Please read Behind the Mask first if you haven't already, this is a major spoiler to the first story. Obviously, since it is a sequel…

Again, I don't own anything.


The train whistled past the edge in to District 12. The woods were a familiar view; their border around my home was forbidden to enter. The fences were torn down and we were allowed to explore, but I never have. Houses were dotted here and there as people moved on with their lives. Ever since the rebellion ended, District 12 began to prosper; growing larger each day. No longer were we Panem's joke. People flocked to District 12; my dad said it was because of me, because I was some savior or something. Part of me missed how District 12 used to be. Even though living was easier, there was to many people. They all wanted to meet the man that defeated the Capitol. If it was true, then why did I feel like I betrayed everyone? I wasn't a savior, I was on the wrong side yet still I was praised for my accomplishments.

My dad told me that if it wasn't for me, the rebellion would have never ended. It aggravated me; I was there, that part I do remember. He didn't know what he was talking about. Even still, three years later, I still felt loyal to the Capitol leaving me even more lost than I already was. How can someone remain loyal to something that doesn't exist anymore?

My thoughts twisted in my head. Even though three years had passed since I realized my memories weren't really my own, I still had trouble accepting them. The easiest to sort through was with my parents, but it was still difficult to sort them out. My head tells me I love my mom, that she actually cared about me. I quickly learned that wasn't the case. Being the savior of our country, you'd think she'd have at least come to love me more. I hated my dad at first for the same reason, like he was trying to win me over because of what I did. It took a year to finally accept that I liked my dad, but still my head tells me differently.

Probably one of the hardest things to accept was the praise and recognition. I was stopped regularly, people congratulating me, thanking me. They'd tell me things are better for them. My dad told me I used to care, that I wasn't so cold hearted. I tried to be that person, but it was hard. That's not who I was anymore, I had that ripped away the moment Cato ran me through with his sword.

That was the worst part. Cato. The question I couldn't stand from people. "Where's Cato? I was rooting for you two in the arena!" How could everyone see that I was in love with him when all my memories said the opposite? The torture I endured because of him. It wasn't from him, but still his fault. I wouldn't even have been there if it weren't for him.

Yet still people pried, I wanted my own answers and I found them. I was on my way home from District 2, finally working up the courage to talk to him. I had no regrets. He helped me free myself, even if only for a moment, which is something no else was able to do.

Actually, I did regret one thing. I wasn't able to say good bye to his face. I must have written that note a hundred times listening to his soft breath as he slept; knowing it like the back of my hand, but everything came out wrong.

'I'm sorry, Cato, but I had to leave. I don't want you to regret what happened, because I never will. It gave me the first happy memory of you that I know is true. I've realized that asking you to help me was selfish, it's something I need to figure out on my own. You know better than anyone, you can't build a house in one day. I'll need some more time to find myself. I can tell you still love me, and it hurts me to say that everything in my head won't let me say it back. It's the reason I had to leave, watching you care so much for me when I can't return the favor. Someday, I know I'll be able to come back. Come back to tell you, to be there for you like you have been for me.'

My head pulled me one way, but my heart another. Out of everyone, I hated him the most. Part of me still does, but I learned to try and make new memories; the reason I forced myself to go. I didn't expect it to be so difficult. The touch of his lips still lingered on my own; making me glow, but feel like dirt at the same time.

I slammed my fist into the table in front of me, my emotions conflicting and scaring several of the passengers. I heard their quiet murmurs, "Is that him?" "It can't be… But this is the train to District 12, it could be."

Looking out the window to distract myself, I watched the endless forest fly by wishing I was home. Anywhere to be alone. I was tired of everyone's obsession with me. Why couldn't I just live a normal quiet life anymore? Let myself forget everyone that mattered in my life.

"P-Peeta?"

Slanting my eyes, I rolled my head to the side catching a little girl. Wait, not a little girl, she had to be at least 15. "What?" I asked coldly.

"You probably don't know me, but I wanted to thank you."

I grumbled, having heard the same thing from countless others. "I'm tired, kid. Do you mind?"

"Sorry, but I'd never get another chance. You see, I was the girl reaped in District 2 that year. Clove volunteered on my behalf."

"What's your point? People volunteered all the time in District 2."

"But still, that could have been me. Clove saved my life that day, and then you and Cato saved me yet again." She had tears in her eyes, but all I could think of now was Clove and Cato.

