A/N: Hi there! This is chapter 3 and I want to say thanks to the seven who are following the story at this point and the two who have reviewed. However, if you are reading this story at all I would like to request that you please drop a review as well. I like to hear what other people think, even if you think it sucks. A good review will motivate me to write faster, a bad one will motivate me to re-evaluate what I'm doing.

Again, thanks so much for your support and I hope you like chapter 3!

P.S: For some reason when I upload a chapter the site tells me that there are WAY less words than there actually are. I can assure you there are more than 1,263 words in this chapter.

Chapter 3: Now That You're Here

Before I even get to my house I know I've made a big mistake. I behaved outrageously. Peeta did nothing wrong, nothing to merit the harsh treatment I gave him. First my thoughts had turned bitter and then my face and my voice. And for what? All because of some stupid books that Peeta brought home to read. I slam the back door behind me and run to the couch that I have made my makeshift bed and begin sobbing. I really did it this time. I don't think I've ever behaved so outwardly malicious to anyone before. And of all the people I could have been angry at, why had I directed my frustrations at Peeta? He didn't deserve it. He had just gotten back home for crying out loud! What a despicable person I am.

And then my body tenses because it wasn't that I just screamed at him or shot him an ugly look. It wasn't that I simply got upset over nothing; I caused Peeta to have one of those tracker jacker induced flashbacks. After Peeta was captured by the Capitol he was tortured for months. His mind and body were subjected to the worst kind of mistreatment. Beatings, starvation, electrocution. But what may be even more disgusting was the mental torture the Capitol performed on him.

They injected into his blood tracker jacker venom. Tracker jackers are genetically enhanced wasps whose venom is extremely poisonous and can cause incredible pain and nausea, as well as unimaginable hallucinations. I know the effects well because I was stung by some of them during my first Hunger Games. But Peeta was injected with this venom for months on an almost daily basis. While in his system, the Capitol fed Peeta horrible lies about me; the nature of our relationship, the nature of my relationship with Gale, that I was manipulating him, was trying to kill him, and even some more outlandish things such as that I wasn't even human but a mutt designed to destroy him. Their tortures had caused Peeta, who had once been head over heels in love with me, to go insane anytime I was near.

Peeta was beyond suspicious and distrustful of me. He hated me; tried to kill me even. It took weeks of therapy after his rescue for him to be able to even be in the same room with me without immediately losing his mind and trying to murder me and even then, he would often turn into two different Peeta's, arguing with himself about whether I was really dangerous or not. I was heartbroken to see what the Capitol had done to him and I knew that it took every ounce of strength he had to resist the urge to fall into one of those flashbacks of false memories. That's why it took him so long to return to 12; he had been undergoing therapy all this time. And because of my foolishness, because of my blind anger, I had caused him to have to go through yet another one of those horrible things. To relive those false memories that probably broke Peeta's heart.

I don't know how I ever could have done that; but the fact is I did it. But what's even worse is that afterwards I didn't even help him. I could have gone to him, held him, soothed him. Even if I just remained in the room waiting for him to return to normal in order to apologize it would have been something. But no. No, I ran away like a selfish coward. I have no doubt in my mind that Peeta hates me. If he didn't before he certainly does now. Friends don't abandon each other like I just did. It's ironic. When I woke up this morning I was all concerned about whether or not Peeta would accept me, whether he could move beyond the Capitol's lies and be friends again. But I'm the one who turned on him. Today I did the very thing President Snow accused me of doing to Peeta all along.

I decide that I can't take it anymore and so I quickly grab my bow from the closet in the living room, pull on a light jacket, and run for the woods. What I'll do there I don't know. Hunt I suppose. When I'll return I don't know either. Perhaps never. Maybe I'll live in the woods and survive off plants and wild game like Gale wanted a few years ago. I don't know what I'll do. All I know is that I have to get as far away this place as possible; as far away from Peeta, Haymitch, Greasy Sae, anyone who will judge me for the hateful person I really am.

