A/N: This new chapter has taken an obscene amount of time, and even now I am only able to update because I'm awaiting a tropical storm and my kid is taking a (very rare) nap. I apologize for the amount of time that has passed, and I adore each of you who have reached out to me about updates. Thanks to everyone who is following this fic. There's more to come, and I certainly hope this chapter advances the story (and does not disappoint). Comments are greatly appreciated!

Maura hated still moments, those unpredictable times when her mind roamed, and she became cornered by memories that threatened to drain her emotions and derail her sanity.

She was on the verge of one of those still moments as she waited at the sink in the narrow strip of kitchen, mesmerized by the trickle of water that slowly filled the rusted cast iron pot. She absently slipped one hand under the faucet, letting the cool water coat her wrist, palm, and fingers.

In this stillness, she could hear his morning song. The song he hummed each morning after finishing his oats and before reaching for his dusty miner's helmet that she complained about whenever he left it on the kitchen table. His quick apology and slow kiss to her temple as she stood at their sink, washing his bowl. The ease with which he turned the corners of her mouth into a smile.

She had no idea that one morning, it would be their last.

Don't Maura, she silently chastised, shaking the memory from her head. Don't go there. You promised yourself you would never go there again so long as your girls need you… Why am I even thinking about losing James?

"Mom?"

Maura's eyes flashed to one of the versions of herself and James – admittedly more her than her late husband. Primrose was Maura's likeness; Katniss had claimed most of James's features.

"Yes, honey."

Prim lowered her eyes to the gentle grip she had on Maura's stopwatch, her brows knotted. "The contractions are three minutes apart."

"Already?" Maura blinked in disbelief. "This little one must have an appointment to keep. Help me lift this pot to the stove so the water can get to boiling."

Grateful for renewed focus, Maura twisted the faucet shut. She and Prim hoisted the pot to the wood stove, and Maura placed the lid atop the pot to hasten the boil. She didn't anticipate Prim's next question.

"Were you just thinking about how upset Katniss was this morning about Peeta leaving?"

This time, Maura stilled, her mind reaching for the thoughts she dismissed moments before. The morning had been so rushed preparing for the baby to arrive that neither she nor Prim had spoken about Katniss.

Was I? Did what happen this morning with Peeta leaving and Katniss running after him make me think of James? Of losing my husband?

Prim wore worry in the crinkle of her nose. "I haven't seen her that upset since she volunteered for me at the Reaping. Do you think she's alright, mom?"

"I think it surprised her is all. When something happens that you don't expect, and everything changes suddenly," Maura drew a deep breath, hints of her own sudden losses coming out in her exhale. "It can throw you for a loop."

"But your sister is strong, Primrose," she reassured. "She will be fine."

Prim nodded, but her eyes brows were still knotted, her nose still crinkled. Maura could read her like a book.

"Tell you what. Once Lalie Mays delivers this anxious little guy, you and I will go straight home and check on Katniss. Okay?"

Maura watched the tension lift from Prim's face, leaving behind the quiet calm that reminded Maura so much of James.

"In the meantime, grab a few blankets and towels and make sure my bag is at the foot of the bed. Oh, and –"

A series of loud knocks hit against the front door.

"Reset the timer," Prim said, anticipating Maura's unfinished thought. "Got it."

As Prim rushed to gather the supplies, Maura dried her hands in the hem of her dress and hurried to the front door. On the other side was a man, nearly twice her age, with a weathered face and leathery skin stretched over large knuckles. Maura had seen him before at The Hob, but they never met.

"Ma'am." He dipped his head and removed a tattered pageboy cap. "My daughter-in-law is calling for you. She's paining awful bad with that baby, and she said to go find the healer. Someone told me to look here. That would be you, right ma'am?"

"Yes. Maura Everdeen. How many months pregnant is she?"

"Almost nine. David – her husband, my boy – works in the mines. I'm too old for that work anymore, and his mother is no more, so he asked me to stay with the girl during the day. Can you come see about her?"

"I will be there as soon as I can, Mr. …"

"Briston. Corbin Briston And the girl is Lucy Briston."

"Yes, Mr. Briston. Until I get there, prop her up on some pillows as high as she can go without being uncomfortable. And fill a couple of pots for boiling water. I can handle the rest once we get there."

He dipped his head, this time in appreciation. "Much obliged, ma'am. We can only offer you a jar of pickled vegetables for your help."

"I'm putting you to work looking after Lucy until I get there. You owe me nothing."

Lalie's groans were now full-on wails. Mr. Briston's throat bobbed with a heavy gulp, his eyes following the tormented sound.

"I need to go. Please tell Lucy I will be there as soon as I can."

They parted, and Maura rushed to Lalie's room. This was sizing up to be a longer day than she expected. But, she intended to keep her promise to Prim.

We'll be there soon, Katniss. Just as soon as we can.

The warm glow of her smile reminded him of the day he stood on his back porch, finally mixing the right colors to capture the sunset on canvas. He followed her down the train's narrow aisle, still stuck in the moment of opening his eyes to her smile.

He was already starting to lose focus.

But for a modest baker's boy from District 12, focus could easily be lost in a place like District 2. He had barely stepped off the train when he beheld the train station about 30 yards ahead, on the other side of the platform. It was a gothic structure of intricately-carved, pearl gray stone and three stories of prismatic, stained-glass windows. The platform was a carpet of mud-brown cobblestone, and evenly-spaced Victorian street lamps flickered with orange flame, even in broad daylight.

The train station reminded Peeta of his first, mesmerizing view of the Capitol when he arrived for The Hunger Games. But, Capitol architecture was ostentatious and overblown by comparison; District 2's train station was simple yet stunning, and it quickened every creative synapse in Peeta's body. He wished Gaige was nearby with his camera.

"This train station is gorgeous," he said, unable to look away. "I would love to paint a rendering of it… One… Day…"

He thought Jules was standing beside him. But, she was several yards away, speaking with the conductor who responded by tugging Peeta's suitcases from the bottom compartment of the train. As Peeta rushed over, embarrassed for the second time since his arrival, amusement formed on the conductor's lips.

"I see you have a knack for delaying trains, sir."

Jules guided a lock of hair behind one ear and ventured a curious glance between Peeta and the conductor.

"I'm really sorry about that," Peeta apologized. "I guess I am more tired than I realize."

"It's no problem, sir. We are actually a few minutes ahead of schedule." The conductor grinned good-naturedly. "But you may want to hurry back to the girl in 12. She was the real delay. She would still be holding onto you if we had nine hours to spare."

"Posy," Peeta said, stepping back into the memory of how she'd wrapped her tiny arms around his leg and refused to let go until it was time for him to board the train. "She's hands down the sweetest four-year-old in Panem."

The conductor cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to remember who Peeta was talking about. "No, I mean the older girl, the one your age. She was the one who didn't want to let go."

Instantly, Peeta's heart sank like a boulder in deep, restless waters. And he was at the threshold of a yet-to-be-explored place of mourning for the life he wanted that didn't want him. Little did the conductor know, Katniss had let go long before she reached the train station. She was only there to say 'goodbye.'

His grief waited at his temples, pressed upon his neck, rested on each shoulder. But he remembered his conversation with Gaige: He had to remain focused, to handle his pain in private. He promised himself he would.

As the conductor stepped away and made his final call for passengers, Peeta made intentional work of gathering his luggage from the platform. He only had two suitcases, one heavier than the other. But, he could carry them both. Together, they weren't nearly as heavy as a 100-pound bag of flour. He'd resented lifting those bags of flour for years. Then, he and Katniss were reaped. And he knew that if he ever needed to carry her to safety in the arena, his arms would be strong enough…

"I can carry one, if you'd like."

Jules's voice, more tentative than before, cut through Peeta's reverie. For the first time, his eyes washed over her. She wore a light blue chambray shirt, a snug-fitting pair of dark pants, and a navy cardigan. On her feet were beige flats, and in her ears were gold studs. Her hair, parted in the middle, extended past her shoulders in languid waves. She carried the scent of honeysuckle and something earthy and warm. She was lovely. Feminine and confident and lovely.

Peeta sat his luggage back on the platform a blush tinging his cheeks for more than one reason.

"My parents taught me better manners than to delay trains and to not properly introduce myself." He extended his hand and offered a self-deprecating smile. "Please forgive me, Jules. It's nice to meet you in person. And thanks for getting me off the train and collecting my luggage. I'd hate to sleep my way back to District 12."

Her laughter was like a reward, her hand like velvet in his. They held each other, hands and gazes, a moment longer than either of them intended, and they quickly retreated with averted eyes. Peeta shoved both hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. Behind them, the train jolted to a rolling start.

"This is some train station. It started speaking to me the moment I laid eyes on it."

Jules clasped her hands in front of her and grinned. "If you think the train station is something, wait until you see The Nut."

"What's 'The Nut'?"

She gestured past Peeta's shoulder. He turned, his head slowly tilting back to take in the mountain that loomed above them. There were two sets of train tracks. One was for passenger transport. The other set of tracks meandered inside the mountain, which was almost close enough to touch.

"Amazing," Peeta murmured.

"That was my first reaction too. This is a mountainous region, but The Nut is so close that you can't help but be in awe of it."

Peeta's eyes were still wandering the mountain. "Why is it called The Nut?"

Jules told him that the mountain is named Arura Peak. No one was standing near them on the platform, but Jules lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "In our meetings, we started calling it 'The Nut' because it would be a tough nut to crack. One of our plans called for seizing The Nut should our efforts lead to a conflict. But it's not your typical mountain; this is Panem's Peacekeeper headquarters and training station. It's also were Snow kept much of the Capitol's weaponry and high-tech toys and aviation."

Peeta turned to Jules. "Is all of District 2 like this? Jaw-dropping, I mean."

She shrugged and smiled. "It's like anywhere else, I guess. It has its prizes and its problems."

"It's nothing like home," Peeta said quietly, casting another long glance at the train station. Given the subtle clench of his jaw and the mourning that briefly shone in his features, it seemed as if Peeta couldn't return to 12, even if he wanted to.

"Speaking of which," Jules said with intentional levity, "I hope you like your unit. It's about seven miles that way." She gestured with a tilt of her head. "Right now, it's a few minutes past 1 pm. We could either catch a coach from inside the station and ride the entire way, or we could walk for a few minutes, see more of 2, and catch a coach in Bridgeview."

Peeta looked beyond the train station to the cloudless skies, which spoke its blessing into the sundrenched day "It's a nice day," he said, reaching for his luggage. "Let's walk."

Posy held Hazelle's hand and skipped alongside her, causing a gentle yank to her mother's wrist with each step.

"Mama, what time is it where Peeta is?"

This was the umpteenth time Hazelle had answered that question since Peeta boarded the train earlier that morning. Most times, Hazelle made up an answer to appease Posy. But this time, she knew for sure. She turned her head toward the sun, gauging its place in the sky.

"Well, it's right around 4 'o clock here. So, it's one 'o clock there."

"Oh." Posy continued to skip, but twisted to look over her shoulder at Vick, who trudged several yards behind, scowling at the ground and kicking pebbles in his path.

"Mama, what's wrong with Vick?"

"Don't worry about Vick. He will be fine."

Posy again faced forward. "Where are we going now? This is not how we get to Miss Maura's house."

"To the Justice Building. Where Gale and I work."

Posy's brows pinched as her mind worked to make connections. "Oh, I remember. That's where I have to go to get picked for the Games when I'm big, right?"

Hazelle stopped, causing a yank to Posy's wrist. The new president of Panem made a public promise that there would never be another Hunger Games, that parents and communities would never again have to sacrifice their children. Still, Hazelle was wary. What if things changed? What if the Games were re-established? The very thought of one of her children being reaped made her eyes water. It was bad enough last year, hearing 'Primrose Everdeen' from the Capitol escort's mouth and watching Katniss mount the stage in her sister's stead. She had her own nightmares about one of her children's names being called.

The fear inside Hazelle shone like anger in her eyes. "You are to never say that again, do you understand me?"

Posy stared at her mother in wide-eyed surprise.

"Do you understand me?!" Hazelle bellowed.

Posy's bottom lip quivered, and she shrank into herself. "I'm sorry, mama. I just wanted to win you a nice house like Ms. Maura's."

Hazelle gasped, her hand cupping her mouth as her eyes stung with unshed tears. She lowered to one knee and secured Posy in a tight embrace, letting the tears fall past her cheeks.

"I don't need a big house. I have you and your brothers, and that's all I need. Okay?"

Posy, still squeezed to Hazelle's chest, managed a muffled 'okay' although she did not understand. By that time, Vick had almost caught up to them, still downcast but wondering what caused his mother to shout at Posy moments before. Hazelle stood, quickly wiped her eyes, and pulled both of her children to her side.

"Come on," Hazelle said. "Let's walk the rest of the way together."

Just beyond the fortress of the train station, the day was awash with sunlight. The streets bustled with more people than Peeta had ever seen outside of the Capitol. But, unlike Capitol citizens, the people of District 2 seemed to be of the working class. They were wealthy by District 12 standards, but no one Peeta saw invested in bouffant hairstyles or pastel-colored skin.

The train station bordered a four-way intersection of wide streets clogged with vehicles. Pedestrians and a smattering of bicyclists took to the sidewalks, rhythmically yielding to one another without making eye contact or breaking stride. A throng of people waited on the other side of the intersection, presumably needing the traffic light's permission to cross. But even standing still, they were fascinating in how they gathered, a sliver of air between them but never touching or engaging with the person on either side.

Peeta studied what he could and challenged himself to make their energy reappear on canvas. A flick of the traffic lights made vehicles roll to a stop and sent the throng walking across the street. Peeta and Jules were nearing the intersection.

"This area is Arura Square. Locals call it 'The Square.' It's the unofficial capitol of the entire district, the center of transportation and comm… merce…"

Jules's head turned to slowly pan around them. Peeta followed her gaze to find the wave of pedestrians who just crossed the street with their necks craned and their eyes fixed on him. The people kept a respectable distance, but Peeta and Jules overheard what they were saying. And, breaking the protocol that was in effect moments ago, they were speaking to one another.

"Is that Peeta Mellark?"

"That's Peeta Mellark! The victor of Panem!"

"He and his wife, Katniss Everdeen Mellark, are the star-crossed lovers. They won the last Games."

"Are they moving to District 2? They should. Victors belong in 2, not in that forsaken District 12."

Peeta lowered his voice to a whisper. "I would think they wouldn't want me here since I had a hand in killing their native son." He quickly suppressed the gruesome memory of Cato's death.

