There I go again, not updating for months. Oh well. Happy reading! Sorry this chapter has no obvious direction. I'm having a little trouble getting back on track.

oOo

Dinner that night was silent. All four of us—Peeta included, since he stayed—kept our heads bowed over our food and didn't say anything.

Apparently, after I'd left, Peeta was pretty much forced to tell Prim and Mother what was going on. I couldn't say I was exactly pleased about that, but it couldn't be kept a secret for very long. Though it was obviously bothering them as much it was me, I made sure to not say a single word around them or I'd have an outburst again. Perhaps the next day I'd gather the courage to talk to them about it.

After dinner, I silently drew my jacket back on, took Peeta's hand, and we went back to his house. Maybe I didn't want to be around my family when I knew they were hurting, too, or maybe I just needed Peeta's support. At any rate, neither of us had any objections to me staying with him.

When we got inside and turned some lights on, Peeta hung up his jacket and turned to face me unsurely. "…Were you safe out there?"

I hung up my jacket as well, removed my shoes, and took a few seconds to answer. "I'm not getting whipped by the Peacekeepers right now, am I?"

"I was worried."

Our eyes met for a split second and I saw fear and insecurity in his.

"I know you were. I'm sorry." The words somehow tasted bad in my mouth, like it was painful to say them. Without really waiting for him, I dragged myself upstairs and into the first room on the right.

It was there I stole an oversized pajama top from the wardrobe, fixed myself so I was just in underwear and the PJ shirt, and crawled up into bed.

There was still a small, cold rectangle up inside my shirt, pressing against my ribs. I felt my fingers around, just to make sure it was all intact, but I was too afraid to take it out quite yet.

A few minutes after I had got into bed, Peeta came in as well. His expression was guarded, but soon grew much softer when his gaze fell upon me.

"You wear that shirt much better than I do," he said softly, trying to sound amused and lighten up the mood. "I guess it's too late to tell you to make yourself at home, then?"

"…I am at home," I murmured, staring fixedly at a piece of lint on the bedcovers, feeling the book growing heavier and heavier against my skin.

Unfortunately, Peeta noticed my odd, defensive posture and arms curved around the lump in my stolen PJs. His frown grew as he replaced his button-down with an old cotton shirt.

The wind outside hummed against the sides of the house, sending the scent of dew and forest through the cracked window. Floorboards creaked quietly as well, but in a good way. It reminded me of my rickety house back in the Seam, with constantly leaking roofs and groans against the weather. It felt kind of like a lullaby, but I did not feel lulled at all.

The secret stung my chest.

I needed to tell Peeta. I needed to tell him.

"Katniss," Peeta's soothing voice broke my momentary bout of panic as he settled next to me on the bed. His face was—as it had often been the past few days— cautious and unsure, but caring and protective.

I didn't meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry if you wanted me to keep it from your mother and Prim, but I had to tell them." He reached over hesitantly, but then drew his hand back. "I know everything is crazy, Katniss, but you…you can talk to me. You should talk to me. It isn't good to hold things inside."

I just wrapped my arms around my knees and hugged them to my chest.

"…Did you go to see Hazelle?"

I looked up, meeting his blue gaze with my own so suddenly and strongly he could not look away. "You said that you would run away with me before, didn't you?"

Every calm and soothing bit in his face closed up so tight, it was like pulling a shield over his head. He almost seemed to scowl. "That's not the answer, Katniss. We can't do that. I know I said so before, but—"

"I'm not talking about running away this time," I said, interrupting him with a scowl of my own. "Don't make me regret I'm telling you anything."

"Telling me what?" With a tight, worried mouth and trembling hands, Peeta crossed his legs and leaned towards me, reaching a hand out again as if to touch my arm. "What's this tone for?" He flicked his gaze down to the book-shaped lump underneath my shirt and, as if knowing, curled his fingers in its direction as if to say, Hand it over. "Alright, Katniss, what is that? Give it here."

I curled even tighter around the book, guarding it. "I don't have to."

"Katniss."

That tone in his voice broke me. Scowling and huffing and feeling a frightened lump build in my throat once more, I stiffly pulled Gale's book out from inside my shirt, though I didn't give it to Peeta; I kept it clutched in my hands. "Please don't tell anyone," I whispered. "They could kill Hazelle. The family."

