotten memory. And waited. And waited.

And waited.

He tested the knob and it turned swiftly in his hand, the door opening onto the darkened, silent hall. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, his feet padding across the thick carpet that muffled any and all sound.

There wasn't a single noise in the house.

He continued to make his way down the hall, past the sitting room, past the formal dining room and the library, until he was in the kitchen. He moved upstairs, peering into bedrooms and bathrooms, and had to fight the urge to spend longer in Katniss' room. There was no-one here. The house was empty.

She'd given him the slip.

With a barely restrained curse, he stormed out the front door. It was ridiculous. He was just here to do his job. All she had to do was let him take a few photos - as was her duty - and then they'd be on the tour, and he would just be observing her from afar. All he'd needed was her cooperation for the 4 damned days he was here; after that, she was free to be as stubborn as she damn well wanted to be.

"Hey kid!"

He looked up to see the old mentor leaning against one of his porch posts in the house across the street, one hand shoved in a pocket, the other clutching a flask.

"What?" Peeta snapped as he crossed to the property fence.

"Ooo-hoo!" Haymitch hooted. "What's got your Capitol panties in a twist?"

"Don't speak to me like I'm Effie Trinket, Haymitch."

"You're no Effie Trinket, kid, you ain't showing me no manners right now. What's up your ass?"

Peeta glared at him, then realised maybe the old man could help. "Where is she?"

"Where's who?"

"Katniss," Peeta replied through clenched teeth. "I'm here to see Katniss, and she's not home. Where is she?"

Haymitch stroked his chin lazily, his rheumy grey eyes dancing with what some might call merriment. Others would know better. "Well, I know Alice and Blondie went on down the Seam - the oldest Thornhill girl went into labor just this afternoon. Katniss may have gone with them….." he trailed off, eyes darting off to the left, then right, then back to him again, and Peeta instinctively knew Katniss wasn't in the Seam.

"I'm here to do a job, Haymitch," he replied which, he knew in this instance, was the right reply to have. "Do you want me to report you, as well as her, for not following Capitol directive?"

"Woo-hoo, Capitol directive," Haymitch echoed. "Sounds so official."

With a roll of his eyes, Peeta turned on his heel, but Haymitch's voice stopped him before he could get too far.

"You're not what I expected, you know."

Peeta turned, eyebrow raised, trying to keep his temper banked. "Oh? And what did you expect?"

"I didn't expect a kid," came the short reply. Peeta shrugged.

"I'm 22. Old enough to be a professional."

"You must be good at your job then."

"I am."

"They must have a lot of faith in you."

"They do. I've earned it."

Their conversation was loaded, though anyone listening would be none the wiser. Haymitch shrugged, then took a pull from the flask. "Might as well wait it out, kid, no point huffing about. She'll be back... soon enough."

Something in the mentor's tone tipped him off, and his stomach dropped to his feet in realisation; he had to fight not to clench his jaw in annoyance. He should have known - she was out with Gale. That damned friend was going to be the death of him. With a curt nod of his head, he stalked back to his lodgings and booted up his secondary comm device. He wasn't going to sit around and wait for her - he had people to talk to, things to take care of.

She'd been gone for too long, she knew it. She'd known it was risky, knew she could blow her only remaining entry into the woods by doing it. But the world felt like it was crushing her, pulling and stretching her inside out. So she'd snuck into the woods with Gale, had bagged two squirrels that, while not exactly robust, would be enough to make a decent stew. Had been able to breathe a little bit easier with her bow in her hands.

Being as far away from Peeta Mellark as possible also helped. The man set her on edge, made her chest feel tight and her stomach churn. But she'd taken too long, had taken advantage of her escape. She knew he'd ask her questions, would probably be pissed.

So she was surprised when she turned the final corner into Victor's Village and saw him crouched by the edge of the Capitol house, camera held to his face as he focused it on a twisting vine that reached above his head and skirted along the trellis of the second floor. She stayed still, and silent, as she watched him, mesmerised by the concentration on his face, the way the tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he bit on it absently, the way a single lock of hair fell across his forehead. She was surprised at the tug in her belly, at the twisting nerves that climbed through her from fingertip to toe as she watched him. She imagined whatever he was photographing was like her hunted prey; it had her undivided attention, it was all she thought of, cared of, until it was hers.

