A/N: Can't believe it's the last chapter. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing and letting me get this story on paper and out of my mind...although I think it'll always be there somewhere.

Again, thanks to you all, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

It's been almost a year. Almost a year since I came back to District 12. I couldn't count the time from when I first arrived, because for the first few months, I was a zombie, a shade of my former self.

Nothing.

Nothing, until one day. One day, eight months, three weeks, fours days and seven hours ago.

The day Peeta came back.

And my life felt a little bit less lonely.

That I wasn't totally cut off from everyone I loved.

That someone had cared enough to come back, and that he wanted someone to care for him too.

I had friend.

But that all changed tonight.

It started simply enough. Sae came over and concocted a very suspect stew, which turned out to be quite tasty if you didn't question its contents. Peeta trawled through the foyer, his muddy boots staining the tiles in the hall. He kicked them off and shuddered at the sudden change in temperature.

He shook his head, shucking his damp jacket from his shoulders. "Hell of a night." he murmured, plodding over to the chair opposite me and inhaling the mystery stew, before shrugging and digging in.

That's the thing about Peeta. He's fearless…in his own way.

"Not bad," he mumbled between bites and I nodded my assent, scraping the bottom of the bowl, stomach churning for more.

"Sorry, kids, we're all out." Sae smirked, visibly pleased that someone, at least, had enjoyed her cooking. "I better get going. I left Katrina with her father, and if I don't get there soon, he'll burn the house down."

"I doubt that," I sighed.

"Oh, no, he's done it before." Sae hung her head. "Who knew making tea could be hazardous for your health?…and your drapes. See you soon." Sae raced to the door, grumbling about Peeta messing up her newly polished floor. The door flew open, and before she left, she called "Don't forget to watch the broadcast tonight at eight."

"What broadcast?" I called, but she was gone like dust in the wind, braving the sheets of rain hailing from the heavens.

"I guess there's a broadcast tonight?" Peeta smiled.

"You know, I did hear a rumour about that somewhere." the corners of his mouth twitched from laughter. Peeta grabbed both our bowls, placed them in the sink and began to clean them.

"You don't have to do that." I said, standing up to help.

"No, it's okay. I want to."

"Are you sure you're feeling better? Because I think you may be delirious."

Peeta stuck out his tongue. "Hardy har-har. But seriously, it's fine. Just go relax."

"That's all I ever do," I groaned. Before Peeta could protest, I grabbed a towel from the rack and began to hand dry our bowls, putting them away. He shrugged his shoulders but made no comment.

That lovely, perfect silence. The one I could stay in forever. Finally, I felt it seeping back into our lives after a noticeable absence.

And of course, I had to be the one to ruin it, with an innocent remark of all things.

"You're always taking care of me." I mused, thrusting the two bowls into the cupboard and wincing as they clattered together. Something was definitely broken. But I could always take care of it again.

Procrastination has some perks. Like avoiding responsibility. After a lifetime of living with it, I think I deserve a break.

"Yeah, well I like taking care of you," he said, growing defensive. "Is that a problem?"

"No, it's just…weird. It's usually me who's taking care of everyone. My mother, the Hawthornes, Prim…" As time passed, it grew easier to talk about her. It still hurt. Of course that would never change, but I figured she would want to be remembered, not be placed in some untidy corner of my over-worked mind, gathering cobwebs and dust.

"Right, you take care of everyone you care about. I get it." He said, drying his hands and storming off to the living room and grabbing a sketch pad, fiercely plotting his emotions on a page.

That was weird. I cocked an eyebrow, wondering what the hell had just happened, but decided against thinking about it. Peeta had dealt with enough of my meltdowns; I could allow him to have a few of his own. I get it. He needed to blow off steam. But the weird thing was, he was okay, he was just fine until I mentioned the Hawthornes. That's when I saw the fire ignite behind his eyes, his shoulders grow tense and his expression grow dark.

I would have to investigate eventually.

But for now, I just grabbed one of my hunting knives and began to polish it, waiting until the eight o'clock bell tolled.

In one way, I wish I had ignored that eight o' clock broadcast.

When the screen flickered to life, Peeta and I both watched apprehensively. My pulse stuttered in my veins and my breathing grew shallow. Peeta sat beside me, equally as tense, but automatically made a move to hold my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. What he hadn't counted on was that I wouldn't let it go. When he tried to pull away, I held on tighter and pleaded with my eyes, beckoning him closer. Without hesitation, he pulled me closer to his on the couch and draped an arm around my shoulders, hugging me to his chest until my panicked feeling dissipated.