Trying to be as kind as he could, Peeta put his hand on my cheek and forced me to turn my head and look directly into his eyes.

"We can do it." My mouth was dry and tasted like sand. I tried wetting my lips. "District 13 lives. There are maps. People to talk to. Plans. Complete instructions. He knew what was coming; he anticipated it all, and he was ready. He wanted us t—"

"Who?"

A sharp breath sucked up my nose and I held the journal out slowly, reluctantly. "Gale."

Five minutes was all he needed.

Peeta took the journal and flipped it open, scanning pages and diagrams. As I expected, his reaction was similar to mine. Wonder at first, and then realization, and then horror. Fear.

My expression must have been too keen, because he took one look at me and started shaking his head.

"This is too dangerous, Katniss. You need to…you need to burn this. Get rid of it. It could get us killed."

"You're not even considering?" My frightful excitement deflated. "We have to do something. I have to do something. We could fix this."

"There are too many risks." Peeta closed himself off and—with an impassive face—set the journal out of reach on the bedside stand behind him.

"Don't you have any hope?!" I cried, feeling the panic create a lump in my throat. I couldn't go to the Capitol on Saturday. I couldn't.

"Katniss," He grabbed my upper arms with both hands. "Stop." The grip loosened a little. "Please. We don't have the time to come up with something, okay? I recognize you're afraid, and I am too, but we can't do anything serious right now."

It felt as though my heart had dried up inside of me. Tears of hopelessness stung my eyes. "Peeta, I just killed my best friend and your own brother. I can't just sit here and do nothing." A little sob hissed from my nose and my face contorted with pain. "Please, Peeta. Please. At least help me try." I reached over and grasped his hand. "If we die at least we'll go down fighting, and we'll go down together."

The internal battle looked like it was killing him. Peeta's mouth tightened and his brows scrunched with concern and concentration and his eyes shone with saltwater as well. He looked at me as though I was a bad decision he shouldn't make, but couldn't refuse.

After what felt like years, he swallowed and took a deep breath. "I'll…I'll think about it, Katniss, but I can't make that kind of decision tonight. Not af—"

I pulled Peeta against me in a tight hug. My arms went around his neck and my face buried in his hair and my body unintentionally perched itself on his lap to hold onto him. All I could breathe was his lemony hair and the salt on my face. For a moment, I wiped my mind clean, allowed nothing to pass through my thoughts.

It was a relief while it lasted.

Peeta hushed me and gently touched his hand to my cheek, running his fingers over my unkempt hair affectionately. "…Is there anything I can do for you, Katniss? Do you want me to get you anything?"

I didn't want to be so hurt anymore. There was enough pain in my day. Week. Life, actually. I'd been in too much pain and I was sick and tired of it. It made me physically ill, and I wanted to have just a day where it didn't. Obviously, that wasn't happening, and though what I really wanted from Peeta was a little foolish, it didn't matter to me.

"Can you…" I felt my cheeks burn a little as I took a hand away from around Peeta to wipe my eyes. "Can you make some cheesy buns? Please?"

Peeta laughed.

It sounded like a candle would feel, lit in blackness. It gave me an odd sense of security and briefly masked the apprehension that was hanging in the room like a cloud. It made my frown smooth out, and I might even admit I smiled a little. It was an unbelievable relief to hear that laugh again.

"Of course I will, Katniss," Peeta said, blue eyes sparkling. "Do you want to come down and help?"

"Oh, I'm not…I'm not that good at…"

"Come on." He stood and offered his hand down to me.

I was only wearing a shirt and underwear, and I couldn't bake very well, but nonetheless, I took his hand and let him lead me downstairs.

The kitchen felt a little cold and neglected, unlike the one in my mother's house.

Peeta noticed me noticing and he shook his head. "I haven't really…baked a lot this week. I made a loaf of bread the night after we got back, but that was the first and only time it's been used in weeks."

I said nothing to him, just looked around the kitchen and tried to decide what to do with myself. I felt somewhat useless, and still sad.

"Do me a favor and get the packet of yeast from that cupboard over there." After pointing, Peeta busied himself with pulling ingredients and dishware from the cabinets.

It went like that.

Peeta would give me a little job to do and I would do it silently, but willingly. Every now and again, our eyes would meet and he'd smile at me a little smile that just barely crinkled the corners of his eyes and I'd just barely smile back.