Like it or not, after 3 days Peeta Mellark no longer just annoyed her, or frustrated her. He fascinated her.

He shifted on the balls of his feet, and stood with his back to her, a long line that tapered from wide shoulders to a slim waist. The jacket he wore didn't disguise it, and she assumed that's what Capitol designers went for. But it made her curious. Did Gale have a back like that? she mused, trying to picture it. She'd never bothered to look.

She'd never really wanted to.

Katniss thought of all the ways Peeta had relentlessly tried to strike up conversations with her over the last few days, how he'd bestowed that charming smile upon everyone, how Prim had become hopelessly enamoured. How he'd silently studied her, and she'd felt the flutter just below her breastbone whenever she caught him. And despite her best intentions to ignore the man from the Capitol, she found herself weakening, her resolve crumbling around her. In many ways, he reminded her of Cinna. From the Capitol, but not of the Capitol. He was one of them, but he wasn't.

She watched as he straightened and stretched, hooking the camera strap securely around his neck. In one swift move he'd climbed up onto the railing that surrounded the porch and pulled himself up until he was sitting on it's shingled roof, his legs dangling off the edge. He raised the camera again, and even from this far away, in the still of the late afternoon and as the sun began to set behind the mountains, she could see the pure, unadulterated happiness of what he did on his face. She was jealous that he still had that - his freedom, his happiness, the life he was used to. She wanted him.

What?

She was so taken aback by the thought she choked on her own breath.

But by then she couldn't look away, couldn't dislodge the thoughts of him that had suddenly embedded themselves in her head. It was ridiculous. Falling for someone had never been in her plans. She had no intention of getting married, having her children contribute slips of white paper into the reaping bowl. Didn't want to run the risk of becoming her mother. Didn't want to risk her heart, or her sanity. But being attracted to someone, a virtual stranger, after only three days?

Unacceptable. Beyond ridiculous. Impossible.

Highly damned likely.

So she stayed, and watched, via the cover of the snow covered greenery, as he sat or stood at various angles on the porch roof, taking what she could only assume were pictures of the Village, of her home. She wondered what it would be like for him to look at her with such concentration, such open happiness. He held the camera so delicately, as if it was the most important item in the world. She wondered what it would be like to be held that way, what it would feel like to have his hands on her. What it would feel like to have his arms pull her to him, feel his broad back under her fingertips. Lust curled in her belly, twisting and turning until she was full of knots, needy and wanting and frustrated that she was feeling; feeling this way, feeling this at all.

Feeling want and need and desire for someone from the damned Capitol.

She whirled, and stomped away towards her house, hating every thought in her head.

But hating even more that she liked having them in her head.

He'd known she was there.

He'd caught her out of the corner of his eye. While she'd shown to be quite the huntress in her games, swift and quiet and nimble, he saw more than he let on. And he'd seen her as he'd pivoted to take in the orange streaks of sunset as it curled over the mountains in the distance.

She'd been silent, but it had been her eyes that burned into him as he'd continued to frame and adjust his filter and click when the image he saw felt right. It was like a slow heat, like that of a summer sun rather than the quick lick of a flame, that overtook him, that all but consumed him. It made sense.

She was the Girl on Fire, after all.

He didn't acknowledge her, didn't show that he knew she was there. He was intrigued, intrigued enough that the last element of anger and envy he'd been holding onto all afternoon ebbed away. He didn't know why she was there, or why she stayed so long, or why her gaze was so intent on him.

But he smiled to himself as he heard her huff, the snow crunching under her feet as she spun on her heel.

And he turned to capture her, a lone hunter stalking down the middle of a deserted village.

"These past few days have gone so quickly!" Prim commented, as she passed the bowl heaped with steaming potatoes to Peeta. He smiled as he accepted it from her; Katniss rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"It has. I'm very honoured you allowed me to stay for this meal."

"You didn't give us much of a choice," Katniss retorted around a mouthful of beans. Effie's protestations of manners had fallen on deaf ears.