As I begin the run from the Victor's Village to the woods I hear a voice in the background.

"Katniss! Katniss!"

It's a man's voice. Probably Haymitch. He probably went to check in on us and found Peeta lying on the floor. And with me running away it looks very suspicious. I don't look behind me but continue my sprint away from everyone, away from civilization and into the forest where I can hate myself in peace and quiet.

I don't stop running for a long time and when I finally do stop I'm clutching my side for the pain in it. I slump down on the forest floor to catch my breath. It's only after I've been sitting down for almost five minutes that I realize I don't know where I am. I've been hunting in this forest for years on my own and even longer with my father. But during that time I never strayed too far from the fence that used to surround our district. Oh sure, I'd strayed far enough in the past. But it was never wise to travel too far off. There are no clear paths and it was always best to get back through the fence in a hurry if you came across trouble. Today I seem to have penetrated into the woods farther than I ever have before and it only adds to the burden that this day has become. I'm lost.

I don't immediately panic. After all, I'm armed. I can take down any animal that tries to hurt me, save maybe a pack of wild dogs. There's no threat of being caught by the Capitol or Peacekeepers and I can't have been running forever. I don't recall taking very many turns while running so I'm not terribly confused about the path I took either. All in all the fact that I don't exactly know where I am is the least of my worries. What I'm more concerned with is what will happen when I get back? Because I thought it through while running. I can't stay here. I've been banished to District 12. If I'm gone for too long word will get out that the Mockingjay has escaped and then there will be search parties and I'll probably be hauled off to some Capitol prison for violating the terms of my exile. No, eventually I'll have to go back. And I can just picture what will happen when I do.

Haymitch is standing on his porch yelling loudly, a heavy bottle filled with clear liquid swinging dangerously form his hands.

"Way to go genius! You've managed to turn the one person who was always on your side into your enemy! You succeeded where even the Capitol failed! Let's hear it for the Mockingjay!"

And in my mind Haymitch is replaced by Greasy Sae who looks careworn, a look of disappointment playing out on her face.

"I can't believe you could be so heartless Everdeen. That boy's done nothing but love you and all you've done is stab him in the heart. Don't you care about anyone but yourself?"

And suddenly Sae is replaced by my mother who looks at me sadly and shakes her head saying "Your father would be ashamed of you."

And then there's Peeta. Blue eyes replaced by dark ones, a wild look claiming his once boyish features.

"I knew it! I knew you were a mutt all along! You tried to kill me! I hate you Katniss, I hate you!"

And I'm crying. Because I can't take all of this. Everything that's happened to me since the 74th Hunger Games has all been too much for one person to bear. Most people saw me as a piece of meat to be dressed up and toted around before being thrown into an arena to be bludgeoned and burned, or stabbed and attacked by wild animals. Or if they were form 12 they saw me as just another unfortunate reminder of the Capitol's invincible power over the Districts. But then the rebellion happened and I was practically forced to take on the role of Mockingjay while the President of District 13 plotted to get rid of me before I caused too much trouble. And as Mockingjay I had to visit the battle scarred people and places of the war. I had to be the face of the rebellion that everyone else could rally around. More times than most people experience in a lifetime I was thrust into kill or be killed situations.

I volunteered when my sister's life was at stake. I held a dying twelve year old girl in my arms as I sung her to her everlasting sleep. I was forced by people in power to single handedly stop an uprising before it even began and after I had done everything I could to meet the demands it still wasn't good enough. I'd lost my father, temporarily lost my mother, lost my sister, more friends than I could even count, and apparently my grip on reality. Did anybody ever stop to think that maybe this was all a bit much for a sixteen year old girl to handle? Yes, I was sixteen when I fought in my first Games. Seventeen when I did it again. And not quite eighteen while being the face of a thirteen district rebellion against centuries of tyranny.

I didn't mean to hurt Peeta. I wish more than anything that I could take it back. But inside I'm falling apart because there's no one left to care about me. My tears feel warm on my face and I don't know long it is before I pass out.

