A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy my first attempt at a Hunger Games one-shot. I'm crossing my fingers that it will turn out to your liking :)I do not own any of Suzanne Collins's characters or stories, nor do I own the excerpt included here.

A quick review: Katniss and Peeta have just left the games, watched the recap on live TV, been crowned victors, finished their interview with Caesar, and are on the train back to District Twelve. Haymitch has been running interference and this is the first time the two really talk since the Games have ended. Katniss is questioning whether Peeta was really acting, she doesn't know her own feelings, and she's anxious about returning home to her family and Gale and having to explain everything to them. Peeta, of course, is adorably and inconveniently oblivious of the situation with the Capitol. The two victors have stepped of the train to get some air and Haymitch, untimely as ever, congratulates Katniss on her performance then walks away, leaving Katniss to explain everything to Peeta.

So, a short excerpt for a refresher, and then the story.

"What does he mean?" Peeta asks me.

"It's the Capitol. They didn't like our stunt with the berries," I blurt out.

"What? What are you talking about?" he says.

"It seemed too rebellious. So, Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn't make it worse," I say.

"Coaching you? But not me," says Peeta.

"He knew you were smart enough to get it right," I say.

"I didn't know there was anything to get right," says Peeta. "So what you're saying is, these last few days and then I guess…back in the arena…that was just some strategy you two worked out."

"No. I mean, I couldn't even talk to him in the arena, could I?" I stammer.

"But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn't you?" says Peeta. I bite my lip. "Katniss?" He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance.

"It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted."

"Not all of it," I say, tightly holding onto my flowers.

"Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says.

"I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none's forthcoming.

"Well, let me know when you work it out," he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable.

He turns and starts to walk back to the train; something begins squeezing my heart, tightening its grip with each step he takes. "Peeta," I whisper. Then louder I say, "Peeta."

My voice cracks at the end of his name and he stops, but he doesn't face me. "What is it Katniss?" he asks, his voice sad and tired.

Three quick strides bring me to his side, "I won't say I'm sorry. I know what I did wasn't fair, but it kept us alive." I state firmly. I tug gently at his hand until he meets my eyes, "I will not apologize for keeping you alive." I say.

His eyes soften a little, "I know. I'm not asking you to. But it wasn't fair; I had the right to know I was being lied to from the beginning." He murmurs so softly I almost miss the steely edge. He drops his eyes accusingly to my fingers, which still grasp loosely to his palm.

Peeta's words send waves of guilt through me. If I were in his position, I would be livid, would curse anyone for making such a fool out of me. In fact, I remember pushing him into some ugly pottery when he began the star-crossed lovers charade back before the games ever started. And that was only for a fleeting moment of embarrassment during the interviews. "Haymitch didn't tell me," I say, and I'm surprised by how bitter I sound. "The whole time, I truly thought you knew."

I recall the conversation Haymitch and I had in the hallway of the tribute's tower, Peeta standing just a few feet away, his hands dripping blood from his encounter with the broken urn. "When this whole thing started Haymitch said it didn't matter what I really felt, that it was all a show. I thought you had helped invent the 'star-crossed lovers of District Twelve', that it was all just a plan you were carrying out."

I try to ignore the hollow ring of my words which begs me to question the truth of that statement. How many times had I wondered if he wasn't making things up as he went along? How many times had I questioned his impressive ability to fabricate, on demand, the stories he told in the arena? Or puzzled over half-remembered pieces of his tales which rang true? Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I had wondered if Peeta was truly in love with me. But I hadn't had time to think; as far as his feelings and my own, I just wasn't sure.

"Haymitch didn't tell you," Peeta repeats in mocking disbelief, as if I had just spoken my thoughts aloud. "I didn't think Haymitch would have to tell you I was being honest." His bitter tone matches my own. "I'm sorry I trusted that you would return the favor."

It's like a slap. I stare at him in shock, taken aback by the accusations in his words. Anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach and it doesn't matter that he's right; it's as if every stressful thought of the last few days had wound itself into a tight coil and was finally springing free.

"That's completely unfair Peeta," My voice cuts the thin, cool air and I have to struggle to keep it down. "I didn't know you! You were practically a stranger! I didn't even trust you until you saved me from Cato when I dropped the tracker jacker nest!" I blurt, too angry to think about what I'm saying. "How could you expect so much of me? Even now you want me to tell you how I feel, but I don't even know. I care about you Peeta, just like I care about Prim and my mother and Gale. I want you to be happy and healthy and safe; maybe I even care about you enough to love you. But am I in love with you? I couldn't tell you, and it doesn't matter. You deserve better than anything I could give you; you should be with someone who can make you happy and give you a family one day. No matter what I feel, it isn't fair to let you hope for any of that from me. But if you honestly want to torment yourself with the knowledge, can't I just have a little time to think?"

Peeta looked stunned, his mouth opening and closing several times as he tried to muster a response.

Resisting the urge to shove him as I'd done so many months ago, I lower my voice to a tight whisper and work up my most menacing scowl, "Never mind, you don't have to give me time to think. If and when I decide how I feel, I won't tell you."