"Oh, Katniss, don't be silly. Peeta's been wonderful to have here. He's so different from everyone else I've seen from the Capitol!" Prim admonished.

"That's only because my skin colour isn't green," he grinned in reply, and Katniss scoffed. She couldn't help it. Before, she'd instinctively been obnoxious because she didn't like him. Now she was obnoxious because she did like him.

They'd had this meal planned for months - a family dinner before Katniss undertook her trip back to the Capitol. It was a full house, with the Everdeens, Haymitch, the Hawthornes and Madge all in attendance - those she was closest to, those who had been there for her upon her return. Peeta had been sitting alone on his front porch when Prim had spotted him, and enthusiastically extended an invitation.

Katniss would have reneged on the offer if she'd known about it.

But the night had started out well enough, she supposed. Hazelle and Alice had been happily putting the finishing touches on the meal, Peeta and Haymitch had been whispering furiously on the back porch - almost looking guilty when she'd interrupted them at one stage - while she and Prim and the youngest Hawthornes watched as Madge soundly trumped Gale in a game of chess.

Then the meal had begun, Peeta's blue eyes stared at her from across the table, and everything had annoyed her from there.

"Everyone from the Capitol is the same, Prim, regardless of whether they're green or not," Gale muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. Haymitch snorted into his potatoes, while Prim glowered at him. Hazelle and Alice looked at each other in horror.

"I would have to disagree with you, Gale," she heard Peeta speak up lightly. "But that your opinion and you are welcome to it."

"Good."

"Good."

"Good."

"This is hilarious," Haymitch laughed. He glanced at Katniss. "Mighty good company you keep, sweetheart."

With a groan of frustration, she pushed back her chair, throwing her napkin on her plate. "This is a waste of time. I'm going outside." Katniss stalked out of the room and out the back door, not even bothering to close it behind her. She could hear the scraping of chair legs and a murmur as her mother started to get up, before Hazelle quietly told her to let her be. She kept walking, walking until she'd reached the end of her yard, where the small woods that separated Victor's Village from the Mayor's property began. She wished she'd grabbed her coat against the chill of the evening, but she'd been so intent of getting away from Peeta, from Haymitch, from Gale, she hadn't thought otherwise.

She couldn't believe she was wasting her last night before the Victory Tour sulking beside the wood.

"You don't want to catch a cold." His smooth voice broke through the still of the night, and she felt the heavy weight of her winter coat as it was draped across her shoulders. She half turned to him, and glared.

"Why did you get the honours?" She asked bluntly.

"I told them it was my job to get you in one healthy piece to the stylists tomorrow. Gale practically shot daggers at me, but he couldn't very well argue on that point."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't even understand what you mean," she sighed, reluctantly slipping her arms through the sleeves and shrugging the jacket on properly. "Gale always looks like that."

He glanced down at her, surprised, then a small smile tugged at his mouth. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"What?" she asked defensively.

Peeta shook his head, chuckling softly. "Never mind. I'm sure you'll find out one day."

"Tell me what you mean," Katniss demanded.

"No," he replied firmly.

She felt anger bubbling up inside her, frustrating spilling over, and she reached out, pushing him in the shoulder. He hardly budged. "Tell me."

"If you don't know, Katniss, I'm not going to tell you."

"I'm your damned Victor, Peeta Mellark, tell me what I want to know."

She was surprised as she watched the anger spark and flare in his eyes. "So you're a Victor when it suits you, are you? You're not a Victor when I want a damned photo of you, but the minute you want your way, that's your excuse?" He yanked at the camera bag hanging - it seemed permanently - from his shoulder, pulling the camera from it and punching the button to turn it on. She wanted to remind him sarcastically to be careful because it was expensive, but something told her to keep her mouth shut.

He turned the camera towards her, the screen lit up for her to see - it was a picture he'd obviously taken. It was beautiful, really, a snow covered town that belonged in the old fairy tales her mother had told her as a child, remembered from her own grandmother. The sun just setting behind it, it's golden rays shining through the trees, hitting the glass windows of one of the homes so that a flash of light sparked on the left hand side of the picture. A lone person walked up the middle of the street, purpose and intent evident in their stride and ramrod posture. But that's what they were - alone. No-one else was left. It was just them.