"There is no loyalty to the fallen," Jules returned, also a whisper. "You are the last male victor of Panem. They want you here."

Jules's words reminded Peeta of his conversation with Gaige. And two things became painfully apparent: First, he realized he might as well be back on stage in the Capitol because the crowds were watching his every move; second, he realized that living anywhere other than District 12 meant he would probably be on stage for the rest of his life.

He nodded in polite acknowledgement of the crowd as he and Jules proceeded to the corner to wait on the traffic light to change.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this," he confessed to a backdrop of their voices. "I'm just an average guy who –"

A high-pitched squeal pierced the intersection. All eyes whirled, and a petite woman with fluffy turquoise hair, rhinestone-adorned eyebrows, and abnormally high wedge-heeled shoes came trotting across the street just as the light was changing. One hand gripped an iridescent suitcase, and with her other hand, she pointed at Peeta.

"Oh no," Peeta groaned under his breath.

She was on him in a matter of seconds, wrapping him in a surprisingly tight bear hug despite her size, a collection of gaudy gold bracelets clanging on her wrists. Jules couldn't help but be amused at the sight of it. She pressed the side of her fist to her mouth to stifle a laugh and stepped aside to give the woman ample room. The woman released Peeta from her embrace but held to his forearms.

"Peeta?! It's really you! Oh, I can't wait to tell everyone back home that I met Peeta Mellark!"

Her enthusiasm was endearing. He could not avoid the audience she created, but he did not need a Capitol stage to release the charm he'd once exhibited to the nation.

"Hi there," he smiled warmly. "You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Oh yes, yes of course." She had Effie's affected accent, but she was younger than his Hunger Games escort. And she spoke a mile a minute.

"I'm Antonia. But everyone calls me Tini – as in the smallest. When I was little, my brother called me Ant instead of Antonia, and I dumped my dessert flan on his head. Then, we all decided that I liked Tini much better."

Peeta nodded, his lips parting wordlessly at the speed by which her words escaped. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Tini."

She let out another strangled squeal. "Peeta Mellark just called me Tini!" Her hair didn't move, even as she bounced with excitement, her fists making quick circles in the air. Peeta laughed, but others in The Square did not. They had resumed their pace, some glaring disapprovingly at Tini. She did not seem to notice.

"You've made running away from home worth the trouble!"

Peeta lifted an eyebrow. "You're running away from home?"

She drew a nervous breath and took a step back, releasing his arms. "Oh. I, umm… Well, yes. Yes, I am. I mean, everyone knows where I am. No one's looking for me or anything like that."

She poked at an overly curled tendril, silent thoughts casting a cloud of worry across her face. "Now that all Panem is open for travel, I decided to travel before returning to the Capitol. You see, my suitor is intent on proposing marriage, but I want to go places," she gushed. "I'm entirely too young to get married."

Peeta's smile slipped, and Tini froze, suddenly aware of her words.

"Not that I think you married too young, Peeta," she quickly amended. "I'm sure you and Katniss didn't need to wait a moment longer to start your lives together, not with the love you two have for one another." She leaned closer. "I've hoped that my suitor and I could have that type of love. And maybe we can. It's just all happening so fast. So, I hope the separation will do us some good. I know he loves me more than anything in the world."

Peeta swallowed hard. "And do you love him?"

Jules detected the sadness in his voice.

Tini paused before she answered. "I want to," she said, almost pleadingly. "Honestly, I do." They stood silent for a few moments before Tini flicked a noisy, accessorized wrist.

"Listen to me babbling on about myself. You've made me feel like I'm the only person in the world. And if you've made me feel this special in a matter of minutes, I imagine Katniss must feel like the luckiest girl alive."

Peeta bit down on the inside of his cheek the suppress the emotion welling inside him.

"Is she here?!" Tini's face lit up. "I would love to meet her."

"No." Peeta cleared his throat. "She's, uh. She's back home. We're all doing our part in rebuilding Panem."

Tini cocked her head and grinned. "Well, we're in the same boat, you and I. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Your time apart will make your love that much stronger."

Now, Peeta felt like he could implode. He had to remove himself from that conversation and the public eye as soon as possible.

"Tini, you are smart and brave and you will take Panem by storm." He managed a smile. "I wish you happiness and safety in your travels."

"Thank you," she said earnestly, clasping his hand in hers. "You're as kind as everyone believed you to be, Peeta Mellark! It's been such a thrill meeting you in person."

After enveloping him another tight hug, Tini grabbed her suitcase and tottered toward the train station, excitement plastered on her face. But in her wake, Peeta drew a long breath and cast a long, morose gaze to the ground.

"Peeta?" Jules's voice covered him like a warm blanket. She was one of the few people who knew his marriage to Katniss was over. "Are you alright?"

But he didn't want to talk about it, not with her or anyone. He vowed to deal with his pain in private and to make people earn his trust. And that was exactly what he intended to do.

"I'm fine," he said, recycling the same smile he gave Tini. "Let's go. I can't wait to see my new home."

"Okay you two. Have a seat at that table." Hazelle gestured with her head. "Over there."

Posy scampered, and Vick trudged. Hazelle joined them for a few moments, gingerly lowering herself into an empty chair. She had already cleaned two homes since leaving the train station that morning, and the dull ache in her lower back was becoming harder to ignore. She inhaled deeply, her hunched shoulders lifting before she released a sound that was both a sigh and a yawn.

She knew her back pain was not due to cleaning alone. It was from years of sleeping on the thin, lumpy mattress that had been in her and Emory's bedroom. Now, at Maura's house, she'd had her best rest in decades, but she feared the damage had already been done to her back.

"Alright," she began, shifting between each set of gray eyes. "Sit here quietly. Rory is still clearing the old home site, and Gale is working overtime in the mines. When I'm finished here, we'll go back to Ms. Maura's house, and I'll make something to eat.

Vick's face contorted to an even deeper frown. "But mommy, why can't I finish helping Rory? I was already helping clear stuff this morning."

"Because I need you to sit with Posy. Some of the cleaners here are too strong for either of you to inhale, so I can't take you two with me while I work."

Vick snapped both arms across his chest and slumped in his chair. "So, I have to sit here and watch little baby Posy." His low grumble was just loud enough to be heard.

"Hey! I'm not a baby!" Posy thrust a tiny finger toward her brother. "You take that back Vick!"

"Hush! Both of you." Hazelle further silenced them with a stern glare. "Absolutely no arguing. And if I hear it again, I'll be sure to let Gale know."

The threat of informing Gale was enough to quiet them. Vick and Posy were both too young to remember their father before he died, so Gale became their father figure. They could push their limits with their mother, but the two youngest Hawthornes wouldn't challenge Gale's authority.

"Do I make myself clear?" Hazelle asked.

Vick and Posy nodded with downcast eyes but traded heated glances when Hazelle disappeared down a first-floor corridor.

But moments later, they perked up at the sound of keys twisting in the front door locks. Hazelle hurried back to the front just as Madge stepped inside.

"Madge!" Posy and Vick greeted her in unison, hopping from their seats and rushing to embrace her. Madge's face lit up with her smile. She knelt to greet them with open arms.

"Hey guys! I didn't expect to see you here. How's it going?"

In a matter of seconds, Vick relayed that he was in charge of Posy while his mommy worked, Posy vehemently interjected that she was not a baby and to prove it, Peeta made her a whole cake before he said 'goodbye' and left on the train that morning.

Madge quirked an eyebrow at Posy's comment about Peeta saying 'goodbye' and leaving, but she decided to let her question pass.

"Okay, you two," Hazelle interrupted, her palms against each child's back. "To your stations." Vick and Posy returned to the table but twisted in their seats to watch Hazelle and Madge who greeted one another with a light embrace.

"Are you and Gale working today?" Madge asked as they parted. "You know you didn't have to come in until Monday since everything was closed yesterday."

"I know, but I couldn't let this building go without a proper cleaning for start of business on Monday."

"Gale's not here," Posy chimed in. "He had to work longer in the mines."

"And Rory's still cleaning up our house that burned," Vick added. "I helped too."

Madge cocked her head and tapped a finger to her lips in mock contemplation. "Well, it sounds to me like you two need jobs as well. Wouldn't you two agree?"

Posy and Vick agreed earnestly.

"I'll be right back," Madge said, disappearing down the corridor. Less than a minute later, she reemerged with two files tucked underneath one arm and two oversized books and three smaller boxes cradled in the other arm. They were coloring books and boxes of colored pencils. Vick's eyes widened as Madge approached, and Posy knelt in her seat to get closer to the table.

"When I was a kid and had to wait on my dad to finish work, I would color pictures for him and my mom. There are a ton of pages in these books that still need to be colored. So, I'm giving you two an important task. Your mommy and Rory and Gale are working really hard, and you guys should work hard at coloring pictures for them."

"Cool!" Vick gushed. "I can make it look like one of Peeta's paintings."

"Even better," Hazelle encouraged.

"Me too! Me too!" Posy bounced in her seat.

"You too," Hazelle affirmed.

"Well then it's settled," Madge said. "You two can keep the books in exchange for your hard work. Deal?"

They echoed their agreement, but their attention had already turned to dumping the colored pencils from their boxes and searching the numerous blank pages in each book.

"Thank you for that," Hazelle whispered to Madge. "They've never had a coloring book, so this will definitely keep them entertained." Hazelle sighed. "They're just so restless and ready to be settled, and I can't blame them. We all are."

"And with that in mind, this is for you, Ms. Hazelle." Madge handed her one of the files. Inside were the most current listings of properties for sale in District 12."

"I told Gale I would generate an updated list after your home burned. Housing is scarce in the Seam, so there may not be another home that's large enough for your family. But, there are several vacant homes and lots in the Merchant's Quarters and even more on the outskirts of 12."

Hazelle flipped through the packet, silently deciding that there was no way they could afford a home in the Merchant's Quarters. "Thank you, dear. I will take a look and pass this on to Gale."

At that moment, the throbbing resurfaced in Hazelle's lower back. Madge watched as Hazelle squeezed her eyes shut, her entire body stiffening to manage the pain.

"Are you sure you need to be here right now, Ms. Hazelle?"

Hazelle sucked in a slow breath. "Oh, I'm fine. It comes and goes." Hazelle didn't want Madge to question whether or not she could perform her duties at the Justice Building. Her family needed this job. She changed the subject.

"How have you been, Madge?"

"Grateful," Madge nodded thoughtfully. "I have a few weeks until graduation and a full-time job lined up with the rebuild effort. And best of all, no child will ever be reaped for The Hunger Games again."

"All wonderful news," Hazelle smiled broadly. "As soon as we find another home, we will have you over to celebrate your graduation."

"I would like that," Madge said. "And I know everything will work out for you and your family. There are so many bright days ahead. You'll see."

Hazelle reached for Madge's hand and squeezed. "Thank you, dear. I hope Posy is as smart and as kind as you when she's older. You're truly a gem, Madge."

Madge beamed at the compliment. Then she said her goodbyes to Hazelle and the kids and exited the front door, locking it behind her.

Hazelle silently watched a contented Posy and Vick as they colored. Then, Hazelle disappeared down the corridor. She was still within earshot and overheard the conversation that ensued.

"Madge is so nice, Vick. Gale should kiss her now because Katniss is sad."

"Gale can kiss Katniss if he wants," Vick shrugged. "It doesn't matter if she's sad."

Posy rolled her eyes. "Well of course it does, Vick. Gale can only kiss Katniss if she isn't crying, and Katniss can't stop crying until Peeta comes back."

After Peeta was recognized by Tini and the crowd of onlookers, others also stopped to whisper and stare as Peeta and Jules passed by. Jules chose less populated streets whenever possible, to avoid drawing attention to Peeta.

The street they now walked offered a direct view to a few of the most impressive high rises in The Square, and they held Peeta's attention. The entrance to one building was guarded by a row of massive, marble columns. Another building was paved with glass that gleamed orange and teal in the afternoon sunlight. Jules pointed out a few buildings and began talking with Peeta about the types of industries that were headquartered there.

It took 12 minutes to reach Bridgeview, what Jules called a 'bedroom community' of The Square. They crossed a two-lane road, reaching a welcome sign and a pedestrian suspension bridge that arched over a wide strip of river. The river's banks were adorned with multi-colored stones, and its waters were dotted with chunky gray boulders of varying sizes.

The river reminded Peeta of visiting the brook in the woods with Katniss the day the rain drove them indoors. He quickly diverted his gaze to a grass-carpeted amphitheater facing the bridge, adjacent to an open-air brick pavilion.

Bridgeview nestled in the shadows of The Squares high rises, but, Bridgeview was characterized by quaint shops no more than two stories tall, 'Welcome' signs and the chime of bells suspended from entrance doors, and whisk brooms propped outdoors for sweeping fallen leaves from the shade trees lining the sidewalks. Bridgeview held a tranquility that Peeta did not expect to find anywhere in District 2.

Jules could see his questions forming.

"District 2 was once a collection of villages built around mines and quarries," she began. "The Square and the Warehouse District where your unit is located, are two areas that aren't central to either natural resource."

"So, if the Warehouse District has no mines or quarries, what does it contribute to the economy of 2?"

"Historically, The Warehouse District was where young men trained in masonry and blacksmithing. In recent decades, those industries relocated to Bridgeview. They're now operated from small storefronts that sell custom pieces from the front of the shop and conduct apprenticeships in the back. Masonry and blacksmithing use to be hard labor for little pay –"

"Like coal mining," Peeta interjected.

"Exactly. But, the Capitol created an overwhelming demand for decorative bricks and ornate metalwork. Over time, many laborers left the warehouses to start their own businesses and apprenticeships – especially in the stonework that District 2 is known for. And, many of those businesses received funding from the Capitol."

Peeta stopped walking. "What?"

Jules nodded in earnest. "Yep. It's true."

They continued their walk. "So, President Snow, who was fine with starvation in District 12, gave money to District 2 residents to start businesses?"

"Outside of the Capitol, District 2 was his favorite. Of course, it was a strategic move. He didn't like having his weaponry so far removed from the Capitol, but 2 was his best option apart from District 13 – which he thought he obliterated. Snow wanted to keep people of District 2 satisfied."

"So… I don't get this," Peeta grappled. "Do the people here agree with Snow's fate? Aren't they loyal to him – especially given the preferential treatment they received?"

Jules exhaled a long breath. "It's complicated. The people here yielded to Snow because he was in power and their economy benefitted from the preferential treatment. But there was never staunch loyalty because at the end of the day, they are a district that is punished like all the others with the annual reaping."