I'm sitting in a brightly lit room that is strangely devoid of any decoration. In fact, there are no windows either. Just white walls and white lights. But no, something's wrong. I'm not sitting. I'm lying down. I move to get up but I can't. There's something that's keeping me in place. My eyes travel to what restrains me and I see thick dark straps that are wrapped around my arms, legs, and middle. I'm lying down on some sort of bed and I'm strapped in against my will. Somewhere off to the left a door opens and I can hear the sound of footsteps.

Several people in white uniforms, their faces blocked by surgical masks, stand above me and begin to hold down my head as I start shaking violently. I try to scream but the only noise I can make is a horrific guttural noise like some dying animal. I realize that I no longer have use of my tongue. I no longer have a tongue. I've been turned into an avox. Before I know it, needles are being jammed into my arms and I can feel a burning sensation travel throughout my body.

Then there are hallucinations. My vision becomes distorted and I can see all sorts of terrible things. A mine explosion, Rue being struck with a spear, the sound of Finnick's death, the noise of bombs going off nearby. Prim's cry of "Katniss!" And then, standing over me is none other than President Snow in his most regal attire, the smell of mingled blood and roses filling my nose and making me sick.

Snow leans down to stroke my hair and I try to pull away but it's impossible. He is smiling slightly as if he's merely faintly amused by the anguish I'm clearly in.

"You should have known Mockingjay that it would eventually come to this. The rebellion is dead and so are all your friends. But you, my dear, are not going to join them. No. I'm going to send you off to District 12 where you will be able to contemplate all that has happened…alone and with no one there to help you through it."

Suddenly, I realize that I'm not an avox. I can speak and I use this opportunity to say with as much disgust as I can muster "I don't care. There's nothing left that you can do to me. You have nothing left to use against me."

Snow smiled. "Oh but that's not true."

And a curtain is pulled back to reveal Peeta Mellark; bruised and bloody and with what looks to be a mockingjay burned into the skin of his chest. Snow turns back to me and whispers "He's alive. For now. I'm going to give you an opportunity to redeem yourself. If you explain to Peeta the truth about how you really feel I may let him live. If you continue to lie to him I will make you watch as he is burned to death where he stands. Tell him Katniss. Tell him the truth."

I look at Peeta who has always been so strong. My heart is crushed to see him like this; broken and battered. But what does Snow want me to say? The truth. The truth about what?

"Peeta" I begin. "Peeta, please hear me. I never wanted any of this to happen. The Games, the lies, the hijacking. None of it. I'm so sorry. About everything."

Peeta tries to look up at me but my face is jerked back to look at President Snow. "Oh my dear, I thought we agreed not to lie to each other." My face is forced back to look at Peeta. And this time Peeta lifts his head up to look at me. I expect to see those warm eyes. Those brilliant eyes of the brightest blue.

Instead, there are dark holes because Peeta Mellark has no eyes.

I scream and I can hear Snow laughing in the distance.

My eyes jerk open and I let out a gasp of fear. I look around and see that I'm not in a white room. I'm in the forest. It was a dream. An awful, soul crushing dream. But a dream nonetheless. For the slightest moment I feel relieved that what I just witnessed wasn't real but almost immediately my heart sinks. What happened earlier today was not a dream; it was real and I find myself crying silently because of my unprovoked rage at Peeta.

I don't know how long I remain in a sitting position on the forest floor but the sun has traveled quite a distance in the sky by the time I decide to move again. I start the cautious walk back to my house because, after all, I am slightly lost even though my uncertain position in the woods is the least of my concerns. This was a wasted trip; I didn't even shoot anything. In fact, I didn't even make an attempt to hunt. My mind keeps wandering to my overreaction to the books Peeta brought back from the Capitol. I really was out of line. There was nothing harmful about those medical books. And if that's the only thing I can be mad at him for than he's practically perfect.

