CHAPTER 1 - HOMECOMING

PART I

I sit in the luxurious car staring out the window at the landscape as my train speeds east. We've left the mountains behind and the train is rolling through a vast flat plain. What district are we in? Three? Five? I sigh heavily. It really doesn't make much of a difference.

An attendant stands nearby, hands clasped in front of him, ready to serve my every need. I glance over at him occasionally. Each time I do, he becomes immediately attentive, leaning forward as though trying to anticipate my wishes. I recognize him, as I've been on this train before. In fact, this is my third trip eastward from the Capitol to District Twelve.

The first time was less than two years ago, returning from the Capitol as a newly-minted Victor, fresh from the 74th Hunger Games. With me was my Mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, my Escort, Effie Trinket...and my Co-Victor and District Partner, Katniss Everdeen.

I feel a shudder pass through my body as her name flows through my thoughts, and I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists tightly for a few seconds as the spasm passes. I take a few deep breaths as I fight to clear my head of those shiny false memories that the Capitol interrogators had so skillfully planted inside my head. Not real. Not Real. NOT Real! NOT REAL!

"Sir?" It's the attendant. "Can I bring you anything?" I must have been speaking the words aloud. I open my eyes and look at him blankly. Bring me? Yes, please. Bring me my life. Give me my life back.

"Tea," I croak. Was that my voice? How many hours...how many days since I've spoken?

"Right away, sir," the attendant says eagerly. "Cream? Sugar? Lemon?"

"Black," my rusty voice manages to say, "And hot."

The attendant smiles and leaves. I turn and continue my vacant staring out the window. My fingers idly trace over the tabletop - then freeze as my fingertip dips into a small indentation in the surface. A dent - no, a hole. A hole made by a knife blade. I squeeze my eyes shut again as the memory - a real one this time - bursts into my brain.

The three of us...myself, Haymitch, and Katniss...are finishing breakfast. The Reapings were yesterday and soon we'll be in the Capitol. Haymitch...our Mentor...is already drinking. Katniss is looking at him with disgust written all over her face.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," Katniss says evenly.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive." Haymitch laughs as if he's said something funny. He seems to have completely forgotten our conversation last night - our conversation where I confessed my love for Katniss to this...this drunkard. Suddenly I'm furious with him. We had a deal and he's not honoring it.

"That's very funny," I snap, "Only not to us!" Suddenly my hand lashes out and smacks the glass from Haymitch's hand. It hits the floor and shatters, spilling red liquid. I see Katniss looking at me in alarm, and...approval? Haymitch sits shocked for a second or two, then the next thing I know I'm knocked from my chair by Haymitch's fist to my jaw.

Stunned, I lay on the floor for a few moments. I hear something thud into the table as I struggle to get to my feet, and I hear Haymitch say, "Well, what's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

As I rise to my feet I see Katniss leaning across the table, her hand still on the hilt of the knife that she drove into the tabletop between Haymitch and his liquor bottle. As I watch, she jerks the knife free from the table and sits back in her chair, scowling.

"Sir?" I flinch and spin around. The attendant is standing there with a saucer holding a steaming cup.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, sir," he says apologetically. I dismissively wave my hand at him.

"No apology necessary," I say, my voice sounding less rusty. Suddenly, I ask, "What's your name?"

"Sir?" The attendant says, startled, as he sets the cup and saucer on the table. The saucer covers the scar Katniss made in the mahogany.

"Your name," I say, with what I hope is a reassuring smile. "What's your name?"

"Felix," the attendant finally says, "Felix Bowen."

"I'm Peeta," I say, offering my hand. After a moment's hesitation, he takes my hand in his.

"Yes, sir. I know who you are," Felix says. "I've been working this train for over ten years. It's an honor to meet you."

"Why?" I ask. "Why is it an honor to meet me?"

"Umm...well...you and...the rest...you're all hero's. You, Miss Everdeen, Mr. Abernathy, Mr. Heavensbee, President Paylor...all of you," he stammers.