"The people of 2 are loyal to their victors," Jules continued. "So, we had Enobaria and Brutus and Commander Lyme broadcast their support for ending The Hunger Game and overthrowing the government of Panem. That sealed the deal."

"And that's another thing," Peeta added. "I always assumed the careers – or victors who had been careers – were also Snow's loyalists. I never expected them to rebel."

"Most of them would not have rebelled if it was a standard reaping this year. But this was a Quarter Quell, and in an effort to get you and Katniss back into the arena, Snow planned to reap victors. All the victors were angry; Snow had promised that victors would live in peace and wealth. Their one obligation was to mention future tributes."

"So even the victors who had grown comfortable with Snow wanted him gone," Peeta said.

"Exactly. They realized he had too much power and was too dangerous to remain in power."

They reached a brick sign at a two-lane road welcoming them to Bridgeview Heights, which proclaimed itself to be the 'premiere neighborhood of Arura Square.' Either side of the street was lined with nearly identical single-story homes with precise squares of manicured front yards.

Jules explained that these had been government-issued homes for quarry workers. Now, the neighborhood was populated by families who could afford to live close to The Square. From a distance, Peeta spied a couple in their mid-to-late twenties excitedly waiting with open arms as a tow-headed toddler stumbled between them on unsteady legs.

Emptiness widened inside him like a chasm.

That's what I want, Peeta thought. A family of my own... A wife who loves me.

"Are you sure I can't carry one of your suitcases?" Jules asked with a companionable smile. "I'm a lot stronger than I look."

Peeta smiled good-naturedly. "I don't doubt it. But no, thank you. I packed light."

The transit stop was a block away. On the corner was a kiosk, a square box about six feet from the ground with a keypad for scheduling a coach or metered ride. Coach rides held up to five passengers, and meters were busses that could transport up to 60 people. Jules typed '2' for the number of passengers and pushed the 'New Trip' button under the coach setting.

Less than a minute later, a white vehicle with a green bulb glowing in the back window pulled up to the curb. The driver's door and the trunk opened simultaneously, as if a single button could have sprung them both. The driver, a sinewy man whose wispy brown ponytail was streaked silver, reached for Peeta's luggage and hoisted them into the truck.

"Where to?" The driver asked once they were all inside the coach.

Warehouse District. Arsenal Hill section, twelfth block, please," Jules said. She turned to Peeta. "It's a short ride from here."

The coach carried them out of Bridgeview and increasingly, the area became more industrial. Peeta saw a trio of identical black brick, five-story buildings, each with a hanging banner that read 'Available Office Space – Great for Capitol Satellites.'

He read and re-read the banner until the buildings were out of view.

"Capitol satellite offices in District 2?" He asked Jules.

Jules nodded. "Snow was developing parts of 2 as vacation spots for Capitol elite. The wealthiest Capitolites could afford extended vacations for their families, so many of them would need satellite work spaces."

Peeta laughed humorlessly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I am surprised that any Capitol elite would want to vacation in any district, even one as nice as 2."

"How can I put this…" Jules cocked her head, considering her next words. "Capitol residents – most Capitol residents – are completely out of touch with the reality of life in Panem. They view the Districts and its inhabitants as novelties. It's a mindset perpetuated by the Games. Take for example the lady who approached you in The Square."

"Tini," Peeta said.

"Yes. She was super sweet and sincere and so excited to meet you. But did you notice how she assumed she had a right to touch you, to embrace you, to make you her audience? You were absolutely gracious to entertain her, but did you notice that none of the locals did the same?"

Peeta reflected on those moments in The Square. "I hadn't noticed. But you're right."

"Capitol culture is far removed from life in the districts. Capitol citizens have a sense of entitlement. Vacationing in one of the nicer districts would be a quaint experience for them. And of course, District 2 tolerated this because Capitolites would boost the already strong economy here."

Peeta turned his gaze back to the window until another question surfaced.

"So, if The Square is focused on commerce and Bridgeview is small business and family-oriented, what is The Warehouse District's vibe?"

"It's energetic, eclectic," Jules said. "Warehouse tends to draw a younger crowd – 20s and 30s mainly, people who were never reaped and are unattached. The cost of living is higher – even higher than Bridgeview – so most residents either have good-paying jobs or an apprenticeship and a roommate to share housing costs. It was the ideal location in 2 for rebuild work."

"Again," Peeta said good-naturedly, "This is nothing like home.

They exchanged a smile. Peeta could tell that she was again weighing her words.

"Peeta… I would love to learn more about District 12 – if you want to talk about it sometimes. I'm sure there are things you'll miss, being here."

Peeta sensed sincerity in her words, and he acknowledged her offer with a nod. But his connection to District 12 suddenly seemed too private, too personal to share with her. He reminded himself to stay guarded and to make everyone earn his trust. Besides, Jules already knew things were over between him and Katniss. And at that point, Peeta decided, she didn't need to know anything else.

For the rest of the ride, Peeta stared out the window, playing a silent game of chess with his emotions. He increasingly felt like the earth was spinning too fast, and he was taking the brunt of all its dizzying force.

I left. I left 12. I restarted my whole life because of her, and I would have given my life for her.

He took to watching the white dashes in the pavement as they sped alongside the coach. What he could see of The Square had curved to his left. Bridgeview was behind them.

Jules must have sensed his need for silent reflection. She deferred to it, choosing to watch the district on fast forward from her window. Ironically, the driver was in full song, completely off-key, behind the wheel.

The coach exited the freeway at a dingy sign announcing The Warehouse District. Peeta quickly understood why this part of 2 was called The Warehouse District. Staggering the skyline at about 3-6 stories tall were drab-colored, soot-stained, seemingly abandoned warehouses of various shapes and widths. Most of the buildings were sprawling structures that anchored modest-sized offspring. Some buildings were single-story storefronts, a hint of light behind its wide windows. All of the buildings sat on heather gray concrete outlined by broken sidewalks.

The area was depressing and completely detached from the energy of The Square and the comfort of Bridgeview. And in that moment, Peeta wanted to go home. But he didn't have a home.

I have a house in District 12, but I don't have a home.

"You can take the next left at Persis Avenue."

Her voice drew his eyes, rescuing him from the path his thoughts were taking. She'd leaned forward when she spoke to the coach driver, but her body was back against the seat. She offered a tempered smile that Peeta returned before shifting his gaze back to the window.

Persis Avenue lifted Peeta's spirits. Persis was a four-way intersection with a steady stream of vehicles and a handful of pedestrians dotting each block. Brick buildings lined either side of the street, but none of these were the drab color from miles past. Most were an appealing red brick, but a smattering of others were painted. Peeta saw vibrant hue of cinnamon, alabaster, navy, marigold, and teal.

Moments later, they passed a slate stone sign with the words "Arsenal Hill" in gleaming brass. The road narrowed, a two-lane interruption of the verdant expanse of grass that stretched on either side. It was a massive park with brick walking paths, well-spaced rows of shade trees, neatly-trimmed shrubs, yellow and ivory flower beds, a smattering of wood benches, and a round stone fountain that Peeta spotted in the distance. Peeta guessed the park was as large as the entire Merchant's Quarter, and he hoped its size would afford him a way to hide in plain sight; maybe he could sit outdoors some days and paint or sketch.

Jules directed the driver to turn left at Averii Crest Drive. The park ended at the curb to Peeta's left, and he was so mesmerized that he didn't look to his right.

"We're here," Jules said with the same smile as before. Then, she reached in her pants pocket, extracted a silver card, and handed it to the driver to pay the fare. Peeta, embarrassed yet again, fumbled in his pocket for coins.

"No," Jules lifted a hand to stop him. "Plutarch is covering all relocation costs." Then, her eyebrow arched mischievously. "But this time you can gather your own luggage."

He didn't expect her humor, and it took him a while to catch on. But he did, and they both chuckled good-naturedly and climbed from the vehicle. The driver was already unloading Peeta's bags, his song reduced to a hum.

The coach pulled from the curb as Peeta collected his luggage.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but… I hope you like it."

Peeta turned to the right, his back to the park. The sign read "The Warehouse Dwellings."

Clearly it had been a warehouse – three sizable red-brick buildings surrounded by a decorative black metal fence. The shortest building was positioned in the foreground, five stories high, looking at the world through large, black-trimmed, rounded-top windows. Remnants of the red, yellow, and black Ammon Masonry logo was still painted on its facade. Two identical but slightly taller buildings stood behind it on either side, facing outward from the main building. From where he stood, Peeta could see that the buildings in the background were lined with balconies – something the main building did not have.

The fence opened to a cobblestone path. Jules led the way to an opening the size of a loading dock that was outfitted with black metal double doors.

"You're in the main building, the building in front," Jules said. "The units in the main building don't have balconies, but there's access to a rooftop deck for all residents, and each individual unit in the main building has loft space. The loft space will be like having a story and a half."

I'll be living alone, so I won't need a story and a half, Peeta thought. "Sounds great," he said aloud.

They stepped into a spacious lobby with black concrete floors, medium gray couches and chairs, and a vibrant, round orange ottoman. The lobby led to a half-arc receptionist desk, metallic gray on the bottom with a speckled white and gray stone counter.

There were three frosted glass doors. The one to the far right of the desk read 'Staff Only,' and probably led to the frosted glass door located behind the receptionist area. The other door was on the far left, read "Residents Only," and was outfitted with an intercom system and keypad.

"Our receptionist and office manager is Merritt Lashley. Plutarch hired her on Friday. She'll be here from 8-1 tomorrow, and on most days, she works from 7 until 3."

Jules continued. "Once things are more settled, Plutarch plans to hire a few more receptionists so the building is manned 24 hours a day. But it took weeks to vet Merritt. We hoped the rebellion would be successful, so we made sure she wasn't connected to anyone from Snow's regime. That same vetting process will happen with all new hires. Oh, and three, newly-trained Peacekeepers, one for each building, will work and live on site for security purposes. They'll be placed in the next 60 days."

"Nice," he said quietly, his heart sinking when he silently wished one of those officers could have been Darius.

Jules walked into the 'Staff Only' room and returned with a folder bearing the Warehouse Dwellings logo. She held open the folder for Peeta to see.

"There's information in here about the property. I can point out a few things as we walk, if you'd like."

"Sure."

Jules pulled a palm-sized plastic blue card from the folder, "this is your access chip. It'll get you past the lobby doors, into your unit and into any of our amenity rooms. I'll also give you a code you can use, so you won't need to carry the access chip with you."

Jules had Peeta swipe his card on the keypad at the frosted glass door on the left to be sure the card worked. Peeta followed her through the door to a perpendicular, spice-colored, carpeted hallway. They turned left.

"Since this is the main building, the facilities here are shared with all residents. Right here," she pointed to a glassed room on the right with four computers and a printer, "is our computer room. There's space for four more computers, and those will be added over time."

She glanced over her shoulder as they continued down the hall. "At the opposite end of the hall behind us is a community room that can be used for gatherings of up to 75 people." They passed the elevator ahead on the left, next to a stairwell door with an exit sign. "Let me show you one other thing."

Around the corner and further down the hall was another frosted glass door, this one bearing the name 'Wellness Room.' They stepped inside to an array of free-standing machines, workout equipment, free weights, balls and resistance straps. The entire room was lined with mirrors and ceiling fans circulated overhead.

"Now this is cool," Peeta whispered as he took in the space. "I never imagined having a training facility where I live. I've only ever had access to equipment when I was training for the Games."

"With the exception of the community room, all amenities are available to residents 24/7," Jules said. "Just use your card or code to get in anytime you want."

"This is really nice," Peeta nodded his approval as they backed out of the room.

They took the elevator to the fourth floor. "By the way," Jules said, "Brutus and Enobaria and Commander Lyme live in Victor's Village, which is located on the southern outskirts of 2, a 20-minute ride from here. They also have access to these shared spaces, but Brutus rarely leaves his house during the day, so you may never see him. Enobaria is more social, but she's often in District 1 with Cashmere and Gloss, and her rebuild work is based there. Commander Lyme will be traveling to different regions for her rebuild work, so you may see her on screen for joint meetings more than you'll see her in person."

"Joint meetings?" Peeta's mind flashed to saying goodbye to Katniss at the train station; he hoped that he wouldn't be forced to see her – in person or on screen for joint meetings. He needed to completely remove himself from her life – and her from his.

"How often are those held?"

"They're twice a year. Since we're just getting started, there will be one at the end of this year and another one six months later. Plutarch hates meetings, and he conducts them as quickly as possible. He's less talk and more execution; make a plan, delegate responsibilities, and trust his team."

"He sounds like a good leader."

"He is."

Peeta stole a glance at Jules. He had even more questions about her since stepping off the train. She wasn't a victor, so why wasn't she actively enrolled in school? She couldn't be if she single-handedly managed logistics and communications for the rebellion. And what was her connection to Plutarch? Sure, Plutarch proved his mettle when he orchestrated Snow's assassination, but what was his true angle? Why was he, a Capitol insider, so motivated toward a free Panem, and what made Jules become such an avid supporter of his?

From the elevator, they walked a short hallway and turned right onto a longer hall. His was the second door of three on the left.

"So, will Capitol residents be moving to these units, as originally planned," Peeta asked as they approached his door.

"No. Those were Snow's plans. Plutarch decided to re-purpose these units for victors – relocating or visiting – and rebellion staff. He said over time, others could be added, but that would be years away. We have enough to focus on now with the rebuild, and we want everyone to be comfortable where they live. Right now, you're the only one on the hall. Mags will live in the unit across from yours, but the other two are unoccupied."

Good. I just want to work hard, keep to myself, and blend in. Somehow.

Peeta set down his luggage to swipe his access card, and the light on the keypad blinked green. He stepped aside to let Jules enter first. She flipped a set of light switches on the wall just inside the door, and she held the door open as he filed in with his suitcases.

He noticed that she drew a hopeful breath before she spoke. "Welcome to your new home."

Peeta lowered his suitcases, his eyes absorbing the space. Just inside the door was a short foyer; against one wall was a black console table with a pewter bowl a notepad and pen. On the opposite wall was a door that led to a half bathroom.

Just past the foyer, the entire right wall, as far as he could see, was exposed red brick. A long wood table with counter-height wood and metal barstools was in front of one of the large, tinted windows Peeta noticed from the outside.

Directly across from the dining table, was a spacious kitchen, bordered by an L-shaped granite island whose four barstools were taller than but otherwise identical to the seating at the dining table. From the other side of the island, he could see the silver curve of a goose neck faucet and a refrigerator. Facing them were a double wall oven and microwave, a range-top stove, an expanse of counter space, and a row of overhead cabinets, some with frosted glass doors. Past the kitchen was an opening wide enough for floating stairs that Peeta assumed led to the loft space, which could not be seen from the main floor.