Of course I know that he's not. No, Peeta makes mistakes just like the rest of us. And his skin and mind are scarred form the effects of the Games and the war just like mine are. But the difference between Peeta's flaws and mine are that his biggest mistakes tend to involve helping other people. His large-heartedness is his biggest downfall. My mistakes however, are almost always entirely selfish. I rarely think how my actions are going to affect another person. Not that I never do, it's just rare. But today, my mistake was deeper, I think, than any other I may have committed. The one comfort I take is that Peeta's kind and easygoing nature may cause him to forgive me. And boy do I need his forgiveness.

But there's another part of me that doesn't even want to face him; that can't face him. How do you apologize for something like that? Hi Peeta. Oh and by the way, I'm sorry about earlier where I basically became the malicious enemy the Capitol told you I was for months. But hey, we're still cool right? Yeah; somehow I can't see that going over too well.

But there's another thought that crosses my mind at this point; one that is, in a way, even more frightening than my dream. Before I fell asleep I imagined different people I know reacting to my treatment of Peeta. Haymitch, Greasy Sae, my mother, Peeta himself. It's unnerving to think how real those reactions were, how so very like the real person they were. Haymitch's sarcasm, Sae's exasperation, the cold disappointment in my mother's voice, her reference to my father, and even…even the anger and pain coming from Peeta. It's all I can do not to fall down and start crying again.

It's strange. I almost never cried before. Even when my father died there was only a small amount of crying from me. Then I had to dry those tears and pick up the pieces of my broken family on my own. There was never any time for tears. But since the Hunger Games, especially since the Quarter Quell, crying at random times has become almost second nature to me. But this time I manage to keep myself composed. I have to. If I break down again I may never resurface. Things were just starting to look up too. Peeta was coming back, I was eating again, hunting, bathing. I even started to feel a little bit of happiness inside me. Now all of that is gone, replaced by fear and an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Fortunately, I'm comfortable enough in the woods that in almost no time at all I'm able to find a familiar spot that tells me I won't have to spend the night lost in the woods. I gaze around the area. It's a wide, open space that sort of sticks out in this densely forested place. On either side there are trees and bushes galore but in this one spot, for probably a good hundred yards around, is a clearing with a clear view of the sun and sky above. This wasn't a place I frequented very often when I would hunt with Gale. Like the lake, it was a place my father had shown me and it was a place I liked to keep to myself.

In fact, it's been a good four years since I took the time to find this place; but being here now relaxes me in a way I don't really feel I deserve. It reminds me of better times, like when my father was still with us. He used to take me here to just enjoy the warmth of the sun on nice, late spring days. It was sort of our go between the forest and the lake. Most of our time was spent hunting in the thickly wooded forest but our summers were often spent swimming and gathering roots at the lake. This clearing was our springtime haven. A place where we could lie on our backs and watch the clouds moving through the sky.

I would like to stop here and soak in the rays of warmth that the sun is providing, just like those spring days long ago. But I know I still have a good hour before I make it back to the outskirts of the district and another half hour before I'll be back at the Victor's Village. It's getting late now, probably close to four in the afternoon, and I figure I've got a lot of explaining to do once I get back home.

It would be funny if it weren't so depressing. You would think I was the one who was hijacked, the way my emotions keep changing so rapidly. In the course of a few days I've been miserable, borderline suicidal, hopeful, excited, something resembling happy, then irritated, furious, confused, afraid, and guilty. Who says District 12 was boring?

While I'm making my way through the town square (because I decided I needed more time to think before I got back home) I'm jarred form my own mind by the sound of someone calling my name.

"Katniss! Katniss Everdeen!" It sounds vaguely familiar to me, that voice.

I turn slowly to see a boy about my age running towards me. He has my same dark hair and grey eyes, marking him as being from the Seam. It takes me a minute to place his name but finally I realize who he is. Ashton Coverdale. He was in my year at school and belonged to one of the wealthier families of the Seam, which means they were just under the poverty line. I used to sell my wild onions to his mother at the Hob. I don't think I've seen Ashton since before the Quell so I'm surprised to see him running towards me now.

