Catching Fire (Katniss loves Peeta)

Chapter 25

Catching Fire belongs to Suzanne Collins. I do own baby Mellark and Katniss loving Peeta. This is fanfiction, none of it is what happened in the actual book. In other words this is fake.

Chapter 25

When I wake, I have a brief, delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with Peeta. Happiness, of course, is a complete absurdity at this point, since at the rate things are going, I'll be dead in a day. And that's the best-case scenario, if I'm able to eliminate the rest of the field, including myself, and get Peeta crowned as the winner of the Quarter Quell. Still, the sensation's so unexpected and sweet I cling to it, if only for a few moments. Before the gritty sand, the hot sun, and my itching skin demand a return to reality.

Everyone's already up and watching the descent of a parachute to the beach. I join them for another delivery of bread. It's identical to the one we received the night before. Twenty- four rolls from District 3. That gives us thirty-three in all. We each take five, leaving eight in reserve. No one says it, but eight will divide up flawlessly after the next death. Somehow, in the light of day, joking about who will be around to eat the rolls has lost its humor.

How long can we keep this alliance? I don't think anyone expected the number of tributes to drop so quickly. What if I am wrong about the others protecting Peeta? If things were merely coincidental, or it's all been a strategy to win our trust to make us easy prey, or I don't understand what's going on? Wait, there are no ifs about that. I don't know what's going on. And if I don't, it's time for Peeta and me to clear out of here.

I sit next to Peeta on the sand to eat my rolls. For some reason, it's difficult to look at him. Maybe it was all that kissing last night, although the two of us kissing isn't anything new. It might not even have felt any different for him. Maybe it knows the brief amount of time we have left. And how we're working at such cross-purposes when it comes to who should survive these Games.

After we eat, I take his hand and tug him toward the water. "Come on. Let's swim." I need to get him away from the others where we can discuss breaking away. It will be tricky because once they realize we're severing the alliance, we'll be instant targets.

At first, I notice Johanna keeping a careful eye on us, but eventually, she loses interest and goes to take a nap. Finnick's weaving a new net out of vines, and Beetee plays with his wire. I know the time has come.

While Peeta has been swimming, I've discovered something. My remaining scabs are starting to peel off. By gently rubbing a handful of sand up and down my arm, I clean off the rest of the scales, revealing fresh new skin underneath.

I stop Peeta, on the pretext of showing him how to rid himself of the itchy scabs, and as we scrub ourselves, I bring up our escape.

"Look, the pool is down to eight. I think it's time we took off," I say under my breath, although I doubt any of the tributes can hear me. Peeta nods, and I can see him considering my proposition.

Weighing if the odds will be in our favor. "Tell you what," he says. "Let's stick around until Brutus and Enobaria are dead. I think Beetee's trying to put together some kind of trap for them now. Then, I promise, we'll go."

I'm not entirely convinced. But if we leave now, we'll have two sets of adversaries after us. Maybe three, because who knows what Chaff's up to? Plus the clock to contend with. And then there's Beetee to think of. Johanna only brought him for me, and if we leave, she'll surely kill him. Then I remember. I can't protect Beetee, too. There can only be one victor, and it has to be Peeta or me. I must accept this. I must make decisions based on one of us' survival only.