I enter Peeta's chambers uninvited.

Bit rude, I know. But I also know he would just ignore me if I simply knocked.

I find him leaning sullenly over the sink in his private bathroom, dabbing at his bloody face with a wet tissue. His eyes meet mine in the mirror and I sit myself on the edge of his bathtub. He doesn't say anything.

"Why did you volunteer?" I ask, deciding to just come straight out with it. "You didn't have to be here."

He shrugs. "Neither did you. But here you are."

"My little sister cries for days if she so much as steps on an ant. So, yes, to protect her, I have to be here. Harry says you're not even close."

Still dabbing at his face, Peeta drops his gaze. "I didn't do it for my cousin."

"Then why do it? I don't understand."

A beat.

"I did it for you."

I blink. "What... why? You haven't even spoken to me before the reaping. Why would you do something like that?"

He shrugs, still refusing to meet my gaze. "Because when they called out my cousin's name, I saw your face. You looked as though your whole world had just come crashing down. And in that moment I wanted to do something - anything to make it better for you."

I stare at him, my heart racing in my chest. I cannot comprehend what he is telling me. "But... why?"

Peeta gives me a steady look. "You've already asked me that and I answered."

I swallow - at least I try to. But the intensity of the moment forces me to look away. "Well... thank you. For doing that. And for the bread. I've never forgotten what you did that day."

He shrugs. "It was just a bit of burnt bread."

"Not to me and Ginny it wasn't."

I stand up. I need to leave. Being around Peeta makes me feel an overwhelming sadness that I simply cannot explain.

"Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you are alright, and that Haymitch hadn't killed you or anything."

I don't miss the twitch of his lips. "I'm alive. For now."

I leave, making my way out of his room and down the train corridor, heading back towards the dining compartment.

If it comes to it - will I be able to kill the Baker Boy who saved my sister's life twice now? I don't think I can. Hopefully someone else will do that for me instead.

But with this thought comes a different, more intense feeling that overwhelms me. It is so strong, it feels as though it is choking me. I stop halfway down the corridor and steady myself against the rocking wall. I wait for the feeling to pass, but the only way that can happen is if I try to desperately think of something else. Something happy. But not too happy because it might make me feel intensely sad again.

I imagine jumping off this train and just running for it. Would I survive longer out there than in the Games? Maybe Peeta could come with me, and we can spend the rest of our days foraging in the wilderness together. Maybe we could even somehow find our way back home, back to Ginny and Harry.

But it is an impossible dream.

"Are you alright, dear?"

I look up to see Effie tottering towards me, her expression perhaps concerned, but it is difficult to tell under all that make-up.

I shake my head. "No, I'm not alright. Peeta and I are going to die thanks to that fucktard."

Effie releases a loud sigh, but doesn't scold me like I expect her to. "Look, I know Haymitch seems a little... eccentric. But take some advice from me: he really is your only hope of surviving these games. If you can't win him around then you may as well kiss goodbye to any sponsorships. Your families will be ordering your coffins before the first day is even out."

"How the fuck are we supposed to reason with a drunk?! He is in there right now getting bladdered and it isn't even nine o'clock in the fucking morning yet!"

"That's for you and Peeta to work out. Just get him on side. That's all you can do right now. Go in there and apologise to him. Grovel, cry, beg. Pour him a large brandy if that's what it takes. You want to get back to your sister, do you not?"

I am about to tell her to leave my sister out of it when a voice interrupts us. Peeta's voice.

"Yes, of course she does."

I turn around to see Peeta striding towards us, his face still sore, but now clean of blood.

"Peeta?"

He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the dining compartment. "Come on, we do this now, and we do this properly."

I let him lead me. What else can I do?

******

The moment we arrive in the Capitol, I clam up. Peeta, however, drinks it all in, happily waving at the crowds who have come to greet us.

"That boy knows what he's doing," Haymitch says pointedly to me as I remain sat at the table, my expression hard. "You, my girl, need to start learning how to smile. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if you even know how. Never seen such a miserable bitch in all my life. And I've been through the Hunger Games!"

He chuckles to himself as he throws his head back and downs another vodka. I fight the urge to lean over and rip his dirty blonde hair right out of his scalp.

But I remember Effie's words and I bite my tongue until my mouth fills with blood and I'm forced to swallow it.

For the next few agonizing hours, once we have departed the train, I am primped and plucked like a turkey on Christmas morning. The people of the Capitol love beautiful things, and this includes the tributes they are sending to slaughter. They wouldn't want to insult their television screens with ugly people now, would they?