"Katniss!" he says again. "Where have you been? Everyone says you came back to District 12 but I haven't seen you in months! What's going on? How are you?"

How am I? I'm miserable and tired form all my running, crying, dreaming, and walking I've done today. But I don't say that.

"Oh I'm alright" I lie. I don't feel like I owe Ashton anything. We were never particularly close, although I do remember that he was cool with Gale. And besides, he couldn't possibly relate to the things I feel right now so I really don't feel the need to elaborate. There is one thing I want to know though.

"How did you get out of District 12? I don't remember seeing you in 13." It's true. During all the months I lived in District 13 I never once saw Ashton Coverdale or his family.

Ashton smiled. "You just weren't looking hard enough. I was there. My mother still is, and my little sister too. But I decided to come back here and start over."

For some reason I don't like Ashton's smile. It reminds me too much of Cato, the Career tribute from District 2 from my first Hunger Games. Cato was cocky and carried himself like he was the one to beat. Which was true, but I don't like it when people carry themselves like they're superior, even if they are. Ashton's smile is more like a smirk. One that says "I'm the man. I deserve the attention." How so unlike Peeta.

But I decide that I don't want to burn bridges with another person today so I give a somewhat forced smile and say "I'm glad to hear everyone is doing well."

"Yeah, it's been tough trying to start over. But things are looking up. Thanks to you of course." He shoots me another one of his smirks that makes me uncomfortable; it's as if he's not looking at me but looking right through me. Like I'm some sort of goal that needs to be conquered.

I decide I don't like where this might go so I try to politely excuse myself.

"Well I'm glad things are working out. But I've got to get going. I've got to get cleaned up for dinner and…other things."

Ashton looks nonchalant but again, his superior smirk just gets to me.

"Alright then Katniss. You should stop by house sometime. We can have dinner or something. It must be awful living over there with nothing but a drunk and a lunatic to keep you company."

Whatever I was expecting Ashton to say, it wasn't this. How dare he! How dare he call Haymitch a drunk and Peeta a lunatic! Sure, Haymitch is a drunk but he's also my mentor. One of the only reasons I ever made it through two Games and a war. I may have the right to call Haymitch a drunk but this guy doesn't. He doesn't even know Haymitch! And Peeta…for some reason his comments about Peeta strike a chord deep within me and it's all I can do not to throttle him right here. Peeta is not a lunatic. He may be damaged but it's through no fault of his own. And when he's lucid Peeta is still the kindest and sweetest person I've ever met. He has no right to talk about Peeta. And by the way, what exactly is he insinuating, that I should come by his house for dinner? What does he think, that I just share a meal with any guy who comes along? No. No thank you. I'm fine taking my meals just the way they are.

I make sure I frame my answer as coldly as possible.

"No thanks. And don't ever insult Peeta or Haymitch ever again. You have no idea who they are or what they mean to me."

Ashton's smirk disappears for a moment, as if he's genuinely surprised at what I said, but he regains it almost immediately.

"I know that Haymitch Abernathy is the reason 46 District 12 kids died without a shot in hell of winning the Games. Because he was too drunk to help them out or get them sponsors. Younger brothers don't forget."

And suddenly I remember that five years before my first Games Ashton's brother Casey was District 12's boy tribute. Obviously he didn't make it. But still, that gives him no right to be rude, especially about Peeta…

Ashton's smirk deepens. "And I know that watching that whole romance angle between you and Mellark was ridiculous. You don't have any idea how pathetic it was to see that little shopkeeper's son wallow in his love like some stupid puppy. Besides, everybody knows it was just an act, at least on your end. It's obvious you preferred Gale to…"

But whatever Ashton Coverdale was about to say never came out. He was silenced by a hard slap across the face. That felt good. I'd do it again if he gave me the chance.