I turn on my heel, but I'm shaking so hard I can hardly stand upright and the thing gripping my heart is squeezing tighter than ever. I'm angry and upset and a little embarrassed as I push past Peeta and climb back onto the train. My hand touches the smooth brass door knob of my room just as the sobbing begins. Effie shoots a concerned glance my way but doesn't move from her seat in the dining car, and for that I am incredibly grateful.

I have already thrown myself under the comforter and curled into a tight ball before I realize my hand still clings to the bouquet Peeta picked for me. My chest constricts once again as I think of everything I have just yelled at him and I toss the flowers to the ground. How could I have lost control? For so long all of those thoughts and feelings had remained tightly locked away, and yet somehow Peeta had pried them out of me. There had been a reason to keep them concealed; I need to be the only one who knows my thoughts, I need to be the only one making my decisions. And wasn't it so much easier that way? No one can tell me what I feel or what I don't feel. No one can pinpoint my confusion; no one can know how weak I am.

A small voice in the back of my mind urges me to think logically, 'Peeta would never use your words against you.'

However, I am beyond reassurance. I have ruined my chance to find a quiet spot in the woods and puzzle everything out for myself. And, I've told him everything. He has no reason to hope for anything from me anymore. He has no reason to love me anymore. The thought makes my stomach twist; I am simultaneously relieved and nauseated. I know that this is what I wanted, but for some reason the notion makes my heart ache so painfully I have to sit up to get a full breath of air. I am loosing the boy with the bread before I even decide if I want to keep him.

I drift into a fitful sleep soon after the train begins to move again. Several times I wake up to hear the clink of china as the rest of the train's passengers enjoy their dinner. Each time, I force myself to focus on the gentle swaying of the train, to keep my mind blank of all sleep-depriving thoughts, and quickly fall asleep again.

It isn't until late in the night, or maybe early in the morning, that the nightmares begin. I am back in the arena and Peeta stands beside me. I glance at him and my mouth opens as if I am going to speak to him, but I don't get the chance. As I watch him he falls onto all fours and his body begins to elongate, his joints crack and pop and a moment later a huge, snarling mutt stands before me. The mutt's fur is a shining blond, and its eyes a sharp, icy blue. He howls and the other mutts from the arena flock toward him, surrounding me, staring me down with their too-human eyes. I scream, both in my dream and out loud, a painful, piercing sound that wakes me from my nightmare and sends violent tremors down my spine.

I jolt upright, chest heaving, frantically searching the darkness for any signs of mutts. It takes me a moment to remember where I am and soon the rocking motion of the room jogs my memory. I am on a train headed to District 12, to my home and far, far away from the horrors of the Games.

As I sit, still panting in my bed, the door to my room swings open softly. My eyes flash to the door and as they adjust to the dim light I see Peeta slip inside. Though I am startled by his presence, I'm too shaken by my dream to speak. All I can do is watch him silently and remind myself that he is a boy, not a mutt, and that will never change because our Games are over.

Peeta sits down beside me on the bed and smoothes the hair from my clammy forehead; I tense but manage not to flinch away from his touch. "Did you have a bad dream?" he asks softly. His voice has lost the hard edge it carried earlier, it is all warmth and gentleness and concern.

This is not what I expect from him. I have been prepared for him to ignore me completely, at least until the cameras return and our interaction becomes a necessity. Though I am wary of his actions, because at this point I half expect him to morph into a mutt right here and wake me from another nightmare, I nod silently and allow him to untangle the comforter from my legs.

I am more than a little surprised when he lays me down and crawls in bed beside me. He tucks the covers tightly around us then wraps an arm around my waist.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he murmurs into my hair.

Just like that, we're back in the cave. These actions are so foreign and so familiar at the same time; I twist my body so that I am facing him. For a long moment I just stare at him, trying to decide if I am okay with our position and mulling over why he has come here after our earlier fight. I take a deep, shuddering breath and slowly let my guard down. With all the things I have said today, I figure I can't make things any worse.

"You turned into a mutt." I croak.

He pulls me closer to him and rubs reassuring circles on my back. "Well, I don't plan on turning into a mutt any time soon, so you don't need to worry." He whispers lightly. He leans in, as if to plant a kiss on the tip of my nose, but stops himself.

I find one of his hands in the folds of fabric surrounding us and squeeze it tightly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. I didn't mean to tell you all that." I search out his eyes in the darkness, "But now that you know…" I trail off, not really wanting to think about what my full disclosure means for us.

"Now that I know, I want to apologize," Peeta says. "I was upset and I acted selfishly. I had no right to demand so much of you." He glances up at me through his eyelashes, "I'm so sorry, Katniss."

My eyes widen, and even in the darkness Peeta must be able to see my face because a soft chuckle escapes him. Relief is flooding through me but I'm muddled with confusion, I shouldn't be so happy that he hasn't given up on me. This will complicate things, I'm back to where I was earlier today and no closer to figuring out my feelings. All the same, I feel myself giving his hand a light squeeze.