And then she realised it was her.

She looked up, wide-eyed, as he snapped it closed again and shoved it back into the case. "You're as alone as you are in that picture, Katniss, and it doesn't need to be that way. You have a mother and sister that love you, a mentor that is protective and…..and a guy who loves you as well."

"Who?" Katniss said dumbly, though her throat constricted. She was afraid she knew what he was going to say, and it wasn't the person she wanted.

"Gale, Katniss," Peeta huffed out impatiently, and she cringed. "You don't need to be alone, you don't need to carry your burdens on your own. He'll be there for you. They all will. Stop shutting them out. You-"

She cut him off, pointed a finger into his chest. "You think you know me?! You know nothing about me. Burdens? Try carrying the burden of 23 other children dead because of me. Try carrying the knowledge that all I'm going to be doing for the next few weeks is facing the families of those kids, looking into their eyes as they hate me. Try carrying that, you asshole." Her voice broke, and she turned, storming off into the first depths of the trees. She hated the fact that he'd made her break, hated the fact that he'd made her feel, made her remember, made her picture Rue's face.

Hated the fact that she wanted, almost desperately needed,to share the burden. But with him, not Gale.

A hand encircled her wrist, turning her around, and she was face to face with those damn fake eyes again. "Let me help you, then," he whispered imploringly.

Even though it was what she wanted to hear, she turned on her defences. "Why? So you can mock me? So you can go back to the Capitol and tell President Snow and all your friends how weak the 'Mockingjay' is? Oh yes," she said bitterly, seeing the surprise in his eyes. "I've heard about them calling me that. All because of a pin. Imagine what they'd say if they saw their Victor now."

"I…." he trailed off, and fell silent. She was shocked. It was the first time she'd seen him at a loss for words.

"See?" she shook her head. "I told you so." She shook her hand free, but it seemed to awaken him from his stupor, and he reached up, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"No. No, you don't see, Katniss. I don't agree with everything the Capitol does. I may work for them, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. Did I enjoy watching as you cried yourself to sleep at night after Rue died? Did I enjoy watching as you fought with the boy from two, worrying that you'd be hurt, that you'd die?" His voice, and eyes were wild, and she was taken aback at his words. "I was captivated by you the moment I saw you volunteer for Prim, the minute that chariot carried you into the Capitol. I've spent the last six months trying to get this assignment so I could come here, to see if you were real, to make sure you were ok, to find out….." he trailed off, and this time it was she who grabbed his wrist.

"To find out what?" she demanded. Panic and terror, real and uninvited clutched at her chest. Where was he going with this?

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "I just want to help. To...to be there for you."

The air was still around them, the woods quiet except for their breaths, hurried and fast, small puffs of cool smoke in the winter night.

Finally she sighed. "There's nothing you can do for me, Peeta. Go away. There's nothing more for you here. Just leave me alone."

Peeta dropped his hands from her shoulders, his eyes searching hers. He took one backwards step, then two, then turned and began to walk away. She cursed the hitch in her chest.

Then suddenly he was stalking back to her and his hands were on her face, in her hair, on her hips and his mouth was on hers, hot and wanting and needy and she couldn't catch her breath.

She didn't even want to.

She didn't argue, didn't put up a fight as he backed her up against a tree, its bark rough and uneven against her back, even through layers of clothing. It did nothing but heighten the sheer need and want that tore through her, that made her hands reach up and yank at the blonde hair at the nape of his neck, that made her hips involuntarily plunge towards his.

The moan that he echoed against her mouth shot straight to her core.

Peeta's hand slid up her waist and underneath her jacket, his fingers splaying over her ribs and the cotton shirt she wore. His fingertips brushed the underside of her breast, and she leaned into him more, trying to shift so that his hand would cover her, so her hips would align with his, to give some relief to the need that was ripping through her.

And then he did shift his hand, and his hips bumped against hers, and everything inside her exploded at such a simple change.