He continued to the living room, which was furnished with a navy leather sectional and accent chair. A four-level wood and metal bookshelf at one end of the sectional matched the wood and metal coffee table that rolled on metal casters. The walls were bare, save a metal clock the size of a tire that had dashes to indicate each hour. The ceiling was a maze of aluminum ducts. For Peeta, the best feature was the huge windows, nearly floor-to-ceiling, overlooking the park across the street.

The unit was modern, mature, and masculine. And he loved it.

"Jules. This is amazing." He slowly shook his head. "I never expected it to be this nice."

"You're creative, so I made sure the designer left plenty of room for you to hang your own artwork. As you can see, this unit is furnished, but we can have any piece removed."

"No. No, I love it," Peeta assured. He turned his attention to her. "Thank you for everything, Jules. From my last-minute request to move here to meeting me at train station and accompanying me here. I appreciate all of it."

"It's my pleasure, Peeta."

He followed her back to the front door where she pulled a Warehouse Dwellings pen from the console table and wrote in his folder. "I'm going to leave you to explore your new home. If you need anything, just give me a call. I'm in the southwest building, the one to the left behind yours. Unit 528." She wrote her apartment number underneath her phone number.

"Will do."

"Oh, and your refrigerator is stocked with deli meats, bread, condiments, fruit and vegetables. Merritt and I shopped for a few basics this morning; we guessed you would be hungry and tired after a long trip."

"Seriously?" Peeta blinked in disbelief. "Thank you. I will return the kindness. This is far beyond anything I expected."

After parting with meek smiles, Peeta was alone. He tossed his access card into the pewter bowl on a black console table at the door.

He explored the rest of the main level. The same color scheme carried throughout the home; touches of wood and metal, and navy and steel gray punctuated each room's stylish décor.

The sight of the king-sized bed in his room rolled in a bout of sadness like a passing cloud. He wished he'd remembered to ask for a twin or full-sized bed instead, since he'd be sleeping alone. But his mood elevated when he saw his bathroom – spacious with black and white mosaic-tiled floors, a standalone tub with door access, and a glassed door shower at the very back that spanned the width of the bathroom. Outside was a gray-cushioned wood bench and a pair of crutches. Inside, surrounded by alabaster-tiled walls and floors was a wide, built-in ledge for sitting, and a stainless steel detachable shower head.

"This is perfect," Peeta whispered as he opened the linen closet and found a navy bathrobe and neatly-folded stacks of fluffy white towels and wash cloths.

Down the hall, he searched the smaller second bedroom and a hall bathroom that included a modest shower with metallic gray curtains. He loved it. All of it. And he knew he could retreat here and find a new direction for his life.

He'd planned to check out his covered loft space next, which was accessible from a set of floating stairs between the kitchen and the living room. But his stomach growled, so he went to the kitchen instead. He found paper-wrapped packages of deli meats and cheeses, a bag of sliced carrot sticks, a head of broccoli and cauliflower, tomatoes, milk and heavy cream, red apples, a huge cluster of red grapes, various condiments, and bottles of carbonated water – something he'd never tasted before.

He pulled the deli meats, a package of cheese that he soon discovered to be provolone, a bottle of brown mustard, and the cluster of grapes and set them on the counter. Then, he rinsed his hands and searched his cabinets for bread. A loaf of sliced sourdough and a loaf of pumpernickel rye awaited him, and in his search, he also discovered a wire bin of red potatoes and another of yellow onions, cartons of chicken and beef stock, and a few cans of stewed tomatoes.

"Amazing," he breathed.

His hunger made him work with haste. He assembled his sandwich, added tomatoes, and retrieved a bottle of carbonated water. And moments later, after discovering his drawer of utensils and knives, he was seated at the barstool on the other side of his kitchen island, devouring a hearty pastrami, turkey, and ham sandwich.

Best. Sandwich. Ever.

He unscrewed the top from the carbonated water, noticing the words "Do Not Shake," and was pleasantly surprised by its bubbly, lemon-lime flavor. After his sandwich, he'd barely made a dent in the grapes. He was satisfied. And sleepy.

After his meal, he cleared the kitchen countertop, gathered his luggage from the front door and carted them into his bedroom. He searched for his alarm clock, one of the few things he'd taken from his home in Victor's Village. He set it on the nightstand, reminded of the decision he'd made the night before to sell his house in District 12 when he was settled permanently elsewhere.

He would give it some time to see if this was where he wanted to be. But as he reclined on the bed, his head sinking into the collection of neatly arranged pillows, Peeta realized that he might have found his new home.

Right here. In District 2.

That evening, when he climbed into the last car of the mantrip, Gale slept, knowing that when he reached the surface, he would need all his energy to continue clearing his home site. At the surface, Thom waited on Gale to shove his timecard into the clock and hear the 'clack' that officially ended the workday.

"I am exhausted," Thom said, rubbing his eyes. "All I want now is a bowl of whatever Sae is serving and a hot bath – in that order. You wanna join me for that bowl? We'll have to take separate baths though."

Gale laughed sardonically. "Noted. I'll have to pass, though. I'm heading to my old home site to do some clearing."

Thom tilted his head to the skies, then looked questioningly at Gale. "Are you sure? It's almost 8, and it'll be dark soon. I'm sure if you talk with Trolley, he'll give you the time you need to clear it."

"He probably will, but I don't want it to just sit there. Plus, I slept on the trip up. I've got a little more left in me."

Thom scrubbed his face, his eyes red with exhaustion. "Okay. Let's do it. It'll go by faster if I help."

"No." Gale shook his head resolutely. "No, you're exhausted, and you're doing more than enough by letting me stay with you. I can handle it between tonight and tomorrow night. You stick with your plan. Get some stew and rest."

"Are you sure, Gale?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Gale slapped his back a few times. "Now go. Sae's stews are nice and hot this time of night."

They parted ways just outside the mines with Thom heading toward The Hob, and Gale trudging further into the Seam to his old home site. Daylight was aging, bleeding across the horizon. Gale formulated a plan of action.

Rory has probably been stacking the small stuff. There's still enough daylight left for me to get the heavier boards and beams set to the side. I'll need to request a disposal bin from the Justice Building – I should have thought of that when this happened. If I can get the heavy stuff in a pile tonight and get word to Mom to get a disposal bin delivered tomorrow, I can load everything tomorrow after work, and sweep the –

Gale stopped abruptly, his eyes landing on the footprint of his destroyed home. Not only was the site completely cleared, it was swept clean. A large disposal bin sat on the edge of the property, and all debris – including the heaviest boards and beams – were piled inside.

"Holy..." He shut and reopened his eyes to the same sight. His jaw hung open.

Instinctively, he turned in a complete circle, looking for some explanation of how this happened. And that's when he saw him heading toward Victor's Village, almost around a bend that would have put him out of sight. A straw broom in one hand.

"Rory," Gale called.

His younger brother didn't hear. Gale jogged to catch him.

"Rory!"

The younger Hawthorne's head whipped over his shoulder, his eyebrows creased with uncertainty. Gale tried again.

"Rory! Wait up."

This time, Rory turned around, his eyes searching before they found Gale, jogging from the Seam. He waited, expressionless, until Gale reached him.

"Hey," Gale said, almost out of breath. "I just left the home site." He pointed his thumb behind him. "Do you know who cleared all the debris?"

"I did."

There was a moment's pause. Then Gale laughed. The staid look on Rory's face stopped him.

"Wait. You're serious?"

Rory nodded.

"What? How?"

Rory shrugged. "I've been working on it all day from first thing this morning until a few minutes ago. I got some old timers and some early shift miners to help this morning, and we got the bigger beams set to the side. Vick helped with the smaller stuff for a long time today before mom took him with her to the Justice Building so he could watch Posy while she worked. And this afternoon, Trolley brought the bin I asked for and helped me lift the heavy stuff."

Speechless, Gale could only stare at Rory. Before Gale could find the words to say, Rory turned and continued his walk toward Victor's Village. Without as much as a 'goodbye.'

And that's when Gale remembered. He hadn't spoken to or seen Rory since the fight with Peeta at Haymitch's house. Not only had Rory seen the worst of Gale that day, Gale had shoved his brother to the floor to get to Peeta.

With everything I've had on my mind, making amends with Rory should have been at the top of the list.

"Rory. Wait."

Rory kept walking. "I'm tired," he mumbled. "I'll talk to you later, Gale."

Gale came alongside him and placed a hand on Rory's arm. "I screwed up, Rory. Big time. And I owe you an apology for all that's happened lately – especially for the fight and for shoving you. I'm very sorry."

Rory looked like he didn't know what to say. He shifted from foot to foot, weighing Gale's words. Gale waited, his stomach growling with hunger. It gave Gale an idea.

"Rory, have you eaten?"

Rory looked quizzically at Gale. "No..."

"Great. Come with me to The Hob. Let's sit and have a bowl of stew."

"Me? Tonight?"

"Yes and yes. I worked hard today and so did you. Let me buy you a bowl of stew to say 'thanks.'"

"You don't have to thank me," Rory said quietly.

"I want to." Gale took a step closer. "And, to be honest, you would be doing me a favor. I need your help with something."

Rory's expression softened.

"Will you come, Rory? Please?"

Rory nodded. And with their backs turned to Victor's Village, they headed back to the Seam, side by side, in comfortable, promising silence.

She dreamt of Rue's smile and falling apples and watching the skies for Peeta's face amid a canon blast. The first time she woke, her body lurched to a sitting position at what she thought were screams from some dying tribute. But, it was only Posy and Vick, squealing in pursuit of one another in her mother's backyard. Katniss's eyes shot to the nightstand for the alarm clock Peeta always set but never needed.

It was gone. Just like Peeta. Gone.

She didn't want to sleep anymore, but it took too much effort to be awake. So, she rolled to her stomach on the bare mattress, buried her face in an uncovered pillow, and tried desperately to forget the day that still had hours before its end.

She drifted to sleep, her mind revisiting her dream of running to greet her father. But this time, he didn't turn into Gale, and this time, she didn't see Peeta at all. It was just her father. Finally, she had him to herself.

But when she reached him, he didn't lift her into the air like he use to. That's when she looked down and saw that she wasn't the scrawny-legged girl James Everdeen left behind. She was her present self. Her father's smile held the tenderness she'd basked in as a child.

She opened her mouth to tell him everything. There was so much she needed to tell him, starting with how much she – they – needed him. Surely, he would stay this time. He would find a way to stay, to survive. She kept trying to say "stay with me," but she could make no sound. Her father held his smile, but, in her inability to speak, Katniss's frustration grew.

Then, with his smile unwavering, he issued a stern rebuke.

Have you forgotten what I taught you? I taught you how to survive.

She stiffened, her eyes wide and pleading, her lips communicating that she would never forget what he taught her, that she knew how to survive, that she had survived and that her mother and Prim were safe. But still, she could make no sound.

Just then, there was banging. Loud, repeated banging. And behind her father, in the distance, the mine was imploding. It was enough to pull her eyes from her father's face for a moment, and when they rested on him again, his eyes reflected the fire of the explosion.

"I have to go back to the mines now," he said softly. "This is my shift."

"No!" Katniss screamed soundlessly, panicked. The banging continued.

"No, it's exploding! It'll hurt you! Please Daddy! Stay with me!"

And he was gone. Katniss stood immobilized and stricken, watching Seam families race past her toward the mines, fears for their loved ones etched on their faces. She was a child again. Trembling. Afraid. Her heart constricting in her chest.

Bang, bang, bang!

She sprang forward with a gasp, her body and breath arrested with panic. She cupped her hand to her mouth, trying to control her ragged breathing. As she climbed from the bed, her eyes landed on her and Peeta's wedding portrait. It took a few moments for Katniss to realize that someone was banging on the front door.

"Just go away." She didn't recognize the hoarseness and brokenness in her own voice.

The skies were darker now, and soon the banging ceased. Posy and Vick were indoors, and the bedroom where she sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, was heavy with shadows.

Katniss buried her head in her hands, trying to salvage what she could of her dream.

Have you forgotten what I taught you? I taught you how to survive.

She spoke those words aloud, bidding them to cement themselves amid the chaos in her mind. But her father had taught her so much… And all she'd been doing since he died was surviving. She murmured a prayer for understanding.

Minutes later, the banging at the front door resumed. Annoyed, Katniss pulled herself from the floor and stomped toward the stairs. He mother wasn't one to bang on a door. It could only be one person.

Oh for fuck's sake, Haymitch, go away! And if you want to get in that bad, use the key Peeta gave you. I know he gave you a key.

She made it halfway down the stairs, and she planned to shout at Haymitch through the door when she heard another voice.

"Katniss? It's Hazelle. Are you in there?"

Shit.

The last person she wanted to see was Hazelle, who had witnessed her meltdown at the train station earlier that morning.

"I have a key, Katniss. I'm coming in."

"Uh, umm… Just a second," she stammered. "I'll be right there."

Her feet barely touched each stair in her haste. She hastened to the kitchen where she'd left the card and the annulment; there was zero chance in hell that Haymitch cleaned up.

She wondered if it was illogical that she didn't want Hazelle to see the annulment. It had been obvious that her and Peeta's parting was 'goodbye,' not 'see you soon.' But seeing the annulment would spur too many questions and draw too many sympathetic pats on the hand. Maybe that's exactly why Hazelle was here.

To Katniss's surprise, Haymitch had picked up the papers and placed them back in the bakery box on the counter. And two of the cheese buns were missing. She rolled her eyes and reached for the box, shoving the entire thing at an awkward angle into an empty lower cabinet.

With the announcement of the demise of her marriage safely concealed, a fresh batch of weariness sank into her bones. She barely wanted to move much less open the front door. But she had no choice; somehow Hazelle had a key.

Katniss made a futile effort to smooth her wild hair. She cracked open the front door, wide enough to wedge her head through.

"Hi Hazelle. Is everything alright?" The frailty in her voice belied her attempt at an impassive facial expression.

The sides of Hazelle's face were sallow in the yellow porch light. Both brows were bent with a mixture of frustration and concern. "You weren't at your mother's house. I was afraid you weren't here either. May I come in?"

Katniss wanted to simply shut the door with Hazelle still on the other side, but she knew better. She stepped aside, widening the door and flipping on a light switch. Hazelle carried a plate of food and set it on the kitchen table.

"Do you have Haymitch's key?" Katniss asked before Hazelle could explain the reason for her visit.