He showed me how to knead the dough and we ended up getting flour all over the counters and floor and ourselves. Somehow, with the passing moments, I felt my heart grow a little lighter. I knew that it wouldn't last long, but I refused to let myself have another breakdown that day.

While he was busy grating cheese over a bowl, I stole a little bit of it and stuck it in my mouth to let it melt on my tongue.

"Hey, now." Peeta smiled at me again with exasperation. "No stealing ingredients."

I stole a little more and scooted away from him so he couldn't get me.

He did anyways.

It was an alien feeling of giddiness that made a laugh bubble up from the back of my throat and pass my lips. Maybe it was the hope that maybe we'd finally be able to fix things again (with the instructions Gale left in his book), but either way, it started my laughter.

When he heard it, Peeta's face began glowing with a happiness I hadn't seen in a long time. He put the cheese grater down and pulled me into a surprising kiss.

It meant more to me than he could have ever given. I felt a little bad that I disregarded Prim and my mother's attention and pity, but that wasn't what I needed. Knowing what I'd done, I couldn't stand to look in their sweet, innocent faces and know I'd ruined them. To have them try and comfort me made it so much worse.

I'd explain it to them another time. Right then, that night, I didn't want to think about it.

My hands curled on Peeta's chest and I leaned against him, reluctant to break the kiss quite then. Peeta had curled his arms around my waist and laced his fingers behind my back. He was obviously reluctant to break away, too, but did so eventually so we could breathe.

There was a silence, in which neither of us moved. Then Peeta laughed.

"…Let's finish the buns, shall we?" he said, pausing to give me another short kiss on the forehead before going back to the baking.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

After the buns were done to perfection, all soft and gooey with melting cheese, we took them back upstairs to curl up in bed and eat them. It was too wonderful, sitting there with blankets wrapped around our waists, a platter of fresh-baked cheesy buns to eat, cool night air coming in through the window and mingling with the fireplace heat that had warmed the whole house.

Part of me felt a little embarrassed at how… flippant I'd behaved in the kitchen, but after a few minutes with Peeta there made me regret nothing. It was unlike me to dismiss any sort of terrified feelings, but there was no harm in just a day to myself. I would have exploded otherwise, and I wouldn't be any help to anyone in bloody pieces on the sidewalk.

Peeta noticed the change, of course. Who wouldn't have? He waited a little bit before saying anything.

When I noticed that he'd set down a half-eaten bun, I set mine down, too, and puckered my lips in concern.

"You're probably going to have to talk to your mother and Prim some time," he said, leaning back on his hands and not looking at me. "It's kind of unfair for them."

I picked at my ragged thumbnail. "…Life's not fair." It was a terrible argument, and when he gave me a look, I let out a sigh and sank a little into the pillows. "I know that I need to talk to them. I know."

A frightened lump began forming in my throat. Sure, it might have already been explained to them already, but how can I face them after they know? How could I admit to them that I did what I did?

Trying my best not to get emotional again, I pulled the covers over me and rolled onto my side, facing away from Peeta and curled in a fetal position.

"Katniss."

My hands trembled.

"Please, Katniss. Be a grown-up about this." Peeta tried pulling the covers from my face but I shrank deeper in them.

"I never wanted them to know," I whispered, all happy feelings gone. "Now they're going to hate me."

There was a small noise that was the platter of buns getting set on one of the bedside tables, and then the bed bounced a little as Peeta lay down next to me, sliding deep under the covers as I was until there was no barrier between us.

"They don't hate you, Katniss…" He said gently, winding one of his arms around my waist, holding me against him. His breath warmed the back of my neck. "They don't."

It was quite brave of him to be touching me like that when I was upset; normally if that happened I would have pushed him away. I didn't.

"What, then?" The trembling had moved from my hands to my entire body. Overly happy, overly sad. There was no middle. "What did they say?"

Peeta pressed his cheek against the top of my head in thought.

"Were they angry at you?"

"…A little at first." When he laughed, it was shaky and unsure. "Ok, a lot. They were really angry, but it turned into sadness after a while. Then they hugged me, telling me to tell you that…"

"That what?"

"That they were sorry. For everything." Subconsciously, Peeta drew his hand back and it skimmed my stomach and my hip. "They're as scared as us, Katniss, for us. They love you very much, you know."