His tongue slid across her lips, encouraged her to open her mouth, for their tongues to tangle and possess. Even through her haze of lust, she felt inexperienced, unsure, but his moves seemed to guide her, seemed to show her instinctively what she needed to do. And with the soft whimpers he was eliciting, she knew he was as affected as she was, that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She dragged her mouth away from his, as much to catch her breath as to look at him. They stood, breath coming quick and fast and shallow. His heart pounded against hers and everything inside her throbbed with need. And then she saw the light dim in his eyes, and the horror filter in. Her throat locked as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Katniss, we…..I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

The fury burned through her quicker than wildfire, her words snapping out before she could even think. "Of course. Of course. Not even a Victor is good enough for someone from the Capitol. Fuck you, Peeta. Leading me on like that? I hate you. And everything you stand for. I should have known better. You're just like them. You're Capitol after all, you and your fake smile and your fake charm and your damned fake blue eyes."

"No! No, it's not like that at all!" His hand reached out for her again, but she yanked her arm out of his reach. The anger blazed in her eyes, and it was enough to make him hesitate.

"Get away from me," Katniss hissed, and took a step back. "I'm glad. Because I never wanted to like you in the first place. Prim is the only person I will ever love, ever care about, so thank you so much, for reminding me about that. Everything I do, is for Prim. Including this. You're dead to me, Peeta Mellark." With a final snarl, she turned, and ran into the woods.

She refused to look back.

He was restless, couldn't sleep. He just kept thinking of Katniss' face as they'd pulled out of the station at 12, as she'd raised a hand in farewell to the crowd, but he'd known it was really only for Prim. Prim was all that mattered.

She'd made that abundantly clear. But he supposed he'd deserved it, after what he'd done.

Peeta hadn't gone back inside the Everdeens the night before. It was best he let that lie, and had returned to his house, packing up his belongings, his equipment and comms devices. He'd swept everything down, leaving no trace of himself behind. He wanted it to be like he'd never been there at all. It was the least he could do after handling things so badly, and possibly screwing up the assignment entirely.

Cressida, not to mention Plutarch, was going to be bitterly disappointed. He wished he'd been able to tell her, wished he'd been able to share what his real motivation was. He'd needed to tell her. It didn't matter if it had ruined everything, if everything he'd worked towards had fallen apart. Being with her, always, was what mattered. He should have told her before he kissed her, because that had thrown him too much for a loop, and after that he hadn't been able to think straight. Then he'd blown it. Blown it all.

Whether Katniss had mentioned anything to her mentor or not, her behaviour towards him on the train hadn't been subtle. Peeta had felt the glares from her, from Haymitch, even from Effie, from wherever they were on the train - he'd eventually given up being in any of their presence, and had sequestered himself in his room, cataloguing his photos and documenting his trip. But eventually hunger had gnawed at his gut, and he'd ventured out when he was certain - or at least hoped - they would no longer be about. He was thankful to find the buffet car empty, but the table still piled with food.

Later, with his stomach full but his nerves still on edge, he moved from the car and wandered down the corridor back towards his room, catching the muffled sounds of a hologram soap opera in Effie's room, nothing but snores from Haymitch's. The purr of the train was different to a Hovercraft, and it unsettled him, didn't give him the same kind of comfort. It felt wrong being on here, and he wondered if this was how every single tribute had felt on their way to the Capitol.

The train jolted slightly, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, his nerves begin to hum. Something didn't feel right, something was wrong, something was-

"NO! NO!"

The scream pierced the air, and he broke out in a sprint down the corridor, not caring if he made a noise, not if someone was in there attacking Katniss. What if Snow's plans had changed? What if someone had gotten here-

He got to her door, pressing frantically at the button to open it. He was thankful it was unlocked, and as it slid open, he barrelled through, only to find her alone, thrashing in the sheets as they tangled around her body. Her back was bowed up off the bed, her cheeks stained with tears, sobs tearing from her throat. But she was asleep; her eyes clenched shut, her brow marred with lines.

He didn't even think as he took the two strides to her bed and gathered her in his arms. He didn't care what she'd said in her backyard, didn't think about the pure hatred that she'd all but thrown at him. The pain and agony in her cries overrode everything in his head.