"Yes." Hazelle dragged the corner of one of the chairs from the table and lowered gingerly into a seat. It must be her back, Katniss thought.

"I ran into your mother and Prim in the Seam after leaving the Justice Building this afternoon. They delivered a boy earlier today, but another woman is in labor. They probably won't be back until some time tomorrow. Maura asked me to check on you and to be sure you eat."

"Thank you," Katniss said, trying again to perfect a casual tone. She waited near the front door, hoping to hasten Hazelle's departure. "I'll eat in a little while. I'm not hungry right now."

"I'm going to sit here and watch you eat. Prim's orders."

Dammit, Prim.

Katniss was still trying to figure her way out of this when Hazelle spoke again, her tone brooking no argument. "Let's go, young lady."

Katniss trudged to the table, taking a seat and unwrapping the plate of food. Hazelle pushed her palms to the table to help herself stand. Then, she pulled two glasses from an upper cabinet and held each of them under the running faucet before rejoining Katniss at the table.

Katniss shoveled forkfuls of roasted vegetable pie into her mouth, silently admitting that it was warm and delicious but still hoping to get the meal over with as quickly as possible. She didn't realize how intently Hazelle was watching her.

"So, it's Peeta you love. Not my son."

Katniss's eyes widened on Hazelle, who locked her in a pointed, penetrating stare. Katniss swallowed, casting her gaze back to her plate.

"It's okay, Katniss," Hazelle said, her voice as calm as still waters. "I've known for a while that your heart is with your husband."

Suddenly grateful for the glass of water at her fingertips, Katniss took a long, slow sip, still avoiding looking at Hazelle. But curiosity got the better of her; how did everyone seem to know how she felt before she did?

"How?" Her question included a sheepish glance. "How did you know?"

Hazelle exhaled deeply as she shifted in her seat to accommodate her throbbing back. "When life gets hard or complicated, we tend to run to what's safe, to what makes the most sense."

"Like the woods?"

"The woods make the most sense to you, but they're not inherently safe. You need a bow and arrow to be in the woods."

Katniss watched her for an explanation.

"Katniss, when I heard about your assault, it shook me to my core. That vile man had been in my home, with my daughter. With me. And he was capable of terrible, terrible things. I couldn't help but wonder what I would do if I were in your situation. And if I were in your situation and I escaped, I would have sought safety in the place the made the most sense. My house."

Katniss squinted, puzzled. She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Katniss, after you were assaulted, you were much, much closer to reaching my house in the Seam than you were to Victor's Village. It made more sense for you to run to my house for safety. But you didn't. And you didn't because Peeta was your safety. It was Peeta you needed. Not Gale. Peeta made the most sense to your heart and to your mind."

Katniss's eyes filled with tears, and as each one dropped, she quickly brushed them away. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to cry again. She didn't want to talk about her assault or what Peeta meant to her. She just wanted to stop feeling.

Hazelle touched her hand. "Katniss, it's clear to me that Peeta loves you. Why did you let him leave if you love him too?"

"He deserves to be happy," Katniss said, momentarily shutting her eyes to stem the drops of tears. "I want him to be happy."

"And what about you? After all you've been through, don't you deserve to be happy too?"

"I deserve to be alone," Katniss retorted without thinking. "I mean… I'm better alone. It's just that… I'd gotten use to him. That's all. I have my sister and the woods, and honestly, they're all I need to be happy."

"And what about Gale?" Hazelle asked. "He still hopes that you two can be together. What does he deserve, Katniss?"

Katniss knew a conversation with Gale was long overdue. She wiped what she vowed would be the last tear from her eyes.

"The truth," Katniss said with fresh resolve. "Gale deserves the truth."

Rory had visited The Hob plenty of times during the day, a handholding chain with his mother and Vick when they were younger. The daytime Hob was bright, like the transparent sunlight that filtered through the holes in the roof and the cracked window panes. The Hob bustled in daylight, a city of bartering and gossiping and vendors determining an item's worth by holding it in the air for clearer inspection.

The Hob at night was its alter ego. Rory had only heard of it – dreamt of it, even, when his father and brother returned some evenings with stories and code words and inside jokes.

Rory used his imagination to fill in the details. Bursts of raucous, table-slapping laughter to the backdrop of Old Man Needham's festal strumming on his fiddle. Yellowed bulbs of waning light dangling between booths. A few 'loose women' at shift change, as his mother would say, looking for miners capable of getting a 'second wind' despite the grueling day's work. Rory imagined a night time scene so lively that it rivaled the brilliance of what the day time offered.

As it turned out, his imagination wasn't far off. The bulbs, never needed in daylight, blinked on and off, producing spasms of yellow light. There wasn't the chorus of laughter, but there was a choir of male voices, a symphony of conversation, grumbling, joking, and an occasional hearty laugh. Old Man Needham wasn't there, so the voices provided the only soundtrack. And there were women – servers – who cleared table when a spoon clanked with finality against an empty stew bowl.

Rory stole a glance at Gale. Never in a million years did he expect Gale to invite him to The Hob tonight. Rory had hoped that when he was older, he and Gale could have the relationship that Gale and their father had. And, going to The Hob together seemed integral to that.

They got their bowls of stew and sat at the table with Thom and another miner. Both were finishing their meals. They soon left, scrubbing their hands across their faces in exhaustion. Rory and Gale ate in silence for several minutes, Sae's savory wild dog stew coating his tongue.

"Thank you again for clearing our home site," Gale finally said. "You have no idea how much you've helped me out."

"It's alright," Rory shrugged. Curiosity was getting the better of him.

"You said you needed my help," Rory began. "With what?"

Gale took a long look at Rory, then sat back in his chair. "Love."

Rory paused in mid-lift of his spoon to his lips. "…What?"

Gale cleared his throat. "President Snow made Katniss marry Peeta. They're friends and he has a thing for her, but she and I want to be together. And now that Snow is dead, we can. But this has been hard for Katniss, and she's been confused, and… I guess what I'm trying to say is that I need some tips on how to let Katniss know that I want us to be together. I've told her, but… I feel like I need to show her, and I can't come up with any ideas."

Rory blinked in disbelief. He never expected those words to come from Gale's lips. "Why me?" Rory managed to ask.

Gale grinned. "Seriously? You've got a good little romance going with Prim. Do you think I haven't noticed?"

Rory lowered his head, a blush warming his cheeks, a smile quivering on his lips.

"Obviously, you're doing something right," Gale continued. "I on the other hand, have never had a real relationship. So, what do you think I should do?"

Whatever anger Rory had toward Gale was long gone. He was too focused on the fact that he was better at something than Gale, and Gale needed his help. But, he didn't know what to say. He reflected for a few quiet moments.

"Well, I can't afford to give Prim what she wants, so I try to give her something she needs."

Gale cocked his head, his question in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Rory shrugged, "She wants a slice of strawberry shortcake whenever she can get it. I can't give that to her. But, our books are heavy, and she needs me to carry them for her, so I do that. Or, if she is nervous about a test, she needs me to make her laugh to distract her. Things like that. I try to give her what she needs."

Gale plopped back in his chair, stunned by Rory's response. He didn't expect Rory to say anything useful; his main goal was to get back on Rory's good side. But his brother's words were churning in his head.

"Give her what she needs," Gale said aloud, trying to figure out what that could be. "Give her what she needs," Gale said again. He still had no idea what that could be, but at least it was a start. He nodded his approval at Rory who smiled broadly when Gale added, "Best little brother ever."

More than an hour later, Gale walked Rory through the gates of Victor's Village, nightfall having fully set in. They'd bonded over talk of girls and mining, and Gale had even shared funny stories from their father, Emory. Rory basked in the attention he received from Gale, and becoming his older brother's confidant became Rory's goal.

As they approached, they saw the porch light burning at Maura's house, and a slender figure with arms tightly wrapped around her, standing on the porch. Gale and Rory exchanged knowing glances. Their mother was worried about Rory's whereabouts.

She heard their footsteps, her expression changing from worry to relief to steely annoyance.

"Where have you been, Rory? I have been worried sick. You two had better have a good explanation."

"It's my fault, mom," Gale said. "Rory was on his way, and I asked him to go with me to The Hob for a bowl."

Hazelle stared at them, dumbfounded. "Just come inside," she said, spinning on her heels and heading toward the front door.

"I don't want to cause any trouble," Gale said. Hazelle turned around. "I just wanted to walk Rory back and bring you some of my pay. For what you and the kids need."

Hazelle released her frustration with a long exhale. "We're the only ones here. Come in."

Inside the door, the house was quiet and smelled like roasted vegetables and warm dough.

"Sorry to worry you, mom," Gale said, receiving her embrace after she hugged Rory and sent him upstairs to get ready for bed. "Are the kids still up?"

"Vick and Posy are in bed. They're wiped out. How have you been? I can tell you just got in from work."

Gale rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, and I'm really dirty." He reached in his pocket and handed most of his coins to his mother, who accepted them with thanks.

She exhaled again, taking a long look at Gale. "Are you eating? Is everything alright at Thom's?"

Gale smiled. "I'm fine, mom. All is well. Rory has done an amazing job at the home site, so that's a huge help. Have you had help with the Justice Building?"

Hazelle shook her head. "I've been able to handle the Justice Building alone."

"And Vick and Posy?"

"They went with me today. Fortunately, Madge gave them some of her old coloring books, so they were occupied while I worked. Oh! That reminds me."

Hazelle walked into the kitchen and returned with the printed listings. "Madge left these for you today. They're homes for sale or rent in 12."

Gale flipped through the listings. There were only a couple of Seam vacancies, and those homes were much smaller in square footage than what his family had. He didn't bother to look at the Merchant home listings.

"Thanks mom, I'll do my best to get you all out of here as soon as possible."

Just then, small footsteps pounded the stairs.

"Gale!" Posy said, sleepy but excited as she bounded to her brother. He kneeled to come face to face with her.

"Hey! I'd pick you up, but I'm a filthy mess. How's my Posy?"

"Good," she nodded. "I colored pictures today from Ms. Madge's book. Well, she gave the books to me and Vick, so they're ours now."

Gale smiled. "Good. And what else did you do today."

"Ummm… Mommy, was it today that I said goodbye to Peeta?"

Hazelle stiffened. She had no intention of telling Gale. Not yet. But Gale's eyes had already shot to Hazelle wild with inquiry.

"Yes, honey. That was this morning."

"Did he leave for training in 2?"

Hazelle opened her mouth to find the words, but Posy responded sooner.

"Nope. He said goodbye. Katniss came running and told him goodbye too. Peeta's daddy said it was the most un-ness-cee-serwy breakup in history."

Hazelle heaved a sigh. "Okay, go on back to bed, Posy. You need to rest."

"Was that Rory I heard upstairs? I wanna show him my picture. It's not finished yet, Gale. I'll show you too when it's finished. Okay?"

"Okay, Pose," Gale said. But his mind was swirling with this new revelation. He asked about it as soon as Posy was out of sight.

"Mom. What happened? Did Peeta leave?"

Hazelle nodded. "This morning on the train."

"So, he's not coming back? He left for good?"

"It seems so," Hazelle said.

Gale grabbed Hazelle in a bear hug. She squeaked in surprise.

"Gale, I wouldn't get too excited—"

"Mom, don't you know what this means? It means she choose me. She loves me! She wants to be with me, not Peeta."

"Gale, that's not what it means -"

"Mom, I know Katniss. She would never have let Peeta go if she loved him. And the only way Peeta would leave her is if she told him she didn't love him. Don't you see? We're a free Panem, I'm in line for a great job, Peeta is gone, and Katniss and I can finally be together."

Hazelle tried again. "Katniss was pretty upset that Peeta left, Gale. I don't know what happened between them, but she still wants to be with him and–"

"Mom, stop!"

Hazelle stilled at his tone.

"Stop trying to ruin things for me and Katniss."

Hazelle looked completely astonished. "I'm not trying to –"

"If I didn't listen to you when she was assaulted, if I went to her then, she and I would be closer today. But you told me she needed Peeta, and against my better judgment, I listened to you. And that only confused her about who she wanted in her life. I should have been there for her then, and I wasn't. Now, I won't let you or anyone else stop me. Katniss and I belong together, and the mere fact that Peeta is gone tells me that she knows it too."

Hazelle nodded in agreement with her silence on the matter, not in agreement with Gale.

"Do what you think is best," she conceded with palms lifted in surrender. "Just one thing I ask. Don't do anything tonight. It's been a long day. Let her rest. Let her come to you. And listen when she speaks. Okay?"

"Okay," Gale said distractedly, halfway out the door, a plan formulating in his mind.

Give her what she needs. He glanced at the list of homes rolled in his hand. I think I know exactly what she needs.

Peeta's alarm sounded at 6:10 p.m. He didn't want to sleep too long because he still needed to call his father to let the elder Mellark know he'd arrived in District 2.

He decided to shower first. He set his prostheses in the linen closet in the bathroom, leaning the lighter weight appendage he used for sleeping beside the bench outside the shower door.

Like his sandwich, his shower was amazing. The shower head, he quickly discovered, had various settings that adjusted water pressure and speed. Thanks to the length of the metal hose attached to the shower head, Peeta could sit comfortably on the spacious shower ledge with the shower head in hand.

He emerged with relaxed muscles, but his home was entirely too quiet. He guessed that wood frogs wouldn't frequent this part of the nation, and he made a mental note to buy a radio or two.

Peeta was heading to the phone in the kitchen to call his father, when he detoured to check out his loft space. He climbed the stairs, rounded the corner, and froze, his jaw going slack.

Awaiting him was a collection of blank canvases of varying sizes, two easels, a collection of paint brushes, and tubes of paint in every color imaginable. He squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them, certain that he must have imagined it all. He hadn't.

On one easel was a red bow and an announcement-style note card. His name was written on the card in loopy cursive.

Peeta –

Surprise! Welcome to the rebuild effort and to District 2. I hope you enjoy these art supplies, and I hope they help this place feel more like home.

From this loft, you have a great view of our skyline and great natural light.

Peeta looked up and saw the trio of windows.

I hope you take these blank canvases and bring something amazing to life, just like we will do with the rebuild of Panem.

- Jules

For a few moments, he couldn't move. Then, a slow-spreading smile formed as he tapped the notecard to his lips. He walked downstairs to the number on the notepad on the console table. He had another call to make before calling his father.

It rang twice.

"Hello Jules?"

Daniel Mellark was in his recliner, watching the wall clock when he dozed off. That was around 9:22 pm. When the ringing phone woke him, his eyes instantly flashed to the clock. 10:40 p.m.