On Haymitch's advice, I do not complain. I do not whine, throw a hissy fit or call them all shallow despicable monsters.

I just lie back and enjoy the free beauty treatment.

I am introduced to a man called Cinna, another beautiful specimen of the Capitol who eyes me up and down and walks around and around me.

"Hmmm," he says, sizing me up. "I'm good at working miracles."

Fucking cheeky bastard. I'm already gorgeous.

But, I cannot help but like this guy once he is done with me and I see my reflection in the mirror. I am wearing a sexy black leather outfit, with knee high boots and a cape. Fuck, I'd marry myself if I could.

"So she does smile," Cinna laughs as he watches me admiring myself. "I said I could work miracles, didn't I?"

"Can you miracle me out of the Games?" I ask, turning round to cock an eyebrow up at him.

For a moment I see his face fall, and I don't miss the sadness flicker in his beautiful dark eyes. But he quickly composes himself, his warm, charming smile returning.

"I don't need to do that. I can already tell you are a winner." He steps towards me and takes my hands in his. "Now let's show you off to the world, Girl on Fire."

Huh? Girl on Fire? But I don't have time to ask him what he means because he is leading me into a busy arena where horses and chariots await.

Peeta's eyes widen as we approach our little party. I cannot help but return the look. He is looking pretty fine himself all trussed up in leather and glittery make-up.

"Well look, we match," he says softly once I reach him, his appreciative gaze slowly sweeping my body.

"Fantastic guys," Effie trills, steering us towards a chariot with handsome black horses, "now go show the Capitol exactly what you two are made of."

Peeta climbs up first and then turns around to hold out a hand to me. Refusing to look weak, I ignore it and hoist myself up. I hear him give a derisive snort which I also choose to ignore.

"You know it won't kill you to accept my help," Peeta murmurs in my ear. He sounds annoyed. "We are in this together, after all."

I hold my head up high. Does he not realise that we are most certainly not in this together? One of us will have to die for the other to survive. We are enemies and we cannot afford to get close. Ever.

"Fine, suit yourself," Peeta mutters when I don't say anything.

As the horses pull forwards, our chariot jerks and I am so surprised by the sudden movement that I nearly topple out.

But I don't because Peeta uses that opportunity to grab my hand and hold it tight.

"As I said," he says, not relenting his grasp, "we're in this together, Ronnie. And as long as I can be there for you, I will."

This time, I look up at him. The sincerity in his gaze weakens me in a way I do not like. I look away, but I stop trying to pull my hand away from his. Instead, I squeeze it and I can't help but smile when he squeezes it back.

"You have a beautiful smile," he says. "You should do it more often."

I try not to act surprised when our outfits burst into flames. The fucktards could have warned me.

But Peeta, who does not seem surprised by this, just grins and raises our hands for all to see. I hear the audience go wild, but I cannot see them. Instead, I look up at Peeta, our hands held up between us, and this time I smile for him - not for the Capitol, not for the sponsors - not for anyone but him.

******

Effie is beside herself with glee when Peeta and I return to our penthouse that night.

"You two are stars! I can feel it right here." She pats her chest in the place where I presume a heart lays somewhere beneath. Who knows?

She seems alright, really. I am slowly starting to warm to her despite how much she irritates me with her constant sickening display of positivity.

"Tomorrow," Haymitch announces as he struts dramatically into the room, "you will start your training alongside the other tributes. Use this time wisely to get to know their strengths and weaknesses. It may just save you out there."

I roll my eyes. I'm getting sick of hearing this line. The only thing that will save me is if they let me go home without forcing me to compete in this sick game.

But I don't say this, of course. Especially since Peeta - who has obviously noticed my eye roll - catches my gaze and very subtly shakes his head.

So, swallowing my pride, I go along to the training sessions and train as hard as I can, thinking of Ginny at home who is relying on my survival.

I try not to look directly at the other tributes, let alone talk to them. I do not want to bond with them in any way - not if I have to kill them. It's too late for me and Peeta who have had this bond forced upon us. But if I can make the others as inhuman as possible in my mind, then perhaps I can pretend I'm simply trying to hunt a squirrel, or even a deer.

Peeta is someone I'll just have to deal with when the time comes. Perhaps I can learn to feel indifferent about him if I try hard enough.

But then he goes and royally screws that one up.

*****