"Look, kid. I don't know what you want me to say. I'm glad you're happy that I suffered and was completely alone. That instant fear you had in you when you were reaped? Do you remember that?" She nodded, tears still her eyes. "Just be glad it lasted only a moment. I've got a life time of suffering."

I felt bad at the comment, knowing that this wasn't who I used to be. "You were never alone; you always had Cato. You just won't let yourself remember. You helped Cato break free, let him help you."

My attention returned to the window, the platform to 12 now in view. I was almost home and didn't want to talk to this girl anymore. She spoke of Clove and Cato so highly. The Clove I remembered was careless, nothing but a mere tag along. As for Cato… Everyone tells me I helped him become who he is now, I even watched it in the hospital when they tried to jog my memory. Why can't I remember it then? How is he supposed to help me when I can't even remember helping him? This is something I have to do on my own.

"Try to remember, Peeta. You deserve happiness more than the rest of us." The girl returned to her seat and the train started to slow down. Maybe she was right. I tried to remember, but I never really let myself; always pulling back because it was to painful. Maybe part of me was still buried deep waiting to spring free. It had to be true, otherwise the rebellion would have ended differently. I could have killed him, but I didn't. I endured torture for him at the hands of the Capitol, set rebels free. Why would I go against everything my head told me? Maybe I really did need Cato. He's been there once before.

The train stopped at the platform and everyone on the train gathered their belongings, ready to stretch their legs from the long ride. No, I couldn't let Cato back in, at least not yet. I couldn't trust him. I wanted to, but I couldn't. My head started to pound, my memories crossing and igniting in my head. "What the fuck am I supposed to do!?"

I crumbled in my chair feeling my body go limp as memories flooded my head. New and old. Cato holding me in his arms, no that's not what happened, he was holding me down. That night a few days ago with Cato, that was real, I know it was. That wasn't him, it couldn't be. He stabbed me… No, it was dark, I was trying to protect him and stabbed myself. He could have let me fall when the ice cracked, but he didn't. He was using me at that point. Clove was there, but how could she be? She was already dead. Right, that happened to me, too. I'm supposed to be dead. Clove wasn't the same, that's the same thing that's wrong with me. I'm not the same. What is wrong with me…


"Peeta?" What was that? Who's there? Where am I?

"Peeta, are you alright?"

Why is everything so dark? My head feels like a sack of flour, heavy and dead. I couldn't be dead, my head hurt too much.

"Peeta, what happened?"

I tried opening my eyes, the light too bright. What happened? I don't know, shouldn't I be asking you that? Your voice is familiar, who are you?

"Come on, Peeta. Look at me, what's going on?"

"Cato?" I asked, my eyes focusing, trying to see the blonde boy.

"No, Peeta. I'm not Cato."

Not Cato? I shut my eyes again, the light piercing through my head painfully.

"I heard him shouting. I ran back here and he was just sitting there like that."

"Come on, son. You have to wake up, tell me what happened." Son? Dad? I tried to open my eyes again despite the pounding in my head. My focus was off, still seeing Cato. I couldn't trust my head, now I can't trust my eyes.

"Where am I?" I somehow managed to say something.

"You're on the train. Some of the passengers said you blacked out."

"Make way, coming through." A female voice broke through. There must have been a crowd. Not really a surprise. It's not every day the Peeta Mellark blacks out on a train.

"What do you think could have happened?"

"Let me work. Peeta, can you tell me who I am?" I tried to make her out, but all I saw was Clove. Or was it Katniss? I tried to shake my head, but only managed to close my eyes.

"Mr. Mellark, can you tell me more about what happened to him? I only heard what they wanted us to know." Whose voice was that?

"He's had memory problems. Convinced he remembers things that never happened and denies things that have."

"Hmm. Was hoping they might have left something out so I could help. Peeta? Can you open your eyes again for me?" Opening them this time was easier, I felt my body starting to recover and my vision focus. Katniss' mom, the conductor, and my dad were standing around me, a crowd by the door.

"My head still hurts, but I'm feeling better." I mumbled trying to push Katniss' mom's hand away from me. I've been stuck in a hospital for to long and didn't want anyone analyzing me anymore. Why was she helping me anyway? It was partially because of me that her daughter was dead. It was just the three of us left that night.

"Peeta, people don't normally black out for no reason. What happened?" My dad asked.

I didn't want to explain myself, this was my problem.

"I think it's my fault." The little girl from before stepped forward. "I think I unnerved him, trying to make him remember what Cato meant to him."

"Memory overload maybe?" Katniss' mom asked out loud. "I don't really know enough about it, I'm just a simple nurse. Maybe someone else would know? Any of the Capitol doctors in 12?"