"I'm not a hero," I say with a shake of my head.

"Well...sure you are!" Felix says emphatically. "What you did during the Rebellion...with the Star Squad...fighting your way through the Capitol..."

"Doing that doesn't make me a hero," I say, shaking my head. "What I was, was scared...all the time."

"All of Panem owes you, and everyone else in the Rebellion, a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid," Felix says fervently. I sigh. He's been watching too many of Plutarchs propos.

"Thanks for the tea," I say.

"You're quite welcome, sir," Felix says. "Would you like something else?"

"No, thank you," I say, "Listen, you don't need to stand around in here. Go relax somewhere. It's a long ride."

"I'm not supposed to leave -" he starts to say. I put up my hand.

"If anyone asks, I'll tell them I told you to go away," I say with another smile.

Felix looks doubtful, but finally nods and heads for the door. He pauses at the door and looks back at me.

"No one's ever asked my name before," he says quietly.

"Things are different now," I reply. He nods and slips through the door, leaving me to my thoughts.

PART II

I sip my tea slowly as I watch the scenery slip by. I laugh to myself when I think of Felix's words. A hero? No...I'm no hero. I'm a murderer.

I was able to convince myself after my first games that the deaths I had a hand in were out of mercy, in the case of Holland, the District Eight girl that Cato stabbed and left for dead; or accidental, like Finch, the District Five girl that Katniss called Foxface, who had been following me while I gathered edible plants, not knowing that the berries I had gathered were poisonous nightlock; or out of self defense, in the case of Cato during our fight at the Cornucopia.

But Brutus...Brutus was different. That last night in the clock arena, after Katniss (shudder) and I had been Reaped a second time, was a madhouse. Neither Katniss (!) or I had any idea of the planned escape from the arena. All I knew was that we had been separated when all hell broke loose. Chaff, the one armed District Eleven Tribute, and one of Haymitch Abernathy's closest ( and only) friends, was viciously killed by Brutus. I was so enraged by this that I tracked Brutus down and deliberately killed him out of anger. Not self defense, not defending any of my alliance. Rage was what fueled me as I hacked at him with my machete. And I stood over his blood spattered corpse, and raised my dripping machete over my head, and screamed out in triumph, in the finest Hunger Games tradition.

I can't help but thing that Cato, Clove, Glimmer, Marvel, and Chelsea would have been oh, so proud of me in that moment...because I became just like them.

Then there's Mitchell. Steady, reliable, totally unremarkable Mitchell. Mitchell, a deadly accurate marksman. Mitchell, who died during one of my "episodes," while Squad 451 was in the Capitol. Killed because he was trying to save...HER... from me.

No doubt about it. There's too much blood on my hands for me to ever be able to clean off.

As the sun begins to set behind the train, throwing out ever lengthening shadows, I reflect that the best decision that I could have made was in asking for a train to take me home, rather than a hoverplane. Haymitch and...HER...flew back to Twelve. Haymitch wanted to get...HER...home as quickly as possible after Dr. Aurelius agreed to release her from his care, with the stipulation that Haymitch look after her and that she calls Aurelius regularly.

That causes a little bitter chuckle to rise up inside me. Haymitch can't even take care of himself, let alone...someone else. He probably crawled into a bottle the instant they left the Capitol. And I bet that SHE hasn't talked one time to Aurelius. In fact, he specifically asked me to make sure that I tell her that he can't treat her if she doesn't answer his calls.

I drain my tea cup and set it down on the saucer with a clatter. Yes, this was the best way to travel. Gives me time to think. Time to...find some strength inside me for what I know is to come. I hear the door open behind me.

"Sir?" Felix's quiet voice says, "It's starting to get late. Are you getting hungry? A little dinner, perhaps?"