The lump in my throat had grown to the size of an elephant. Trying to breathe around it, I flipped onto my other side, facing him, eyes burning. "I can't do this to them, Peeta. We have to leave."

"I know…" He brushed his fingers in my hair gently, and even in the darkness under the covers I thought I could still see the blue of his eyes. "I know."

For a moment, I thought Peeta was just saying that to appease me. His touch was gentle and his words quiet, and I realized he did know. Still, it would mean risking our lives and the lives of everyone we've ever loved.

"I'll go with you to Haymitch tomorrow," Peeta promised. "We'll tell him about the book and see what he thinks, okay?"

The offer was more than I could have ever hoped from him, especially after he'd expressed so much aversion to the idea. It was hard to tell whether that made me want to cry more or less.

"Hey, Peeta?" I whispered.

"Yes?"

"Do you still think I'm pretending?"

Peeta didn't answer.

After a little bit of his silence, I took the blanket and pulled it down off of our heads. Light flooded our eyes, making it hard to see for a second. When my vision cleared up, however, I could see that Peeta was smiling.

"What?" I insisted.

He tweaked my nose. "Nothing. Are you still pretending?"

The question offended me a little. "Of course not."

"Then I believe you."

Though it wasn't really that simple, I just accepted it.

Silence settled upon the room like dust, and it lasted for a long time.

I thought of a lot of things. I thought of the days before the Games, the pretty cakes at the bakery window and the sound of rain on our leaky Seam room. I thought of my father and of Gale. I thought of my mother and of Prim. I thought of the first Games, and then the second. I thought of the days in the Capitol and on the train.

My hand absentmindedly stroked circles on my stomach, and when I pulled my head out of the clouds long enough to look at Peeta, his expression was guilty as he gazed down where my hand was.

Not this again.

Peeta let a breath slip from his nose, a miserable sigh that killed whatever happy vibes we had left. "I was being so stupid," he murmured, reaching to just barely brush his fingers against mine. "I caused you so much pain…" That was the exact same thing he said that morning.

"I'm not arguing about this again," I said, taking his hand away from my stomach. "It's ridiculous."

"You're not even going to let me apologize?"

"No." Outside, the breeze was picking up. With the mood it sent chills of unusually cold summer wind inside, so I got up to shut the window. "If we got to complain and point blame at one person for every problem we have, then we'll be here all night saying that it was your mother's fault Prim's goat died. It's idiotic and pointless. What's done is done. We just need to learn to actually protect ourselves next time."

A surprised shade of red colored Peeta's cheeks at the words "next time".

"Besides," I went over to the wardrobe and grabbed a fresh towel from the bottom drawer, "things can and will get worse. We might as well accept the small mistakes and move on."

With that, I left Peeta looking still guilty and a confused to vanish into the bathroom for a shower.

So that's what it came to, I guess. Forcing myself to pretend that I was happy for my own sake, taking two showers a day so I could cry off what I'd kept inside. I could take fifty showers, for all the difference it made. Something inside of me was trying to convince the rest of me that I needed to be stronger than that. It said for me to be happy and enjoy the time I had at home, to not worry because there was nothing that I could do for the time being.

Enjoy being with Peeta, smile, laugh. That's what that part of me told me to do. I'd tried while making those cheesy buns and, for a second, I did feel happy. As soon as I realized I'd doomed everyone I loved, however, it just wasn't the same. My body was at war with itself, and it was driving me mad.

The numerous showers a day was just my self-pity time. They weren't doing any good.

I shut off the water, dried myself off, and then dressed back in the clothes I'd worn in there: nothing except for a big T-shirt and underwear. To some it may seem like a terrible choice of clothes for me to wear to bed with Peeta, especially since we were teenagers, unmarried, unrelated in any way, and not necessarily intimate. Whatever, though. He didn't mind.

When I looked, the girl in the bathroom mirror seemed alive (for once), but I wasn't entirely sure how that was. I felt fairly ill, but my reflection had color in her cheeks and muscle on her bones and a strong tilt to her chin.

Resisting the urge to spit at the deceiving girl in the mirror, I tossed my towel over the shower rod and trudged out, gripping a comb I'd found on the counter in a hand.