Instead of looking shocked or hurt, although there's a nice red and white palm mark on his left cheek, he just looks even more self-satisfied then before.

"I can see they're rubbing off on you" he says. "You ought to be careful girl on fire. I'm part of the fire department now. I know how to put out blazes." And with that he turned and walked away.

I can't believe the nerve of that man! No, no not a man. He's clearly still a boy. I know Peeta would never act like that, ever. I don't know when and where Ashton Coverdale became a jerk because I don't remember him being like that before, but it's because of people like that that I'm perfectly content to remain isolated in the Victor's Village for the rest of my life. With people like that moving back into the district, my little life at home is going to be just fine. But first, I need to make peace with Peeta.

It's funny how primal my reaction was to Ashton insulting Peeta. It wasn't just that he was insulting him though. That was bad enough. But it was the way he described my preference for Gale. As if I didn't care about Peeta at all. I'll admit, during and after the first Games I was confused; I didn't know who I preferred. Mainly because I didn't know what Gale and I even had and I wasn't sure until the very end if how Peeta felt about me was even real. But it was real. For both of them.

It's still hard to believe but plain old Katniss Everdeen found herself in the middle of a love triangle between two boys handsome enough and talented enough to win the hearts of any female they desired. But they both desired me.

Both before and during the Quarter Quell I was still somewhat conflicted over which one I wanted more. Gale, with his darkly handsome features and his comforting familiarity? Or Peeta, with his own variety of handsome, winning personality, and comforting sense of humor? But there was no doubt about it, when Peeta and I kissed on the beach there was definitely something there. And now Gale's gone. I can't even think about a relationship with Gale anymore because of the reality of his role in my sister's death and his own selfish concerns afterwards. Peeta though, has never abandoned me when he could help it, and even his warm embrace this morning at the train station spoke volumes of his care for me without even speaking a word.

So for Ashton Coverdale to come in and accuse me of not caring for Peeta is just ridiculous. I probably care more for Peeta than anyone else alive. But then I realize that if that's true, I need to show it. And causing a hijacking induced fit is not the way to go about it. I don't need to necessarily throw myself at him with promises of romance or anything like that. But I do need to show Peeta that I care, if for no other reason than to spite Ashton Coverdale. And because Peeta deserves it. And I really do care. And…maybe there is something there between us. I don't know right now but one thing is certain: I cannot drive Peeta Mellark out of my life. And if that requires apology after apology for the way I acted, if that requires me to get out of my own way and be the support that Peeta needs then so be it. And I can hear Haymitch's voice in my mind:

"You could live a thousand years and not deserve him."

He's right. I don't deserve Peeta. But for some reason, understood only to himself, he loves me. And I'm determined to love him back. What that completely means even I don't know. But if it's for Peeta, I know it will be worth it.

xXx

Dinner that night is a subdued affair, although not entirely un-enjoyable. I searched out Peeta as soon as I returned home and as expected, Haymitch gave me a talking to. But I did apologize. I apologized more profusely then ever in my life and I believe that Peeta forgave me. He wrapped his arms around me and thanked me at least. It's still a little awkward sharing a table with Peeta and Haymitch (Greasy Sae declined my invitation to stay for dinner herself) but it isn't unbearable.

Peeta has explained some of what he experienced during his therapy in the Capitol, about how his brain was affected by the hijacking. Fortunately, Peeta is making rapid progress and Dr. Aurelius is hopeful that with the proper medicine, time, and a calm emotional environment he could be recovered enough to have his flashbacks be limited to only once or twice a year. I wish there was a way for him to be completely cured but apparently the hijacking is irreversible in its entirety. Like cancer it can be treated, not cured.

It's while Peeta is rattling off the names of some of the drugs they tried him on that I'm seized by a sudden desire to take Peeta's head into my arms and pull him close to my heart. Just to let him know that it's ok now. That he doesn't need to worry anymore. That I'm here for him. But I stop myself because for one thing, Haymitch is still here and for another, I'm not sure I'm ready to do something like that. You don't just come out of a month long depression and then act like everything is normal. No, there's a lot of work to be done if I want to reach that level of closeness with Peeta again.