"What if we start over?" Peeta asks. "We can try being friends. Of course, I'll be at a disadvantage because you already know how I feel," he laughs again, "But I won't pressure you. You can set the pace, and we'll see where we go from there."

I'm starting to get upset again, "Peeta, weren't you listening? I'm not worth the trouble. I can't give you a family; I will never risk bringing children into a world where this," I gesture around me, encompassing our entire situation with the Capitol and the Games, "Could happen to them. I can't make you as happy as you deserve to be."

Peeta catches a wayward lock of my hair and twirls it between his fingers. He doesn't look at my face, but when he speaks his voice is clear and honest, "Katniss, I love you. Having family in the future? Yeah, that would be great. But you have to understand, I am in love with you, not the idea of a wife or a family." His eyes flick up to meet mine, "I know you don't want to hear about all this 'love', but you just can't seem to get it through your head. I appreciate the concern for my decisions, but I know exactly what I'm trying to get myself into." He smiles at me, and it's so sweet and sad and, well, loving; I have no choice but to believe every word.

I want to tell him that his plan sounds wonderful, but something is nagging at the back of my mind. The two of us starting over only fixes half of the problem.

"What about Gale?" I barely manage to whisper.

I think I see Peeta's features darken slightly, "If you decide you love Gale, or that you just can't stand me anymore, that's your choice. I want you to be happy, Katniss." He smiles at me crookedly, "Just let me know what you choose, turns out I'm not as good at reading your mind as I thought."

I feel tears spring to my eyes at his words. "Thank you," I choke out, burying my face in his chest. I feel like a child, but I am overwhelmed by how good Peeta is. Much too good for me.

Peeta hugs me tightly and presses a kiss to the top of my head. After a few moments he trails his lips down to my ear, "Since I didn't know that our last kiss could be the last one I ever get from you, there's one thing I would like to do before we become 'just friends'." His voice is husky and low and his warm breath dances across my skin.

A shiver runs down my spine and I am still debating whether the feeling was entirely unpleasant or not when soft lips meet mine. A familiar stirring begins in my chest and I lean into Peeta, willing him to continue for just a few more moments. Because suddenly the idea of never feeling these warm, comforting lips against mine again is almost unbearable.

I bring my arms up and tangle my fingers in his short, blond hair, deepening our kiss ever so slightly. Seconds later Peeta pulls away. He tugs my hands from around his neck and holds them tightly between us, when he speaks his voice is somewhat strained, "You're making me regret suggesting friendship."

I bite my lip, embarrassed. "Sorry," I murmur.

There is a flash of white as Peeta smiles, and this time he does plant a kiss on my nose. "So, my good friend Katniss," Peeta says, emphasizing the word 'friend', "I think it's time I went back to my own bed."

I agree, and he slips from under the comforter and is at the door before he turns back to me. "If you have another nightmare?" he asks.

I hide my face in the pillow, "I wouldn't mind if you came back." The words are muffled but I know Peeta hears me because he's laughing again as he slips out of the room.

Though I am nervous about having Peeta out of my sight after my latest dream, I feel oddly at peace. Peeta and I are friends, nothing more and nothing less. Well, at least we have a clean slate. I fall asleep quickly and do not wake again until Effie is knocking at my door, urging me to get ready.

The morning passes quickly as I watch for the familiar scenery of District 12 through the windows of the train. Today I will see my mother and Prim. Today I will see Gale. The thought of seeing him still makes my stomach churn, but it is overpowered by my eagerness to have him close by me again.

As we arrive at the station a sea of cameras greet us on the platform. Peeta offers me a hand and I grasp it firmly. Our true relationship may have changed, but to the rest of Panem we are still the star-crossed lovers of District 12, and we must perform accordingly.

"We're home," I whisper.

Peeta gives my hand a final squeeze before we step off the train, and as a curiously warm current flows through my body I tell myself it's merely nerves.

Was Katniss melodramatic enough for you all ? I sure hope so ;)

It would make my day if you enjoyed reading this even half as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've had this idea stuck in my mind for nearly a year now and it's nice to finally publish it. Please leave a comment so I can know what you thought, good or bad! I have a few ideas for continuing this and making it a multi-chapter fic, but I'm also working on revising some Harry Potter work I did a few years ago, so no promises.

Now, I also need to acknowledge the winner of my '5 Christmas Keys' Harry Potter Competition:

Group One – 0-750 words

1st place: White Feathers In Her Hair by Lady Bordeaux

2nd place: Peppermint Muffins and Chocolate Cake Mix by CBlack19

Group Two – 750-2000 words

1st place: Not Quite Spot On; the second chapter of The Most Wonderful Time of the Year by Naomi S. Goldson

2nd place: Candlelit Desire by Slightly Small

3rd place: Two Lonely Hearts by Cheeky Slytherin Lass

Group Three – 2000+ words

1st place: A Comedy of Sorts by Padfoot's Prose

2nd place: TIE! Of Snowmen and Snowballs by MissMalfoy77 and Stuffed Bears and Mistletoe by Copper Rogue

Please check these stories out if you have the time, they were all wonderful submissions! And winners, forgive me for taking so long, hopefully its better late than never.