Peeta was on the bed, back propped up against the headboard, Gale's book open on his lap. He was in a pair of plaid PJ bottoms and thin white shirt that was stretched over the muscles of his torso.

When he saw me come back in, Peeta closed the book and tucked it safely away in the nightstand drawer. "Is everything okay? You were only in there for a few minutes."

"I'm fine," I replied, and made a half-hearted attempt to run the comb through my hair.

He motioned for me to sit and so I did, nestled cross-legged in front of him as he took the comb from me and began working at the knots.

"If you're really serious about…about doing this, Katniss, then we shouldn't be wasting any time," Peeta was saying as he gently detangled my ragged, dripping hair. "I think talking to Haymitch is a good first move, but then what? The risks, Katniss—"

"I know the risks," I interrupted, pulling my knees up to my chest. "I know, okay? I don't know what our next move will be. I haven't even actually read Gale's book all the way. Just skimmed it."

"Then that would be out next move after Haymitch." Though a little amusement was in his voice, there was also sadness and worry, as usual. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow we will talk to Haymitch and you'll talk to your family."

"Does it have to be tomor—?"

"Yes, it does," Peeta made me tilt my head up and ran the comb straight down my part, "and it will be. How much you tell them is up to you. In fact, if you'll wait until we know more about this, ah…plan we're brewing, it'll probably be best not to mention anything about it to them."

Something in his voice made me incredulous. It sounded almost as if…he was just going along with this to amuse me. Just you wait, Peeta Mellark. You'll think you've had me satisfied and fooled right up until our plan is actually starting to work. Then who'll be laughing, hm? He'll see.

When Peeta was finished combing my hair, he put it back into my usual braid and then turned me so I was facing him, drowning in my too-big shirt and hands still shaking a little. He looked like he wanted to say something to me; his brows were furrowed and lips parted just a bit. Shaking that off, he glanced sideways at the platter on the nightstand. There were still two cheesy buns left, not counting the halves we'd set down earlier.

"…I'll bet they're still warm if you want another."

When Peeta offered me one, I took it, sliding my legs back under the covers and snuggling against his side. The shower had left me feeling surprisingly cold, but the cheesy bun and the warm body next to me felt a little better.

"I really don't understand you sometimes…" Peeta's voice was gentle and soft, as was his touch when he reached over to tuck a bit of my hair behind my ear.

Not looking at him, I asked, "Is that such a terrible thing?"

"Not at all." He smiled tiredly and turned the alarm clock to see what time it was. "I take it you're staying tonight?"

"No. I was planning on leaving as soon as I ate the rest of your food." I swallowed the last bit of my snack and brushed the crumbs off of the blanket. "You know, seeing as how I'm not wearing pants and already tucked into bed."

"You don't have to be so hostile about it." After yawning widely, Peeta settled himself under the covers and turned on his side, shaggy blond hair spreading across his pillow.

"That wasn't hostility; that was sarcasm."

I settled down, too, but wasn't quite ready for sleep.

Wind from outside battered the walls, making eerie howling noises as it flew. Occasionally, the house would let out a creak, but it held up and kept us somewhat warm through the small windstorm. From what I could see out the window, the sky was already a deep shade of blue, the film of clouds covering up any light from the stars.

Beyond that window, at an angle I couldn't quite see from where I was, the forest stretched on for miles. Nocturnal animals would be out for the hunt at that time: owls searching the skinny underbrush, panthers lurking in the branches of trees, wild dogs gathering in packs to sing their nightly song.

"Katniss?"

I turned my head to the other side of me to see Peeta's back. He had his head slightly turned as well, and I could just barely see his long eyelashes over the dip in his temple.

"What?"

"…I love you."

Those three words weren't spoken like he was needy, or wanting to get intimate or anything. He said them in a way one would say something like, "What a beautiful sunset."

Letting out a sigh, I slipped one of my arms around him to find his hand curled at his chest, and I held it. "I love you, too." My forehead rested against his shoulder. "Good night."

"Sleep well."

Though it took some time, I managed to finally drift off to the wind howling with the wolves as they sang into the empty night.

oOo

Well golly gee. That wasn't too bad, was it? Next chapter will have more direction.

Love all of you, and PLEASE review! Please! My birthday is on the 31st, and I'm not going to be updating before then, so might as well give me my early birthday present now and review!

Have a good week, y'all.