The last time there had been an emergency broadcast, Peeta and I had both been sent to our deaths. Again.

But the Games were over.

Unless, they were actually putting together the Capitol Games. In a way, I hoped it was. That we would receive some sort of retribution for all the years of hardship we had to endure, watching family members die for the amusement of others.

But in another way, I was hollow at the thought of sending even more people to the death instead of stopping the violence, like Peeta.

Did that make me as bad as the Capitol?

I shuddered at the thought, and Peeta's arms curled around me.

"It's not your fault." he whispered, kissing the crown of my head, and setting my synapses on fire.

Seriously, what was he doing to me? I had never felt like this in my life, and doubted I ever would again.

But Peeta got it.

Of course he got it.

Because he gets me.

And I get him.

Well, most of the time. Now, for instance, as District 2's valleys and mountains hit the screen and Peeta froze and backed away from me…That I didn't get at all.

Peeta sat back against the sofa, jaw tensed, and I crouched forward, enthralled by the screen.

No way. This could not be happening.

Plutarch Heavensbee's face lit up the screen, and I recoiled from shock. Plutarch had had some work done. His eyebrows were inching further up his forehead than was natural and his skin seemed oddly polished.

Apparently being on television had given him cause for work. I shook my head in exasperation.

"Hello there, Residents of Panem, and welcome to the first, and hopefully not the last, episode of Planet Panem, where we travel from District to district, seeing the improvements and the daily lives of our residents following the war. Today, we are honoured to be speaking with the Head of the newly reformed Peacekeepers of District 2...Say hello to Gale Hawthorne."

No.

No freaking way.

"What?" Peeta's voice was dead as he watched my shocked expression. "You're not excited?"

"Shh," I said, as Gale filled up the screen, sitting opposite Plutarch, snowy mountain tops acting as a picturesque background.

I had to admit it, Gale looked good. He had cut his hair, so now it was just a tousled mess on his head, that was more than likely styled to look like it had just fell that way naturally.

The Camera crew were right: He was camera ready.

But he also looked older, manlier. He held a sense of importance in his air, a certain superiority….

He wasn't the Gale I used to know.

He may look the same, if not a little neater and healthier, but he wasn't the same person. Not by a long shot.

I was surprised, actually, that throughout the interview, as I watched enraptured, I didn't once grieve his loss.

Actually, I was kind of glad he hadn't come back.

I would never know whether or not he responsible for what happened to Prim; and I didn't want to know.

He didn't make me feel safe; watching him crack jokes and tell Plutarch about the changes and advances the Peacekeepers had gone through under his guidance. I didn't feel reassured. I didn't feel a sense of longing for what could have been.

I was just watching an old friend, and that was all.

"So, Gale," Plutarch smiled, and I was amazed that his face actually did move infinitesimally. "How's life been?"

"It's been good," he grinned. "Great actually."

"Oh, would you care to elaborate?"

"Sure," he said, and Gale's grin could have lit up the entire district, before gesturing to someone behind the camera. Gale rolled his eyes, got off his seat and ran behind the camera, dragging someone into view. She had her patented scowl across her face.

Johanna Mason.

And they were still holding hands.

"Johanna here is my second in command," Gale smiled, catching her eye while she let out an execrated sigh.

"Ooooh," Plutarch squealed, clapping his hands together energetically. "Is that all she is?"

"Actually…" Gale smiled, and Johanna just shook her head, grabbed him and kissed him right there on camera.

My jaw almost hit the floor.

"Now, that was unexpected." I said, leaning back against the sofa, soaking in everything I had just watched. It was different.

And I was pleasantly surprised to note that I wasn't jealous.

I was just amused.

Peeta on the other hand, was far from amused.

"Well, I'm happy for him…for both of them."

"Stop lying," Peeta growled, pushing himself off the couch forcefully. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to find the cause for his hostility, which seemed to appear out of thin air.

Or, as realisation hit me, the airwaves.

"I'm not lying." I sounded offended, rather than defensive, and anger bubbled up through my veins.

"Then you're lying to yourself. Saw the way you wee watching him. Let's face it; if I weren't here, and he was, we both know what you'd be…"

"Peeta!" I jumped off the sofa and stared at him hard. He glared back, but his expression faltered for a second.