He cleared his throat, but his "Hello" was still raspy from sleep.

"Hi Dad. Did I wake you?"

"Peeta," Daniel said with joy. He sat up straighter in his recliner. "No, I'm just here waiting on your call. How are you, son?"

"I'm doing much better than I thought I'd be doing, dad." Peeta gave Daniel an abridged version of his day, including the art supplies he discovered on his loft.

"I've never experienced such kindness from complete strangers before. Meeting Gaige and Antonia, and Jules… I never would have expected that."

Daniel beamed on the other end. "I am so happy to hear that, son. So happy. You deserve all the kindness in the world."

"I invited Jules over for a sandwich, just to say 'thank you.' She said she hadn't eaten dinner yet. She should be here in about ten minutes."

"Good," Daniel said. "And thank her from me as well. Tell her if she's ever in District 12, I'd love to return the kindness. The same goes for the young man you met on the train, and the other young lady from the Capitol. If you see them again."

Peeta smiled over his father's doting.

"So, how's everyone there?"

"Oh, we're all doing well. We miss you already," Daniel said. He told Peeta that he enjoyed meeting Posy – whom he dubbed a firebrand – and that they'd had a busy day at the bakery. He stopped short of mentioning Katniss's tearful reaction to the train leaving the station. Peeta was in such good spirits that Daniel didn't want to dampen his mood.

But Peeta's mind had already flipped back to what the conductor said about Katniss not wanting to let him go. And instantly, he saw her running with all her might to reach him at the District 12 station only to tell him 'goodbye.'

"Dad… Did Katniss say anything after I left?"

Daniel pulled a long row of air through his nose and quietly exhaled. "No son. She didn't. But she became pretty emotional as the train pulled away."

Peeta listened with pinched brows. He reminded himself that she didn't love him.

"She'll miss me. I'm her friend. That's all."

Daniel toyed with telling Peeta that he sensed Katniss was feeling something more – something contrary to what Peeta said she'd told him a few nights before. But Daniel chose to keep silent. His son had moved clear across the country to escape his feelings for Katniss; there was no point in introducing what could be false hope.

"I was just wondering," Peeta continued with a shrug of his shoulders. "I won't ask about Katniss again. Now that Snow is dead, we're as safe as we've ever been. I made Haymitch promise to look out for her, and she has someone in her life. I need to move on."

"I understand, son. If you ever need to talk – about anything – I'm here to listen. Oh, by the way, before I forget, Thatch and Natalie said to check the inside zipper of your suitcase. They left a surprise there for you."

Peeta chuckled. "Okay, I'll take a look." Sudden sadness set in with hearing his father's voice on the phone and not in person. "I already miss you all. Tell everyone I said 'hello.' I'll call again in a few days."

They ended the call with "love you," and Peeta went to his suitcase to find the gift from Natalie and Thatch. He discovered four oversized freedom cookies in a plastic bag, each cookie iced with part of the message: "We'll Miss You Peeta!" Knowing the precision of Thatch's work, it looked as if Natalie iced them herself.

Peeta grinned, but there was still sadness to unpack like the clothes in his suitcase. He didn't have long to ponder; a doorbell he didn't' know he had was ringing. She was here.

She must have stood outside his apartment for five minutes before she rang the doorbell. Admittedly, she was a few minutes earlier than the 6:45 p.m., time he'd given her, but time wasn't the reason she waited.

She was nervous. Not nervous like going into a dangerous situation nervous. More like giddy nervous, that feeling from being around someone who makes you hyper aware of your every action because you desperately want to make a good impression. Peeta did that to her.

She drew a deep breath. Jules had mentally prepared herself for meeting Peeta in person. He was arriving earlier than everyone else due to the sudden and mysterious demise of his marriage to Katniss. And she knew he would carry more than luggage with him from District 12. So, she'd made sure to semi-stock his fridge – he did have the longest commute of everyone heading to District 2 for training and she didn't want him to have to worry about food on the day of his arrival. And, she ordered the Gold Standard Artist's Package from a craft exchange, arranging the supplies in his loft herself. Given whatever he was going through, she hoped it would be a source of inspiration.

But Jules never expected his phone call. His offer to join him for dinner. At best, she thought he'd thank her the next time their paths crossed.

And so here she was, outside of unit 22, ordering herself to 'pull it together.' All her mental preparation had abandoned her when she found him asleep on the train. When she saw his golden eyelashes sparkling in the sunlight, his rugged jaw, his startled, crystal blue eyes when they opened to find her waking him. She'd wanted to flop into the empty seat next to his, just to give her knees a moment to regain their strength. But she'd held it together and remained pleasant and professional.

Pleasant and professional. Pleasant and professional. You can do this Jules. Pleasant and professional.

She rang the doorbell and heard his footsteps approaching the door. And she drew a deep, shaky breath, hoping one last mantra would bury her nerves until she was back in the privacy of her own unit.

Peeta was smiling. It had been a long day, but the nap, shower, discovery of the art supplies, conversation with his father, and surprise cookies from Natalie and Thatch had revived him. He arranged the cookies on a paper plate and set them on the counter just as the doorbell rang.

But as soon as he pulled open the door and laid eyes on Jules, his smile faltered. Her hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun. She wore a pale pink, oversized sweater that reached just past her hips and bared a peek of one shoulder, and her black leggings adapted to her slender, feminine curves. Her entire look was simple and understated – something comfortable for winding down at the end of the day. Yet, she managed to make it look so incredibly…

Beautiful. She is absolutely –

And suddenly, Katniss's voice was in Peeta's head, wroth with accusations about his attraction to Jules. Attraction that Katniss assumed was powerful enough to end their marriage. Anger seized him, and he turned abruptly from the door, leaving Jules standing on the other side. He was almost in the kitchen when he mumbled a terse "Come in," over his shoulder.

Jules froze at the sudden change in his demeanor. She quietly shut the door behind her and took tentative steps toward the kitchen island. Peeta was on the other side, tossing bread, deli meat, and produce onto the countertop. She wrapped both arms around her waist, her natural pose when she felt uncomfortable or defensive. Dalton had once pointed that out.

"Thanks for the invite," she said, trying to maintain some levity in her voice. But she was speaking to his back; Peeta had completely tuned her out. With palms flat on the countertop and arms locked, tried to refocus. Be kept reliving Katniss's scream of "Not real!" to his face. He could feel himself unraveling.

This dinner invite was a stupid, stupid idea, he berated himself. You haven't processed the past 72 hours, and you need to be alone. You need to handle your pain in private.

"Peeta?" She stood at a barstool, her eyes questioning him.

Peeta tried to compose himself, but he felt like he'd already started to implode. Just make the damn sandwich and ask her to leave. Tell her you're not feeling well or you're tired or something. Just hold it together for a few more minutes.

"Yeah, so I have, umm, deli meat and. Bread. And vegetables. You know what I have. What kind of sandwich… What do you... Just… Just tell me what you want, Jules, and I'll make it."

Every ounce of logic within her told her to recuse herself, to make up an excuse and leave. But she realized what was happening. Peeta had just lost the love of his life, and the realization was sinking in. Against her better judgment, she decided to stay, to try and draw him from the emotional ledge he was teetering on.

"Peeta." She said his name so strongly that his head whirled around, his tormented eyes landing on hers. "Tell me what happened."

For a moment, Peeta just stared at her in stunned silence. Then, he ran a hand roughly down his face and shook his head distractedly.

What the hell, Peeta! He told himself. You're supposed to be guarded, to handle this in private. Can't you hold it together for another 5 minutes?!

Jules watched cautiously, awaiting his response. After a few silent moments where Peeta seemed to be silently grappling with himself, Jules decided to follow her gut instincts. This would be uncomfortable, and she had no plans of ever mentioning it, but he needed the shock. Maybe she did too.

"Everything Johanna said about my feelings for you is true, Peeta."

Now she had his full attention, and his widened eyes locked on hers. She mustered her courage and held his gaze.

"But here's the reality. Your marriage has just ended. And you've changed careers and left your family and your home and moved clear across the nation to start a new life. Any one of these things can be super stressful and scary and overwhelming."

Peeta's eyes watered.

"So let's agree to forget everything else. Completely. You need a friend right now, and more than anything else," her tone softened, "I want to be your friend because I'm familiar with pain, and loss, and having to start over. I have no hidden agenda or ulterior motives. I promise I don't. So, will you let me in, Peeta? Will you let me be your friend?"

He fell silent for several moments. Then, he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as warm tears slipped down his face. "I tried so hard," he murmured, the words catching in his throat. "I love her so much, Jules."

Jules's own eyes filled with tears, and she rounded the island to where he stood. "I'm a hugger, Peeta, and I think you need one. Can I give you a hug?"

He nodded, and she embraced him chastely so their chests did not touch. He lowered his head to her bare shoulder and silently and briefly wept, while she told him that everything would be okay. It was what he'd done for Katniss time and again, and he didn't know how desperately he needed gentle arms to do it for him.

"I'm sorry." He pulled away with downcast eyes and accepted the napkin she offered. "This is tearing my heart out."

"Come. Let's sit down. Let's go to the couch. I'll grab some water."

As he made his way to the living room, he noticed the back of her hand brushing tears from underneath both eyes as she pulled two bottles of water from the fridge. She was crying with him, sharing his pain. For as long as he lived, he vowed to never forget that moment.

She joined him on the couch, handed him the bottle of water.

"You can say whatever you need to say, Peeta. It will stay in this room. I promise to never repeat it."

He saw no hint of deceit in her eyes. He told her of his longstanding love for Katniss, their mandated marriage from President Snow, a synopsis of Katniss's relationship with Gale, and what happened after Snow's death. He included Katniss's anger over his reaction to seeing Jules for the first time, her words of "Not real" in their bedroom, and their parting moments earlier that day on the District 12 train platform.

Jules looked crestfallen. "Peeta, this was all a big misunderstanding. Just say the word, and I'll call Katniss and talk to her. It's not too late to make her see that your heart belongs to her. She was just upset. I'm sure she didn't mean what she said."

Peeta shook his head in refusal.

"Or, you can invite her here to 2 to stay with you for a few days until her rebuild work begins in 12," Jules implored. "It'll get her here in 2 with you. And you won't have to worry about the details; I'll take care of everything. Maybe if you two had a different atmosphere, you could talk things through and figure things out."

Again, Peeta silently said 'no.'

"Or, you can go home for now and work things out with Katniss," Jules tried again. "I'll hold the job for you, and I'll work everything out with your training. You'll catch on quickly, and I can send you home with the training manual so you can do some reading on –"

"Jules." His voice was resolute. She looked to him with mournful eyes.

"There's no point." He managed a self-deprecating smile. "Katniss doesn't love me. If she did she wouldn't have let go. She never lets go of those she loves. Her heart simply isn't mine."

He turned his gaze to the paper towel in his hands. "Gale was right. The first opportunity she had to walk away, she took it." He drew a shaky breath. "And you know what? I'm proud of her for going after the person her heart wants. Katniss is a fighter. Even when it hurts, she fights for the people she loves, and, like I said, she doesn't let go."

Jules sat in quiet defeat. Peeta seemed like such a good person; she hated to see him so unhappy, especially when she herself was connected to his pain.

"Jules."

She looked at him.

"I don't want you to take responsibility for any of this. That's not why I told you. None of this is has anything to do with you."

She must have looked uncertain.

"Okay?" Peeta pressed. "I'll feel worse if you take this to heart. That's not how I want to start our friendship."

His tired smile maneuvered a smile from her lips, and she nodded in agreement.

"Now," he announced as he stood from the couch and extended a hand to help her up. "Let me make you a sandwich without the threat of tears."

"That's my favorite kind," she quipped.

He chuckled, still holding on to her hand. Now, it was somehow the most natural feeling in the world.

"I feel like I've known you for a thousand years, Jules. And I'll never forget all you did for me today. Thank you for letting me share something so difficult and personal with you. I feel much better now that I've finally let it out."

"Everything is gonna be alright, Peeta," she said with quiet confidence. "You'll see."

"I do have one favor to ask of you."

Peeta's eyes were trained on the pastrami-turkey-ham sandwich he was making for Jules on his kitchen island. She sat on a barstool on the other side of the island, facing him.

"Name it."

"Keep me busy. I mean really busy." He reached for a sliced tomato and carefully lowered it atop a mound of pastrami on one half of the sandwich. "I know you can't be in charge of me 24 hours a day, but if you could give me something to do every day to shave off several hours, I would greatly appreciate it."

Jules breathed a short laugh. "I don't think that'll be a problem. So far, you and I are the only two here, and I've been tasked with getting all the technology and logistics set up in the training center. I could use your help every day leading up to the start of training."

"Perfect," Peeta nodded. "I'm there."

"We can get started on Monday. And tomorrow, I can show you around Commerce Row. It's where all the shops are located in the Warehouse District."

"That'll be great. I need to learn my way around the area."

He reached for a knife, bending to come eye-level with the countertop. With concentration, he pressed the flat of the knife to one side of the sandwich and carefully flipped it to lay on top of the other half.

His eyes were back on her, the knife poised in his hand. "Sliced or whole?"

"Sliced, please. And by the way, Finnick and Annie and Mags arrive on Wednesday from District 4. I could use your help with moving them in. Well, Finn and Annie only have a few suitcases, but Mags is having several boxes and a couple of chests shipped. Comforts of home."

"Sure." Peeta sawed diagonally across the sandwich. "Viola." Peeta guided the plate across the island to Jules. "Your very own hand-crafted sandwich."

She turned the plate, inspecting the sandwich. "This almost looks too good to eat… Is there anything I can do to help while you make yours?"

"Umm… yeah. You can grab some grapes and carrot sticks from the fridge. We already have water in the living room. And here are some cookies from our bakery. I'd like for you to try them."

Jules rounded the counter, sliding past Peeta to get to the sink where she washed her hands. Then, she went to the refrigerator and stacked each plate with carrot sticks and grapes. Peeta quickly assembled his sandwich, not putting nearly as much precision into his. Soon, they were carrying their plates to the dining table and the plates with the fruit and vegetables and the cookies to the dining table.

Jules hesitated. "Would you mind terribly if we ate in the living room? Dining tables are so formal. I usually sit on the living room floor."

Peeta shrugged. "Lead the way to the floor."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he grinned.

They set their plates on the coffee table and lowered to the carpet, leaning their backs against the couch.

"Hmm," Peeta nodded approvingly. "This whole floor dining thing isn't half bad."

"Oh, it's the best. And wait until you get a television in here. You'll never go back to sitting at a dining table again."