I felt like a project all over again. People just waiting to pick my brain, see the extent of how messed up I was. "Just leave me alone." I mumbled, standing up.

"I just want to go home." I walked towards the exit, the crowd watching my every move. "Would you all get out of my way?"

The crowd hesitated at my outburst and slowly filtered a path out of the train for me. Why was everyone so interested in me anyway? Who cares if I was the front runner of the rebellion, I didn't do it alone. I bet Cato wasn't getting the same treatment I was. Maybe it was because I was a freak, an abomination.

I started my walk home, feeling slightly unsteady on my own feet. The sooner I was out of sight, the better I would feel. My head pounded at each step constantly reminding me of my breakdown. Stumbling into the house I spotted my mom.

"It's about time you got home." She scolded, "The bakery isn't going to bake itself."

I rubbed my head, listening to her voice and demands pushed me further on edge. "Shut the fuck up!" I shouted and walked past her. Slowly I made my way to my room, my head pounding even more; filled with Cato, Clove, Katniss, and my parents.

My eyes started watering and I squeezed them shut and collapsed on my bed.


My dad appeared next to me; a grim look on his face and a glass of water in his hand.

"Peeta, what is going on?"

This was the problem. I couldn't talk to him, not like how he said I used to. That part of me hated him, yet the new memories I have of him wants to tell him; leaving me at a stalemate.

He must have given up on asking, his posture changing as he relaxed. "You've been out for a few days. We called in a specialist, someone who might actually know whats going on. We also told… Never mind."

"Never mind, what?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter." He answered handing me the glass of water. "All that matters is you and what's happening to you. Does this have anything to do with… Him?"

I groaned and rolled away from him. "You can say his name you know, it doesn't matter if I hear it. Still has the same effect."

"Well. Does it? You left to go see him and then you came back like this."

It had everything to do with Cato, but not the way he was thinking. It had everything to do with everyone. "Can we not talk about this? I'd rather be left alone."

"You've been alone for three years." My dad answered, "Maybe it's time for some help. The doctor should be here any time now."

There was a knock at the door and my dad stood. "Maybe that's him."

Cracking the door open my dad seemed surprised and whispered to the other person. "I'm not sure if right now is a very good time. Maybe tomorrow after he's seen the doctor?"

"Can't I just see him? Why call me if you're just going to turn me away?" No, that voice. Why is he here?

"We thought it would be best if you knew, we didn't expect you to jump on a train." My dad whispered, trying not to upset me even though I could hear everything.

"You drop a bomb like that and you expect me to just sit around knowing he's in trouble? No offense, but I thought you knew I'd protect him the best I can."

"And maybe the best way of doing that is by staying away right now."

"No, it's okay. This might get him to open up a bit. Hello, Cato. I'm glad you're here." A third voice echoed through the cracked door. "If what you say is true, he won't open up. Maybe if he's forced to face Cato, something will happen. Although I already have my own theory, I'd like to test it."

My dad shrugged and let Cato into my room. He sat down where my dad was sitting and tried to take my hand. I pulled it away, a sharp pain piercing through my skull. He looked hurt at my rejection but settled himself into the chair, rolling the black marble in his hand.

The session was full of questions I didn't want to answer. Cato called me out on our meeting, saying that he thought I was trying. That the note I left had hope but now we were back at square one. He wasn't going to give up on me, even if I hated him until the end. The doctor noted each time I rubbed at my head, the pain throbbing.

"I think that's enough for one day, Cato. Give the boy some time. I think I've come to a conclusion, and its what I initially thought." The doctor stood and walked to the door and waited for Cato to leave first. Cato hesitated, dropping the marble in my lap before he left.

"What's going on doctor?" I heard my dad ask.

"Well, it appears he's battling reality with what the Capitol implanted in his memory. The two are causing stress and essentially overloading his memory. That explains the pain he's experiencing."

Couldn't they have at least shut the door so I didn't have to hear them talking about me?

"The Capitol's intent was to use him was as a weapon to take out Cato. The sad truth, the Capitol didn't care what happened to him long term, probably hoping he'd die in battle."

"So what are you saying?" Cato asked.

The doctor sighed. "He wasn't supposed to live this long."


A/N: It'll pick up, I swear. The two of them will have to face more than just Peeta's memory. In due time, the plot will unravel. Anyway, here's the first chapter since most people voted for a sequel. Hope you enjoyed. Again, stay patient. It will pick up.