"I'm sorry." he said quietly.

"You should be. How can you accuse me of something like that?"

"Well, you've kissed him before haven't you?"

"Yeah, but that was when I thought I was in love with him. I'm not anymore, I'm…"

I nearly said it. I nearly blurted it out, but I swallowed the words as quickly as I had blurted them; like swallowing bile that rises up your throat.

"You're what?" He asked.

"I'm not in love with him. I don't know if I ever was. Yes, a part of me will always love him…" Peeta's mouth set into a thin line. "But it's not love love. What is wrong with you tonight?"

"Nothing." he snapped.

"Now who's lying?" I snapped right back. We were caught in an impasse. Neither of us said a word, daring the other to break it. It wasn't the same kind of silence as earlier.

This one was putrid. Violent. Horrible.

Neither of us broke the silence; the phone did. I picked it up on the third ring.

"Hello?" I said, trying to disguise my suppressed anger.

"Katniss?" Rae's voice sliced through my skull. "Oh, I thought this was Peeta's number. Sorry."

"No, it is. He's right here." The tension headache that had become like my conjoined twin lately grew in its intensity; so much so that I felt physically sick.

Why was she calling him?

"It's for you." I said, throwing him the phone, which he caught by his finger tips.

"Hello? Rae? Oh, Hi…" Peeta sounded nervous. He began to drum his fingers against the counter top and bit his lip-his nervous habits.

I watched him, amused, as he stumbled through the phone call.

"Tomorrow? I can't tomorrow…No, that day doesn't work for me either…No, Rae, You did nothing wrong…" Peeta's sigh was long and exasperated. "We can talk about this more tomorrow at work, I don't think this s the kind of conversation….WHAT?" His eyebrows shot halfway up his skull. I was even more intrigued, and leaned against the counter drinking in every word, trying to piece together the conversation. But it wasn't going that well.

"No, that's not….." he was embarrassed, and his eyes flitted toward me.

Were they talking about me?

Peeta sighed again, but this time in acceptance. "No, you're right, you're right. I'm sorry that I…No, I'm really sorry…Thanks Rae, but that's far too kind…what? I-I don't know how…Yeah, yeah, I might just do that. Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow. And Rae….Thanks."

Peeta hung up the phone and threw it back to me, more gently than I had. I placed it on the wall and tried to meet Peeta's eyes. For once, he wasn't meeting my gaze, rather than the other way around.

"What was that about?"

"Oh, Nothing."

"Okay, Peeta," I rubbed circles into my temples, hoping to rewind time and stop all this tension before it had taken over the evening. And the only way to get rid of tension was to get to the root of the cause.

The truth shall set you free.

Or suffer under the consequences.

But I'm sick of skirting around, and now I wanted the truth, whatever the cost.

It was time.

"Let's just get to the truth, okay."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine, I want to know what that phone call was about. And I want the truth, particularly if it has something to do with me…and I think it does."

"Fine," Peeta threw up his hands and fell back into an armchair. "Rae called to ask me out, and I shot her down."

"Why did you do that? I thought you said it didn't work out."

"It didn't."

"Well, she must have thought differently."

"I kind of gave her mixed signals," he said through gritted teeth.

Dread enveloped me. "What sort of mixed signals."

"I kissed her."

Time stood still. Red clouded my vision, and I decided right then and there that I would kill Rae Hammersmith.

"You what?" I said, throwing all pretence out the window. I was pretty damn angry, and I wanted him to know it. For him to finally know…

"I kissed her," he said again.

"Why?"

"Why do you think Katniss?"

"Was it…like it was with me?" I asked. There it was. Vulnerability.

"Yeah, well she's a good kisser too."

It was like a slap round the face and a punch in the gut simultaneously. Then I realised, as his sneer turned into a sombre grimace, that he had said it to hurt me. Not that he had kissed her. I knew that was real. He had thrown my words back at me and was waiting for a reaction.

And I was going to give him one.

"Well, that's good Peeta," I sneered, "I didn't think you needed the practice, but whatever."

"Why are you so upset?" He asked.

"I'm not upset."

"I thought we said that lies went out the window?"

"Fine, I'm upset, okay? Are you happy now?"

"Why would I be happy? Why would I be happy when your not?" It was the way he said it, the absolute sincerity in his voice as he uttered that words, that caused any remaining guards I had left to quickly dissolve.