"What I really need is a radio," Peeta said. "Two actually. One for the kitchen and one for my room."

"Oh! I almost forgot."

Jules sprang from the floor and headed to the wood and metal bookshelf where she retrieved a small remote and a glossy rectangular notecard. She brought them to Peeta.

"You have digital immersion audio, my friend. It's in every unit. All you have to do is select a pre-set station. There are about 45 presets, and they're organized by types of music. You can even customize your own playlists and control your music room by room. Or you can set it to play the same station throughout your unit."

"Really."

Peeta pushed a red 'On/Off' button. And the mellow sounds of a percussion-heavy tune with a man's tenor danced through the air.

She leaned closer to see the notecard. "See? These are the stations you have, and they're all interruption free. And would you believe Mags prompted all this? The 80-year-old loves for music to play in her home at all times. Finnick request it be added to her unit as we were renovating these buildings in hopes of a successful rebellion. It made more sense economically to wire the entire complex with what we'd pay for to wire one unit."

"This. Is. Amazing!" Peeta gushed. "So all I do is…" Peeta glanced at the notecard and hit another button, and faster music played. He soon found a station called Upbeat Instrumentals, with an energetic array of horns, drums, and piano keys. He cocked an eye brow at Jules for approval and she nodded.

"Jazz," she said. "It's one of my favorites. So, I take it you like music?"

"I love music. When I was little, my dad and my brothers and I would dance around the house on Sunday afternoons to songs from the before the Dark Days that he had on discs." He stopped short of mentioning his living room dances with Katniss, chewing on a carrot stick instead.

Jules's jaw dropped. "There's a dance club here called Sill, and on Friday nights, they only play music from before the Dark Days. I go sometimes."

"What?" Peeta asked in disbelief. "Were they open when Snow was alive? We hid all our music."

"They've been open for years. Like I said, outside of the Capitol, District 2 was his favorite."

"Well District 12 was his least favorite," Peeta said. "It must be nice coming from a district that had the Capitol's favor."

"Oh, I'm not from 2." She popped a grape into her mouth. I moved here two years ago."

"Really," Peeta said with interest. "Where are you from?"

"District 1."

Peeta's brows lifted. "That's the wealthiest district in all of Panem. You must have given up a lot to be a part of the rebellion, to move here at age what… 15?"

She nodded, but from the look in her eyes, she was momentarily transported to another place. She returned with a gentle smile. "It was all worth it. Now, we're a free Panem." She motioned to her plate. "Now, if I can just figure out how to make a sandwich that looks this good."

Peeta grinned. "Shall we eat?"

"Absolutely." With perfectly trimmed and polished mauve-colored fingernails, Jules gathered half of the sandwich with both hands. Peeta couldn't resist watching as she took her first bite. Her eyelids lowered, and she hummed with satisfaction.

"Oh my goodness," she mumbled over a mouthful, her hand gingerly shielding her lips as she chewed. "Peeta this is incredible."

His smile widened. "You like it?"

"Hell no. I love it." She took a sip of water. "How did you do this? Whenever I make a sandwich, it tastes like… like I made it."

Peeta chuckled as he chewed. "So, I'm guessing you don't cook?"

"It's best for all involved if I don't." She inhaled happily as she chewed. "And all I had planned for tonight was trail mix."

"Seriously?" Peeta couldn't hide the amusement in his voice.

She nodded, smiling as she took another bite.

"Then let's consider tonight's sandwich an appetizer. I will make you a hot meal to continue this 'thank you dinner.'"

She took a sip of water. "As much as I want to be a lady and say 'Oh, Peeta, that's not necessary,' if your sandwiches are this good, I'll be here for a cooked meal."

They laughed. And Peeta memorized the honesty in her eyes and the melody in her voice. They sat on the living room floor and talked long after their last bites of food and second bottles of water. Theirs was a rare combination of ease and humor and effortless conversation, and the more they talked, the more they wanted to.

Hours passed before they noticed.

It was Sunday morning, late enough for the skies to have partially woken but early enough for most of District 12 to still be asleep.

Maura and Prim returned to a slumbering house, and the elder Everdeen sent her daughter to bed with a tight hug and a kiss to her forehead. After 24 combined hours of labor, they both desperately needed rest. And, the dull ache pulsing down the curve of Maura's neck and shoulders begged for the grip of skilled hands.

As usual, she thought of him.

James Everdeen had been the love of her life. There was no doubt about it. But Maura would be lying to herself if she said she didn't remember the strength and skill in Daniel Mellark's hands – more than two decades after he last touched her.

She'd thought of Daniel four nights ago, when she watched his youngest son pull her oldest daughter into a tight embrace in front of the kitchen sink. Maura had spied the total contentment on Katniss's face while Peeta held her, and Maura knew this Mellark boy had gotten his girl.

Then, everything changed overnight. Panem's government was overthrown, and President Snow was assassinated. Peeta and Gale exchanged blows at Haymitch's house. Katniss emerged from the woods looking distraught, and without explanation, Katniss continued to sleep in Maura's guest bedroom instead of returning home. And yesterday morning, Peeta knocked on Maura's door to say 'goodbye' and leave parting gifts. His words were positive and carefully placed, but his eyes were somber.

None of it made sense. Katniss recently admitted to her mother that she loved Peeta, and anyone with eyes could see how Peeta felt about his wife. Their separation made even less sense when Maura remembered how Katniss raced to the train station before the locomotive came to carry Peeta out of her life.

From the corner of her eye, Maura saw a note on the kitchen counter.

Maura –

I checked on Katniss. She cleaned her plate and chose to sleep at her house next door. She's sadder than she's willing to admit, and she wanted to be alone. There are meals for you and Prim in the refrigerator. We'll keep the house quiet so you both can rest once you return home. Let me know if there's anything else we can do.

Hazelle

Maura hele the notecard as her weary mind tried to piece together a cogent response. She rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers and found a pen.

I appreciate everything, Hazelle. I'm heading next door to check on Katniss; Primrose is asleep upstairs. I may fall sleep next door for a few hours, but I'll be back soon. If anyone needs me, please let me know.

Maura

She placed her medicine bag in the coat closet and locked the front door behind her. More than she needed to sleep, Maura needed to be present as a mother. She owed that to her girls. Especially Katniss.

Maura heard the knocking in her dreams before she realized someone was at the door. She freed herself from the blanket on Katniss's couch, her eyes immediately landing on the wall clock.

It's been five hours already?

Earlier, when she reached the Mellark home, Katniss was already gone, probably for the woods. Maura laid on the couch and slept. She wanted to be there when Katniss returned. There was another knock.

Katniss has a key, so she wouldn't knock, Maura reasoned sleepily. Well, maybe she shot a buck and needs me to open the door. But wait a minute. She doesn't know I'm here.

Maura had almost reached the door when it flew open. It was a face she didn't expect to see. "Dan," she gasped, her hand resting on her chest. "You scared me."

He looked equally stunned; then came his genial smile and the telltale red blush on his neck. "You scared me," he joked. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting on Katniss to get back from the woods. What are you doing here?"

"Peeta asked me to stop by and pick up his paintings from the back porch. We're going to hang them in the bakery."

"Oh," Maura smiled sheepishly. "That's nice. Why did you knock?"

"Just in case. I didn't want to alarm Katniss if she were here." There was an awkward pause. "Well I'm sorta already in, but can I come in?"

"Yes, of course." Maura stepped aside and let Daniel enter.

He headed through the living room. "How have you been, Maura?"

She smiled politely, her mind traveling back a day when he never called her by her first name. It was always 'MK.'

"I've been doing well. And you?"

"Can't complain," he said. She watched him emerge from the back porch with one large painting of a beautiful sunset. He propped it by the front door, then went back for the other.

"Dan?"

"Yeah." He kept walking and soon reappeared with the other, smaller painting.

"Do you know what happened between Peeta and Katniss? Why Peeta left so abruptly? I've been delivering babies, and I'm completely in the dark."

Daniel pursed his lips. He wanted to say it was the same thing that happens every so often. Peeta got his hopes up for something real with Katniss, and she crushed him. Thankfully, for the last time.

"He didn't have a reason to stay after what Katniss told him."

Maura's eyes narrowed. "What? What did Katniss say to him?"

"That she didn't love him. She loves the other guy, Gale. Peeta said she made that perfectly clear."

Maura looked as if her head were spinning. She didn't want to say too much and risk betraying Katniss's trust. "Are you sure?"

"Of my son's latest heartbreak? Yeah, I'm sure."

Maura detected the annoyance in his voice, and she felt defensive. "I don't think Peeta's the only one with a broken heart, Dan. I think this has been tough on both of them. And maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe they could have talked things over, but Peeta left so fast that he left no room for reconciliation."

"Well, that's what happens when the love of your life choses another guy over you. You move on as fast as you can."

Maura swallowed hard, their eyes locked in a moment of rawness and honesty. "We're not talking about our kids anymore, are we?"

Daniel diverted his gaze. "I guess not."

She looked at him through pained eyes. "I fell for him so quick and so hard, Dan. It was all so unexpected and –"

Daniel lifted his hand, a weak smile on his lips. "After all these years, you don't have to explain now. You did the right thing for you, and I did the right thing for me."

Maura wrapped her arms around her waist. A nagging question she'd dismissed long ago resurfaced.

"Did you really care about me? You married her so quick…"

He looked surprised. "Of course, I cared about you."

"Well I guess your love for Nance was just as instant as my love for James."

"I learned to love her," he said without a hint of apology. "And she has given me three of the most amazing sons a man could ask for."

Maura's close-lipped smile was full of agreement.

"And you didn't do so bad yourself." His smile was like an olive branch.

"No, I didn't."

"Well, I'd better be on my way. It's nice to see you, Maura. Please tell Katniss that I have a taste for squirrel stew, so if she wants to trade, she should come by the bakery sometimes."

"Thanks Dan. I will."

Then he exited, leaving Maura with more questions than she had before.

Saturday turned out to be a good day. There was Gaige, and the stranger's thoughtfulness made him and Peeta friends by the time they reached the Capitol. Peeta also thought fondly of Tini's enthusiasm.

And then there was Jules. Her smile and kindness and wit had proven to be the biggest surprise. Peeta walked her home late that night and returned to his unit, laying across the bed in exhaustion.

He woke in the middle of the night, half asleep and reaching for his wife, for the reality he thought could be theirs. He saw her eyes in the moonlight, heard her plea that she was so hungry, that she wanted him. Every ounce of his being craved her, and his desire turned into his throbbing need for release. He primed himself with visions of pulling her tank top over her head, tugging her shorts from her lithe frame, and claiming every inch of her body as his. And he felt overrun by shame when he came with Katniss's name on his lips and his unrequited love dripping over his hand.

So he showered. And unpacked. And dabbled in the various colors of some of his paints. And tried to busy himself in his new home until 10 a.m., when he was supposed to meet Jules in the lobby for their walk to Commerce Row.

He made it downstairs at 10:01, not accounting for the time to wait for the elevator. Jules leaned against the front desk; she wore a navy drawstring dress and black flats, and her was pulled into a high ponytail. Her smile widened Peeta's. As he approached, a woman emerged from the back office.

"Peeta, this is Merritt Lashley. Merritt Lashley, Peeta Mellark."

Merritt was probably in her early thirties, round-faced with wispy brown bangs and hair that hung to her shoulders. Her smile was fueled with excitement, but her eyes carried a thin watery film, so it always looked like she just finished a good cry.

They greeted one another warmly, Peeta thanking her for grocery shopping on his behalf.

"My pleasure," Merritt gushed. "We're so happy you're here! This is an exciting time for Panem, isn't it?"

"Yes," Peeta nodded. "It truly is an exciting time. By the way, I want to repay the kindness to you and Jules. What do you ladies like? Muffins, scones, brownies…"

"I love scones," Merritt said.

"And I'll eat anything," Jules grinned.

Peeta laughed. "Scones it is. I will make sure I bring a plate of warm scones to the front desk each morning this week."

Merritt and Jules burst into cheers and applause, prompting another laugh from Peeta.

"So where are you two off to today?"

"I am taking Peeta on a tour of Commerce Row so he knows were to buy more flour for our scones."

"Right," Peeta agreed. "More flour."

"Well it's a beautiful, warm and breezy day. Excellent weather for May 1st."

Peeta's smile would have dropped if he weren't mindful to hold it in place. It's May 1st. Katniss's birthday is in one week. She wanted a picnic…

"We'd better get going then," Jules said. She and Peeta parted ways with Merritt and headed out the door.

The sunlight was dazzling, causing them to squint when they first stepped outdoors. Their eyes soon adjusted, the warmth of the sun coating their arms.

"Do you have a favorite season?"

Peeta heard Jules's question, but he was still stuck in thoughts about Katniss's birthday. It took him a moment to respond.

"Umm… No, not really. I just like seasons of balance, when it's not too hot and not too cold. How about you?"

"Warm but not miserable. But it too hot around here. So, aside from the beaches of District 4, this is my ideal climate."

As they walked, they talked about scones and something called creamed fruit drinks that Jules swore by.

"By the way, do you know how to type, Peeta?"

"I don't," Peeta admitted. "I can use a cash register, but we didn't have much technology in District 12."

"You need a typing course. So much of what we'll do is computer based. Your life will be much easier if you learn how to type."

"Where do I learn?"

"The lady who taught me won't be here for two weeks, when all the trainings start. But I can teach you. I still have the teaching manual that Beetee gave me when I learned. It takes patience, but it's worth it to learn."

"Sounds great," Peeta agreed. "And it'll keep me busy."

"If you're open to it, we can start on Monday after we're done at the training center. It'll take about a week to learn. We can plan an hour each afternoon for me to show you the technique, then you can continue to practice whenever you want."

"Will I have time to buy a computer by then?"

"Probably not, but we can use the computer room at the Dwellings. I can order you a personal computer, if you'd like. We can charge it to the rebuild because you'll be using it for work purposes. If I order it tomorrow, it should arrive by the end of the week."

Peeta grinned. "You're really on top of things, Jules."

Her smile faltered, and for a fraction of a second, Peeta saw that faraway look in her eyes again. Like she was staring at a future she would never have.

"I like to stay busy too," she said, quietly.

Peeta understood. Jules was as haunted by the loss of Dalton as he was by the demise of his relationship with Katniss. But her pain was chronic; Dalton's life was over. At least he knew Katniss was safe. And happy.

"Jules?" He touched her arm; they stopped walking.

"Yeah?" she said, turning to face him. The light had returned to her eyes, but he'd already figured her out; that light was manufactured, and she and all her sorrow were hiding behind it.

