So, I'm taking my first shot at a multi-chapter Hunger Games story. I hope you like it! I own nothing.

Chapter 1
The Hunger Games were over.

The war for independence from the Capitol was over.

And Peeta Mellark was alone.

Just days after Presidents Snow and Coin died, he was returned to his home district of 12. The place had been bombed only minutes after Katniss Everdeen, his fellow Hunger Games victor, had blown a hole in the dome of the arena during the Quarter Quell. All hell had broken loose after that. While some were rescued by the rebel forces from the once believed destroyed District 13, he was taken hostage by the Capitol. He endured weeks of torture at their hands.

Being rescued, being sent to District 13, was worse. She was there, and he felt compelled to kill her. Something in his brain had told him she was the enemy, a Capitol-manufactured muttation designed to kill him. If his time in the Games had taught him anything, it was kill or be killed. He had been sedated, manacled, and threatened with his own death for attempting to murder Katniss Everdeen.

Now, there was a very real possibility that she would die at someone else's hand. Haymitch Abernathy, their mentor for both Games, had remained behind in the Capitol. He was there to testify on her behalf, and hopefully would be able to sway the vote in her favor. Peeta prayed he would succeed. Coin may have been president of District 13, but she was just as corrupt as Snow had been. Panem was better off without them.

The Victor's Village was unscathed in the bombings, and so he had a place to which he could return. The house given to him after being crowned victor had never felt like a home. His family continued to live in town above the bakery his father had opened not long after he finished school. His three sons were exposed to the trade from a young age, and it still calmed Peeta to mold a hunk of dough into bread.

And so he passed his time baking and trying new recipes. Dr. Aurelius had arranged for supplies to be sent to his home, eliminating the need to venture into town. No one else had returned to the district, and so no shops were open. Most of them would need to be rebuilt, and that would take months so long as former citizens returned.

He had been back for two weeks when Haymitch returned. "Got anything to drink?" he asked tiredly when Peeta let him into his house.

"No," he replied. "And with you back now, the population just doubled."

Haymitch cursed under his breath and walked into the kitchen with Peeta trailing him. He searched each cabinet as if Peeta had lied and kept a secret stash of white liquor from him. All he found were dry baking ingredients and dishware. Giving up, he sat down at the kitchen table and sighed.

"Are you going to tell me what happened now or wait for me to go insane with worry?" Peeta demanded.

"The population of District 12 just tripled," he said, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his eyes with calloused fingertips.

He wouldn't allow himself to get his hopes up. "She's alive?"

"And confined to the district until further notice," Haymitch confirmed. Peeta dashed out of the kitchen, intent on seeing her, but Haymitch caught him quickly. "She's not doing too well. I was allowed to see her when she was being held in the Training Center. She didn't say much, but she told me to tell you that you should have let her die."

"I couldn't," he admitted, allowing Haymitch to lead him to the sofa. "I've started remembering things. Prim...she was helping me."

"You can't mention Prim around her," Haymitch warned. Peeta nodded. "Her mother isn't coming back either. The hospital in 4 offered her a position, so she's going there."

"And Gale?" he wondered.

"District 2."

"So, we're all she has," he said dazedly. He quickly got to his feet and made it to the front door before Haymitch realized what he was doing. The door now open, Peeta ran across the dirt road that separated their houses. He banged on the door, yelling her name, urging her to let him in.

"Are you crazy?" Haymitch yelled, yanking him back.

"Yes, I am!" Peeta replied angrily. "Now let me go."

Haymitch relented, and Peeta returned to the door, knocking until his knuckles bled. But Katniss never opened the door. He admitted defeat and sat down on her front porch, head in hands. "What did I do?" he muttered, rocking back and forth.

Groaning as he lowered himself next to the young victor, Haymitch placed his hand on Peeta's shoulder. "Well, I'd say you bloodied up your hand quite nicely there," he replied, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket.

Peeta ignored his attempt to clean up his bleeding hand. "I really screwed everything up with her," he murmured. "How do I fix it?"

"Give her time," Haymitch advised. "She's hurting right now, and we both know she withdraws when she's in pain. I didn't see her for a week when you were taken by the Capitol, and it's not like I wasn't looking for her. Her family's gone now, Peeta, and she needs to heal."

"And shutting herself up in a big, empty house all alone is how she'll do that?" he wondered.

Haymitch shrugged. "Seems to me she's always needed someone to pull her out of it in the past," he said. "As I recall, you have some experience in that area."

Peeta frowned as he tried to recall a time he had been there to save her, but nothing came to mind. He remembered nights after their first Games when he held her as she battled the nightmares that came each time she closed her eyes. Aside from that, he had been useless, relying on her to make it through two trips to the arena. But rarely had he been the one to help her.

Haymitch sighed impatiently. "You know what I'm talking about," he urged.

And then Peeta realized what he meant - the bread.