"You're always trying to protect me, care for me…" I said, and he nodded.

"Why? I'm not good enough for you. Not right for you," Tears gathered in my eyes, stinging like tracker-jackers until I let them fall freely. "You shouldn't take care of me, Peeta, when all I do is let you down."

"It's the habit of a lifetime, and you've never, not once, let me down."

"Lies."

"Okay, I've been disappointed, but not in you. I've been disappointed in myself- for never being enough for you, and when Hawthorne popped up and I saw you fawning over him, I snapped."

"I wasn't fawning over him."

"It seemed that way tonight, especially after…"

"After what?"

"After my dream," Peeta's voice was as quiet as a whisper through a dark dreary night, but I picked up every syllable, every sound.

"What happened?"

"Let's just say, I have nightmares too."

There it was. He had a dream about Gale and I…but why hadn't he said anything?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it wasn't important?"

"You're important to me, Peeta," I was actually shouting, getting angrier, but I wasn't sure why. I just couldn't help myself. "God, can't you see that. Couldn't you se how I changed when you came back? How much of myself I had lost without you? Can't you see the way I smile when you smile, how my heart melts when I hear you laugh, how my entire face lights up when you're around? Because everyone else can. I guess that's the funny thing about love, isn't it?"

"What?" Peeta's eyes went wide and he stared at me.

God, I really wished I was able to rewind time.

Rewind. Stop. Erase.

But no such luck.

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing."

"Katniss…"

"Nothing!" I screamed. "Just get out Peeta, get out of my house!"

"Your house?"

"Yes, my house! What are you even doing here?"

"You asked me to stay," he said emphatically.

"And you could have left at any time. So why didn't you? Why did you do this to me? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what?" he asked again, but I just grabbed the nearest thing to hand- a picture of a primrose- and threw it at him, watching as it sailed past his head and shattered into a million pieces as it crashed into the wall. He stumbled and his expression grew furious, his blue eyes blazing.

"Fine," He said, "I'll leave!"

With that, he stormed towards the back door, wrenching it open and slamming it shut behind him.

Peeta was gone. I watched him walk through the rain towards his house.

His other house.

And I gave up, right then and there.

I fell against the door frame while my body was wracked with sobs and grief.

What was I doing/ I let him go, again. Why did I keep letting him slip out of my fingers? He had always chased me. Wasn't it about time I chased him?

I pushed myself away from the wall, vision blurred by tears and pulled open the door.

But the doorway wasn't free.

"Hi," Peeta said, hair falling in his eyes, drenched with rain.

"Hi." I said back.

Without a second's hesitation, Peeta had stepped forward and captured me in his arms, pressing his lips firmly against mine.

It was like I had finally come up for air after almost drowning. My breath. My life.

My Peeta.

His lips were fast and hungry against mine, desperately pleading in an intensity that only matched my own. I moaned as his lips found my neck and we stumbled back, smacking into the one of the kitchen's four walls. Peeta's lips were on mine again, but this time he was grinning.

I looked into his beautiful blue eyes and relished the feeling of safety, comfort, hope ad love that I had been deprived of for all of my life- which I had never allowed myself to believe in, to grow to need or want. I was my own person.

But now, I could allow myself to enjoy those other things in life.

Like Peeta's lips for example.

Peeta stared into my eyes, and I saw his love reflected there, mirroring my own and sending shivers up and down my spine like a bolt of electricity. Like lightning though my veins. Gently, he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and the trail of his touch seared my skin.

Without warning, he scooped his up and threw me over his shoulder. I beat against his shoulders, laughing as he stomped up the stairs. Peeta kicked a door open and gently placed me on a bed.

My bed.

Our bed.

We laid there in each others arms, kissing each other gently, then hungrily, then passionately, and repeating the cycle. Once again, Peeta brought his hand tom my face, cupping my cheek in his palm and I turned my head and kissed his soft skin.

So, in one way, I wished we hadn't watched that broadcast, seen Gale and had that fight. But another, much larger part was thrilled that we had.

It was ironic really, that Gale had always been the wedge that kept Peeta and I apart, but in one night, he had brought us together. And he would never know...

I finally knew that I wasn't abandoned, and never had been. There had always been Peeta.

There would always be Peeta.

So when he asked me "You love me. Real or not real?"

I answered "Real"