I turn and face him. For the first time, I really look at him. Definitely Capitol...facial tattoos, but not too many. Piercings of course. But his hair...sunset orange. Behind him through the windows I can see the real sunset paint a picture in the same colors. Suddenly, I feel calm. Calmer than I have in days.

"Yes, I am getting hungry," I hear myself saying.

"If you like, I can bring you something here, or there's a buffet being prepared in the next car..."

I stand up awkwardly. My Robo-leg was stiffening up. "No...I'll check out the buffet," I say, "I need to walk around a bit anyway." Felix steps aside and gestures with his arm.

"Thanks, Felix. I know the way," I say with a small smile. Of course I know the way. I know every inch of this train. As I pass Felix suddenly I feel a shock of recognition jolt through me. Of course I had seem him before...Tribute Trains had a large staff of Capitol Attendants. But...I had spoken with him before...

I sit in the television room on the Tribute Train, heading back to the Capitol after being Reaped for a second time. Unable to sleep, I've been watching tapes of previous games, now that we know who our competition will be. Studying how these other Victors...the ones we'll be facing in the arena...fight, move, and think...well, it may be what I need to keep Katniss alive.

I've been watching the tape of Brutus's Games. He had won the year before Haymitch. District Two, Career all the way. One of Two's most popular Victors ever. I hear the door open and see Katniss walking into the room. I stop the tape.

"Couldn't sleep?" I ask.

"Not for long," Katniss replies as she pulls her robe closer about her.

"Want to talk about it?" I ask. I've known about her nightmares for months...even before our Victory Tour, when we started sleeping together in an effort to stave off the terrors that visited us both almost every night. Some nights we actually succeeded. It's not much, drawing comfort from each other...but it's a start.

Katniss shakes her head. She never wants to talk about them. I understand. I do the only thing I can do to offer her comfort. For the first time since the Quarter Quell was announced, I hold out my arms to her.

Katniss doesn't hesitate, but walks directly into my arms. Ever since the Quell was announced, I've been pushing her...and Haymitch too...training like Careers. Making her angry with me, I know. But she HAS to win. She has people that need her. No one needs me.

But as her arms wrap around my neck and I feel her press her body tightly against mine, all that fades away. How I've missed this! Holding her, feeling the warmth radiate from her, smelling her hair...like I do now, burying my face in her hair, inhaling deeply, then leaning forward and gently kissing her throat, feeling her trembling slightly. There's no cameras here. No crowds to please. Just us. This is real...so real...

I hear the door open and Katniss sits up suddenly, disengaging herself from me guiltily. In spite of the horror of our situation, I can't help but smile at her reaction...like it was her mother walking in on us in her living room or something. At that moment, she's really a seventeen year old girl, and I'm a seventeen year old boy.

A Capitol Attendant walks in with a tray holding a steaming jug and two mugs. Katniss must have ordered this before she came in. He sets the tray on a table.

"I brought an extra cup," he says.

"Thanks," Katniss says to him.

"And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice." He pauses, seeming like he wants to say more, then I see his head shake slightly and he backs out of the room.

"You brought us milk. After we were reaped for the Quell," I say quietly to Felix.

"Yes," he says with a smile. "You remembered."

"You seemed upset about something then," I say.

Felix hesitates. Talking freely is not something anyone is used to. Finally, he nods.

"We all were," he admits. "None of us were happy that you had to go back to the Games."

"Why?" I ask. "Why did that upset you?"

"Because...well, because you two seemed so...happy together. You earned the right to be left alone...to live your lives. Because...you two were in love. I could tell...when I walked in with the milk. The way you were holding each other."

"Thank you," I say softly.

"You're welcome, sir...but for what?" Felix asks.

"For caring," I say simply.

PART III

In spite of my fears, I spent a relatively restful night on the train. Only a couple of nightmares invaded my sleep. I wake up feeling almost rested.

I get up, shower, and get dressed. I walk into the dining car and see that a breakfast buffet has already been laid out for me. It feels so strange that I'm the sole passenger on this train...that everything here is for me. As I fill up my plate, another attendant appears.