Dinner however, is superb. Venison stew with carrots and potatoes topped with thick gravy and warm, buttery bread specially baked by Peeta. As part of his therapy Dr. Aurelius has ordered that Peeta do things that make him happy and so Peeta has promised to shower me and Haymitch in baked goods for the foreseeable future.

After about an hour Haymitch excuses himself and heads off to his own house. Greasy Sae has already left leaving Peeta and I alone together for the first time since our disastrous encounter this morning. I'm feeling very nervous and I hope Peeta isn't afraid I might fly off the handle again. But Peeta looks all smiles as he says "Do you want any help with the dishes?" I look to the sink. There aren't many left. Sae cleaned the bulk of them before she left. All that remains are our dinner plates and silverware.

I shake my head and say "No thanks Peeta. But thank you for your offer. But you have just gotten back home so I don't want to stress you out too much; I've already caused you enough trouble today."

"It's no trouble Katniss. I don't mind."

He's so earnest I have no trouble believing him. But no, I have to put my foot down.

"No Peeta. I can manage them. Just…just promise you won't be a stranger alright? I'm really glad you're back and I'm sorry about earlier. Maybe we can…do something together one of these days. Like…" I don't know. What can I do with Peeta?

"I think hunting's out of the question" he says. "I seem to remember you telling me that I was too loud and that I scared off game."

He's right. Even before his prosthetic leg Peeta was unnaturally loud in the forest.

"We'll think of something" I say.

"Katniss?" Peeta looks pained. As if he's carrying such an enormous burden.

"Yeah?"

Peeta takes a deep breath and says "I'm sorry about Gale. Haymitch told me. I know…I know he was special to you. I just hope you'll be alright."

You would think I might feel a little more regret about Gale. Especially since this is Peeta talking. But I don't. Gale is such a thing of the past now that he almost doesn't seem real. District 2 is almost as far away from District 12 as the Capitol; a world away as far as I'm concerned.

"I'm fine Peeta. Really I am. I can't pretend that I don't miss Gale a little. But it's not like before. I'm just glad you're back. Now that you're here it's almost like…" Dare I say it?

I don't want to lead Peeta on anymore; I did enough of that during our first Games. I don't want to give him any false hope of a future that I'm not sure I can handle. And I don't want to write Gale off as if he doesn't matter either. He'll always be an important part of my childhood. But then I think of the bombs, Gale's selfishness, his complete lack of contact since the end of the war, and his vengeful purpose compared to Peeta's kind protection.

"It's almost like Gale never mattered all that much."

Wow, that was a big step. I can see it in Peeta's face; he's shocked. So am I if it comes to it. But there's more of me that agrees with my statement then disagrees. Gale is a part of my past. Not my present and probably not my future. And I'm fine with that. My heart hurts less to think of never seeing Gale again than never seeing Peeta.

But that's all I can say for now. I can't go any further. Perhaps Peeta understands this because he smiles at me sweetly and nods his head toward me.

"Good night Katniss."

"Good night Peeta."

And then he's gone. I find myself staring out my window at his retreating form and then at his house long after he's gone inside. It's hard to believe how much has changed in just the two days since Haymitch told me Peeta was on his way back. But there feels like there's something in the air now. Maybe it's just the renewal of life associated with spring. Maybe it's just emotion over Peeta's return. Maybe it's both or maybe it's more. Whatever it is though, I feel sure it forebodes something good. After all, things could hardly get worse than they've been, right? I'm certain that they can't.

I'm alive, Peeta's here, and the war is over. There are no more Hunger Games and no more Capitol. Well, the Capitol is very different now anyway. Perhaps this is the opportunity I've been waiting for to start over fresh.

Perhaps, for once, the odds actually are in my favor.