"You need a friend too. Don't you?"

Her tears were at the ready, and she furiously blinked them away, all the while propping a smile on her lips.

"Whenever you need to talk about Dalton, I'm here for you. Just like you were there for me last night when I needed to talk about Katniss. But I know our situations are different; you must miss him terribly."

She bowed her head, and a few tears dropped to the ground. She sniffed and quickly wiped them away. "You have no idea."

"In the words of a wise young woman, 'will you let me in,' Jules? Will you let me be your friend?"

She drew a deep breath and smiled. "Yes. Thank you, Peeta."

"Hug?" he asked with a grin that made her laugh.

"Yep."

They embraced on the sidewalk, drawn by the painful vacancy of an incomplete heart.

Neither one of them noticed the woman lingering on the other side of the street at the edge of the park, her camera covertly poised to capture their exchange.

"I'll probably need to take you up on those talks," Jules sniffed as they pulled away.

"Anytime," Peeta said. And Jules knew he meant it. They basked in each other's smiles. And with a series of quick clicks, the camera caught that too.

Commerce Row was a seven-minute walk from the Warehouse District at a casual pace. About four minutes in, Jules pointed out a side street and said the training facility was "a block that way."

The park was still in view as they walked, and people were making their way outdoors. One couple rode bicycles on the brick path, and a group of three sat on a blanket, talking animatedly amid opened books.

Peeta felt like he was in some alternate universe. He saw firsthand the gluttonous luxury of the Capitol, but he never expected any district to have these simple pleasures. Life here was lighter, markedly different from the oppression that lingered over District 12.

They passed several small shops along the way, most of them with "Coming Soon" signs as part of the area's revitalization. One occupied shop caught his attention.

"A jeweler?" Peeta asked. "Isn't that a District 1 thing? I wouldn't expect to see that in 2."

"You're right; jewels and luxury items are based in District 1. But keep in mind that District 2 was becoming a vacation destination for Capitol elite."

"So the plan was to give Capitol elite access to the best of what the districts could offer?"

"Pretty much. Not every district would be included, but most would be represented."

Commerce Row officially started at Monarch Street. Jules pointed out a few shops. The confectionary sold candy. The meat market didn't keep a variety of meats in stock, but they could have almost any cut shipped within days.

Really? Peeta marveled. This could have helped Katniss when she was younger. If she had a connection to 2 to sell her kills, that would have been instant profit to feed her and her family.

He realized he was thinking about her again. And he forced himself to stop it.

"And here is Sweet Cream, the place I told you about that serves creamed fruit drinks." Jules's face brightened. "That place is addictive. I'll need to stop in on our way back home."

"Gotcha," Peeta said.

"And over there," Jules pointed to the largest shop on the street. It had a green awning and several brown crates of neatly stacked produce extending from the front entrance. "That's Winston's Market. It's hands down the best grocery store in all of 2."

They walked past wide glass entrance doors. Inside was well-lit, creating a pleasant atmosphere amid neat aisles of food.

"Nice," Peeta said.

Jules grabbed a shopping cart. "Wanna share? I only need a few things."

"Sounds good."

They walked through the store, Peeta accumulating most of the items in the basket.

"Here," Jules grabbed a small clear plastic cup with something that looked like brown ribbon from a sample table. "Try this."

"What's this?" Peeta asked.

"It's called fruit leather. Like dried fruit."

Peeta bit into it, a sweet burst of flavor filling his mouth. He nodded with approval.

"Good right?"

Peeta was already talking with the clerk behind the counter, who told him that the fruit leather flavor was pomegranate. Jules chuckled when he gathered a handful of packs and dropped them into the cart.

"So, do you have something like Winston's in 12?" Jules asked.

"We have a small market in the Merchant's Quarters, where I lived. There's a larger warehouse in another part of town called the Seam. But everyone barters more than they use coins. Maybe with the changes coming to 12 from the rebuild, something like this could be built there. It would provide jobs which would change the way of life for so many people."

Peeta's love for District 12 was obvious. For a fleeting moment, Jules thought that he could have a more active role in the rebuild of 12, but she remembered that Katniss was working that area. And Peeta was not open to reuniting with Katniss.

"You really care about your hometown, don't you?" She said softly.

"I can't help it." Peeta swallowed hard. "People I care about are there. And there's so much need."

"One day, soon hopefully, things will be much, much better. And I'd like to hear about District 12, whenever you want to talk about it."

A day earlier, Peeta would have avoided sharing any information about 12. But a lot had happened in a day.

"I'd like that," Peeta smiled. "I'd like that very much."

After Dan left, Maura sat at the kitchen table, deep in thought, folding and refolding the solitary cloth napkin that lay on the counter beside the sink.

Dan's visit had upset her. Not the kind of upset where she needed to let her anger simmer and cool. It was the type of upset where hard glass is neatly arranged high on a rack but topples and chips with one careless move. Or, in her case, a few careless words.

Dan didn't mean to be careless. She knew that. She knew he didn't anticipate seeing her at Peeta's house just as much as she didn't anticipate seeing him walk through the door. Neither of them expected to have those minutes alone for an honest and long-overdue talk.

But she was upset. Upset that after all these years, she felt the need to defend her decision to choose James over Dan. Upset that she felt the need to defend Katniss, who was clearly more heart broken at Peeta's departure than Peeta seemed to be. Upset that the last two times she'd seen her daughter, Katniss was an emotional wreck, fleeing to the woods or the train station.

Dan must be mistaken. Katniss loves Peeta. She told me she loves Peeta. Why would she say she didn't? There must be a misunderstanding.

Maura pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. Regardless of what happened between Katniss and Peeta, Maura hoped Katniss came back soon. Maura needed to know she was okay. Plus, the day was wearing on, and Maura needed to return to the Seam to check on Lalie and Lucy and examine their newborn sons.

Maura smoothed the napkin on the table to its perfect square and folded it in half. Less than a minute later, the key was turning in the lock. Katniss entered looking downcast, distracted.

"Mom," Katniss startled, her eyes a widened steel gray and bloodshot pink. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting on you," Maura smiled. "I helped myself to some tea and honey a little while ago. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," she said quietly, unhooking her messenger bag from her body and placing her bow and arrow in the corner.

The silence meant they both knew the conversation that was about to happen, and neither of them wanted to be the one to start it.

"Were the babies born?"

Maura nodded. "Two healthy boys. One five pounds and one nine pounds."

Katniss washed her hands in the sink. "At least they'll never be reaped," she mumbled.

Maura heaved a sigh. She would have to be the one to start.

"How are you, honey?"

"Fine," Katniss said abruptly, still washing her hands.

"You've been so upset lately. And yesterday… What happened? Why did Peeta –"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Maura sat there, watching Katniss's back as she stood hunched over the sink, scrubbing her hands. The sound of the rushing water was as telling as the silence had been.

Maura stood from her chair, walked to the sink, and stood beside Katniss.

"You love him, honey," Maura said gently. "Why did you say you didn't?"

Katniss heaved twice as she tried to corral her emotions. But she couldn't, and soon, her hand flew to cover her face, her chin tucked to her chest in a shoulder-shaking sob.

"Oh, Katniss." Maura reached for her, pulling her daughter's head to her shoulder. "Let it out," she soothed. "Let it out."

It took a few moments, but they sat at the table, Maura offering Katniss the half-folded napkin. Katniss told her about Peeta's job offer in District 2 and how it would be a better opportunity for him.

Maura nodded, reading between the lines. "So, you sacrificed for him. Because you love him."

Katniss nodded. "It was the only way he would leave, and… have the happiness he deserves."

Maura understood. Still, after all Katniss and Peeta had been through – and how they'd grown together – a job offer didn't seem like enough to tear them apart. There had to be another reason.

"I don't know how I'm gonna do this, mom. I miss him too much already. I hate myself for telling him that I didn't love him. And I hate myself even more that I'm acting like a stupid school girl who can't stop crying."

Katniss drew a quick breath. "Hazelle said I should reach out to him. Do you think I should, mom? Maybe it's not too late. To get him back, I mean. I know my reason for letting him go, but I didn't want him to leave. I don't think I can ever be as happy as I was when he was here."

Maura was looking straight at Katniss, but in that moment, she saw a girl she had never seen before. She saw the burden of heartbreak in her daughter's eyes, the sorrow of losing love pressed on her daughter's shoulders. And she heard her daughter's belief that her happiness was wrapped in someone who was gone.

Maura saw herself. After she lost James.

So, while she was prepared to tell Katniss to go after Peeta if it would make her happy, Maura quickly repelled that thought. She clasped Katniss's hand in both of hers and looked into her daughter's eyes, overriding the hum of James's morning song that was again playing in her head.

"Remember the other day, when I told you your father took me to the woods for our first few dates?"

Katniss sniffed and nodded. "Yes."

"After he told me I needed to know how to hunt if I were going to be an Everdeen, he told me the first rule of hunting in the woods."

Katniss's eyes narrowed as her mind searched. Then, her eyes refocused; she knew the answer.

"Leave what you cannot carry," they both recited.

Maura continued. "Sometimes, things that were once light becomes heavy. Too heavy. If we are going to survive, we have to leave what we cannot carry."

Katniss remembered her words to Haymitch the day before. I'll survive. I always find a way to survive.

"You love Peeta; this is true. But if your love for him keeps you from surviving, then you have to leave the emotions you can't carry."

"Stop loving him?"

"No. You never stop loving. You just can't let loving him keep you from living. If you can't move beyond a moment from your past, then you stopped living at that moment."

Katniss nodded slowly, as if her mother's words were making sense. "How do I stop feeling something for him? I just want to stop feeling." Fresh tears coursed her face. "And he'll never know that I do love him."

"Deep down, I believe he knows. But right now, you need to focus on you. Your life now is about you now, Katniss. Your life is finally about you."

Merritt pulled a planner from her purse underneath the receptionist desk and flipped it open to the dates for the coming week. Not that she needed to be reminded; she couldn't forget them if she tried.

Three bills were coming due. But the one she was most worried about was circled in red. It would be past due by two months, and they could face eviction. She couldn't let that happen. Not with her ailing father and twin six-year-old nephews depending on her. But she needed to use the money she had to purchase his medicine.

This wasn't the life Merritt asked for. She had been a great student with great opportunities in education. Once she survived reaping age, she planned to become a teacher of young children. And one day, she wanted to marry and have a family of her own. But her father became ill; she had to stop her studies and go to work to provide for him and her younger sister, Lia. Then, seven years ago, Lia became pregnant with twin boys. After giving birth, Lia ran off with her boyfriend who did not want children. Merritt was forced to make ends meet on her own.

Somehow, they were managing. But Merritt's job closed five months ago, and she was unemployed. She secured her current job four months ago, but the hiring process was lengthy, and she fell behind in her bills. Now, she needed to find a way to earn more.

The sound of the door chiming startled her. She shoved the planner back into her purse, slapping on her warmest smile for the girl who approached the desk with a camera hanging around her neck.

Peeta and Jules each brought a creamed fruit drink, talking and laughing and sipping as they lugged their groceries back to the Dwellings. He asked about her plans for dinner, and she said she'd probably have a sandwich and a piece of fruit leather. So Peeta offered to make her dinner, just like he said he would. She agreed, and they decided on a time of 6:30 p.m.

Later, when Jules arrived, Peeta's apartment door was propped open. She knocked lightly as she entered.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," Peeta smiled. On the stove was a simmering pot of meaty stew and on the counter was the warm aroma of fresh-baked bread.

"Wow, it smells amazing in here, Peeta. I wish I knew how to cook like you."

"I could teach you," Peeta shrugged. "There are some basic rules, and then it's either following recipes or instinct."

"Well, I hope I'm not someone who can do none of the above. I'm really terrible. I can program computer code, but I don't know about following a recipe."

Peeta hesitated. "Can I tell you a secret?"

She slid onto one of the barstool chairs. "Of course."

"I'm a little nervous about learning how to type. We're so far behind the rest of Panem in District 12 in terms of technology. I hope I can learn quickly."

"You will," Jules reassured. "I have no doubt."

"So, let's make a deal," Peeta said. "If you'll be patient with me as I learn how to type, I'll be patient with you as you learn how to cook. Deal?"

Peeta extended his hand, and Jules met his in a hand shake.

"Deal," she smiled her sunlight.

"Can I help do anything? I'm superb at pouring water into glasses."

"Actually, I was thinking we should invite Merritt to join us. I've cooked enough for a small army, and there's only two of us."

"That sounds great. She was still downstairs a moment ago; I'll call to see if I can catch her."

Jules slid past Peeta, her perfumed scent causing his nostrils to involuntarily flare.

"Hi Merritt! This is Jules. Peeta and I were wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner tonight. We have a lot of food and would be happy to share... Uh huh. No that's understandable."

"Tell her she could take some with her if she can't stay," Peeta whispered.

"Would you like to take some with you? We could package… Okay. Okay, cool. See you in a few."

Jules hung up the phone.

"She has a commitment tonight, but she said she'd be happy to take some with her."

"Cool," Peeta said. "Would you grab a bowl from the cabinet? I have foil in one of these drawers to my left."

"Still getting use to your new home, huh," Jules chided.

"I'm loving it here, but yes. I am still getting situated."

They worked together to plate Merritt's food, laughing and talking as they stood beside one another at the stove. Peeta's door was still ajar, and as Merritt approached, she heard their murmuring voices and bursts of laughter. Soon, she noticed how closely they were standing to one another.

Merritt tapped on the door after she entered, unnoticed.

"Hi," she said warmly. "Thanks for inviting me. I'm sorry I can't stay."

Jules was wrapping the plate. "Peeta saved me from another night of trail mix."

"And fruit leather," Peeta added with mock sincerity. Jules lightly punched him in the arm. He pretended to be stung by her hit, and they laughed again.

"Well thank you both," Merritt said. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," they echoed as Merritt left.

"Okay, Jules. Let's eat."

While Jules and Peeta prepared their plates, Merritt made her way downstairs, back to the front desk to gather her belongings and to the business card she had received earlier. She turned it in her fingers before she placed it in her purse and snapped it shut.

Vega Sampson was her name, and there was her phone number above the words 'Flick Media.' She had entered earlier that day with her camera, offering to pay a sizable amount for information about Peeta Mellark and the mystery girl with him. And now, Merritt was off to meet Vega.

She didn't know what type of information Vega needed, but Merritt knew she couldn't pretend she didn't need the money.

A/N: Thank you again for reading. There's more to come, so please stay tuned! Comments welcomed :)