"Katniss….shh….Katniss…..It's just a dream….shhh, wake up…." he said softly as he rocked her gently. She continued to moan a little, her hands clutching at the sheets, her feet pressing and kicking against the mattress. But within seconds, her eyes were wide and horrified, and she was pushing at him, pushing and shoving him away from her.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" she gasped, pulling herself into a sitting position, yanking her pillow against her stomach and gripping it tightly. Her eyes were wild, her hair tangled.

"You….you were screaming in your sleep," he muttered. "I thought you were being attacked, and…..I came in and you were here….." he trailed off as his cheeks reddened. He hadn't noticed until now the thin silk tank she wore, its strap hanging worryingly off her shoulder. He looked away.

"I'm fine," she snapped, gulping in a deep breath of air, her fingers pressing and flexing against the pillow. "Get out."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Now."

The glowered at each other, a battle of wills.

She hated him being in here. She felt vulnerable, embarrassed, alone.

Rejected.

"Katniss, I'm not going anywhere," he said forcefully, but then his voice gentled, softened. "You're not fine. What were you dreaming about?"

She was quiet for a moment, regaining her breath as she stared blankly at the wall, her sweat matted hair sticking to her forehead, and the nape of her neck. When she spoke, she knew she sounded defeated. Because she was. "It wasn't a dream, Peeta. I don't have something as simple as dreams." When she looked back at him, her eyes were as empty as her voice. "But that's not what someone like you wants to hear, is it? You Capitol people don't care."

She watched his eyes flash in anger, but there it was again, that ability to bank it down. "No, Katniss, I do care. Probably a little too much. More than I should. You mean more to me than you understand."

They were the right words to say, as the fire suddenly sparked back in her eyes. "After 4 days, Mellark?" she scoffed. "Oh no, that's right. I captivated you from the start. Before we even met."

"Don't mock me," he snapped. He slid closer to her, reaching out and gripping her chin in his hand. "I meant every word I said yesterday." By saying them he'd gone against every level of protocol with this assignment, broken every rule he'd agreed to uphold.

"But you don't understand," she replied, and she winced at the crack in her voice. "Nothing ….nothing is ever going to be the same for me. You say you want to know what I've been through? That you want to be there for me? You say you're sympathetic, that you don't agree with all the things the Capitol does? Then why don't you do something?" The desperation in her voice was palpable. "Why don't you do something?" she echoed, as the tears began to spill again.

"I….Katniss, if I could….I would…but…." He trailed off, and she glowered through the sheen covering her eyes, yanking her face away from his touch.

"Then fuck you, Peeta Mellark. Get out of my room, get out of my life. I already told you once, i don't want to have to tell you a third time. You have to take my photos for the rest of the trip, fine, take it from afar, but don't even-"

He cut her off, his arms gripping her shoulders and pulling her to him, his lips colliding with hers much as they had the day before. There was more desperation here, she could feel it. It was a mirror emotion of hers.

Their tongues tangled in a dance that they were both still new to, but felt like they'd been doing together forever. His fingers kneaded at the flesh of her arms, as hers reached for his shirt, gripping the cotton in her fists, tugging while she still sought reason.

And then she was in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face pressed to his skin. "Damn you, Peeta Mellark," she hissed. "I hate you. I wish I'd never met you. I wish you'd go away. I wish you'd stay with me."

She heard his throat catch, and a deep breath expelled; and she was afraid to look at him, prepared for him to break her all over again. She held her own breath as he cradled her head, as he rested his mouth against her ear.

"Katniss?" he said softly. She could hear the hesitance, the tremble in his voice.

"Yes?" She could barely get the word out.

"I'm part of a rebellion."

A/N - Many thanks to Jeeno2, MalTease and Salanderjade for their advice, pre-reading, assistance with a title and their general awesomeness with helping me with this story, and over this PiP week. I couldn't have done it without you.

This is for salanderjade, who said "remember a scene in Bridges of Madison County when she's watching him take photos?", and BOOM, idea. Thanks, lady. Happy birthday.