"Sir, I've been asked to tell you that we should be arriving at District Twelve in an hour or so, and that a car will be there to take you to your home." The Attendant says.

"Thank you," I reply. He nods once and leaves me alone to eat. As I eat I gaze out the window at the scenery flowing by. No longer the flat plains, the terrain now looked much more familiar. Mountainous, more rugged...more like home.

I feel dread begin to seep into me the closer we get to the district. I know that Twelve was firebombed on the night of the breakout from the clock arena, and that it was almost entirely destroyed. Only the houses in Victors Village were spared the destruction. I had been told that rebuilding efforts had been ongoing for months now, and that most of the rubble had been cleared away. Still, District Twelve was just a shadow of its former self.

Like me. And...HER.

I don't know how I'm going to be able to face her. Dr. Aurelius has worked miracles with me...my "episodes" are coming less and less frequently, and he assured me that being around and seeing...HER...would get easier and easier. I hope he's right...and I hope that Haymitch can help me cope.

As I finish my breakfast, my thoughts keep returning to...Katniss. There, I can think her name without shuddering, or spasming, or without my mind being invaded by those shiny false memories. A part of me still wants to kill her...but a much bigger part of me remembers that I love her.

Will she be happy to see me? Sad? Angry? Will she try to hug me...or will she run away? How will she look? Probably as bad as me, I say to myself, chuckling. My burns are still healing, my new scars still red and fresh. But there's only one thing that truly matters to me.

Does she...can she...will she ever...love me?

I've said the words to her often enough. She knows how I feel. And her actions with me...those couldn't all have been fake. I remember moments with her...just the two of us...when she could act naturally with me. And she didn't push me away.

But will I push her away?

I hope not...but I just don't know.

I hear the door to the compartment open, then close. The same Attendant as before stands before my table.

"Sir, we'll be arriving in just a few minutes," he says. As if on cue, I can feel the train begin to slow.

"Do you have any personal belongings that you wish to collect now?" He asks. I shake my head.

"No," I say, "I have nothing."

He nods once. "Would you follow me, then, please?" He leads me to a different car. I recognize it as the one that Katniss...and I...had been in when we arrived back in the district after our first Games...an observation car with large glass windows and a sliding door. I remember standing there with her, still in shock at her revelation that her actions in the arena had been...mostly...an act.

As I feel the train slow even more, and the district finally come into view, I find myself groping blindly with my hand...looking for her hand to hold...but she's not there. I'm glad I had viewed pictures and film of the district before I left the Capitol. It went a long way to lessening the shock of what I see laid out before me.

In spite of the clean up efforts, there are still mounds of rubble and ash. I can see new construction going on everywhere. I had been told that the mines were permanently closed, and that District Twelve now would produce food, and later facilities would be constructed to produce medicines for the rest of Panem.

The train station comes into view. It's new as well. Simple in design, wood construction. I swallow heavily and feel my hands shaking. Would she be here...meeting me? No, of course not...only Haymitch had been informed...and the Capitol representatives, of course. No, only a driver will be here to greet me on my homecoming. I clench my hands into fists to stop the shaking as the train rolls slowly to a stop.

I take a deep breath. The doors slide open. I hesitate for just a brief moment, then step out of the train onto the platform. No cameras, no cheering crowds, just a solitary figure standing there with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes make contact with mine and he nods once, slowly. I inhale deeply. The smell of freshly cut wood and paint mixes with the older smell of ash...and death. I feel a slight shudder pass through me as I walk towards the man waiting patiently for me.

Once again...I was home.

A/N: Okay, I hope that I can do this story line justice! I have seen so many wonderful post-Mockingjay fics, that I was really hesitant to try one of my own. So please review, and suggestions are always welcome! And don't worry, unlike my previous stories, this will DEFINITELY have eventual Everlark!