Something I've been working on for a while, parallell with "Labyrinth". Once I got the idea for this one in my head it felt too interesting to leave aside =) My plan is to keep both stories going, hopefully updating once or twice a month. First chapters for this story will be fairly brief but they'll get longer as the story progresses.

The title is temporary, so don't be shocked if it changes at some point.

To my own surprise, halfway through dinner, I suddenly realize that I'm feeling happy. The realization comes as such a shock to me that I pause with my fork halfway between the plate and my mouth and I have to take a second to put the cutlery down and take a few sips of the ice water in my glass to gather my wits. The faintest of smiles is suddenly on my lips and I set the glass back down and continue eating. A quick glance at the other two people at the table tells me that neither one of them noticed what just happened and for that I'm thankful. I don't want to make a big deal out of it.

It's been so many months of nothing but pain and grief and not really having the will to live anymore. It got better three weeks ago when Peeta came back to the district and I found him planting primrose bushes outside my house. On some level I think I was waiting for him and once he came back I could start moving forward with my life. I have to take everything in small steps but for the first time in forever it feels like I'm on the right path.

For the past week we've been having dinner together every night, the three of us. Haymitch, who spent so much time hiding out in his own house, seems to really long for company and he even lays off the bottle every day until he's had dinner with us. I'm starting to realize that Haymitch will never be fully healed. There have been too many years of pain and guilt and fear and the horrible memories from the Games, and he has been holding on to his bottles of white liquor for so long that he won't ever be able to let them go for good. They sobered him up in Thirteen and he stayed sober for some time but as soon as he had the option to drink again he did. That's just how he works. I understand that better than I ever did before and aside from the worry that he will drink himself to death I don't really mind it anymore.

The only one who's really changed for the better is Peeta. I was a bit wary when he returned, afraid of trusting the belief that he could get better. I never did make my peace with the idea of him being lost forever thanks to the hijacking and his gradual recovery left some spark of hope inside of me but too many bad things have happened for me to trust to hope. But he's doing better. He's moving closer and closer to becoming his old self, his true self. The kindness and understanding is back, the gentle spirit too. I don't know to what extent he's recovered since he hasn't talked to me about it yet but in my heart I'm beginning to think that he can be the same way he once was.

Sitting here tonight with two of the people I care the most about in the whole world being here with me makes me feel happy. It's not a feeling I ever thought I would have again but it's there and it's a little overwhelming to realize. I thought it would take something monumental to feel like this again but maybe the everyday things could have that effect also.

I look at Peeta, blowing a curl of ashen hair away from his face before putting a forkful of food in his mouth, and I wonder how much of this feeling is because of him. It's so good to have him back. Gale went off to District Two, my mother to District Four and the friends I made in Thirteen and during the Quell went their separate ways also. Only Haymitch came back home with me. Having Peeta here too makes me feel relieved. At least I didn't lose them all.

I have to admit to myself that I like looking at him. I like quietly studying his blue eyes, the curve of his upper lip, the way his body moves. I like looking at him and seeing the Peeta I knew before the hijacking. It wasn't so much the things he's said since coming back that made me know that he was beginning to recover for real. It was his body language. I recognized him in how he moved and in his face and that matters more than hearing him say the right things.

Once dinner is over we relocate to the sitting room. Haymitch throws his legs up on the coffee table and leans back on the couch, burping loudly. Peeta goes over to the fireplace and starts to work on getting a fire going. I curl up on an armchair, my feet folded underneath me, and allow myself to relax and enjoy the moment. It's quiet and we only talk a little bit but it still feels good. It feels like home.

After about an hour Haymitch begins to miss his bottle and he gets up and bids us a good night. Peeta rises from his spot on the couch and offers to help me clean up after dinner. I feel myself smiling slightly again. We haven't been alone together since he came back. Not unless you count that brief meeting when he was planting the primrose bushes.

We walk into the kitchen and Peeta begins to fill the sink up with hot water. I gather the dishes and open a cabinet to find a towel to dry everything off with while Peeta begins to wash the forks.

"Dinner was good" he offers, though he already said so while we were eating.

"Thanks" I say anyway, taking the forks he hands to me.

"It's been nice having dinner with you and Haymitch every day this week."

"It has been" I agree.

He doesn't say much else until he's finishing up washing the last item, a large pot. He glances at me as he scrubs it with a brush and gives me half a smile.

"I think it can be better now" he says. "I'm better."

"You are" I acknowledge.

"Obviously I don't hate you anymore, like I did when…" He trails off and hands me the pot, reaching into the sink to pull out the plug and let the dishwater out. "I don't hate you. And I think we have a shot at being real friends now. And I mean, like, real friendship. Not like what we were trying to force between the Games."

"We weren't trying to force anything" I object softly, though that is of course a lie. Then again it's not, because what we tried to force was a grand romance, not friendship. We were quite good at being friends, as I recall.

"I know it was awkward back then" says Peeta, drying his hands on the fabric of his jeans. "There's a lot of stuff I don't remember, and stuff that I'm not sure if what I remember is real. I try to think positive though, and as awful as the hijacking was, at least it brought something good."

"What good could that possibly be?" I snort.

"I'm not in love with you anymore." He smiles a little. "Before there was always my unrequited love making things awkward and preventing us from truly being friends. Now we're on equal footing. Nothing to disrupt the balance."

"Great" I say, but I can hear how hollow my voice sounds.

"Anyway, thanks for dinner." His smile widens a bit. "I should get going. Bakers get up early in the morning."

"Safe a loaf for me tomorrow morning" I reply, following him with my eyes as he walks towards the kitchen door.

"I'll do that." The door opens and he steps out into the night. "Have a good night, Katniss. See you tomorrow."

"You too."

The door closes and I find myself staring at it for a good five minutes. I'm well aware that when it comes to identifying a feeling I'm not one who excels. Right now that is pretty damn inconvenient because I can't figure out what that hollow feeling inside me is about and how it could come on the same night that I began to feel happiness again.

The closes thing I can liken it to is… loss.